Confetti

.30. MDNI

[tomorrowillbeyou]

it's so embarrassing being into something in a dumb horny pervert way and talking to someone who has like genuine well thought out takes on it. they're like wowww it presents such a fascinating take on the state of a divided culture and im like Trueeeee . and Chqracter make Gug Penis go Up ⬆️ 😃

[slowboeh]

i too will bite the hand that feeds me maybe even kiss it n lick it n suck on it a lil idk

[azranissu]

[mistresslumpkins]

Levi come home

[mon3trs]

some of you, i think

[holyurtadamn]

make love

[mistresslumpkins]

Also I know many have said this before but there’s no way that Izumi was na only child. Her mother must not have known what to do with all that

[lijean]

Headcanons of Zuko raising Izumi:

When Izumi was little she accidentally got into the arts and crafts cupboard and painted a scar on her eye, because she wanted to look like her daddy.

She likes singing along with Iroh. He often teaches her their Fire Nation traditional rhymes that were banned during the war, because they promoted peace.

The best part of Zuko's day is often having the chance to go out to the Palace gardens and feed the turtle ducks with her.

Zuko likes spoiling her rotten. Adoring her with toys when she was little. He later learned she has quite a fondness for history books and he would import her any literature she wanted.

He often visits Iroh's tea shop in Ba Sing Se and invites the Gaang to join him and Izumi. They usually bring their kids as well and it's a blast of a time of one big happy family.

At an early age he included Izumi in council meetings and he would always make a point to acknowledge her contributions and praised her in front of his council, as to never belittle her like his father did to him.

[mistresslumpkins]

I haven’t had NO SEX

[aphroditaeon]

After the war, it’s been a little too long for him and he’s too frustrated….might not be able to stop himself from going a little too rough 🤒

🩷❕ [full version on twt] ❕🩷

[witheredblacklilies]

Shameless

Hello this is just a little shit post, because I've seen the clips of adult Zuko and my ovaries are on fire. This is just for fun might not be the most accurate, its just a horny bitches fantasy mkay? Take it with a grain of salt...but also have fun~

Zuko x Black thiccc reader| kinky shit will happen| tempature play, shocking, bondage, edging it gets kinky|

If have nothing to say here just enjoy the smut and repost or comment if you like <3~

For as long as you could remember, you had harbored a silent, foolish admiration for Prince Zuko. Well, admiration was down playing it a tad. More like, an all consuming flame simmering just beneath your skin. Searing down the walls of your poor maiden heart. After all, how could you not?

He was kind, in a way that felt genuine and unguarded. Noble in both title and mind, and of course undeniably handsome in the same way the sun is impossible not to notice. Beautiful, radiant, yet absolutely dangerous. If you gaze too long, you were hopelessly smitten from the moment you locked eyes.

His gaze was warm and curious, it burned like honeyed gold. Sending chills where his eyes lingered upon you.

And yours?

Soft E/C eyes dutifully fixed on the cracks in the floor. Seeking answers in the polished stone, that would never come. You did not dare to look upon the prince, fearful that should you lock eyes again. Your dark cheeks would bloom like a rose in spring, or perhaps because deep down you knew......he was hopelessly beyond your station.

You were like a root in the ground, steady strong, but largely unnoticed and overlooked.

While he, he was like the sun.

Brilliant, distant, destined to shine. He could change the course of a room just by entering, eyes were drawn to him like moths to a flame he commanded presents with silence. This was a king in the making, and you....you were just some lowly servant.

There are no bridges between those worlds, only space.

And so you settled for distance. Admiring him in fleeting stolen moments between your duties.

A casual peek as you dusted curtains, a giggle as you swept side a walk and a longing sigh as you polished the same stretch of tile yet again. It practically gleamed like glass beneath your cloth.

However it seemed you polished the floor a touch too well.

The floor gleamed beneath your efforts. Catching not only the light, but the eye of Gore Lord Ozai himself.

His gaze lingered, sharp and assessing like a chilled blade. Before a slow, measured, smirk touched his lips. His eyes shifted from the mirror like sheen, to your hands.

Raw, reddened, and worn from labor. Approval.

Cold, calculating, disturbed.

When he spoke. His voice carried across the hall. Loud and athuorative, like rolling thunder. Addressing the scattered servants and guards he spoke of dedication. About discipline and the standard he expected.

You didn't hear all if it, couldn't hear all of it over the rush of blood in your ears. Drowning his words into something distant and distorted.

And then, his hand came to rest upon your shoulder.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Each measured tap sending a jolt through your trembling frame. You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat, but it was hard. You'd suddenly developed the worst case of cottonmouth known to man.

As you watched him leave, your shoulders didn't ease until his steps echoed outside the room. And the last trace of his shadow disappeared down the corridor.

That's when you were approached by Juno, a woman well past her youth. She carried herself with the grace of a queen, taking you under her wing.

She had long since mastered the art of appearing industrious, while accomplishing little. She was a professional slacker. And she taught you the delicate art.

While others toiled and rushed about like headless turtleducks, you learned timing. Positioning, how to walk on the balls of your feet. After all a silent servant is a unseen servant.

And so thanks to her dutiful tutelage, you were able to simply exsist around him. When he trained, you always just happened to be outside watering plants, sweeping dust or some other mundane task.

When he asked for water, your practically tripped over yourself presenting it to him.

Desperate just to stand within his orbit. Your fingers trembled as he took the waterskin from yours hands. The brief contact of the warm payoff his thumbs brushing your index finger, sent shivers down your spine.

Your eyes drifting down as his gaze once again fell upon you, he had his father's eyes. Sharp, peircing, cold.

But Lady Ursa's tenderness, like a lotus blooming through the cold front he always put up. Softening the dragon, into a crane.

Beautiful, poised, graceful.

When he asked you you're name, your heart nearly skipped a beat. You could feel his gaze settle on you, steady and deliberate. As if you were something to be studied, not just seen. Not as a servant passing through the margins of his world, but a portrait held in quiet focus.

Then almost imperceptibly, his lips curved.

A small, quaint smile graced his lips. Not enough to be certain, but noticeably different from his usual blank stare.

You fell into a silent rhythm, tailing him like a shadow, anticipating his needs before they could form on his lips. And he....allowed it.

More than that actually, he indulged it. Gracing you with a smile each time, small. Fleeting. Almost careless in its softness, but to you.

It was a potent thing. Dangerously so, because it fed you a slither of hope. Something that settled between your ribs like a gentle flame. Steadily burning hotter with each interaction.

The other servants glowered at you, their resentment sharp. But it scarcely mattered. It was less than background noise, you were ecstatic. Living in something far more consuming than their hostility could ever touch.

A quiet fantasy unfolding in stolen moments. Orbiting the prince, as if fate had finally tipped the scales in your favor. And yet slowly, impossibly....

Fantasy began to blur into reality.

It happened on the day of the Agni Kai. His greatest shame, the line finally dissolved. You didn't meet his eyes at first, not of shame or pity. But simply, because your eyes swelled with tears that threatened to spill free like a broken dam.

You stood close enough to feel the residual heat, and your hands trembled as you pressed a cool cloth to his face. The heat from the wound lingered beneath your fingertips, and your breath caught in your throat.

Carefully, oh so carefully, your worked the ointment into his burn. Your fingers unsteady despite your best efforts.

He watched you closely.

Too closely.

It didn't waver as your fingers trembling and unsteady worked the ointment into his skin. Nor did it flinch as you held the cool cloth to his burn. Silence hung heavy between you, thick and unyielding. His attention was fixed, not on the room, not even on your hands.

No, his gaze remained trained on your face. On the way your tears, silently glistened against your cheeks. As you tried and failed to hold them back, his throat bobbed once.

A involuntary motion.

As he watched, trying to understand why you would cry for a wound not yours to bear.

It didn't make sense to him.

And yet, despite everything there it was. Quiet, undeniable, all consuming.

You were everything in that moment. Not the scar, not the shame, not even his honor. Just the servant girl who shed tears for his pain.

Something jn him snapped, or more accurately snapped into place. His hands, previously folded against his knees, shifted suddenly. Decisively.

They found your waist.

And in one fluid motion, drew your closer. Into his lap.

You, were straddling the princes lap. Before your thoughts could even catch what had happened. He attacked your lips with the desperation of a man starved. His lips slide across yours; hungry desperate, bruising.

And his fingers curled deeply into the fabric of your clothes. As he drew your impossibly close, practically molding your body to his chest. You had to grip his shoulder to steady yourself, the cloth fell to the floor long forgotten as he claimed you.

Teeth to skin, hands to waist, heart to heart. It was desperate, passionate and far too consuming to be fleeting. His lips drifted across your clavicle with a tender possession. His teeth, lightly staked his claim of you. Sinking into the flesh of your shoulder, leaving a purplish bruise.

Your heart swelled at the mark he left on you, it was the first, but certainly wasn't the last. In fact it became something of a habit over the years...like now.

As usual he was seated in his favored place, between your thighs. His hands, warm and calloused guided you open almost mechanically. His gaze; mischievous in nature found yours.

A shiver slipped down your spine as his honey gold gaze lingered, searing and heavy with his unspoken desires. There was somthing a kin to devotion swirling in their depths, your breath hitched as he settled against your thigh.

His hair, long, lustrous and dark, like spun silk spilled in soft disarray against the dark expanse of your thigh.

His lips curved in ghe faintest hint of a smile as his fingers traced featherlight circles along the curve of your hips.

Goosebumps bloomed in their wake, and your breath caught in your throat as the slow drag of his touch shifted.

Settling into the warmth of your thigh as his palms settled there, "you're so tense my love....allow me to alleviate some of that tension~".

You wanted to scoff, he'd 'alleviated' some of your stress just an hour go, he was insatiable.

You couldn't help the flush burning through your cheeks, as his hands, warm; rough, worked slowly over the softness of your thighs.

Up and down. His fingers worked with a deliberate unhurried strokes, stoking the simmering flames of your desire brewing just beneath the surface.

You admired the way the low light caught against his skin, illuminating every scar and divot of muscle in a golden halo. His head dipped low, resting just between your thighs. Close enough to feel the heat from your labia.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Fire Lord Zuko?"

The moment shattered.

Zuko stilled, body taunt before irritation colored his previously mischievous smirk. He exhaled sharply through his nose, giving your labia a brief kiss before pulling back.

Rolling his eyes, he dragged a hand through his dark hair pulling the silken strands from his face.

"WHAT NOW?" He snapped.

The guard muttered something in response, but you could barely registered it over the frantic rhythm of your own heart, thumping loudly in your ears.

Slowly you began to shift. Inching back up the bed for a moment of reprieve. You'd barely shifted an inch, before his fingers were on you.

Gently curling around your ankle, firm and unyielding yet not unkind. He gave you a smirk over his shoulder. And your traitorous body began to throbe in response.

His thumb absentmindedly stroked the malleous of your left leg.

"DON'T BOTHER ME UNLESS IT'S IMPORTANT" he finished. Turning his attention once more to you, "where do you think you're going my little flame?~"

He murmured pulling you flush against him, with a quick yank of your ankle. "Now where were we?" A teasing smirk split his face as he drank in the way your breathing shifted, "ah right."

His lips quickly found your labia again, peppering it with light kisses as he settled your legs on either of his shoulders and his hands locked you in place.

He slowly licked along the slit of your labia, his tongue leaving wet strokes against the flushed skin. The slow lapping of his tongue against your heat had your fingers curling into the sheets and back arching of the bed.

"Z-Zuk-" you began to say throat working only for two of his fingers to slip into your mouth.

"Suck." He commanded and you obeyed. Cheeks burning as you slowly wrapped your tongue around his fingers. Licking from the base of his knuckle up to the tip of his finger.

He curled his fingers deeper into your mouth, twisting them beneath the wet muscle and around your gums before pulling them out.

Watching the slavia clinging to his fingers with a pleased grin, he playfully spreading his fingers watching the glistening strand stretch before bringing them toward your rear.

Spreading you, he delicately traced the rim of your ass with his spit slick fingers.

You scarcely had time to shiver, before he plunged his tongue deep into your slick heat as his fingers simultaneously stretched the tight heat of your ass. His slender fingers twisting in the warmth of your rear as his tongue twirled and plunged deeper into you.

Your skin burned as he fingered your ass and tongued you at once, his desperation radiating through each movement. Breath coming in jagged grunts, as heat fanned against your slick folds.

Your bottom lip was bitten raw, the sting of it swallowed by the feverish heat of his tongue. Your fingers tangled in the dark silk of his crown as you ground your weight against his ravenous mouth. Your breath shifted to ragged whimpers as his free hand swept over your abdomen, lingering between the valley of your breasts before circling your dark areloa.

You sucked a sharp breath between your teeth is his index finger circled the areloa, bleeding warmth into the small, sensitive ridges before catching your nipple between his thumb and index finger, giving it a firm deliberate roll.

He raised his head from where it sat between your thighs, catching the clouded look in your eyes and smirking against your skin. He gave your nipple a few more testing rolls, the warmth of his hands kneading your breasts; combined with his tongue against your opening and fingers in your ass had your eyes fluttering closed in delirious heat.

Euphoria rolled through your body like a wave of molten heat. You clenched around his tongue, your body beginning to tremble like a leaf in the wind as the fading sparks of his jolt settled deep in your bones.

He watched and waited, his golden eyes tracking every shiver until your peaks were fully hardened. Then, and only then... he delivered a searing, sudden jolt.

A white-hot burn seared your nerves as your back arched high off the bed, a strangled cry falling from your lips. But as you crested the peak, he vanished. His fingers slid from your rear with a wet, heavy squelch, and his lips parted from your drooling cunt. He stood over you with a satisfied smile, watching your hips and voluntarily bucking into the ghost of him.

The softest, most needy whimper fell from your lips, and you hated yourself for it. You swallowed hard against the parched tightness of your throat as Zuko pulled away, the sudden loss of his heat leaving you cold and exposed.

"Forgive me, my love. But as I recall... weren't you the one who said you find my affection to be smothering? Allow me to grant you some space." He murmured the words against your knuckles, placing a lingering kiss upon the bone and adjusting his collar before turning his back to you, marching toward the door with a calm, predatory grace.

Opening the door he smoothed his ebony locks back, facing the guard stationed at his door.

The guards spear rattled against his armor as the door swung wide. His eyes went wide, darting from the slick, golden expanse of zuko's bare chest, down to the low-slung tie of his robes, before landing on you. Naked and unraveled on the silk sheets. He choked on a breath, his face flushing a deep, shamed, crimson as he struggled to maintain composure.

"You wish to speak with me?" Zuko asked with an arched brow. You steadied your breath, still throbbing from your stolen release, and sat upright to cover yourself with a blanket. Although the throbbing strangely seemed to intensify... the guard blanched, sweat forming on his brow as he stumbled over his words, stuttering and mumbling quietly

"I—I don’t think that’ll be necessary, L—Lord Zuko," the guard muttered, but Zuko clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm and inescapable.

"Nonsense," Zuko drawled, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low vibrato. "You were so eager for my attention; it must truly be of great importance. So tell me. Now."

The guards face was a map of pure agony. As if he wished for the ground to open and swallow him whole, he was paralyzed under zuko's heavy hand. His eyes darting frantically from the Fire Lord's collar bone, to the floor. His breath came and shaky, panicked hitches that mirrored your own.

"I-I should go" he murmured voice soft and frail, zuko smiled gripping his shoulder tighter. "Not until I hear that report".

You sat there, a trembling wreck beneath the blanket, clutching the fabric until your nails bit into your palms. Every mundane word out of Zuko’s mouth felt like a lash against your skin. You were leaking heat, your inner muscles clenchingaround a void that only he could fill, and the humiliation of being seen by the guard was starting to blur into a desperate, shameful need to be seen even more.

Zuko didn't move; he simply stood there. Leaning in the doorway. You swallowed hard, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you watched the guard crumble under his gaze. The throbbing between your thighs had turned into a steady, rhythmic ache that made it impossible to sit still. You shifted on the silk, the sound of your skin sliding against the sheets loud enough to make the guard flinch, but Zuko only arched that brow further, savoring your restlessness as if it were the finest wine in the Palace.

Unable to help yourself, you shifted, your hips grinding a slow, rhythmic circle into the cool silk. You whimpered softly as the shameful friction easedsome of the tension, sending small jolts of euphoria through your body.

Zuko’s smirk deepened. He caught your eye in the reflection of the polished brass doorplate, watching youache for him while discussed the seasonal winds. He was starving you out, and he was enjoying every second of it.

The guard spoke in a hushed voice, you didn't hear any of it. To busy chasing your release, and grinding against sheets. Your chest rose and fell in quick breaths, as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. The bedframe squeaked with each roll of your hips as you blinked back yearning tears.

The guard spoke in a hushed voice, but you heard none of it too busy chasing your release and grinding against the sheets. Your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as your teeth sank into your bottom lip. The bedframe groaned with each roll of your hips, a rhythmic betrayal that echoed through the room as you blinked back tears of raw yearning.

You glared daggers at his back, that beautiful, muscular expanse. You knew exactly what this was: payback for the time you’d blue-balled him while he sat on the throne. You had ground against him until he was a flushed mess, harder than stone, only to hop off and scamper out of the throne room with a devilish smirk. Now, that very same smirk was mirrored over his shoulder, directed right at you.

Biting down on your pride, you curled your fingers deep into the sheets. "Zuko," you rasped, your voice barely above a whisper. He pretended not to hear you. You rolled your eyes, desperate enough to try again. "Zuko, please."

Zuko, what?" he asked, finally turning to faceyou with a falsely innocent look. You know what I want," you hissed through clenched teeth.

Zuko slowly scratched his chin, his golden eyes scanning your unraveled form. "I’m sorry, my love, but how can I possibly know what you want? I am not a mind reader. If you want something," he said, barely containing the predatory smirk pulling at his lips, "Ask for it."

Your eyes flickered to the guard, whose entire face turned a dark red as he squirmed under Zuko's grasp. Your own ears burned, flushing a shamed crimson as you debated humiliating yourself further. But the sheets were just a drop in the ocean of your desire; your body ached for his. You were throbbing with a restless need, the mere thought of him pinning your legs back and taking you fiercely making your vision blur.

With a heavy sigh, you conceded, dropping the blanket and spreading your legs to show him the pooling wetness. "Put a baby in me," you spoke flat, quick, and unapologetically shameful.

Zuko swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his golden eyes fixed on the glistening heat between your legs. He didn't look away from you as he spoke to the guard, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly command. "Tell the servants I am not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. I have a... lingering debt to settle."

Slamming the door, he crossed the room in two strides, shedding his robes and blessing you with the sight of his full, bare chest. You watched in breathless anticipation as his muscles rippled beneath his skin before he settled onto the bed. Drawing you near, his hands, warm and rough, kneaded the plump of your stomach, his gaze a heady mix of adoration and possessive hunger.

You shivered as he kissed the curve of your stomach, worshiping one of your greatest insecurities. Catching sight of his throbbing cock, you gingerly trailed a finger along its girth, tracing a twitching vein before thumbing the weeping slit. Zuko shuddered beneath your touch, pausing his worship just long enough to catch your wrists. He pinned them to the headboard, binding them securely with a silk sash.

"L—Let me worship you," he rasped, the words breaking in a softwhimper as he gently kissed your lips. But the gentleness lasted only a moment. His lips slid against yours with a burning passion, his teeth grazing your reddened skin before he sucked your tongue into his mouth. His hands found your breasts, kneading and pinching the hardened nubs as he drank the sound of your gasps.

Your hands curled against the silk restraints, your legs shifting restlessly before being boxed in by his. "I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve loved you," he murmured against your lips, "and I never will again. It’s you... it’s always been you." He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, leaving a path of purplish-blue lovebites across your collar and breasts, each one deeper and more possessive than the last.

His lips found your left nipple, warm and wet as his tongue traced your areola, his hips grinding into yours infuriatingly slow. Your legs folded around his waist, pulling him closer as you suffered through the wait. It was hell, being so close to the cure yet being forced to linger. You pulled against your restraints, arching into his mouth and blinking back dazed tears as the pleasure threatened to unmake you.

Sweat dappled your skin and he licked it away, your lips parting to beg, but a ragged cry broke out instead. Finally caving to your wants or perhaps his own restraints finally crumbling, he began sliding his tip against your eager entrance. You bucked preemptively against him, and he chuckled darkly. He didn't make you wait any longer. Gripping your hips, he slowly pushed inside, his body shuddering as he was swallowed by the burning heat that practically pulled him in and held him there. He sucked a sharp breath between his teeth, his hands trembling as they dug into your skin, pressing your hips firmly into the mattress.

He paused for a moment, pressing his sweat-slicked forehead against your own. You captured his lips with yours as he slowly pulled out nearly to the tip, then thrust back in. Stars exploded across your vision as his head kissed your g-spot with each sensual drive. The bedframe scraped against the floor with every roll of your hips, and you abandoned your shame, moaning and crying out loud enough for the entire palace to hear.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh, leaving small crescent indents against your skin, and your toes curled tightly, tingling with each snap of his hips into yours. His eyes fluttered closed and he broke the kiss, resting his head next to yours. Cheek to cheek, sweat mixing with sweat, he whimpered softly in your ear. His lips grazed the shell of your ear, placing a tender kiss to your cheek as you left your own dark lovebites along his neck.

He pressed you deeper into the mattress, grunting softly in your ear as he laid his full weight atop you, chest to breasts. Your nipples brushed against his skin, sensitive and aching, as he fucked you senseless. Your whole body tingled, burning hot as you throbbed. Listening to the sound of skin slapping skin.

Your eyes fluttered and squeezed shut as the coiled tension in your stomach finally snapped, uncurling like a whip. A violent, electric shiver raced from your core to your toes, and your vision whited out into a haze of pure, blinding heat. For a moment, you felt weightless, as if the world had fallen away, leaving you drifting in a flood of euphoria that left you dazed and breathless beneath him.

The world went silent, replaced by a high, ringing hum that vibrated in your skull, leaving you deaf to everything but the sound of your own blood rushing.

As you came back down to earth, your eyes focused on the blissful, wrecked face of Zuko. His shoulders tensed as he pressed your legs near your shoulders, his breath coming in ragged bursts against your chest. He gave a few more punctuated thrusts, the last one ramming into your G-spot and sending stars exploding across your vision once more. You felt him swell and stretch you to your limit before he twitched...once, twice...and finally broke. His release came quick and hot, a heavy warmth spilling down your joined thighs before he went slack against you. His chest was still trembling as he caught your lips in a tender, desperate kiss once more.

"For a moment, the room was silent, save for your joined, ragged breaths syncing as you both came down from the high. He pressed his forehead to yours, murmuring sweet nothings against your damp skin. He tried to pull you into a spooning position, his arms snaking around your waist, but you lightly pushed against him.

Confusion flickered across his features until you shifted in his grip, turning to face him. You draped a leg over his and snuggled into his moist chest, comforted by his scent and the way his dark hair clung to his shoulders

"I love you," you said in unison, followed by a soft, shared laugh. You rested your head against his heart, and he leaned his against yours. As your eyes became heavy and a yawn escaped you, you murmured sleepily, "Aren’t you going to pull out?"

Your body was already caving to exhaustion, but Zuko simply kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "No," he whispered, his voice grounded and final. "Didn’t you ask me to put a baby in you? I’m ensuring it stays."

Alright, my babies, that's it.I hope it was freaky enough for you, if not i'm sorry. 🥺 I shall upgrade my freak next post 🤪. Anyway....Aang is next 👀😛

[butch-ramblings]

(flirting) I could worship you in ways that would make churches look useless.

[sweetlandspos]

Hands studies

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[wadigrove]

@getosbunny @p00pdev1l zuko gooners rise 🌅

[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; zuko x reader

you find him where you always do—exactly where the weight of the world settles after everyone else has gone to sleep. 

the council chambers are dim now, lit only by low-burning braziers that cast a steady, amber glow across polished floors and carved walls. everything feels quieter at night, but not softer. the silence here is heavy, filled with decisions not yet made, with futures balanced on ink and parchment. 

zuko is kneeling at the center of it all, back straight despite the hour, shoulders broad beneath his armor, head bowed over a cluster of scrolls. even in stillness, he looks like he is holding something together—like if he lets go for even a moment, the world might tilt.

you step inside without announcing yourself, because you’ve learned the rhythm of him. the guards don’t stop you anymore. the doors barely make a sound when you slip through, and your footsteps are light, softened further by the fabric of your robes brushing against the stone like a hush, like wind threading through something sacred. 

you don’t interrupt. you never do. you just move toward him slowly, taking him in the way you always do—quietly, like something you’re still a little in awe of.

zuko has changed throughout the years. that is undeniable. he is taller now, broader, his body shaped by years of training and responsibility, his posture no longer defensive but grounded. his shoulders fill the space they occupy with an ease that used to be absent, like he no longer feels the need to make himself smaller or sharper just to survive. but the softness… it never leaves him. 

it lingers in the way his brows knit together when he reads, in the slight downturn of his mouth when something troubles him, in the way his eyes—still so expressive, still so painfully honest—move across the page like he is trying to understand more than just words. 

he used to frown like the world was something he had to fight. now he frowns like the world is something he has to care for.

his hair has begun to slip loose with the passing hours. strands fall over his shoulders, catching the firelight, dark and soft against the rigid lines of his armor. you watch as he runs a hand through it, a tired, unconscious motion, pushing it back only for it to fall again. it feels intimate, somehow—this quiet unraveling at the end of the day. like he sheds pieces of the fire lord here, in the solitude of these walls, until what’s left is just him.

you close the distance between you carefully, stepping into his warmth before you touch him. it’s always there—the heat of him, not burning, never overwhelming, but constant. like standing close to a hearth in winter, like something alive and steady and safe. 

your hands lift slowly, giving him time to notice if he hasn’t already, but he doesn’t turn. he always knows it’s you. he always does. your fingers curl over the back of his neck first, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, before sliding forward over the metal of his armor, settling against his chest. even through the layers, you can feel him—solid, steady, real.

“can the fire lord have some time off for his fiancée?” you whisper, your voice soft enough to belong to the quiet of the room.

he doesn’t startle. he never startles with you. but there is a pause—a small, human hesitation where the fire lord slips and something softer surfaces. he blinks, turning his head just enough to look at you over his shoulder, and there it is—that faint flush creeping across his cheeks, that little flicker of something unguarded that he hasn’t quite learned to hide from you. 

“what are you doing here?” he asks, but his voice lacks any real reprimand. it’s quieter than it would be in court, lower, touched with something almost shy.

you shrug lightly, your gaze drifting—inevitably, instinctively—to his scar. it catches the firelight differently, textured and real, a mark that once carried so much pain and now sits on him like something reclaimed. you don’t stare at it the way others do. you trace it with your eyes the way someone might trace a constellation—softly, with understanding. 

“i missed you,” you say, and the words are simple, but they settle between you like something heavier, something honest.

for a moment, neither of you move. the world outside these walls—his duties, the court, the expectations—falls away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this quiet, shared space. and then he looks at you properly, turning just a little more, his head tilting in that familiar way. there’s something new in it now—not arrogance—but a quiet awareness. a growing understanding of himself, of you, of the space between you.

“you’re staring,” he says, and his voice dips just slightly, teasing in a way that feels tentative, like he’s still learning how to do it.

the pause that follows is deliberate. he lets it stretch just enough for warmth to bloom in your chest, for your breath to hitch, for that small, traitorous flutter to betray you. and then—just barely—his mouth curves. it’s not a full smile, not the wide, unguarded one he gives in rare moments, but something softer, more controlled. 

something that says, i know.

because he does. that’s the difference now. zuko has grown into himself in a way that lets him see the way you look at him, the way you respond to him. he doesn’t wield it like a weapon. he holds it carefully, almost uncertainly, but he lets it exist.

“don’t tease me,” you murmur, the words brushing against his skin as you lean in and press a kiss to his unscarred cheek.

he exhales a quiet, almost breathless chuckle, and it melts into you more than it escapes him. when you settle closer, your body aligning with his, you feel the strength of him more clearly. it’s not just the shape of him—the breadth of his chest, the firmness of his arms—but the way that strength exists. it is not harsh or rigid. it is controlled, deliberate, built over years of discipline and survival. every part of him feels earned, like something carved rather than given.

and yet, even like this—armored, composed, carrying the title of fire lord—he shifts slightly under your touch, one hand coming up to push his hair back again, a faint, almost embarrassed habit that softens him instantly. his voice, when he speaks again, loses that edge of formality entirely. it’s just him now.

dorky, gentle, still a little unsure of where to put his hands sometimes—but warm. always warm.

“i missed you too,” he says after a moment, and the words are quiet but steady, like something rooted deep in him.

he reaches for the scrolls then, not to return to them, but to gather them, stacking them neatly as if creating space—making room, not just on the table, but here, in this moment, for you. and your heart does something soft and helpless in your chest at the gesture, at the way he chooses, even if only for a little while.

you hide your smile against his cheek, pressing closer, breathing him in—smoke and heat and something distinctly him; for a moment, the world feels smaller, quieter, kinder.

(even fire, in the right hands, can learn to hold instead of burn.)

you shift without asking, without hesitation—like it’s the most natural thing in the world to close that last bit of distance between you. your hands slide over his shoulders as you move, gathering his attention fully now, and then you’re settling into his lap, the movement slow and deliberate, your weight sinking into him in a way that makes his breath catch just slightly. 

the scrolls are forgotten entirely now, pushed aside by your presence alone, and for a moment he just looks at you, like he’s trying to decide whether to scold you or something else entirely.

“aren’t you finally going to fuck me on the big, bad council table?” your voice dips, teasing, soft with mischief, the words brushing against him more than they land.

he exhales sharply, something between a sigh and a quiet huff, his head tilting back just a fraction as if gathering patience that’s already slipping through his fingers. “behave,” he mumbles, but it lacks any real bite. it never does with you. there’s a warmth creeping up his neck now, coloring his cheeks, and it betrays him instantly—the way he reacts to you, the way you unravel him without even trying.

you laugh softly, the sound light and pleased, and shift just a little more comfortably in his lap, your legs resting on either side of him. your robes spill around you both, fabric pooling and fluttering with every small movement like petals caught in a warm breeze, soft against the edges of something far more solid—him. you can feel the tension in him now, not rigid, not pulling away, but contained. like a flame held carefully in place.

his hands hover for a moment, unsure where to land—still that same boy in some ways, still learning you, even now—but eventually they settle at your waist, firm and grounding. his grip is steady, anchoring you there, as if he’s reminding both of you that he hasn’t lost control. that he won’t.

but his eyes give him away.

amber, always warm, always bright—but now they feel deeper, heavier somehow. like molten gold rather than flickering firelight. there’s something in them that lingers on you, that studies you with a quiet intensity, and it makes your chest tighten in that familiar, helpless way.

you lean in before he can say anything else, before he can gather himself too neatly again, and press your lips to his.

the kiss is slow at first. intentional. you don’t rush it—you never rush him. your lips move against his with a softness that invites rather than demands, and for a second he stills, caught off guard by the gentleness of it. but then he responds.

he always does.

his hand at your waist tightens just slightly, fingers pressing into the fabric of your robes, grounding himself in you as he leans into the kiss. there’s warmth in it, a steady heat that builds rather than burns, and it spreads through you easily, like something you’ve come to recognize as his. familiar. safe.

and still—there’s that contrast.

because this is the same man who sits in council, who makes decisions that shape nations, who carries a title that once crushed him—and yet here, with you, he softens. his lips move against yours with a kind of carefulness, like he’s still learning how to hold something precious without breaking it. like he’s still a little in awe that he’s allowed to have this at all.

you feel it in the way he exhales quietly against you, in the way his shoulders loosen beneath your hands, in the way he lets himself lean forward just a fraction more than before.

the kiss deepens like a slow ember catching on dry tinder, your tongues meeting in a warm, careful slide that tastes of smoke and salt and the quiet hours you have both been waiting through.

his mouth is hesitant at first, the way zuko always is when the world narrows to just the two of you, but then he gives in with that familiar intensity he can never quite hide, the same fire that once burned too hot and now knows how to hold steady.

you feel the soft wet sound of your mouths parting and coming back together, a hushed rhythm that fills the quiet council chamber like a secret only the braziers are allowed to witness. your robes shift against his armor with a whisper of silk on metal, and tiny moans slip from you both, unplanned, unguarded, the kind of sound that makes the air feel thicker.

you shift your hips with deliberate slowness, dragging yourself back and forth across his lap until the heat between your bodies becomes something alive and insistent. beneath the layers of fabric you feel him, hard and warm and unmistakably wanting, the rigid line of his cock pressing up through his robes like a secret he cannot keep from you anymore.

zuko moans, low and startled, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pulls back just enough to breathe. his amber eyes are half-lidded now, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks, and that faint flush you love so much has crept all the way down the column of his throat.

“what—hah—what’re you doing?” he asks, voice rough and cracked at the edges, the fire lord’s composure fraying like an old banner in the wind.

even as the words leave him his hands betray him, sliding to your hips and guiding you with gentle pressure, urging you to keep moving, to keep sliding against that hard bulge that twitches every time your clit catches just right.

you moan softly, the pleasure sharp and sweet like a spark against dry leaves, and you shake your head with a small smile that feels almost wicked in the amber glow. 

“nothing,” you whisper, the lie soft and breathless, and he knows it is a lie but he does not call you on it.

instead his fingers tighten on your waist, not to stop you but to anchor himself, the way he once anchored himself to honor and duty when the world demanded too much.

you both lean in again and the kiss returns, deeper this time, tongues stroking with a new urgency while your hips keep that slow, rolling grind that makes every nerve in your body sing.

his breath hitches against your mouth each time you drag forward, the hard heat of him rubbing perfectly against your clit through too many layers of cloth. you feel the way his thighs tense beneath you, strong from years of firebending forms and battlefield stances, now trembling just slightly under the weight of your pleasure.

zuko’s heart beats steady and fierce inside his chest; you can feel it where your palms rest against his armored breastplate.

he is the same man who once chased the avatar across the world with rage and shame and a need to prove himself worthy, yet here he lets you unravel him without protest, only that soft, embarrassed hitch in his breathing that makes your own chest ache with tenderness.

you grind a little harder and his head tips back, exposing the long line of his throat. a quiet groan escapes him, raw and honest, the kind he would never allow in court but offers you freely in the privacy of these shadowed halls.

his hands slide up your back, palms warm even through the silk, mapping the curve of your spine like he is memorizing a new firebending stance, careful and holy.

the friction between you builds like a controlled flame, steady and rising, never rushing. your clit throbs with every slow drag forward, pleasure blooming low in your belly and spreading outward until your fingers curl tighter into the metal at his shoulders.

he feels it too; you know he does because his hips lift just slightly to meet you, an instinctive roll that presses him harder against your core and draws a sharper moan from your throat.

his eyes flutter open for a moment, amber and molten, locking onto yours with that intense honesty he has carried since the day he chose his own path.

you see the fire lord in him then, the man who carries his nation on his shoulders, yet you also see the zuko who still blushes when you tease, who still hesitates before letting desire win.

that contrast makes your heart swell and your body burn hotter, a rush of love and lust so tangled you cannot tell them apart.

another slow grind, another shared moan, the soft wet sounds of fabric and mouths and breath filling the chamber like a private melody. his grip on your hips grows firmer, guiding you now with more confidence, the way he once learned to guide flame without letting it consume him.

“you feel… so good,” he admits in a whisper against your lips, voice husky and almost shy, the admission costing him something precious and beautiful.

you smile into the kiss, nipping gently at his lower lip, and the small sound he makes in response is half protest and half surrender.

the scrolls lie forgotten on the table behind you, ink and parchment no match for the living heat of his body beneath yours.

outside these walls the world waits with its treaties and expectations, but inside this circle of your robes and his armor there is only the slow, deliberate drag of your hips, the deepening kiss, and the way his warmth seeps into every part of you like sunlight after a long winter.

you keep moving, steady and unhurried, letting the pleasure climb in soft waves that make your thighs tremble and your breath catch. zuko’s forehead rests against yours now, eyes closed, lashes brushing your skin, and he lets out another quiet moan that vibrates through both of you like the first tremor of an earthquake only you two can feel.

in this moment he is not the fire lord. he is simply yours, warm and wanting and wonderfully undone, and the knowledge settles deep in your chest like a promise carved in flame.

(even the fiercest fire, in the right hands, learns how to dance instead of destroy.)

[wadigrove]

i think zuko starts off so shy and dorky and sweet during sex… face all red, ears burning, mumbling quiet little “is this okay?” while he’s barely holding it together.

but after a while? he really grows into it.

he gets more confident—fucking you deeper, faster, putting you in positions you never thought he’d even consider. suddenly he’s gripping your hips, flipping you over like it’s nothing, voice low and a little rough when he murmurs against your ear, “you think you can take more for me?”

he even starts getting charming and teasing about it—that rare, smug little smirk appearing when he sees how wrecked you are, softly taunting, “what’s wrong, princess? too much for you already?” while he keeps going harder.

he still blushes… but now it’s because he loves how desperate you sound for him.

[p00pdev1l]

the thought of his hair coming undone from his top bun while fighting makes me feel sooo

[enbellas]

STEP ASIDE ENJIN ZUKO WAS HERE FIRST!!!!!