Isuckzukosballs

"Hey..." he breathed out.

"Stop talking. " you said, pulling him down for another kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels pressing into the small of his back, dragging him closer until he was positioned right where you needed him. The blunt head of him nudged against your entrance, and you both went still for a heartbeat.

The hesitation lasted exactly one heartbeat. Then Aang pressed forward, sinking into you with one slow, deliberate thrust that made you both go still, both of you just breathing through the intensity of it.

You whimpered against his mouth, your body stretching to accommodate him. It had been a while- not so long that it hurt, but long enough that you felt every inch, every bit of the slow, thick slide until he was fully seated inside you.

Aang's forehead dropped to yours, his breath coming in sharp, controlled exhales. His arms trembled where they held him up, like it was taking everything he had not to just let go.

You could feel the tension coiling in him, the way his muscles locked tight as he held himself perfectly still. His jaw was clenched, that little muscle ticking near his ear, and you realized with a rush of affection and desire that he was fighting for control. Trying to be careful. Trying to be gentle.

Sometimes you didn't want gentle.

You rolled your hips, just a small movement, and the sound he made...half groan, half gasp- was absolutely devastating. His eyes squeezed shut, and you watched his resolve crumble in real time.

"Okay?" he asked, voice strained.

You answered by rolling your hips up against his, pulling him deeper. His elbows buckled, and he caught himself just before he crushed you, a strangled groan escaping his throat.

"Don't you dare hold back," you warned, digging your heels into his back. "We don't have time for slow."

Something shifted in Aang's eyes at your words a flicker of surprise, then heat, then pure, unrestrained want. The careful gentleness evaporated like mist in the sun.

"Thank the spirits," he breathed.

He pulled back almost entirely, then drove forward hard enough to make the bed creak. The sound that ripped out of you was embarrassingly loud, but he swallowed it with a kiss, his mouth hungry and demanding against yours.

His rhythm set in immediately deep, and relentless strokes that knocked the air from your lungs each time he bottomed out. The bed frame protested with each thrust, a rhythmic creaking that you'd normally be mortified about but currently couldn't care less about.

Aang's hands found your wrists, pinning them above your head against the pillow. His fingers laced through yours, holding you there as his hips snapped forward again. The new angle hit something inside you that made your vision white out at the edges, and you heard yourself make a sound somewhere between a moan and his name.

"There" you gasped. "Right there, don't stop..."

Aang didn't stop. If anything, he adjusted his angle to hit that same spot with devastating precision, each thrust deliberate and punishing in the best possible way.

Your back arched off the bed as pleasure spiked through you, white-hot and relentless. His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to keep you pinned, and the helplessness of it- the absolute trust in letting him hold you down sent another thrill racing through your already overloaded senses.

"You feel so good," Aang groaned against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. His hips never faltered, driving into you with a rhythm that was steadily making you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts. "Spirits, I missed this. I missed ah- missed you."

"I'm right here," you managed, the words coming out breathless and uneven. "Not going anywhere."

Aang made a sound against your throat...half laugh, half groan- and his grip on your wrists tightened. His next thrust hit deeper, harder, and your sentence dissolved into something that wasn't words at all.

The bed was definitely going to complain about this later. The wooden frame creaked in a rhythm that matched his pace, and you had a fleeting, hysterical thought that the Air Acolytes probably heard this all the way on the mainland. Then Aang shifted his weight, changing the angle again, and you stopped thinking entirely.

His weight settled fully over you now, one forearm braced beside your head, the other hand still holding your wrists pinned above you. The new position meant every thrust drove deeper, his hips grinding against yours in a way that had you seeing colors that probably didn't exist.

"Aang..." His name tore out of you, wrecked and desperate. Your fingers clenched around his, nails biting into his skin because you needed an anchor and he was it.

"Right here," he murmured against your jaw, his voice rough in a way that made your stomach clench. "Not going anywhere either."

His free hand released your wrists, sliding down to grip your thigh and hook it higher around his waist. The new depth made you both groan in unison a sound that would have been funny if either of you had the breath to appreciate it.

"You're-" you started, but whatever you were going to say got swallowed by another thrust that made your eyes roll back. Something. You were going to say something. Probably important. Definitely lost now.

Aang's mouth found your neck, teeth grazing over the spot just below your ear that made your whole body shudder. His hips never slowed, driving into you with a persistence that felt almost religious like he was trying to reach enlightenment through sheer determination and really excellent rhythm.

His teeth scraped that spot again, and you forgot your own name. Which was fine, because the only word left in your brain was his anyway, falling from your lips in broken syllables each time he drove forward.

The coil in your stomach was winding tight again, faster this time, like your body had been primed and ready from the first orgasm and just needed a push. Aang seemed to sense it. Years of practice reading you, knowing exactly when you were close, because his rhythm shifted from relentless to something even more deliberate.

Each thrust was deep, grinding, his hips flush against yours before pulling back. The friction was unbearable in the best way, and you could feel yourself clenching around him, your body trying to hold him inside on every out-stroke.

His hand slid from your thigh to your breast, palm covering the soft curve before his fingers found your nipple. He rolled the peaked bud between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, and the sensation shot straight down to where your bodies were joined.

You cried out, actually cried out, no dignity left- and your nails raked down his back. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make him hiss against your throat and thrust harder in response.

"Again." he groaned, his voice wrecked. "Do that again."

Your hands obeyed before your brain caught up, fingernails dragging down the taut muscles of his back as he drove into you. Aang's breath hitched, a broken sound escaping his throat, and his hips snapped forward with enough force to shove the bed an inch across the floor.

The wooden screech was loud. Neither of you cared.

"Like that?" you managed, breathless and more than a little smug despite being absolutely wrecked.

Aang's response was a groan that vibrated through his entire chest and into yours. His hips stuttered, rhythm faltering for just a second before he recovered with a thrust that made the bed protest even louder.

"Like that" he confirmed, voice rough enough to sand wood. "Exactly like that."

His fingers tightened on your nipple—not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath catch and your body arc up into his. He pinched and rolled the sensitive bud while his hips found their rhythm again, and you decided that multitasking was deeply, deeply unfair when he did it.

His mouth descended to your other breast, tongue swirling around the neglected nipple before sucking it into the warm heat of his mouth. The dual sensation his fingers on one, his tongue on the other short-circuited whatever remained of your higher brain functions.

"Aang, I can't-" You didn't even know what you were trying to say. Can't think? Can't breathe? Can't survive this? All of the above?

He released your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air across the damp skin that made you shiver. "You can" he said, and the confidence in his voice was both infuriating and incredibly hot. "You will."

You wanted to argue. Really, you did but then his teeth grazed your nipple at the exact same moment his hips drove forward, and every thought you had left packed its bags and moved to the Earth Kingdom.

The coil in your stomach wound tighter, impossibly tight, and you could feel yourself clenching around him in a rhythm you couldn't control. Aang noticed- of course, and his next thrust ground deep, hitting that spot while you were still squeezing around him.

Your vision went white.

Your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave, powerful and absolutely devastating. Your entire body seized, back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through you. You were making sounds- REALLY loud ones but they registered somewhere far away, muffled by the roaring in your ears.

Aang groaned above you, his rhythm faltering as your body clamped down on him like a vice. His hips jerked forward, losing that careful precision, and you could feel him shaking with the effort of holding back.

His control was slipping, you could see it in the tremor of his arms, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack. He was holding on by a thread, and something about that, about watching the Avatar come undone because of you, sent another pulse of heat through your still-trembling body.

"Don't." you said, and your voice came out wrecked, barely a whisper. Your hands found his face, cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were hazy, pupils blown wide, and he looked absolutely destroyed in the best possible way. "Don't hold back."

Aang made a sound, something raw and desperate- and his hips snapped forward hard enough to make the bed slam against the wall again. The impact rattled something on the nightstand, probably a lamp, definitely not your problem right now.

The bed hitting the wall seemed to unlock something in him. That careful, measured control he'd been clinging to evaporated completely, and the man above you the Avatar, the spiritual leader, the father of your children- gave in entirely.

His hands grabbed your thighs, pushing them up and back, folding you nearly in half as he drove into you with a ferocity that stole every thought from your head. The new angle was devastating, hitting places you were fairly sure didn't exist before today, and each thrust ground against that spot with relentless precision.

"Aang- !" His name ripped out of you, high and desperate. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the sheets, the headboard, anything, but there was nothing to hold onto except him.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails crescenting into muscle as he set a pace that made the previous rhythm seem like a warm-up. The bed frame had given up complaining entirely, now it just groaned in resigned acceptance with each thrust, the sound mixing with the sharp slap of skin against skin and the broken noises spilling from both of you.

Aang's forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in ragged bursts that fanned across your lips. His eyes were squeezed shut, face tight with concentration, like he was trying to memorize every second of this. Or maybe trying not to finish too fast. Probably both. With one final thrust, he came deep inside your womb. His seed planting itself once again after a long time of not being inside of you.

"Well…I guess having one day of free time wasn't bad at all"

The morning sun cast golden light across Air Temple Island as Katara stepped off the Air Acolytes' sailboat, already rolling up her sleeves.

"I've got everything under control," she said confidently, scooping up little Bumi who had toddled over to greet her. "You two go. Relax. Reconnect. Do… whatever it is you need to do."

You and Aang stood on the dock, watching Katara walk toward the main house with Bumi on her hip.

"Are you sure?" You called out, already feeling that familiar pull of motherly guilt. "Bumi hasn't had his nap yet and he just learned how to throw things!"

"I helped raise kids in the Water tribe I think this would be easy for me" Katara called back without turning around. "I think I can handle one toddler and some flying objects. Go!"

Aang's hand found yours, his fingers threading through with that easy warmth that used to come so naturally before bedtime routines and toddler tantrums took over your lives.

"She's got this," he said, squeezing gently. "And when was the last time we actually… you know?"

You thought about it. Really thought about it. And came up empty.

"That long, huh?" Aang said with a little laugh, reading your expression.

"Don't joke," you said, but you were smiling too. "It's been… a while."

"Too long," he agreed, pulling you closer by your joined hands. His thumb traced a small circle on your palm- something so simple, but it made your stomach flip in a way it hadn't since before Bumi was born.

"Come on," Aang said, leading you up the path toward the house. "I may have done some… preparation."

"Preparation?" You raised an eyebrow at him. "Aang, did you actually plan this out?"

He had the decency to look a little sheepish. "I may have asked Katara to watch Bumi a few weeks ago. And then again last week. And then this morning I may have bribed her with imported Water Tribe sea prunes."

You stared at him, then burst out laughing. "Sea prunes? Aang, those things cost a fortune to ship down here."

"Worth every yuan," he said with absolute sincerity, and that earnest look on his face, the one that said he'd move mountains if it meant having you to himself for a few hours made your chest go warm and fluttery.

"You're ridiculous," you said, but you were already following him up the stone path, your hand still snug in his.

"But you married me anyway," Aang pointed out, flashing that boyish grin that still worked on you after all these years.

"Questionable judgement on my part," you shot back, but you were squeezing his hand tighter.

The house was quiet. Actually quiet. No tiny footsteps, no toys clattering against the floor, no sudden wailing from the next room. Just… silence.

You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, almost unsure of what to do with yourself. Aang came up behind you, his hands settling on your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"So," he said, his breath warm against your ear. "What do you want to do?"

You turned in his arms, facing him properly for the first time all day. Really looking at him not as the father of your child, not as the Avatar with a schedule packed tighter than a tin can, but as Aang. Your husband.

"I don't even know where to start," you admitted, which was honest in a way that surprised you both.

Aang smiled that soft, unhurried one he saved just for you. "How about here?"

His lips met yours before you could answer, not rushed or desperate, but slow. Deliberate. Like he had all the time in the world and every intention of using it.

You melted into it. Your hands found the front of his robes, fingers curling into the fabric as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened naturally, easy as breathing, and somewhere in the back of your mind you thought oh right, this is what it's supposed to feel like.

"Too many clothes," you murmured against his mouth, already tugging at the sash around his waist.

Aang laughed a low, warm sound that vibrated against your lips. "Eager?"

"You owe me months of 'something' "you said, working at the knot with fingers that had clearly forgotten how to do anything other than tie toddler-sized shoes. "Stop being smug and help me."

"I'm not smug, I'm okay, that's a lie, I'm a little smug," he admitted, batting your hands away to deal with the sash himself. Much faster. "There."

The sash came loose and his robes fell open, revealing the lean the familiar lines of his chest still lean, the arrow tattoos that traced down his shoulders. training, he's still warm when you pressed your palms against his You'd seen him a thousand times, but right now just…skin.

You'd seen him a thousand times, but right now- after months of quick pecks and exhausted goodnights it felt like discovering him all over again.

"Your turn," Aang said, reaching for the ties of your own robes. His fingers were quicker than yours had been, but he took his time anyway, brushing against the skin he revealed like he was relearning the map of you.

"You're going slow on purpose," you accused, though your voice came out breathier than intended.

"Maybe," Aang admitted, that infuriating smile still playing at his lips as he tugged the last tie loose. Your robes slipped off your shoulders, pooling at your feet. "I'm savoring this."

"You can savor faster," you said, and he laughed- that real, full laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Bossy," he said fondly, stepping back just enough to look at you properly.

His eyes moved over you slowly, appreciative, you felt a little thrill at the way he looked at you. Like you were the most interesting thing in the world, spirits and political crises and all.

His gaze lingered, and you felt heat creep up your neck that had nothing to do with the morning sun streaming through the window.

"Stop staring," you muttered, though you made absolutely no move to cover yourself.

"I'm not staring," Aang said, still very obviously staring. "I'm… appreciating."

"Same thing," you said, but you were fighting a smile.

"Completely different."his hands found your waist, warm palms against your skin. "Appreciating is deliberate. Intentional. Very spiritual, actually."

"You're using Avatar wisdom to justify checking me out?"

"Everything I do is spiritual," Aang said, his expression perfectly solemn except for the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Including this."

His hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and the feeling of him- warm and solid and interested in a way that made your breath catch.

"Okay, that's definitely not spiritual," you speak out while chuckling softly.

"Who says spirituality can't be physical?" Aang waggled his eyebrows at you, and you groaned, shoving at his chest even as you laughed.

"You're the worst. You know that, right? The absolute worst."

"You married me anyway," he reminded you again, and before you could fire back, he walked you backward toward the bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress and you went down, pulling him with you.

You landed on the soft covers with Aang braced above you, his arms on either side of your head. He was grinning down at you like he'd just won a prize, and You were the prize, so you couldn't really argue.

"Hi," he said, unnecessarily.

"Hi." you said back, just as dumbly.

Aang dipped his head down, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, then the spot just below your ear that made you make a sound you definitely weren't proud of.

"There it is" he murmured against your skin, entirely too pleased with himself.

You swatted at his shoulder, but your fingers just lingered there, tracing the lines of his muscle. His mouth traveled lower, pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses across your chest. When his lips found your breast, you inhaled sharply, your back arching off the bed on instinct.

Aang hummed against your skin, the vibration making you squirm as his tongue traced lazy circles around your nipple. His hand came up to cup your other breast, thumb brushing over the peak with just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Sensitive," he observed, stating it like some grand discovery.

"Months" you reminded him through a strained breath. "Months of nothing. Everything's sensitive right now."

"Good to know," Aang said, and you could hear the smile in his voice even without seeing his face. "I'll make a note."

"I hate you," you breathed.

"No, you don't," Aang said, and switched to your other breast, giving it the same slow, thorough attention that was making your brain feel like it was melting.

"I might. Give me a minute."

"I'll give you more than a minute," Aang said, his breath warm against your skin before he pulled your nipple between his lips again.

"Aang-" His name came out broken, half warning and half plea. Your hips rolled against nothing, seeking friction that wasn't there yet.

He pulled off you with a wet sound, looking up at you with lips that were flushed and swollen. His eyes were dark in a way that made your stomach clench.

"Patience," he said, which was rich coming from the man who'd once blurted out his feelings during a war meeting.

"Patience?" You stared down at him, incredulous. "This from the guy who couldn't wait five minutes to tell me he loved me during a strategy meeting session?"

"That was different."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the rebuttal died somewhere in your throat as he started moving downward. His lips traced a path down your sternum, over the soft skin of your stomach, pressing warm kisses to each spot like he was mapping out a route he'd once known by heart but had somehow forgotten.

Your breath hitched when his shoulders settled between your thighs, strong hands gripping your hips and holding you in place with an easy firmness that reminded you just how much strength was carefully controlled in those arms. The air around you felt cool against your heated skin, and you could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over you, maddeningly close.

Aang pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and your brain completely short-circuited. Any clever remark you'd been forming evaporated into nothing as his mouth moved higher, closer, his breath warm and deliberate against you.

Then his tongue swept a slow, broad stroke right where you needed it, and your head dropped back against the pillow with a sound that was definitely not dignified.

"Oh," you managed. Just that. Just oh.

Aang hummed against you, a low, satisfied sound that sent vibrations skating through your entire body. His tongue moved with slow, deliberate strokes, like he had nowhere else to be and every intention of staying exactly where he was until you lost your mind entirely.

Which, frankly, seemed imminent.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets, bunching the fabric as your hips tried to buck upward. His hands held you steady, keeping you pinned while his mouth worked you over with a patience that felt deeply, personally insulting.

His tongue found a rhythm that made your thoughts scatter like startled birds. Slow, then firm, then teasingly light, reading your body like one of those ancient scrolls he used to study, except this was one he'd practically memorized.

"Aang- " His name came out shaky, your voice cracking on the second syllable. Your hands abandoned the sheets and found his head instead, fingers sliding over his bare scalp because you needed something to hold onto and he was right there.

He groaned in response, the sound muffled against you, and the vibration pulled another undignified noise from your throat. Your hips rolled against his mouth despite his grip, and he let you, adjusting his angle to follow where you led.

His tongue dipped lower, then curled upward in a way that made your vision blur at the edges. You were fairly certain you were making sounds that could be heard from the mainland, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Let the Air Acolytes think whatever they wanted.

Aang's fingers dug into your thighs, not painfully, but firm enough to leave marks. The kind of marks you'd catch a glimpse of later and feel your face go hot remembering. His mouth sealed over you, sucking gently, and your spine arched off the bed like a bowstring.

"Close," you gasped out, because fair warning seemed like the right thing to do. "Aang, I'm-! "He didn't let up. If anything, his grip tightened, his tongue worked faster, and you shattered with a cry that you muffled against your own arm, teeth sinking into your skin as the wave crashed over you. Your whole body trembled, thighs shaking around his head, and he worked you through it with slow, decadent strokes that drew out every last aftershock until you were lying there, boneless and wrecked.

Aang pulled back, his chin slick, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. He pressed one last kiss to your trembling thigh before crawling back up your body, settling his weight carefully over you.

"Good?" he asked, entirely unnecessarily.

You stared up at him, still trying to remember how breathing worked. Your pulse hammered in your ears, and your limbs felt like they'd been replaced with warm pudding.

"I'm going to kill you," you said, which was probably not the appropriate response but was the only one your fried brain could produce.

Aang grinned, looking far too smug for a man whose face was still glistening. "That didn't sound like a 'thank you.'"

"Thank you," you said flatly, still breathing hard. "For the record. Thank you. Also, I'm going to kill you."

"I'll take it," Aang said, and leaned down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips warm and slightly salty, and instead of being weird, it just made something hot curl low in your stomach again. Already. After barely a minute.

Your hands found his shoulders, pulling him down more firmly against you. The hard length of him pressed against your thigh, and you shifted your hips, letting him feel the slick heat he'd just created.

His breath hitched against your mouth, and you felt him twitch against your thigh. That small reaction sent a thrill through you after all this time, you could still undo him with just a shift of your hips.

The workshop had kept Sokka longer than expected. A new design for his 'Sokka Cycle' had consumed his attention, and by the time he finally blew out the oil lamp on his desk.

He treaded lightly through the front door of their home, kicking off his boots and hanging his heavy coat on the hook. The house was pitch black and completely silent. She's probably asleep, he figured, reaching for the oil lamp on the entryway table.

He sparked the flint and lit the wick. The warm glow stretched down the hallway- and immediately illuminated Her. She was standing right in the doorway of their bedroom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, wearing her thick sleep robes. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders, and her expression was strictly business.

Sokka froze, the flint still pinched between his fingers. "Hey… honey."

"Don't," She said flatly.

"What time is it?"

Sokka winced. "Hey."

"Don't ‘hey’ me, do you know what time it is?"

Sokka glanced toward the window, as if the moon might give him a more favorable answer. It did not. "Late?"

"Very late," she corrected, stepping forward into the lamplight. "The kind of late where dinner got cold two hours ago. The kind of late where I reheated it once, then gave up."

Sokka set the lamp down on the table and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. The cycle design had a flaw I couldn't figure out why it wasn't adding up, and then I-"

"Redesigned the entire thing from scratch instead of coming home," She finished for him. "I know. Because you left your notes spread across our bedroom floor after you left early this morning. I also knew that even if it had a flaw you would still redesign it to add something else. I made seaweed stew." "Your favorite."

Sokka's stomach growled at the mention of seaweed stew. Traitor. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

"I didn't wait up. I woke up. Because you weren't here." She uncrossed her arms just to gesture at the empty space beside her. "I rolled over and the bed was cold. Then I couldn't get back to sleep."

"That's kind of sweet, actually."

"That's not sweet," She said, pointing a finger at him. "That's annoying. There's a difference."

Sokka took a step closer, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You missed me."

"I missed my pillow husband. He's very warm and he never stays out late."

"I can be warm," Sokka offered.

"My pillow husband doesn't smell like sawdust and ink." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Or track snow onto the clean floor."

Sokka looked down at his boots. He'd already kicked them off, but sure enough, a small trail of workshop grit led from the door to where he stood. "Okay, fair point."

She shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched. That was all the opening Sokka needed.

He closed the distance between them in two steps and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. She made a sound of protest half huff, half sigh and put her hands flat against his chest to push him back. But she didn't push very hard.

"You're still mad," Sokka said, looking down at her.

"Extremely mad," She said. Her hands stayed on his chest, but they weren't pushing anymore. Just resting there.

"Scale of one to ten?"

"A twelve."

"A twelve," Sokka repeated, nodding seriously. "That's almost impressive."

"Don't look so proud of yourself." She tilted her chin up at him. Her eyes were stern, but the effect was slightly ruined by the way her fingers had started absently smoothing the wrinkle in his coat. "You missed dinner. You didn't send word. And you left snow on my clean floor."

"I can clean the snow" Sokka said.

"I can reheat my own dinner," Sokka added.

"You can also sleep on the couch," She said.

"I could do that," Sokka agreed. He lowered his voice. "Or I could make it up to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Sokka leaned down and kissed the corner of her jaw, then the spot just below her ear. "I have ideas."

"You have ideas" she repeated, unimpressed. But her voice had gone a little breathless, and her hands had slid up from his chest to his shoulders.

"Show me," She said. Her voice was still stern, but her fingers were curling into the fabric of his coat now.

Sokka smiled against her neck. He walked her backward through the bedroom doorway, and her knees hit the edge of their bed. She sat down with a soft bounce, looking up at him. The lamp from the hallway threw long shadows across the room.

"Lean back," Sokka said.

She held his gaze for a moment, that stubborn set still in her jaw. Then she exhaled and leaned back on her elbows, watching him.

Sokka knelt down in front of her. His hands found the hem of her sleep robes and slid them up slowly, his palms warm against her calves, her knees, her thighs. Her breath caught just slightly.

"You're still at a twelve," she warned him.

"Give me a minute," Sokka said, pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee. "I'll bring it down." He pulled her underwear down until it reached her ankles.

She opened her mouth to respond, but Sokka's mouth was already moving higher, trailing slow kisses along her thigh, and whatever she'd been about to say came out as a shaky exhale instead.

"This doesn't fix anything," She said, her voice thinner than before.

"Uh huh," Sokka murmured against her skin. His lips found the crease where her thigh met her hip, and he pressed a long, warm kiss there.

"You still have to- ah-!" Her fingers tangled in his hair. "You still have to reheat your own dinner."

"Noted," Sokka said, his breath warm against her skin. He shifted closer, his hands gripping her hips as he pressed his mouth to her center.

Her head tipped back. Her elbows nearly gave out.

"Still mad," she managed, though her voice had lost all its edge.

"Done," Sokka agreed easily. His breath was warm against her skin as he shifted closer, his hands guiding her thighs apart. "Anything else?"

"You still have to-" She tried again, but then his mouth found her, and her sentence dissolved into a low, shaky sound.

Sokka took his time. He always did with this. His lips and tongue moved slow, deliberate, like he was solving a problem he actually enjoyed working on. Her head tipped back, her elbows giving out so she was flat against the bed now, one hand still gripping his hair while the other grabbed fistfuls of the blanket beneath her.

Sokka smiled against her, feeling her hips shift toward him. He slowed down even more, tracing gentle circles with his tongue, then pressing flat and broad. Her breath came out in a rush.

"Faster," She said. It sounded like an order, but her voice wobbled.

"You sure?" Sokka asked, pulling back just enough to speak. "I'm trying to bring that number down slowly. Don't want to rush it."

"Don't be smart with me." she said, tugging at his hair.

Sokka grinned and dipped back down. He picked up the pace, his tongue moving with more pressure now, finding the spots he knew made her breath hitch. Her back arched off the bed, and the hand in his hair tightened its grip.

"Better?" he asked, though he didn't wait for an answer before continuing.

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her breath was coming in short, uneven bursts now, and her hips were moving against his mouth in a rhythm he matched easily. Sokka kept at it, steady and focused, his hands holding her hips just firm enough to keep her where he wanted her.

The fingers in his hair stopped pulling and started pressing, guiding him closer. Sokka took the hint. He pressed his tongue deeper, then shifted to a flicking motion that made Her whole body jerk.

"Sokka..."

Her voice broke on his name. Her thighs tightening around his shoulders, then fell open wider. Sokka kept going, not changing a thing, letting her ride out the wave that was building fast now.

Her hand left his hair and slapped down on the bed, gripping the blanket so hard her knuckles went white. Her hips bucked up against his mouth, and Sokka moved with her, keeping his tongue right where she needed it.

"Don't stop," she gasped. "Don't-"

Sokka didn't stop. He kept the same rhythm, the same pressure, his hands holding her steady as her body trembled beneath him. Her breath came out in broken gasps, her back arching off the bed, fingers twisting tight in the blanket.

Then she broke. A sound tore from her throat- half his name, half something wordless- and her whole body tensed, then shuddered, then went loose.

Sokka slowed but didn't pull away right away. He eased her through it, gentle and light.

Sokka sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at her with a satisfied grin.

She was sprawled on the bed, her sleep robes bunched around her waist, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Her hair was a mess, fanned out across the blanket. She stared at the ceiling like it had personally wronged her.

"So," Sokka said. "What's the number now?"

↓REQUEST HERE ↓

A: Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

KING of aftercare. Seriously, this man will do anything for you. He’s been training as a prince his whole life, chased the avatar for a while, AND NOW HE'S THE FIRELORD. so his stamina is pretty high, and after sex he’s ready to do anything you ask of him.

B: Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't have a lot to be proud of with his body(HE'S BASICALLY PERFECT THO), but he’s never really thought about a part of him he likes the most. If he had to choose, he’d probably say his hands, simply because of the pleasure they give you. When it comes to you though he's unable to choose because every single part of you means a lot to him.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Zuko prefers to cum inside you as it feels the most intimate. It also means there’s less to clean up. Though a part of him thinks about how you'll look like with your belly swollen and full of his babies.

D: Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don’t know if this would class as a dirty secret, but he really wants to see you masturbate in front of him. He’s the kind of person to get off on the sight of you getting off.

E: Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, Zuko didn’t have much experience. In fact it is highly likely that he didn't indulge with his previous partners if he's not in a serious relationship.

F: Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggystyle.

He LOVES seeing you with your ass up (He also likes pulling your hair from behind)

Cowgirl/Riding.

It gives him easy access to your tits and you clit.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s pretty serious. He believes sex is an intimate thing, and he’s completely invested on making sure you have the best time possible.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps himself pretty neat, usually shaved as it just makes everything easier and cleaner.

I: Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I don’t know how many times I can say that Zuko is a killer when it comes to intimacy during sex. Have you thought about the idea of having rose petals covering the bed and candles around you? Well he pulled it off on your first time with him. Though he still does it occasionally.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't have the highest sex drive, so he’s unlikely to really need to jack off, and when he does, you’re usually around him to help out.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Temperature play.

He loves it when you get excited over the thought of his hands either being warm or just hot(not enough to burn you though) He knows you get off easily when he does it.

Body worship.

No matter how many times you say that you don't feel confident when it comes to your body, or if you talk about your insecurities. Your body is Perfect to his eyes. That's why his hands are wandering everywhere on your body while he's fucking you.

L: Location (favorite places to do the do)

A traditional man likes a traditional location, so the bedroom is his favorite. Zuko wants you to enjoy yourself as much as possible.

M: Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The thought of seeing you with your belly swollen with his baby.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

The classic one.

Choking, he doesn't like the thought of accidentally hurting you.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Depends on your mood, whether you ask him if you can suck him off or you'll ask him if he can eat you out.

P: Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual, he likes taking his time with you. Though he can be fast and rough at times.

Q: Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He considers it as a normal practice now since he's the firelord, so naturally, his schedule would be full of meetings.

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

AS I SAID. He doesn't like the thought of accidentally hurting you, so no, he's not open to experimenting or taking risks.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I don’t know if he ever runs out of stamina. I mean, he's trained and was looking for the avatar for three years. So YES HE HAS A HIGH STAMINA.

T: Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own any toys, he pleasures you either with his fingers, tongue, or his cock. Nothing more.

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s unlikely to tease you to begin with, unless you ask him. If he’s teasing you, it’ll be when one of you brings up the idea of edging you, although it’s not really teasing. It’s a little frustrating being brought right to the edge and then denied that glorious release, but the build up makes it so worth it in the end

V: Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

OH HE'S THE FIRELORD RIGHT? OFCOURSE HE DOESN'T CARE IS SERVANTS HEAR HIM MOANING OR GROWLING.

In fact he knew they wouldn't even dare talk about it.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Zuko has had many thoughts about letting you tie him up and have your way with him, but he’s just scared to voice those ideas to you. He’s just curious to see what you’d do.

X: X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.1 inches long and 2.4 inches thick.

His tip has a faded pink color, little to no veins but some stick out.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s used to keeping his urges suppressed, as they tend to just get in the way of things. But overall he has a pretty decent sex drive. Not high, but not low either.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As I mentioned, Zuko has incredible stamina, so he’s not gonna fall asleep quickly. He’ll clean you up, perhaps even run you a hot bath being the aftercare god he is, and after that, he’s happy to just cuddle with you until the both of you fall asleep.

(FIRST SMUT IN LIKE AGES)

↓REQUEST HERE ↓

The group was loud tonight.

Chaotic and alive. Fire crackling, laughter bouncing between trees, the soft rush of water nearby. It should’ve felt comforting.

Instead, it made your chest feel tight.

Across the clearing, Aang was practicing airbending, spinning leaves while Toph heckled him from where she sat. Meanwhile Sokka was going on about battle strategies again, waving his boomerang like it was a pointer.

Everyone had something. Even Katara-especially Katara. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. Because she was everything you weren’t. Strong. Capable. Needed.

And you?

You stared down at your hands, flexing your fingers like maybe- maybe something would happen if you tried hard enough.

Nothing ever did.

So. You left.

Quietly. No dramatic exit. Just slipping past the edge of camp, letting the shadows swallow you whole. You didn’t even notice how long you’d been gone.

But someone else did.

“Hey.”

Your shoulders tensed instantly.

You knew that voice. Soft, but firm. Like water that could either cradle you… or drag you under.

“Hey…Katara,” you muttered, not turning around. She stepped closer, boots crunching lightly against dirt. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Don’t lie to me.” There was no anger in it- just hurt. “You barely looked at me all day. And then you just disappeared.”

You shrugged, still refusing to meet her eyes. “I just needed some air.”

“You’re sitting ten feet from a river.”

“…Okay, I needed different air.”

There was a pause. Then softer, “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I said I’m-”

“Stop.” Her voice cracked just slightly, and that made your chest hurt. “Please. Just… don’t shut me out.”

Silence settled between you, thick and heavy. You clenched your hands. Tried to hold it in.

Failed.

“…What’s the point of me being here?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Katara blinked. “What?”

You laughed. “I mean, seriously. Look at all of you.” You finally turned, frustration burning in your eyes. “Aang’s the Avatar. You’re an insanely powerful waterbender. Toph can literally feel the earth breathe. Even Sokka...he’s a genius strategist.”

Your voice dropped.

“And I’m just… me.”

Katara’s expression softened, but you pushed on, the words spilling faster now.

“I can’t bend. I’m not a fighter. I don’t have some special skill or destiny or whatever.” Your throat tightened. “If I disappeared tomorrow, nothing would change. You guys would be fine.”

“Don’t say that”

“It’s true!” Your voice cracked. “I’m useless, Katara. I slow you down. I get in the way. And I’m so tired of pretending like I belong here when I don’t-”

“Hey.”She stepped forward, hands gently but firmly grabbing your wrists. “Look at me.”

You didn’t want to.

But you did.

Damn it she looked like you’d just said the worst thing she’d ever heard.

“You think you’re useless?” she asked quietly.

You swallowed. “…Aren’t I?”

Her grip tightened, just enough to ground you.

“No.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off.

“Do you remember when Aang was struggling to sleep because he was having nightmares of what happened to his people?” she asked. “Who stayed up with him?”

You hesitated. “…I did.”

“And when Sokka got sick because he ate something questionable again, who took care of him all night?”

“…Me.”

“And when I couldn’t control my bending during that storm, when I was terrified I’d hurt someone…” Her voice softened. “Who talked me down?”

Your chest tightened.

“…Me.”

Katara stepped closer.

“You listen. You care. You see people in a way the rest of us… don’t always stop to.” Her thumb brushed lightly against your wrist. “You make us feel safe.”

“That’s not the same as-”

“It is.” Her voice was firm now. “Not everything important looks like bending or fighting.”

You shook your head weakly. “But it’s not enough. Not compared to you”

“Stop comparing yourself to me.”

That made you freeze.

Katara’s eyes softened again, but there was steel underneath.

“I don’t love you because you’re strong in the way I am,” she said quietly. “I love you because you’re you.”

Your breath caught.

“You think I don’t notice the way you hold everyone together?” she continued. “The way you stay, even when things get hard? The way you care so deeply it almost hurts?” A small, sad smile touched her lips. “That’s not weakness.”

Her hand slid up to cup your cheek.

“That’s strength. Just a different kind.”

Your vision blurred.

“…But what if it’s not enough?”

Katara didn’t hesitate.

“It’s enough for me.”

And- that broke you.

The tears came fast and unstoppable. You tried to turn away, but she didn’t let you. She pulled you into her arms instead, holding you tight as you shook.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured into your hair. “You don’t have to prove anything to stay.”

Your hands clutched at her clothes, voice muffled against her shoulder. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden…”

“You’re not.” She pressed a kiss to your temple. “You never have been.”

You stayed like that for a while.

Just breathing.

Just existing.

for the first time in a while… it didn’t feel like that was a bad thing.

You finally pulled back, your eyes were still red, your voice still small.

“…You really mean that?”

Katara smiled softly.

“Every word.”

She brushed away the last of your tears, then bumped her forehead gently against yours.

“Besides,” she added, a teasing warmth slipping into her tone, “who else is going to keep us all from completely falling apart?”

A weak laugh escaped you.

“…You guys are kind of a mess.”

“Exactly.”

You exhaled, shoulders finally loosening.

Maybe you weren’t the strongest.

Maybe you weren’t the most powerful.

But standing there, with Katara’s hand in yours…

You didn’t feel useless.

You really should’ve known better than to let Toph Beifong plan the first date.

That thought hits you right as your foot catches on a loose stone and you stumble forward only to stop mid-fall because a chunk of earth rises instantly beneath you, steadying you like it knew.

“Wow,” Toph says flatly from somewhere ahead of you. “You’re already trying to eat dirt? Bold move for a first date.”

You huff, brushing yourself off. “Okay, first of all, that rock attacked me.”

“Sure it did,” she snorts. “The ground’s got a personal vendetta. Makes sense.”

You follow the sound of her footsteps instead of trying to argue. The forest is quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft, rhythmic tap of her feet against the ground like she’s listening to a song you can’t hear.

It’s… actually kind of peaceful.

Not training. Not fighting. Just… this.

“Relax,” she mutters suddenly, like she can feel your thoughts spiraling. “You’re walking like you’re about to get jumped.”

“I’m not”

“You are.”

You pause, then sigh. “Okay, maybe a little. You didn’t exactly tell me where we’re going.”

“Would ruin the surprise.”

“You? Planning surprises?” You raise a brow. “Should I be scared?”

She grins sharp and smug, but not mean. “Depends. You trust me or not?”

There’s something in her tone that makes you stop teasing.

“…Yeah,” you say, softer this time. “I do.”

For a second, she doesn’t say anything. Then she turns and keeps walking, a little slower now like she’s making sure you stay close.

After a few more minutes, the trees start to thin out, and you step into an open clearing.

And damn.

The ground is smooth like glass, but made of stone and shaped into gentle curves that look almost like waves frozen in place. Small rocks float lazily in the air, orbiting each other in slow, careful patterns. At the center, there’s a raised platform, wide enough to sit on comfortably.

“…Toph,” you breathe, looking around. “Did you-?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all emotional on me,” she cuts in quickly, crossing her arms. “It’s just some rocks.”

“‘Just some rocks,’” you repeat, incredulous. “You literally made a whole what even is this? A rock lounge?”

She shrugs, but you can see the tiny hint of pride she’s trying to hide. “Figured you’d like something… quieter.”

That lands way harder than it should. You walk over to the platform and sit down, running your hand over the smooth stone. It’s warm like it’s been sitting in the sun all day.

“You made this… for me?” you ask. Toph kicks a pebble toward you. It stops right before hitting your foot.

“Don’t make it a big deal,” she mutters. “It’s just a date.” You smile, softer now. “It is a big deal.”

She goes quiet again. Then after a second she walks over and sits beside you. Not super close…but not far either.

Close enough that your shoulders almost touch.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The floating stones drift slowly above you, and the forest hums quietly in the background.

It’s comfortable. Which is wild, considering this is Toph.

“So,” you start, nudging her lightly. “No sparring? No ‘if you can dodge this rock you win a kiss’ type of deal?” She scoffs. “Please. If I did that, you’d lose in two seconds.”

“Wow. Confidence.”

“Facts,” she corrects. You laugh, and she smirks a little at the sound.

“…I didn’t want it to feel like training,” she admits after a moment, quieter than before. “You deal with enough of that already.”

You glance at her, surprised.

She’s not looking at you obviously but her head is tilted slightly in your direction, like she’s tuned into very little movement you make.

“You really thought about this,” you say.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.” She nudges you back, harder this time. “You’re annoying.”

“Yeah, but you like me.”

There’s a pause.

Then

“…Yeah,” she says, almost under her breath.

Your heart does a stupid little flip.

You lean back on your hands, looking up at the sky as it starts to shift into evening. The floating rocks above you catch the light, casting soft, moving shadows around the clearing.

After a second, you feel it.

A smaller stone gently presses against your side. You glance over.

Toph hasn’t moved…but her hand is resting on the ground between you. The stone nudges you again, jus slightly, pushing you closer. You smile.

“Subtle,” you murmur.

“Shut up,” she mutters, but there’s no bite to it. You shift just enough that your shoulder brushes hers. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she lets out a quiet breath and leans just a little into you.

“Don’t make it weird,” she says.

“I’m not making it weird.”

“You’re thinking about making it weird.”

“Okay, that’s not fair, you can’t just call me out like that.”

“I can, actually.”

You laugh again, softer this time. For once, she doesn’t have a comeback ready.

The two of you just sit there, side by side, as the sky fades into deeper shades of orange and purple, and the stones above you drift lazily like they’ve got nowhere else to be.

No fights. No training.

Just this.

And honestly?

Best first date ever.

Katara is deeply emotional. Like…she doesn’t do anything halfway, especially love. You’re getting full devotion, not crumbs.

She’s the type to remember everything about you, your favorite food, what makes you upset, even small stuff you forgot you told her.

Lowkey acts like your emotional anchor. Bad day? She’s already pulling you into a hug before you even explain.

PROTECTIVE GF ENERGY

Oh she will absolutely step in if someone disrespects you.

Not even in a loud way at first she’ll go all calm voice like “I think you should rethink what you just said.”

SOFT MOMENTSSS

Loves brushing your hair or washing it for you if you let her (waterbender perks are crazy).

Late night talks by the water? That’s her thing. She’ll open up about her past, her mom, everything.

Calls you pet names but they’re soft and meaningful, not cringe. Think “my love,” “sweetheart,” stuff like that.

SHE LOWKEY WORRIES A LOT

If you’re reckless, she’s gonna stress. Like actually stress.

“Can you PLEASE stop running into danger like it’s a hobby??”

It comes from love tho she’s lost people before, so she’s scared of losing you too.

ARGUMENTS WITH HER

She doesn’t avoid conflict. If something’s wrong, she’s bringing it up.

Can get kinda intense because she feels things deeply, but she always wants to fix things, not win.

If you mess up, she’ll call you out…but she’ll also give you the chance to do better.

PHYSICAL AFFECTION

Not super clingy 24/7, but when she wants affection? She’s on you.

Hugs from behind, holding your hand, leaning into you when she’s tired.

If you’re hurt, she’s literally panicking while healing you like “why do you keep getting injured???”

JEALOUSY?

Not toxic, but yeah she gets a little jealous.

Especially if someone’s clearly flirting with you.

She won’t explode, but you’ll feel the shift like “oh… she noticed”

DOMESTIC LIFE

She’s the type to cook for you and make sure you’re eating properly.

Will 100% scold you if you skip meals.

Lowkey dreams of a peaceful life someday, away from chaos, with you.

RANDOM CUTE STUFF

Plays with your hands absentmindedly.

Smiles softer around you than anyone else.

↓REQUEST HERE ↓

Being with Toph Beifong wasn’t what most people imagined when they thought of romance.

There were no flowery compliments. No dramatic love confessions shouted into the wind.

What there was, though, was this

“You’re walking weird again,” Toph muttered, arms crossed as she leaned against the stone wall she’d just casually bent into existence.

“I am not.”

“You are. Left foot’s dragging. What’d you do, trip over your own dignity?”

You sighed. “It’s called being tired.”

Toph snorted. “Sounds fake.”

But then without warning the ground shifted beneath your feet. Smooth. Leveled. Easier to stand on.

She didn’t say anything about it.

That was her thing.

Later that night, the two of you sat outside the police headquarters, the city quieter than usual. Toph took off the shoes Katara forced her to wear, toes digging into the earth like she needed the constant reminder that everything around her was real. “You’re staring,” she said flatly.

“I’m not.”

“You are. I can feel it.”

You huffed. “You can’t feel staring.” Toph smirked, tilting her head slightly toward you. “Can’t I?”

There was a pause. A comfortable one.

“…You did good today,” you said quietly. She went still for half a second barely noticeable unless you knew her.

“Yeah,” she replied, voice more casual than it needed to be. “Obviously.”

Another pause. Then she bumped her shoulder against yours. Hard.

“Don’t go getting all soft on me, okay?”

You laughed. “Too late.”

She didn’t move away.

Toph wasn’t the type to hold hands.. But sometimes, when the world felt a little too loud even for someone who read it through vibrations her fingers would hook into your sleeve.

Not asking.

Not explaining.

Just there. And you learned not to make a big deal out of it. Because with Toph, love wasn’t in the words. It was in the ground smoothing under your feet when you were tired.

In the way she always knew where you were standing.

In the quiet, stubborn decision to stay right beside you. Even when she’d never say why.

“You’re smiling again,” she muttered.

“…Maybe.”

“Ugh. That’s annoying.”

But she didn’t let go.

↓REQUEST HERE ↓

The palace was unusually quiet that morning. Not the peaceful kind of quiet. No, it one felt… tense. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

Zuko noticed it immediately. Years of war sharpened his instincts, and even now, as the Fire Lord, he couldn’t ignore that subtle shift on the atmosphere. The servants avoided eye contact. The guards stood a little straighter. And you hadn’t come to breakfast. That alone was enough to make his chest tighten. He set down his untouched tea with a quiet clink, standing abruptly. “Where is the Fire Lady?” he asked, his voice already carrying that edge people feared.

A servant bowed quickly. “My lord… she is resting.”

Resting.

Zuko frowned. You never skipped meals unless something was wrong. Without a word, he turned and made his way through the palace halls, his robes swaying behind him like of flames.

Your chambers were dim when he entered. The curtains were drawn, soft light filtering through, and there you were- sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded tightly in your lap.

Waiting.

That made his stomach drop. “Hey…” His voice softened instantly, all that authority melting away the second he saw you. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” You looked up at him, and for a second, you didn’t speak. And yeah- he started panicking. Zuko crossed the room in three quick strides, kneeling in front of you. “Talk to me. Did something happen? Do you need a healer? I can call-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Not even dramatic silence, just… blank. Like his brain completely short-circuited. “…What?” Your lips twitched, you were nervous. “I’m pregnant, Zuko.” And suddenly, everything hit him at once. The quiet palace. The tension. Your expression. The way your hands were trembling. “You’re-” He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, except it wasn’t. “You’re serious?” You nodded. For a split second, fear flashed across his face. Not doubt- never that. Fear in himself.

“I-” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once like he did when he was overwhelmed. “I don’t- I don’t know how to- I mean-” Yeah. Fire Lord of the most powerful nation in the world during the hundred year war. Completely losing his shit. You stood slowly. “Zuko, it’s okay if you’re not-”

“I am.” He cut in immediately, a little too fast. Then softer. “I am.” He stepped closer again, slower now, like you might disappear if he moved too fast. “Spirits… we’re having a child.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. That’s when it changed. The panic didn’t vanish, it just shifted. Melted into something warmer. He reached for your hands, holding them carefully, like they were sacred. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Are you feeling alright? Did the healers say everything’s fine? Are you eating enough?” You laughed softly. “Zuko.” He froze. “I’m okay.” He exhaled, shoulders dropping just a bit. “…Okay.” There was a pause. Then, hesitantly, almost shy his gaze lowered to your stomach. “You’re really…?” You guided his hand there. The moment his palm rested against you, he went completely still. Like even breathing too hard might ruin it. "Hello” he murmured under his breath, voice barely above a whisper. You blinked. “Did you just?”

“I don’t know what to say!” he shot back, immediately flustered, ears turning red. “What if they can hear me already?!”You laughed again, softer this time, and gods he swore he’d never heard a better sound. His thumb brushed gently over your hand. “…I won’t be like him.” The words came out quiet and firm. You knew exactly who he meant. He swallowed, jaw tightening slightly before he looked back at you, his golden eyes steady. “I don’t care if they’re loud, or stubborn, or reckless…” A faint, emotional smile tugged at his lips. “They can take after you. That’d be better.”

“Hey...” “I mean it,” he said, stepping closer until his forehead rested against yours. “They’ll grow up safe. Loved. Free to choose who they want to be.” His voice softened even more. “ And I’ll make sure of it.” Your fingers curled into his robes, pulling him just a little closer. “You already are.” For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then

“…We’re going to need to baby-proof the palace.” You blinked. “What?” “There are sharp things everywhere!” He suddenly pulled back, looking mildly horrified. “Weapons. Decorative weapons. Why do we even have that many weapons?!” “Zuko...” “And what if they start firebending early?! What if they burn something down?! What if- ” You grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks slightly. He stopped mid-ramble. “…We’ll figure it out,” you said, smiling. He stared at you for a second. Then, slowly, he smiled back. “…Yeah.” His hand returned to yours, resting over your stomach again this time more naturally, like he already belonged there. “Hey,” he murmured softly. A pause. “…I’m your dad.”

Fire Lord Zuko?