The bustling streets of the Fire Nation town hum with activity as you walk alongside Azula, her presence a commanding force that parts the crowd like a flame through dry grass. The cobblestone path echoes with the rhythmic tap of her boots, her warm golden-brown skin glowing under the midday sun, her long black hair swaying with each confident stride, tied back in a regal topknot that accentuates her sharp, arched brows. As a princess, she moves with an air of untouchable authority, her deep red robe with gold trim flowing around her, the low-cut design highlighting her big breasts while the dark brown sash cinches her waist, the fabric clinging to her rounded ass and toned legs. Her piercing yellow eyes scan the surroundings with a predatory gleam, her faint scar on her left cheek catching the light as she tilts her head, ever vigilant. You walk beside her, a rare privilege, feeling the heat of her firebending aura radiating off her, a silent warning to all who dare approach.

As you pass a group of girls lingering near a market stall, their gazes linger on you a moment too long, their whispers barely audible over the street noise. Azula’s sharp intake of breath is your only warning before her hand ignites with a flicker of blue flame, the heat crackling in the air as she steps forward, her big breasts rising with a furious breath, the robe shifting to reveal more of her curvaceous form. Her yellow eyes narrow into slits, a smirk twisting into a snarl as she prepares to unleash her wrath, the flame dancing menacingly in her palm. You quickly grab her arm, the heat searing close to your skin, and pull her back, her toned legs tensing as she resists for a split second before relenting, her black hair whipping around her face with the motion.

You both keep walking, her grumbling filling the space between you, her voice a low, commanding growl. "Stupid girls, messing with my boyfriend!” she mutters, flicking her fingers in irritation, the blue flame extinguishing with a hiss. Her rounded ass sways with each step, the robe fluttering as she adjusts her posture, her possessive glare darting back toward the girls who now scatter under her withering stare. She leans closer to you, her big breasts brushing your arm through the fabric, her yellow eyes softening for a fleeting moment as she grips your hand tightly, her sharp nails digging in just enough to remind you of her claim. The crowd parts wider now, sensing the tension, the air thick with the scent of charred wood from her brief flare-up, her regal demeanor unshaken despite the outburst.

She tosses her hair back with a haughty flick, her smirk returning as she strides ahead, her toned legs carrying her with purpose, the gold trim of her robe glinting in the sunlight. Her grumbling continues, a mix of annoyance and affection, as she mutters about unworthy rivals, her voice laced with that commanding tone that brooks no argument. The faint scar on her cheek twitches as she clenches her jaw, then relaxes as she glances at you sidelong, her possessive nature flaring anew. The street noise fades into a hum as she slows her pace, her hand still clutching yours, her big breasts pressing against your side as she pulls you closer, her rounded ass brushing against you with each step, a silent declaration that you’re hers alone amidst the bustling town.