The Last Airbender Hypno Porn

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hypnotized, an all canon compliant smut story
warning: sexual situations and adult themes
Zuko celebrates the first year since his coronation by waking up at dawn.
The sun barely peeks out from the horizon, casting a deep purple glow along the edges of the buildings and he stands in his dimly lit room, stretching. He raises his hands in a bending stance and closes his eyes, focusing on the sun and its ascension into the sky and on the small inner flame that he kindles with the proposition of a new day. He already knows that he has a long day's worth of work ahead of him and that's being optimistic towards the years of work that he'll have ahead of him in the rebuilding of the prestigious Fire Nation. It's something that he's aware he's bound to falter with, awkwardly shuffling to keep control of so many aspects of a nation, but somehow the idea of it doesn't frighten him as much as it used to as a child.
He realizes with a startling jolt that he's free to schedule his days as he pleases, at least scheduling them around his meetings for the day. It's this realization that leads him to the courtyard to meditate with nothing with him except the sheathes of his dual dao swords. As a child of the sun, he rose well before sunrise, but it wasn't the peak of his firebending, and it was why he found a nice secluded section to sit. He crosses his legs and rubs his hands along his barren arms, wondering whether it was unfit to be shirtless, but dismissing it as the sun started to rise, golden rays skirting along the horizon line. He closes his eyes and focuses on what he can hear—the rushing of water in the pond, his slightly erratic breathing start to slow, the beating of his heart, the pulsing of his blood in his ears—and his breath evens out over the course of several minutes. Zuko keeps his hands on his knees, his eyes closed, as he continues to focus his hearing on his surroundings. These sorts of meditation techniques drew inspiration from Toph, the independent and powerful earthbender that he had come to understand in his travels. Her lack of vision had heightened the rest of her senses as soon as the need had risen, and he desired to be as connected with his other senses as she was. It had been a fond reminder of the few times he had approached her casually to ask her about it and the sarcastic, snippy answers that she had given him in her typical fashion.
His focus starts to wane and that is why he opens his eyes. It surprises him that he can meditate for as long as he can, especially since the young Fire Lord tends to have issues when it comes to having a clear mind. He stretches his arms out so his palms are out in front of him and his forehead nears the dew-laden grass underneath him. He's thankful that he thought to tie his hair back into a loose topknot as he finishes his stretches. He extends his feet to either side and reaches towards them before he stands, holding his blades firmly. In one sweep, the sheathes slide to the grass and he's crouching, swinging, slicing with precision and swiftness. He goes through the motions of warming up, lunging and pivoting his bare feet one over the other until he's worked up a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. The sun is in the sky now, round and warm and illuminating the courtyard with its rays. Zuko pauses his movements when he hears a rustling nearby. He relaxes visibly when he sees that it's just his servants scurrying around with trays and carts, presumably to ready a breakfast for the guests he has in the palace. His friends, Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph are staying in the palace for the evening celebration as well as the briefly visiting Mai and Ty Lee. Breakfast disinterests him for now, especially because he believes his day to be full of other laborious tasks and the practice he's fitting in at that moment will be very much needed.
He puts his swords away now that his servants are moving around, not wanting to disturb them with the sights of him turning the steel blades through the air, and instead focuses on hand to hand combat poses. He stands opposite a tree, smooth bark in front of him and he directs his attacks there. Right jab, left jab, right roundhouse kick. Left jab, right jab, left roundhouse kick. He continues like this until the backs of his feet start to redden with the repetitive contact to the tree, despite how gentle it is at first.
He feels goosebumps slide over his skin as he spins, midway through a roundhouse kick and plants his left foot firmly in front of him. Without trying, he is in a stance that has an aura of combativeness around it and he scowls at the sight of the intruder. Katara stands in front of him, only a few feet away from him, and he can't decide whether he's more upset that she snuck up on him or that she's even bothering him in the first place. The waterbender watches him calmly for a few minutes before he tenses, his shoulders rigid and his feet firm, and then he relaxes. His hands fall back to his side and he nearly raises them back in the air as she starts to smirk.
"Were you having second thoughts about fighting me?" He doesn't remember ever finding her this irritating after the moment that she decided to forgive him, but at that moment, he really is starting to. The scowl doesn't leave his face but she seems amused by it, inching closer and raising her hands to him playfully. This elicits a wry smirk from his lips to match hers, more bemused than anything else. He's never had a playful spirit and he doesn't plan to start now.
"I'd fight you right now, but I don't want a riot before breakfast." He says plainly, watching her carefully. She seems to be taking in his appearance and her blue eyes move from the state of his hair to the sweat glistening across his chest, to the slightly damp hem of his pants, down to the unintentional arch in his feet. She glances once over him from top to bottom and back up, and the movements of her deep blue eyes back and forth lull him into a slightly hypnotic state. It's after about her third or fourth assessment of him that she nods at him.
"All right, then," she pushes her sleeves up towards her elbows and it's then that Zuko notices her hair is loose and unrestrained around her shoulders. She lazily winds it around into a long twister of dark chestnut spirals before she turns it around into a tight bun on top of her head. "Let's fight."
He stares at her blankly, his first mistake as she calls a tiny water whip to her hand and lashes him in the unscarred cheek. It stings and causes his eyes to water but he takes a few steps back, shifting into a bending stance. Suddenly, he sees the water from her waterskin and from the pond surge to her hands as she draws back, a tidal wave rolling in front of her and heading towards him. It passes through him and as it covers him, it turns to ice. Zuko feels his hips and his chest constrict under the pressure of the ice but with a burst of flame from deep within his stomach, the ice shatters and rains down around them until Katara's hands are out, collecting the ice and turning it to water. Zuko wastes no time and turns his hands into blades of fire, drawing on the art of dual swords as he advances towards her. Her eyes widen as Zuko makes his first contact, slicing against her shoulder.
She cries out but corrects herself, quickly fastening water to her shoulder to heal it as she artfully dodges his oncoming attacks. When she stitches up the burned wound, she starts fighting his fiery blades with icy ones of her own, gloved over her own hands. With every swing and collision, a hiss of steam rises and she dances around Zuko with hardened eyes. He pushes her into realizing how much of her own fighting is bending and how much his isn't. She brings her hands up over her head to block an attack of his blades as he presses down and her arms shake. She slides from underneath him and pivots to connect her icy blades with his stomach but she meets an armor of fire that swallows the blade whole, water dripping down her wrists.
Zuko reaches to take a hold of her vulnerable wrist with his slightly warm palms at the same time as Katara chooses to restore her icy weapons; his hand is frozen to her wrist and the ice crawls up his arm. Not hesitating, Zuko swings his free arm towards her, fire trailing from his arm as he tries to connect with her. She raises her other hand to block his intended assault and isn't surprised to hear the sizzling that indicates her momentary success. It is this deadlock that brings them both to stare at one another. Katara stares deeply into his eyes, seeing the golden-yellow hues of the sun reflecting back at her. Similarly, Zuko sees the dark blue and the light blue coming together like the arc of a wave in her irises. Neither of them know what's underlying, what's underneath their gazes, not until Zuko takes advantage of what seems to be her lack of focus.
He inches forward, planting his feet between hers, taking advantage of her widely spread stance and throwing her off-balance. He swings his leg, bending it at the knee, and hooks it behind her ankle. Pulling, she falls backwards but because of the icy handcuffs on his left hand and her right hand, they fall together. He shifts so his palm lands with a hiss in the grass next to her. He doesn't have to look because he knows it's already left a print, but he stares down at Katara whose face no longer looks enraptured in their battle. The air has been knocked from her chest and she takes it from his when she pushes herself up, craning her neck towards him and captures his bottom lip between her teeth.
He groans in protest but she wraps her hand around his neck, pulling him down closer towards her. Her teeth slide over his lip and her tongue soothes it immediately after before she kisses him firmly, shifting underneath him. Previously distracted, she now melts the ice that encased their hands and much to her surprise, his other hand falls by her head and he leans down into her body with his own. He doesn't know what drives him to reciprocate her actions, feeling as though their sparring session is being carried out in an alternative style of combat. His lips move from hers and trail down her jawline before he sinks his teeth into her shoulder. She cries out but Zuko is quick to cover her mouth with his hand as he now hears footsteps shuffling through the courtyard.
As if he had realized the error he made, he rolls off of her and jumps to his feet, hands covered in blades of grass before he gathers his swords and moves away from the slightly destroyed portion of the courtyard. He doesn't get very far as he turns to exit the courtyard and a block of ice shatters on the wall beside him. He peeks over his shoulder to see Katara, smirking and poised in a fighting position. He returns the smirk before taking a few steps, moving through the palace hallways at a steady speed, facing Katara. They trade attacks with one another, fire dancing behind her as she shields herself with a wall of water from his attacks. She retaliates with splashes of water, slicing them before they can make contact so they rain over him harmlessly. Servants stutter and move out of the way of the Fire Lord and Master Waterbender, who doesn't even stop at the sight of her older brother, Sokka—
"Hey! Stop trying to kill my sister!"
—but neither of them as much as glance over as they start to get closer and closer, the flames and jets of water shortening in length as the fierceness of their attacks increase. Sokka's indignant and noisy shouts do little to distract them as they turn the corner towards Zuko's chambers. With a jarring kick, he knocks the door nearly off of the hinges and Katara insistently encases the lock in place with a crystallized layer of ice. She turns to him with a mischievous glint in her eye, kicking her shoes off and tugging at the sashes of her dress before she's in an equal state of undress. She's practiced her waterbending in her sarashi wraps before but she's in the Fire Lord's royal bedchambers. There's quite a difference in this kind of bending. Despite his shirtlessness, Zuko finds his face as hot as the flames that he calls to his hands as she approaches him. Her lithe form stops in front of him before he closes the space between them, his fiery palms settling at the backs of her legs and pulling her up. His hands are warm but not on fire, and it crawls across her skin. She wraps her arms around his neck, allowing water to coat her skin in a thin layer to cool the heat that rises around him.
Her hand, gloved in water, cups his scarred cheek and her fingers trace the ridges that have smoothed out over time. The reddened blemish is unresponsive but she can't help but become mesmerized by it. At least momentarily, before her back is pressed against the wall. She exerts pressure onto her legs so he releases them and she finds her footing, her fingers pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck before she reaches and pulls the topknot from his hair. The dark brown shaggy hair falls into her grip and she grins against his lips at this development. "Move," he growls, but all the viciousness that she expects is replaced by a voice laden with sexual frustration.
Katara moves forward, her back coming off the wall as she feels his long, tapered fingers against her back, deftly pulling the knots out of her wraps. It means that things are escalating to a point further than sparring and the barbs that they had been trading are replaced with attempts at pushing the other to pleasure. When the tangled cloths fall to the floor, Zuko doesn't waste any time in plunging his fingers inside of her. They're warm, warmer than they naturally would be, and she starts to swear in heated tones, arching her back. The moment her hair tickles his hands, he grabs a fistful and tugs lightly, exposing the expanse of dark flesh of her neck. His mouth nips and licks and works its way down slowly while his fingers continue to work, flexing and pumping slowly. Katara can't do anything except moan and grip two tight fists full of his hair in return, struggling to focus. She backs against the wall with a whimper, trying to push away from him and his mouth and his fingers to appease the assault of pleasure over her body. She finally yanks forward and bites his neck roughly. It startles him enough to that he releases her hair and parts their bodies for a moment—but not his fingers. It's her turn as she wrenches her body from his grip, pushing her hands against his smooth yet firm chest, backing him up until he reaches the bed.
There's a knock at the door and she stifles a laugh as Zuko gives a gruff command—"Go away!"—and Katara decides that she wants to make it as uncomfortable as possible for him. She slides his pants and undergarments down despite his swatting. "You're missing breakfast," the impassive voice of his former girlfriend travels through the door as Katara's water gloved hands cover Zuko's length surreptitiously. He bites down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, fire surging in his palms before it dies down. "I'm not hungry," he grounds out, unintentionally rocking his hips in between her hands. She can't wipe the overly pleased grin on her face at the effect of her ministrations and the slightly ironic situation that Mai is on the opposite side of the door. "I wanted to talk."
Zuko stills and for a moment, Katara considers surrendering him to Mai, but then realizes that it'd be a forfeiture and simply replaces her water coated hands with her water coated mouth. He growls again, the sound low and deep and raspy in his throat, and his mind allows the descent of a smoky haze to cloud his judgments. He laces his fingers through her loose brown hair, winding it gently through his fingers, smoothing it down against his rough palms. "Zuko, you can't avoid me forever. Open the door." Katara runs her tongue across him and his loud groan of satisfaction morphs into a response. "No!" He reluctantly pulls himself away from the waterbender, who only climbs on top of him. She turns her torso and sends a gliding wall of water to the door, spreading it around the edges and in the creases with only a small margin of space before she freezes it all to ice.
"Pay attention," she whispers to him, and he catches her doing that thing again. Where she takes in the sight of him underneath her body, fully exposed to her this time. It's a lot shorter but it's equally as potent before she pushes herself down on him. It surprises Zuko more than her willingness to engage with him that he doesn't meet any sort of barrier in his attempt, but he says nothing as he moves slowly inside of her. They've both come to the same conclusion of ideas, to bend their way through this rollercoaster of pleasure, Mai's insistent calls lost through the wall of ice and the haze of ecstasy. The water and fire collide and Katara presses her palms against his palms, her hair falling over her shoulders and swaying over him like a dark curtain as she rocks back and forth, opposite of him. She feels the tension and the explosion of warmth in between her legs and she only moves more recklessly, grinding her hips against his and pushing herself down harder. He meets her with his own hips, pushing up and thrusting until they reach a tempo that she lacks control over. His fingers trail down the front of her body, over the curve of her breasts as he kneads them in his warm hands, rolling his palms over them as she continues to arch her back and push against him. Her moans stop in her throat as she bites her lips harshly closed and it's no surprise that his heated palms traverse the rest of her body, across her stomach and rippling across her hips before they push intrusively between their joined bodies to aid in the rapidly approaching climax.
Neither of them remembers who gets there first, but they can feel the rolling tension sliding off of them as Katara slides off of him, standing on her feet and admiring him impressively. Her blue eyes rock back and forth, darkened with pleasure but sparkling with the satisfaction that accompanies the release of all of her built up tension. He doesn't speak as he rises, slowly walking backwards towards his bathroom. He doesn't turn his back on her although their sparring is over for the time being. They watch each other ardently before Zuko's hand scratches against the doorknob and he goes into his bathroom.
Standing under the funneling shower head, he doesn't think twice when he shifts the water to cold. Steam rolls off of him as he tries to work himself down to a moderate body temperature. After a few moments of washing water over his body, he realizes that he's somehow managed to remain tense, and he awkwardly, almost embarrassed, takes himse
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