zuko: you know katara gets aang flowers everyday. i wish youd do that too.
sokka: okay???
*the next day*
sokka: *gives aang flowers*
aang: what
sokka: yeah i dont get it either
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Zuko doesn’t understand why you don’t want to cuddle during a heatwave…
“Can you tell me why exactly I can’t touch you today? No, scratch that — why I can’t even stand near you? Did I do something wrong? My love, if I did, then please know that it wasn’t intentional and I’m sorry.”
You were going to melt.
Not only because his words were so innocent and heartwarming, but also because Fire Nation heat — especially during the summer — isn’t exactly something you were built to withstand.
Your heart cries any time you have to push him away, especially because you don’t even have the time to explain why. The second you move away, he’s narrowing his eyes in confusion and leaving the room.
You couldn’t help but be surprised at his sudden straightforwardness.
Of course, over the years he has grown to be more open about his thoughts and feelings, but it seems like he still couldn’t fight some of his old habits. When something really bothers him, he prefers to keep it to himself. Shut himself out and hope for the best, hope it resolves by itself. But seeing as it has been a few days and you’re still pushing him away, his bubble finally burst.
“Please, my love. Explain what I did wrong, why you keep pushing me away. I’ll do better, just tell me what I did wrong.” he spoke again, his voice gentle yet clearly vulnerable. You sighed, eyeing him pitifully.
“Zuko, honey, I… you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve wanted to tell you why I keep moving away for the past few days, but any time I tried… you just left.” you hummed, moving a little closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating from him already, but you decided to try your best and ignore it.
“I… did? I just— I assumed you wanted to be alone…”
You swore you could hear his voice crack a little as he said that. Your lip quivered, hands moving to cup his face without so much as a second thought. His face was warm, and your palms were already sweaty from the heat inside the palace. Somehow, he didn’t seem to notice — or just didn’t really care — his gaze focused on yours as his much larger hand moved to cover one of yours.
“Look, I… I’m sorry, Zuko. I didn’t mean for it to look like I’m pushing you away. I love you, and I need you, it’s just… this heat is far too much for me, and it doesn’t help when you’re basically a walking furnace yourself… i—it sounds stupid, no, it is stupid, I’m sorry…” you murmured, head dipping in shame. Now that you said it out loud, it really did sound stupid.
It was just some heat after all, right?
“It’s not stupid. I… I should’ve been more aware. It’s not your fault that you’re not accustomed to the heat, it’s my fault for not noticing how it affected you, and making it worse. You just… you just always manage to fit right in, I… I actually forgot you’re not used to living here yet. I’m sorry, my love, I really am.” he said, his thumb caressing your hand that still cupped his scarred cheek.
“If this heat is too much for you… then how about we leave for a little while. Just the two of us? Somewhere cold where I could finally have you in my arms…?” he added, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. Your eyes lit up, a smile of your own making its appearance. You honestly didn’t expect this from him, seeing how much of a workaholic he was.
“Really? You’d take a vacation for me?” you asked, hopeful eyes focused on his. He chuckled, shaking his head a little as he pressed a quick kiss to the crown of your head.
“If it means I’ll finally get to hold you properly and warm you up… Of course, my love. I’ll go announce our absence to the council, how does a whole week sound?”
again, not proofread 😭 zuko fluff is just needed while i’m dying from overheating
A collection of works inspired by the COWBOY CARTER album, feat. Smoke & Stack Moore.
First chapter coming 1st January, 2026
★ AMERICAN REQUIEM
Elijah and Elias visit their Grandma June in Mississippi. June shares stories from 1926, when she learned strength and healing from her mother. She recounts how black families like theirs built America through resilience and labor. Her memories reveal how the country often forgot the people who shaped it.
★ BLACKBIRD
Elijah and Elias visit Clarene, a former Freedom Rider, who shares her struggles and Grandma June’s quiet bravery. They realize how much their generation takes for granted. Moved, they promise to carry these lessons forward.
★ SIXTEEN CARRIAGES
Elijah and Elias confront the sudden death of their childhood friend, Isaiah. They revisit childhood spots, recalling memories of laughter, mischief, and innocence lost. Attending Isaiah’s funeral, they witness a community honoring his life with song, stories, and shared grief.
★ PROTECTOR
★ MY ROSE
★ TEXAS HOLD ‘EM
★ BODYGUARD
★ JOLENE
★ DAUGHTER
★ SPAGHETTI
★ ALLIGATOR TEARS
★ JUST FOR FUN
★ TWO MOST WANTED
★ LEVI’S JEANS
★ FLAMENCO
★ YA YA
★ DESERT EAGLE
★ RIVERDANCE
★ TWO HANDS TO HEAVEN
★ TYRANT
★ SWEET ★ HONEY ★ BUCKIN’
★ AMEN
★・・・・・・★
Hi y’all. Long time no speak. I’m so excited to be writing my next anthology which will be CC x Sinners. I’ve got a little outline and plan of what the chapters will be about, I just need to start working on them. As it says above, I’m hoping to upload the first chapter on New Years Day. Thank you all so much for still supporting and waiting for more! ✍️ love y’all! 🤠
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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summary: two guys are being stupid. aang's tired, irritated and has the time today.
"The whole g-spot thing is a myth, bro." Is what Aang has the displeasure of hearing on a too early Monday morning while lacking his usual cup of green tea. "I genuinely think it's been made up by ladies to make their boyfriends feel bad or something."
"You're so right," the guy's friend agrees and Aang doesn't resist rolling his eyes. "It's like when my girlfriend asks me to rub her clit and I'm like rub your what? You're just making stuff up."
The first guy gasps. "Your girlfriend asks you about the clit too?" He asks, almost conspiratorially and Aang decides that he's had enough. He isn't usually one to barge into a stranger's conversation but this is too painful not to correct. He also can't help but feel sorry for those women if their men don't even know what the clit is.
"Sorry to intrude," Aang starts, loud enough for the two men to know he's requesting their attention. "But the g-spot is real and is about two to three inches in. When you curl your fingers upwards, you should feel a sponge-like texture and your girlfriend's reaction will be pretty telling. Oh and in the simplest way I can explain, the clit is like a button above the entrance and it usually swells up when aroused."
The two men gape at him, shock coating their features in a way that'd be comical if Aang didn't feel so tired.
"I—" the first one tries but stops. "How do you—?"
"I listen to my girlfriend," Aang says easily, proudly. "Which shouldn't be such a hard task to begin with. Anyway, have a nice day."
Aang's mind is then immediately occupied on getting himself a tea and you your beverage of choice, already forgetting about the earth-shattering impact he's just made and left behind.
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𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 900+ ) words of . . . nsfw, husband!zuko x watertribe!wife!reader, canon-divergent universe, established relationship, teasing, size difference, zuko has an edging kink, missionary, finger sucking, belly bulge, slight use of firebending, use of pet names, explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ ۶ৎ here i present, my first tribute to the fire lord! one look at the new-and-improved zuzu and i lost ittt >.< omg he’s never looked better . i just had to put out somethin’ spicy for this delicious man in the meantime, until the real firecracker bun finishes baking! art credits here! thank you for reading, and please enjoy! ❤︎
𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ( ♫ ) lovely thang, kut klose ⨾ earned it, the weeknd ⨾ body smile, dvsn ⨾ hold on, the internet
zuko fucks you so, so slow. takes his sweet time, moves with a maddeningly balmy heat; much like the kind that smolders beneath the callous of his palms. it's a slow-burning ember that simply refuses to catch fire, no matter how much you ache for even the littlest flame — ache for him.
his long, dark hair spills over his broad shoulders, like ink bleeding into tainted water, and he peers at you through that swaying, silken curtain, eyes ambered with pure lust. he uses the muscled brawn of his frame to keep you pressed into imported satin mahogany sheets, as if he could live forever in the saccharine pulse of your dripping cunt.
or, perhaps not. maybe, he simply finds there to be more pleasure in the hunger of a good tease. it’s sudden when he pulls out, drenched to the very base of his dark, downy hair, wettened in the sweet overflow of your juices. the silence that follows the ‘shlick!’ is heavy and warm, filled only with the sound of synchronized breathing. in the stillness, every small sensation feels magnified. cool air against buzzing skin, the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, the gaping emptiness within you that zuko left in his wake.
there he lingers at the precipice for what you consider to be a torturous eternity — glides his heavy, pulsing length along the weeping seam of your slit, drags the throbbing underside along your slickest folds in a way that teases your entrance; he enters just a fraction, his shallow promise of depth before he withdraws entirely. you’re left terribly hollow.
“you want it, huh?” he taps along the hypersensitive bud of your sticky clit with his swollen, mauve tip, gaze narrowing whenever you whine. “need to be fucked so badly, don’t you? aw, my poor baby . . .”
through the gaze of his golden, unmarred eye, you’re a vision of beautiful undoing beneath him; all breathless and pleading for the friction he so carefully withholds. crystalline tears trace the flushed curves of your warm cheeks, salt meeting skin. zuko’s large hand moves to find purchase, his pale fingers contrasting sharply as they bloom against the rich, warm brown of your hip, gripping you with possession.
you begin to press onto him, wiggling your round, pretty ass against his bobbing cock until he’s forced to rock back and meet your rhythm.
it’s then that the tether snaps, leaving him helpless against the both the gravitational pull of your plush, pouted lips, and the siren call of your sweet pussy; he catches your hips in two sweltering palms, unable to endure another second of the space between you.
finally, finally, he sets away his restraint. he’s toyed with you long enough . . . who is he to deny you now?
when zuko eventually flips you onto your tautly-arched back and sinks home — tilting his strong hips at that precise, devastating angle — he presses in past smooth, squeezing walls and fills you to the very brim; a thick, sated pressure with a weight leaves you impossibly stretched around the girth of his hard cock.
he devours your pitched sounds in a deep, swollen kiss, his tongue sliding into the cavern of your mouth to suckle on your own with a heavy, shameless wetness. the low, messy sound of him drinking you in is syrupy and loud, a slick noise that echoes in the quietness of him swallowing up your gasps.
you pull away for air and reach up, desperate to claw at him, your soft palm sliding over the firm ridges of his toned stomach until your fingers trace the jagged, fleshy bloom of the lightning scar centered at his solar plexus. it’s a map of his old pain, vibrating against your skin as he lets out a long, shuddering exhale that tells you he’s wholly, devoutly, surrendered his fire and found his personal heaven inside of you.
“mmgh, zuko — finally . . .”
he only chuckles, a low vibration that resonates through the saffron-spiced air of his bedchamber, his head dipping low. the raised crimson dermis of the burn mark around his eye brushes against your temple; a rough, familiar texture that only adds to the delicious friction when his forehead brushes yours.
he rocks into you with such a torturous slowness that it feels as though he isn’t fucking you at all. you’re practically sobbing for him to just move.
your spirited husband, an ever so patient man, only chuckles, shushing your dulcet whines with the prod of two thick, pale fingers. they settle onto the pink of your tongue and sink further into the velvet of your mouth, claiming it as his own. he watches intently, with beautifully sharp molten eyes as your spit pools and gathers, slicking the width of his middle and index until they glisten.
“don’t worry, my love,” he coos, feeding you a deep, heavy thrust that distends the soft curve of your belly from within. his free hand descends, palm blooming with the slightest flicker of ignited heat as he presses that simmering touch over your pelvis, marking the bulge where he passes in and out of you.
he fights the spread of a grin as you moan and gag around his fingers simultaneously, your breath hot and frantic against his palm. “i’ll make you feel so fucking good, i promise . . . you’ll forget you ever had to wait.”
𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 900+ ) words of . . . nsfw, husband!zuko x watertribe!wife!reader, canon-divergent universe, established relationship, teasing, size difference, zuko has an edging kink, missionary, finger sucking, belly bulge, slight use of firebending, use of pet names, explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ ۶ৎ here i present, my first tribute to the fire lord! one look at the new-and-improved zuzu and i lost ittt >.< omg he’s never looked better . i just had to put out somethin’ spicy for this delicious man in the meantime, until the real firecracker bun finishes baking! art credits here! thank you for reading, and please enjoy! ❤︎
𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ( ♫ ) lovely thang, kut klose ⨾ earned it, the weeknd ⨾ body smile, dvsn ⨾ hold on, the internet
zuko fucks you so, so slow. takes his sweet time, moves with a maddeningly balmy heat; much like the kind that smolders beneath the callous of his palms. it's a slow-burning ember that simply refuses to catch fire, no matter how much you ache for even the littlest flame — ache for him.
his long, dark hair spills over his broad shoulders, like ink bleeding into tainted water, and he peers at you through that swaying, silken curtain, eyes ambered with pure lust. he uses the muscled brawn of his frame to keep you pressed into imported satin mahogany sheets, as if he could live forever in the saccharine pulse of your dripping cunt.
or, perhaps not. maybe, he simply finds there to be more pleasure in the hunger of a good tease. it’s sudden when he pulls out, drenched to the very base of his dark, downy hair, wettened in the sweet overflow of your juices. the silence that follows the ‘shlick!’ is heavy and warm, filled only with the sound of synchronized breathing. in the stillness, every small sensation feels magnified. cool air against buzzing skin, the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, the gaping emptiness within you that zuko left in his wake.
there he lingers at the precipice for what you consider to be a torturous eternity — glides his heavy, pulsing length along the weeping seam of your slit, drags the throbbing underside along your slickest folds in a way that teases your entrance; he enters just a fraction, his shallow promise of depth before he withdraws entirely. you’re left terribly hollow.
“you want it, huh?” he taps along the hypersensitive bud of your sticky clit with his swollen, mauve tip, gaze narrowing whenever you whine. “need to be fucked so badly, don’t you? aw, my poor baby . . .”
through the gaze of his golden, unmarred eye, you’re a vision of beautiful undoing beneath him; all breathless and pleading for the friction he so carefully withholds. crystalline tears trace the flushed curves of your warm cheeks, salt meeting skin. zuko’s large hand moves to find purchase, his pale fingers contrasting sharply as they bloom against the rich, warm brown of your hip, gripping you with possession.
you begin to press onto him, wiggling your round, pretty ass against his bobbing cock until he’s forced to rock back and meet your rhythm.
it’s then that the tether snaps, leaving him helpless against the both the gravitational pull of your plush, pouted lips, and the siren call of your sweet pussy; he catches your hips in two sweltering palms, unable to endure another second of the space between you.
finally, finally, he sets away his restraint. he’s toyed with you long enough . . . who is he to deny you now?
when zuko eventually flips you onto your tautly-arched back and sinks home — tilting his strong hips at that precise, devastating angle — he presses in past smooth, squeezing walls and fills you to the very brim; a thick, sated pressure with a weight leaves you impossibly stretched around the girth of his hard cock.
he devours your pitched sounds in a deep, swollen kiss, his tongue sliding into the cavern of your mouth to suckle on your own with a heavy, shameless wetness. the low, messy sound of him drinking you in is syrupy and loud, a slick noise that echoes in the quietness of him swallowing up your gasps.
you pull away for air and reach up, desperate to claw at him, your soft palm sliding over the firm ridges of his toned stomach until your fingers trace the jagged, fleshy bloom of the lightning scar centered at his solar plexus. it’s a map of his old pain, vibrating against your skin as he lets out a long, shuddering exhale that tells you he’s wholly, devoutly, surrendered his fire and found his personal heaven inside of you.
“mmgh, zuko — finally . . .”
he only chuckles, a low vibration that resonates through the saffron-spiced air of his bedchamber, his head dipping low. the raised crimson dermis of the burn mark around his eye brushes against your temple; a rough, familiar texture that only adds to the delicious friction when his forehead brushes yours.
he rocks into you with such a torturous slowness that it feels as though he isn’t fucking you at all. you’re practically sobbing for him to just move.
your spirited husband, an ever so patient man, only chuckles, shushing your dulcet whines with the prod of two thick, pale fingers. they settle onto the pink of your tongue and sink further into the velvet of your mouth, claiming it as his own. he watches intently, with beautifully sharp molten eyes as your spit pools and gathers, slicking the width of his middle and index until they glisten.
“don’t worry, my love,” he coos, feeding you a deep, heavy thrust that distends the soft curve of your belly from within. his free hand descends, palm blooming with the slightest flicker of ignited heat as he presses that simmering touch over your pelvis, marking the bulge where he passes in and out of you.
he fights the spread of a grin as you moan and gag around his fingers simultaneously, your breath hot and frantic against his palm. “i’ll make you feel so fucking good, i promise . . . you’ll forget you ever had to wait.”
2087
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