Canelita @eyescoffe - Tumblr Blog

I’d like to think everyone is a lot more eager to be around Hange when they take a shower. Like not that they don’t like Hange it’s just they like showered Hange a whole lot better. Liek they don’t mind Hange being physically affectionate it’s just they’re a lot more happy to reciprocate.

Jk the real ones will hug Hange either way

(I’m tired idk what this is)

andy-15-07

Growing Old

pairing — Zuko x reader

word count — 1938

request open

masterlist

The first gray hair was not something you noticed at all.

It was Zuko who saw it first.

The two of you were seated together in one of the quieter sitting rooms of the Fire Palace, the late afternoon sun slanting through the open balcony doors and laying warm bands of light across the floor. A pot of tea sat between you on the low table, untouched for the moment because Zuko had been reading over a stack of reports and you had been pretending to read a book you had not turned the page of in nearly ten minutes.

It was a peaceful hour, the kind that had become rarer in the years since the war ended and the responsibilities of the throne settled fully on Zuko’s shoulders. But lately he had been making more of an effort to leave his work behind when he came to find you. He still carried the kingdom with him, of course. That part of him would always remain. Yet when he stepped into a room with you, the Fire Lord tended to soften into something more human.

Tonight was one of those evenings.

You were sitting cross-legged on the cushioned bench near the window, your bare feet tucked beneath your robe, your hair half-pinned back in the loose, careless way you wore it when you were at ease. Zuko had come to stand behind you some minutes earlier, saying he needed a break from reading and that your book looked more interesting than his reports, though you both knew he had not really been interested in the book at all.

He was quiet now, fingers idly brushing through a loose section of your hair as you leaned your head against his leg.

“You are thinking too loudly,” you murmured without looking up.

Zuko paused. “That is not possible.”

“It absolutely is. I can feel your irritation from here.”

He made a low, amused sound. “Then you should know I am not irritated.”

You turned your head slightly. “Then what are you?”

He did not answer right away.

His hand had stilled, fingertips resting lightly near your temple. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “Curious.”

You blinked. “Curious about what?”

Instead of answering, Zuko gently lifted a section of your hair between two fingers, studying it with a strange, focused expression.

The touch was so careful that it made you glance up at him. “Zuko?”

His brows drew together as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. “Hold still.”

You sat up a little straighter. “That sounds ominous.”

He ignored that, moving a little closer behind the bench as he searched through the dark strands near your crown. At first you thought he was looking for a pin that had come loose or perhaps a tangle he meant to smooth out. Then his fingers paused.

There, caught among the rest of your hair, was one thin silver strand.

He stared at it.

You frowned. “What is it?”

Zuko did not answer immediately. He simply lifted the strand between his fingers, holding it up to the light. His expression had gone unreadable in the way it often did when something caught him off guard, though this time there was no hardness in it. No tension. Just surprise.

Then, very softly, he said, “You have a gray hair.”

You went still.

For one second, there was silence.

Then you reached up and touched your own hair in alarm. “Where?”

“Here.” He lifted the strand slightly as though presenting evidence in court.

You leaned forward to try to see it, then pulled a face. “That is one gray hair.”

“It is.”

“How long has it been there?”

“I do not know.”

“That is not a reassuring answer.”

Zuko’s mouth twitched. “I did not cause it.”

You looked scandalized. “You say that as if I accused you.”

“You looked like you were considering it.”

“I was not.”

He gave you a look that said he did not believe you at all, and you had to press your lips together to keep from laughing.

Still, when you reached up again and carefully touched the gray strand between your fingers, something in your expression shifted. Not in alarm. Not even in annoyance. More in surprise, perhaps. You had not expected to notice time moving this way, quietly and without permission.

Zuko was watching you closely now.

“What?” you asked.

He hesitated for only a moment before saying, “Nothing.”

“That is your second ‘nothing’ tonight, and I do not trust it.”

His fingers brushed the side of your face, slow and thoughtful. “You look beautiful.”

You blinked. “That has nothing to do with the hair.”

“It has everything to do with it.”

You stared up at him, half-amused, half-wary. “Zuko.”

He crouched slightly so he was closer to your eye level, one hand resting lightly on the bench beside you. His gaze had gone impossibly soft. “I mean it.”

You searched his face for a joke and found none.

The truth in his expression made something quiet and tender stir inside you.

“You are staring,” you said.

“I know.”

“You are being strange.”

“I know that too.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “You found one gray hair. That is not a disaster.”

“I never said it was a disaster.”

“You looked like it was.”

You gave him a helpless laugh. “I just did not expect it.”

“And?” he asked gently.

You glanced down at the strand still caught between your fingers. “And I think I always imagined this sort of thing happening much later.”

Zuko studied you for a moment, his thumb brushing absent circles against the back of your hand. “Later than now?”

“Yes.”

He let out a quiet breath. Then, with surprising tenderness, he said, “We have had a lot of years.”

The words settled over you softly.

You looked at him more carefully then, at the lines that had begun to gather faintly at the corners of his eyes, at the more relaxed shape of his face than the one he had carried in his youth, at the small silver threading through his own hair if you looked closely enough in the right light. He was still Zuko. That would never change. But time had softened him in some places and strengthened him in others.

It had done the same to you.

You had not noticed it happening because it had not happened all at once. It had come in quiet pieces: one more winter, one more victory, one more morning waking beside each other, one more meal shared after a long day, one more laugh, one more argument, one more apology, one more night when he returned to your side and the world felt manageable again.

Years.

So many of them that they had become ordinary.

And now here they were, hidden inside the silver strand between your fingers.

You swallowed, unexpectedly moved. “I suppose we have.”

Zuko’s expression softened further. “I like that.”

You looked up. “You like what?”

He touched your hand, gently guiding your fingers away from the gray strand as though it were something precious rather than accidental. “That you are growing older.”

That caught you off guard.

You searched his face, but he only looked more certain the longer you stared.

“I know,” he continued quietly, “that sounds strange.”

“It does.”

He gave a short huff of amusement. “I am trying to explain it properly.”

“You do not have to explain at all.”

“I want to.”

That silenced you.

He lowered himself to sit beside you on the bench, the report papers forgotten somewhere behind him. His arm brushed yours, warm and familiar. When he spoke again, his voice had gone very gentle.

“Growing older means we have been here long enough for it to happen.”

Your chest tightened.

He looked straight ahead as he said it, as if the words were too honest to say while looking directly at you. “It means we have had years together. More than I ever thought I would get when I was younger. More than I thought I deserved.”

Your hand moved before you thought about it, curling around his wrist.

Zuko glanced down at it, then at you.

“When I see a gray hair,” he went on, “I do not think of loss.”

You held his gaze now, completely still.

“I think,” he said, voice low and steady, “that you have lived. That we have lived. That we made it this far.”

The room went quiet around those words.

Outside, the palace garden shifted in the evening wind. Somewhere farther down the hall, a servant’s footsteps passed and faded. The tea on the table had gone cold. None of it mattered.

You stared at him for a long moment, something warm and aching rising behind your ribs.

“Zuko,” you said softly, almost helplessly.

He gave a tiny shrug, as though he were embarrassed by his own honesty. “I mean it.”

Your eyes stung more than you expected them to.

“Well,” you said at last, trying for dry and failing slightly, “that is a very romantic way to respond to my aging.”

His mouth curved. “I try.”

“You found one gray hair and turned it into a speech.”

“I think you were already upset about it.”

“I was not upset.”

“You were definitely upset.”

“I was surprised.”

“Same thing.”

You laughed, and he smiled at the sound, that private, easy smile he rarely gave anyone else. You leaned into him then, resting your head against his shoulder with a small exhale.

His arm came around you at once.

For a while neither of you said anything.

The light in the room shifted slowly as the sun lowered, painting the walls in gold and amber. Zuko’s hand moved absentmindedly over your arm, comforting in the way he always was when words felt too fragile to handle.

After a while, you murmured, “You know you have gray hairs too.”

He made a suspicious noise. “I do not believe that.”

“Oh, you absolutely do.”

“I am Fire Lord. I cannot have gray hairs.”

You smiled into his shoulder. “You are also a husband, and apparently time does not care.”

He groaned softly. “That is a very cruel thing to say.”

“You started it.”

He turned his head and kissed your hair, then your temple. “If I am getting old, at least I am doing it with you.”

You went still again.

Then, quietly, you said, “I would not have it any other way.”

Zuko’s hold on you tightened just a little, the motion almost imperceptible but full of feeling.

The gray hair was still there, one silver thread among hundreds of darker ones, easy to miss if you did not know where to look. But now it seemed less like a mark of time passing and more like proof.

Proof of mornings and evenings and years and shared silences and every ordinary, beautiful day that had brought you here.

Proof that you had not only survived long enough to grow old.

You had done it together.

And as the palace settled into night around you, Zuko looked down at you with that softened, grateful expression he reserved for the people he loved most.

Then he brushed his thumb over your hand and said, with complete sincerity, “You are still beautiful.”

You smiled, leaning deeper into his shoulder.

“So are you.”

He snorted softly. “That is not fair.”

“It is true.”

He kissed your forehead once more, and the two of you sat together in the warm dim light, growing older side by side, one silver hair at a time.

wastelandriva

sometimes i get scared i don’t know who i am at my core anymore but im still reading hange zoe fanfics at 19 like i did when i was 13 so i think everything’s going to be alright

hunnismokah

adult zuko!!!

andy-15-07

Tiny Shadow

pairing — Zuko x reader

word count — 1753

request open

masterlist

By the time the sun had climbed high over the Fire Palace, Fire Lord Zuko had already accepted that he was being followed.

Again.

He noticed it first in the corridor outside the eastern archives, when he turned after dismissing a messenger and saw the small figure at the far end of the hall, just barely peeking around a carved pillar. When he kept walking, the figure moved too, quick and quiet and determined to remain unnoticed despite being about three feet tall and wearing a bright red dress that made “stealth” entirely impossible.

Zuko stopped.

The little shadow stopped too.

He folded his arms. “Suri.”

A beat of silence.

Then, from behind the pillar, his daughter stepped out with a solemn expression that she clearly believed was very convincing. Her hair had been tied back by your hand that morning, though now half of it had escaped and curled around her face in loose dark waves. She looked at him with all the seriousness of a royal guard.

“Yes, Papa?”

“You have been following me all morning.”

Suri blinked once, then looked mildly offended. “I have not.”

Zuko raised one brow.

She considered this, then changed course without hesitation. “I have been… walking nearby.”

“That is still following.”

“It is different.”

“How?”

She put one small hand on her hip, just like you did when you were being theatrical on purpose. “Because I am not following you. I am making sure you are safe.”

The answer was so matter-of-fact, so entirely confident, that Zuko had to bite back a laugh.

He crouched slightly so he was eye level with her. “You are four.”

“I know.”

“That is not usually the age when children patrol the palace.”

Suri frowned. “I am not patrolling.”

“No?”

“No.” She lifted her chin. “I am helping.”

Zuko stared at her for a moment, then glanced down the hall as if appealing to the spirits for guidance. “Helping.”

“Yes.”

“And what exactly are you helping with?”

She thought seriously about that. “You.”

That stopped him.

The stern line of his mouth softened before he could stop it. “Me?”

Suri nodded as though this should have been obvious. “You have important work. Important work needs watching.”

Zuko exhaled through his nose, looking away for a second so she would not see how close he was to smiling. “Who taught you that?”

“Mama.”

He should have known.

He straightened and offered her a hand. “Come on. If you are going to insist on being my shadow, you might as well do it properly.”

Suri’s face lit immediately. She took his hand with both of hers, and the two of them continued down the corridor together, her tiny steps keeping pace beside his much longer ones.

For the next hour, she was there for everything.

She accompanied him to the receiving chamber when a pair of merchants came to present a proposal about imported tea. She sat very still on a cushion beside his throne while he listened to them explain shipping costs, trade routes, and the politics of ceramic jars. When one of the merchants glanced at her and smiled, Suri smiled back with unnerving solemnity.

Zuko could feel the man trying not to be distracted.

“Go on,” Zuko said dryly. “My daughter is not judging your numbers.”

Suri whispered loudly, “I am not.”

That, unfortunately, made it worse.

After the merchants left, Zuko found her swinging her feet on the cushion and staring at him in complete absorption.

“What?” he asked.

“You were very serious.”

“I am usually serious in meetings.”

She nodded as though this confirmed something important. “You look serious all the time.”

He leaned against the arm of the throne and gave her a look. “That is rude.”

“It is true.”

“And your mother says you should not say every true thing you think.”

Suri brightened. “Mama also says I am very honest.”

“Did she say that as a compliment or a warning?”

Suri grinned, entirely unrepentant.

By noon, the palace had begun to notice the tiny royal escort.

A servant carrying a stack of folded linens nearly tripped when Suri appeared beside Zuko in the hallway, silent as a cat and twice as determined. Two guards at the doorway to the council chamber exchanged glances when she tried to mimic her father’s stride, planting her feet with great seriousness and swinging one arm just slightly too much. Zuko caught one of those looks and immediately sighed.

“No,” he said.

The older guard straightened at once. “Your Majesty?”

“I know what you are thinking.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“You are thinking she is adorable.”

The guard’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “I would never presume,”

“She is,” Zuko said flatly. “You are not allowed to laugh.”

The second guard cleared his throat, suspiciously close to a cough.

Suri looked up at him. “Papa, why can’t they laugh?”

Zuko opened the council chamber door for her and muttered, “Because then they will never stop.”

Inside, the room fell into the usual uneasy silence of a meeting beginning too early in the day. Advisors sat around the long table with scrolls and ledgers stacked neatly before them. A few looked mildly alarmed to see Suri following Zuko in and taking her place right beside his chair as though she had every right to be there.

One councilman leaned toward the others. “Has the princess been invited to this meeting?”

Suri heard him.

She turned her head and said, with complete composure, “I invited myself.”

The room went still.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is also not how invitations work.”

Suri blinked. “But it worked.”

It did not, strictly speaking, help the atmosphere.

The meeting dragged on through border disputes, grain supplies, and a long, tiresome discussion about reconstruction budgets in the western provinces. Zuko spoke when necessary, listened when he had to, and tried not to smile every time he looked down and found Suri sitting on the floor beside his chair, drawing tiny fire lilies on scraps of paper with a charcoal nub one of the servants had given her.

She was very quiet there. Very focused.

Every few minutes, though, she would look up at him.

Just to check.

Just to make sure he was still there.

Still safe.

Still hers to follow.

At one point, as one advisor droned on about tax levies, Zuko noticed Suri leaning against the side of his chair, her little eyelids beginning to droop. She had made a heroic effort all morning, but the palace was warm, the room was stuffy, and being a tiny shadow required more endurance than she could keep up forever.

She rubbed one eye with a tiny fist.

Zuko lowered his voice without interrupting the speaker. “Suri.”

Her head lifted at once. “Mm?”

“You can go find your mother.”

She shook her head immediately. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am helping.”

He nearly smiled again. “You are falling asleep.”

“I am not.”

She said it with such offense that one of the advisors coughed into his hand to hide a laugh. Zuko heard it.

He pointed at the man without looking away from his daughter. “Do not encourage her.”

Suri straightened her back valiantly, determined to prove him wrong. “I can stay.”

“Of course you can.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You do not believe me.”

“I believe you are very stubborn.”

“I learned it from you.”

That drew a real smile from him at last.

The council chamber, which had been miserable ten seconds earlier, visibly struggled not to react. Zuko looked down at his daughter, who was now swaying only slightly in place, and his expression softened in a way no one in the room was meant to see.

“You did learn that from me,” he admitted.

Suri looked victorious.

Then, suddenly, she yawned so wide that she nearly lost her balance.

Zuko stood at once, startling the entire council into silence. “Meeting is adjourned.”

One advisor opened his mouth. “Your Majesty, we have not,”

“We have.” He reached down, scooped Suri up before she could protest, and settled her against his shoulder. She immediately melted into him with the trust only a child could have. “Continue tomorrow.”

The advisor looked scandalized. “Because the princess is tired?”

Zuko’s gaze lifted, calm and unyielding. “Because my daughter has been following me around the palace all day and I have decided she has earned the right to nap.”

No one argued after that.

By the time he reached your chambers, Suri was already half asleep in his arms, her cheek pressed into his robes and one small hand curled in the fabric at his chest. You were sitting near the window when he came in, reading with your feet tucked beneath you, and the moment you looked up, your face changed.

“There she is,” you said softly. “My tiny spy.”

Zuko gave you a tired look. “She claims she was helping me.”

You closed your book with a smile. “Was she?”

“I think she believes she was.”

You stood and crossed the room to meet him, brushing your fingers lightly over Suri’s hair. Your daughter stirred at your touch, then sighed and burrowed deeper against him.

Zuko looked down at her, then at you, and something warm passed across his face.

“She followed me everywhere,” he said quietly. “The throne room. The archives. The council chamber.”

You laughed under your breath. “And did the Fire Lord survive?”

He adjusted Suri in his arms with careful hands. “Barely.”

Your smile softened. “Did she tell everyone she was helping?”

“She did.”

“And did anyone believe her?”

He paused, then answered with complete seriousness, “I did.”

That made you grin.

Zuko glanced between you and the sleeping child in his arms, then sighed in the long-suffering way of a man who had been defeated by affection and did not mind at all.

“She is very small,” he said.

You reached up and touched his cheek. “Yes.”

“She is also very determined.”

“Yes.”

“And she thinks she is my guard.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “She is.”

He looked down at the sleeping bundle in his arms, then back at you. “I think I may have created a problem.”

You smiled. “A very cute problem.”

Zuko huffed quietly, but there was no complaint in it. Only love.

He bent his head and kissed your forehead, then carried his tiny shadow toward the bed, where he could let her rest after a long day of important work.

ryoride

ꮼ I NEED YOU TO COME INSIDE !

cw: cockwarming, penetrative sex, teasing, male whimpering, hair pulling, bicep biting, multiple creampies (two), pet names, not proofread.

ⓘ featuring Zuko cockwarming with his wife, for the first time.

Zuko could feel his eyes bulge out the moment you'd asked if he could stay seated inside you after his orgasm, "Cockwarming sounds like it'd be really intimate... I'd like to try it out if you're open."

He hated how tempted he was the moment you asked; his back was still actively smoking & effectively turning your bedroom into a sauna, for fuck's sake.

Not to mention his arms were still shaking, his lungs were failing to catch air as quickly as he'd like, and he could have sworn he'd reach another orgasm within seconds if your walls wouldn't stop greedily gripping his cock.

But fuck. You looked so desperate asking for him, so needy, and he loved making you feel good, so he slowly nodded.

Carefully, Zuko cupped your cheek. His rough thumb brushed over your cheek as he pressed his hips forward—successfully bottoming out once again—with a deep groan.

"Y-yes, my love. We can try that out—" he choked out, hips twitching as you fluttered around him. "—Ah! ...For how long?"

You brought your hand to press firmly against his lower back with a soft moan, thighs twitching around his hips.

"Hold on, let me think." Your free hand pressed against his chest, tracing one of his scars, attempting to refocus your thoughts on anything but the sweet pleasure growing from every point of contact with Zuko. "Uhm. Maybe just a few minutes to try it at first?"

"Fuck. Okay, yeah, that sounds good... really good." He whispered, lowering his face to press quick kisses to your jaw. "Just tell me when to pull out."

"Mm," you nodded, nails sinking into his back for a moment. "Mm-hmm. No problem." A small moan broke through your lips, gone just as fast as it came but very much noticed by your husband.

"Stop staring, you idiot," you groaned, covering Zuko's eyes teasingly. "It's embarrassing and weird."

"My wife is moaning from nothing but a stretch, and me staring is weird? I think it'd be weirder if I weren't mesmerized." Zuko breathlessly cooed, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"This isn't going how I wanted, Zu." Your fingers slid from his eyes to tangle in his hair, & tugging softly, a flush dusted your cheeks at the groan that escaped his lips.

"Well, baby, I'm doing what you asked," he whispered, pulling back to stare at you with soft eyes. "Just tell me what you really want, okay?"

"I thought you'd be begging to fuck me again by now—" You pulled him back down until he was hovering just above you, holding himself up carefully, "—but no. You're making me ask."

Zuko paused, a laugh escaping his lips, before pressing them against yours. "My love. You said you wanted to try cockwarming. Not a second round."

"Yeah, and cockwarming typically leads to a round two, Zuko." You hissed, pressing your thighs tightly against his hips, scratching your nails up to his shoulders.

"Oh no, Love is using my first name—I'm going to die." He teased, kissing you on the cheek. "Here, baby, we can go again."

He gasped softly as he drew his hips back, giving a testing thrust before setting a comfortable pace.

"Oh, my god." Your voice broke, crushing him against your chest with a sharp moan—Zuko's eyes widening once more as he flexed his arms against the mattress.

"My love, this already isn't going to last long; no need to speed the process up by being touchy like that," Zuko huffed, stiffening as you locked your ankles against his lower back. "Fuck."

Zuko took a deep breath, relishing the way each stroke of his hips left your nails greedily clawing at him, leaving a pleasant sting in their wake.

"You're so mean to me," you hissed, pushing sweaty strands of hair from his face to cradle his cheek and pull him down to kiss his lips.

"Mm-hmm," Zuko rasped, giving a particularly cruel thrust just to hear you moan. "I love you too."

You paused, glancing away from his gaze momentarily before leaning up and sucking his bottom lip between your teeth and nipping playfully.

Zuko groaned lowly, hips snapping against yours with more force—leaving you to gasp and let go of his lip between moans, his hands grasping your hips as he fucked into you deeply.

"Son of a bitch," he purred, fingers gripping tightly as white-hot pleasure tore through you both, Zuko leaving you with the second creampie of the night.

"Holy shit." You whimpered, thighs loosening around him as you unlocked your ankles, brushing through Zuko's hair slowly, trying to catch your breath.

"Baby, you were right. We need to do that more often." He sighed before effectively collapsing on top of you.

crazylazydaizzzy

Firelord!Zuko x servant!reader

a/n: as promised, heres the (so far) poll winner's headcanons! happy reading ˃ᴗ˂ ISNT HE THE PRETTIEST

…..............................…

You grew up running around the hallways in secret of the other servants and guards, playing with Zuko when your mom would be working as firelord Ozai’s personal servant. You remember Ursa hushing both of your laughter when she'd notice other royal guards and servants around, protecting you from punishment with Zuko clasping his palm around your mouth, pressing your back into him, holding your laughter from bubbling out as he fights his own giggles.

…..............................…

When firelord Ozai was still on the throne, and you were still assigned to Azula, your life was closer to hell than anything. Azulas relentless picking and harassment, and the merciless physical reprimanding’s left marks on your body.

Zuko noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed the small details about you.

He humbly begged his father to reassign you to his wing of the royal palace, grasping for believable excuses to why that would be more 'fruitful' than you tending to his sister.

…..............................…

His hands disappear into the sleeves of his robes, eyes searching yours before he takes the lead into his private royal garden, not needing to look over his shoulder to know youre following behind. You’ve done this countless times before by now for him to know.

It’s always under the excuse of him ‘possibly needing to rearrange things in the garden’. After all, ‘a firelord is above dirtying his hands with soil’, or so he claims. Always when the starts are out to play in the night sky, never in daylight.

You end up walking down the stone path leading to his favorite willow tree. Flashes of images you recall of you and Zuko running around this same tree when his mom the firelady had newly planted it in place.

A pretty weeping willow, with fireflies fussing around its leaves like fairy lights hanging from the tree’s tips. There, you stand in silence, his eyes closed with his hands behind his back, standing a little too close by your side.

A firelord and his favorite servant watching the fireflies dance around the weeping willow tree, the night breeze raking through the draping leaves.

…..............................…

Firelord Zuko would request you to personally dress him up for all formal occasions, having grown used to your careful, contained, and modest touches. Every time your fingertips would brush against his shoulders, midriff, or especially his lower abdomen while you tied his robes in place with a belt, he’d feel his skin burn on fire from the simple small touches of yours.

Even a firelord who derives his powers from heat can’t handle the scalding kindling your touch ignites in him. It’s like a drug. Every day he looks forward to the nighttime when you’d change his clothes; every night he longs for the morning to come for you to dress him back up again.

…..............................…

He would only accept tea brewed under your supervision. “It tastes just like Uncle’s tea”, he’d say with a content look in his eyes. It was him – Uncle Iroh – that taught you how to make his infamous tea when he used to come for visits at the palace. You doubt Zuko has forgotten about those sweet, small moments shared between you two in childhood.

…..............................…

Stepping into his private chamber after getting a beating from the head servantlady, your eyes stay on the tiled floors. Holding out a tray in your hand, you hiss when you accidentally spill his cup of tea on your arm. Bowing down to fetch the clattering teacup, he stops you mid-reach, only to yank you back up by your wrist.

You’re quick to apologize for ‘ruining his morning tea’, the words falling onto deaf ears. His eyes are burning into yours, flickering down onto where the hot content scalded your skin.

Slowly his fingers slithered their way up your sleeve, pushing the fabric higher up, exposing more of your arm.

“My lord-!” you try yanking your arm, but to no vail. Heat burns in your face at his squinting eyes falling onto the burn mark just over your forearm.

“Did you burn yourself?” he asks, paying no mind to his spilled tea, or how its dirtying his otherwise pristine chambers, or even how he’s touching a commoner like you – a servant, at that.

“I apologize, I spilled your tea all over myself” he hums, skimming his fingertips tenderly over the burn mark.

His eyes flick back up to yours, dancing around your face. “This is no mere burn mark” his voice is low, eyes squinting ever so slightly at you – prompting you to speak.

“…”

“What’s this? How did you get this?” he questions further, his grip tightening around your wrist, stinging a little with its intensity “Who did this to you?”

After knowing the truth behind the burn mark on your arm, about how the head servantlady used a hot pan to ‘teach you a lesson’ after spilling milk on the kitchen floor, he immediately rushes out of his chambers to bark orders at the guards.

“Prepare a hot air balloon and send Katara here. Right this instant”

He still notices the small things about you, even now that you’re no longer kids, with him having bigger responsibilities and an entire kingdom to rule.

Katara won’t let him off the hook easily when she hears about why he brought her here on such short notice and for whom, but he has more important matters at hand more than protecting his pride and honor. You.

Pspsps i summon: @angeliure-0 @xhslvt @xiyizhouswife @hartistasinombre @melancholicreaper @goatkkotsu @nightmarenyxx @sleazysaltedcat @defenestratehumanity @shhhhiamreading @totallynotashieldagent @hartistasinombre @septembermoonchild let me know if you want to be tagged for jjk stuff only, its allll okiiii to me! ദ്ദി(◝ ⩊ ◜)

boneyardlovers

Here's a silly Lil video I made for my tiktok account of the art I recently made bc I can. 😌✨️

You should totally follow my tiktok if you guys are interested in seeing things like this or other art related videos from me. 💕

Please no reposting. Instead like & reblog !

(Main art account is @theboneyardartist on here, tiktok & insta)🥺👉👈

gyalcapone

spilled ink...✒ᝰ.ᐟ

A heavy hand ruffles Zuko's hair softly, starting at the top of his head and effectively ruining the style he did that morning. He merely sighs as he accepts his fate, soaking up the begrudgingly relaxing feeling of his friend carding his fingers through the long, silken strands.

“Do I get to know why I'm being groomed like an ape?”

Aang laughs good-naturedly, an easy shrug of broad shoulders as he broaches the subject. “I thought you said you were gonna cut it; what made you not bother?”

The question freezes him momentarily, and then he takes a sip of tea to avoid the other man's near-scrutinizing gaze. A flush overtakes your lover's cheeks as he thinks about how best to answer his friend, who's waiting with an expectant yet fond look.

Logically, Zuko knows he should say it's the way you make moving wayward strands from his eyes look so tender and domestic. Another safe answer is because his hair is the first thing you absentmindedly reach for when you want to keep your hands occupied in some way. He often lets you toy with the strands, plaiting or twisting the locks into various sizes while he works and having to stifle a snort or quiet laugh when it tickles his ear.

How does he say it's really the way you'd loop your fingers through the dark tresses after he's had a long day?

You'd be straddling his lap, his arms tight around your frame and head on your shoulder, while your fingers would run through his hair, smoothing out whatever knots you could. Every so often, they'd weave themselves in the strands closest to the root, and it always made him shiver in anticipation.

Blunt nails would lightly scratch at his scalp and nape, making him grunt quietly as he sinks into the couch, trying to push himself closer to you at the same time. Then your fingers would tighten and yank, forcing a startled but relieved groan from his throat. His hair spills from the spaces between your fingers as you bunch the locks in your grip. Your teeth find the column of his neck, and his answering keen was one he couldn't quite hide.

The blissful tugs on his hair are so hard they sting, so hard they swell his dick until it's almost painful. A whispered plea and you're quick to indulge him. With your free hand stroking his cock, the other is still in his hair, twisting his head to the side to suck a bruise into perspiring, pale skin. His digits sink into the plush skin of your thighs, trying to ground himself as the smarting tug had him arching his spine as if it were suddenly malleable.

Your lover would always end up with fluttering lashes, uttering a mouthful of curses when your thumb would swipe over his weeping slit, the same time you yank hard enough to tilt his head back. His Adam's apple bobs under your lips, breath coming out in a shudder as you lave your tongue and nip your teeth at his throat.

His hips buck when you force his gaze back to you with another harsh tug. But he just couldn't stop his darkened and lidded eyes from rolling to the back of his skull when you started to fondle his balls, other hand still gripping his now disheveled hair.

The esteemed Fire Lord surely couldn't tell his friend that he'd also miss the fact that his hair is the first thing you grab onto when he finds home between your legs.

When his warm tongue teases your slit and laps at your arousal like he's dehydrated, you forget your restraint; completely disregard that there's a person attached to all the hair you're pulling, and he loves it. It makes him even greedier for you, that you got so caught up in the pleasure he's giving that you don't even realize the literal strands you've managed to pull from his scalp.

The sensation and thought had him grinding into your shared bed, his long, pretty cock weeping pre that stains the expensive sheets a darker shade of red. There's going to be a crick in his neck from how hard you pulled his hair to drag him in for a kiss. But he supposes that's his fault for wanting to be a willing puppet, to let your loving hands manipulate his strings with an expert but tender grace.

When your hands grip his biceps, he's soothing you with a kiss to your forehead. When he starts bullying himself inside you, said hands find his hair. The tip of his cock weeps at your entrance, begging to be let into your warmth, and that was the night he realized your pussy is the only thing tighter than your stabilizing grip on his hair. You're panting into his shoulder, teeth digging into the skin with a muffled whimper as he rolls his hips into a tentative thrust.

The pull of his hair and your sweet whines make him impatient; he doesn't want to wait to sink inside you. It's a little like pulling teeth waiting for your warm and wet hole to give; hurting you is the last thing he wants to do, but the soreness in his scalp makes his cock throb. The tingling at the base of his skull has him near whimpering as he fucks his leaky tip into your sopping cunt, the warmth making him shudder and bring your legs up, pressing them to your chest.

“My wife likes it.” He finally answers, and it might be underwhelming to the other male, but it's a safe deterrent from more questions. He doesn't feel like explaining that you're pulling on his hair makes him bust faster than anything, spilling his cum hot and heavy inside you, while his hair spills like ink from the spaces between your fingers.

totallynotashieldagent

Zuko a drunk crying mess professing his love for his wife and being clingy please? Ill give you my firstborn!!👉🏻👈🏻

GET THAT CONTRACT READY BECAUSE HERE IT IS!!!!

By the third drink, Zuko was realizing that this little bachelor's evening for Aang's wedding had been a bad idea. By the fourth drink, him and Sokka were convincing Aang to go skinny dipping with them in the royal koi ponds and after that, he'd lost count.

Stumbling, the other two had been taken to the guest wing by servants and Zuko himself was being guided to his chambers by someone he couldn't even recall the name of.

You were already asleep when he entered.

"Zuko?" You sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

He squealed at the sight of you and tried to wrestle away from the servant that had brought him back.

"Apologies, My Lady-" The servant said uneasily. "The Lord has indulged himself a bit this evening with the Avatar and Chief Sokka." You nodded, standing up and wrapping a robe around yourself. "Shall I stay to help ready him for bed?" He asked as Zuko actively tried to get away from him.

"Uh- Please. Thank you." You nodded, "Call for some help too. I doubt the Fire Lord will be easily handled in his current state." You mused.

It took four servants to get Zuko to bathe and ready for bed. All the while he kept whining and squirming and trying to get away from them. Finally, after they were done and it was just you and him left, he sighed with relief.

"My Sun-" He pouted, "How could you leave me with them?" He knelt beside your side of the bed. "Angi... You're so beautiful."

My Sun? That one was new. But you ignored it.

"Zuko- You're very drunk. You need to sleep-" You laughed, trying to herd him back to his side of the bed.

"No! I don't need sleep!" He turned, holding both your hands against his chest. "I've never been more awake!"

"You are not-" You shook your head. "Come on- You have to lay down before you hurt yourself or-"

Before you could continue, Zuko pushed you enough that you fell back and ended up sitting on the edge of the bed, then he leaned forward, his face smushed against your thighs. He let out a soft sigh of contentment.

"You're so warm, My Sun." He mumbled, sighing at the silky feeling of your gown.

"Uh- Why are you calling me that?" You asked softly.

He looked up, his golden eyes almost sparkling. "Because that's what you are. The sun." He said dreamily. "You know- Every morning, I wake up thinking of you. Every night- I sleep, dreaming of you."

Your jaw fell open and your skin burned at his confession. "Z-Zuko- You're very drunk-" You stammered

"Noooo- I'm- I've never felt better!" He whined, his hands wrapping at the back of your calves. "We've been married for months now- And I- I can't take it anymore!" He frowned. "You're so beautiful- I'm in agony every single day. Why can't I touch you, My Sun?"

"You- You want to touch me?" You swallowed hard.

"In every way a husband is allowed to touch his wife." He nodded, his forehead leaning against your knees. "I want to kiss you all the time and-"

"We kissed and scandalised the entire palace-" You laughed, reminding him of the gardens incident.

"Servants should mind their business!" He groaned. "Spirits- I want to touch you." He added wistfully. "Respectfully and very disrespectfully." You gasped his name in shock. "Tell me, My Sun." He held your hands against his chest, making you lean down a little. "Do you think about touching me?" He asked. "Or- Or my scars make you feel otherwise?"

"No! You're beautiful, Zuko!" Your skin was actually on fire now. "How- How about you just lay down?" You stuttered out.

"Next to you?" He climbed into bed but stayed close to you, not going to his side on the far end of the bed.

"I- Yeah. Okay." You nodded.

"Thank you-" He smiled and pulled you down then curled up against you.

It would have been a little funny how this big man was acting like this if he hadn't made such huge declarations.

Zuko whispered your name gently after a while and you hummed for him to continue. A fingertip traced the side of your face, forehead to neck. "You truly are the sun." He smiled dopily. "I love you. So much." He murmured. "And I'm grateful that I can call you my wife."

"You're not going to remember any of this in the morning." You smiled sadly.

"I will. And I'll say it again. I promise." He mumbled and drifted off to sleep. His arm around your waist, his face pressed into the side of your stomach.

You, however, were wide awake.

Yeah... this was going to be a very long night.

First Meeting

The Night After The Ceremony

Something Gently Shifts

First Kiss

Jealous Zuko

Daily Life With Zuko

Reader is kidnapped by the Denied

Reader and Zuko's first improper kiss

Jealous Reader and Oblivious Zuko

getosurya

ꨄ︎ at the end of a long day, all that firelord!zuko needs is his beloved wife fluff; 0.9k words; masterlist

communicating without words is something that you and zuko have long since mastered.

so when he finally, finally creeps into the bedroom, far too late at night, it's easier than anything to tell that it's been a long, tough day.

you don't say anything beyond a quiet greeting upon his entry, but he can feel your eyes lingering on him from where you're tucked up in bed. it's comfortable, sure, but you're accustomed to your husband's presence, his warmth that the duvet alone cannot bring, even when you furl up into yourself and tug the duvet right up under your chin.

stxxrrgirl

i’d let adult zuko [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] me and do [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted]. can’t forget [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] of course

vidaliarkv

Flowers Need Rain

pairing: ⸝⸝ Aged up! Zuko x Fem! Reader ⸝⸝

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst to comfort, secret pregnancy, found family, Iroh's wisdom

The morning sun peeked through the ornate windows of the Fire Nation palace, but you didn’t feel its usual warmth. Instead, you felt that familiar, heavy churning in your stomach. It had been happening for weeks now—exhaustion, the sudden sensitivity to the smell of Zuko’s favorite spicy foods, and a strange, fluttering pressure deep in your abdomen.