#atla reader

The heavy silk drapes of the Fire Lord’s bedchambers were drawn tight against the cool Caldera night, shutting out the rest of the world entirely. Inside, the only light came from the low, amber glow of a single brass brazier in the corner and the deep, natural warmth that radiated directly from Zuko’s skin.

He was completely, hopelessly undone.

The crown of the Fire Lord was gone, discarded on a low table near the door, and with it went every ounce of the stoic, measured restraint he was forced to wear like armor during the day. Here, in the quiet expanse of the massive low-slung bed, he wasn't a ruler. He was a man drowning in his love for you, consumed by an infatuation so fierce it felt almost spiritual.

Zuko hovered over you, his strong, calloused hands framing your face with a reverence that made your breath catch. His long, dark hair, entirely unbound, fell forward in a heavy curtain, draping over his shoulders and pooling against your skin, effectively walling the two of you off into a universe of your own making.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated against your lips. It wasn't just a compliment; it sounded like a confession, a truth wrung from the deepest, most vulnerable part of his chest. "Spirits, (y/n). Look at you."

His golden eyes were wide, dark with heat, and completely fixed on your face. He looked at you as if he were trying to memorize every line, every curve, every micro-expression, as if he couldn't quite believe that you were real and that you were his. The intensity in his gaze was staggering, a burning focus that felt even hotter than the fire he commanded.

You reached up, your fingers tangling in the silken length of his hair, pulling him down to close the agonizing fraction of an inch between your mouths.

The moment your lips met, Zuko let out a shaky, broken sigh, his body melting completely against yours. The kiss wasn't fast or hurried; it was deep, heavy, and intoxicatingly slow. He parted your lips with a lazy, deliberate pressure, his tongue sliding against yours with a possessive rhythm that made your head spin. He tasted faintly of the sweet-tea he’d had earlier, but mostly he just tasted like heat and devotion.

As his mouth moved against yours, his hands slid down from your jawline, his fingers trailing down the sides of your neck. The short, blunt layers of your hair—the practical cut you’d kept since the end of the war—tickled the edges of his hands. He leaned his head to the side, his lips breaking the kiss to trace a path down your jaw, his nose nudging against the short, soft strands that lined your jawline.

He paused when his lips encountered the two longer strands of hair that framed your face, hanging lower than the rest to brush against your collarbone. Zuko let out a low hum of pure adoration, his lips pressing a soft, warm kiss directly into the hollow of your throat right beside those strands.

"I love this," he murmured against your skin, his thumb gently catching one of those longer locks and smoothing it flat against your collarbone. "I love your hair. I love the way it feels against my hands. I love everything about you."

The absolute sincerity in his voice made your heart hammer frantically against your ribs. You shifted beneath him, your thighs brushing against his hips, and the sudden, intimate contact made Zuko's breath hitch. He lifted his head, his golden eyes locking onto yours again, ablaze with a sudden, overwhelming spike of desire.

He moved slowly, deliberately, giving you every opportunity to set the pace, even though every muscle in his back was taut with the effort of holding himself back. His hands slid down to your waist, his large palms warm and steady as they gripped your hips, lifting you slightly to align your bodies.

When he finally slid inside you, a soft, breathless gasp tore from your throat. Zuko’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropping slightly as a low, ragged groan tore from deep within his chest. He didn't close his eyes; he kept them wide open, staring directly into yours as he buried himself completely within your warmth.

"Ah... (y/n)," he choked out, his forehead coming down to rest against yours for just a second, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The sheer pleasure of it seemed to overwhelm him, his features twisting into an expression that was almost painful in its intensity. "You're so warm. You feel so perfect around me."

He began to move, a slow, deep, agonizingly beautiful friction that made you arch your back off the silk mattress. Your fingers tightened convulsively in his long hair, pulling at the dark strands as the pleasure began to build, a heavy, radiating heat that centered in your core.

Zuko watched the change in your expression with a kind of obsessive fascination. Every time your eyes fluttered shut, he would lean down, nipping gently at your bottom lip or kissing your cheek until you looked at him again. He wanted to see you. He wanted to be entirely present in the sight of your pleasure.

"Don't close your eyes," he pleaded softly, his hips driving into yours with a steady, unhurried power. "Look at me. Let me see you."

You forced your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry with tears of sheer sensation. Zuko’s face was flush with heat, a deep, ruddy color spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. The burn scar on the left side of his face puckered with the intensity of his emotion, but to you, he had never looked more beautiful. He looked raw, completely stripped of his defenses, entirely at your mercy.

He was a firebender, a man capable of summoning roaring flames and devastating lightning with a flick of his wrist, but right now, he was trembling. His arms shook slightly as he held himself above you, his muscles rippling under his smooth skin as he set a rhythm that was entirely designed to maximize your pleasure.

"You have me," Zuko whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he pushed deeper, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made a small, high sob escape your lips. Hearing that sound, a fierce, triumphant light flared in his eyes. "You have all of me, (y/n). Everything I am. Every breath I take. It’s all yours."

He lowered himself further, pressing his torso flush against yours. The heat radiating from his chest was immense, a comforting, burning pressure that seemed to fuse your bodies together. His hands moved up, his fingers tangling once again in the short layers of your hair at the back of your neck, holding you steady as his movements became faster, deeper, driven by an infatuation that had completely bypassed his control.

Zuko’s kisses became frantic, peppering your face, your eyelids, your nose, your jaw, before returning to your mouth to drink in your gasps. He was worshiping you with his body, each stroke of his hips a silent vow of protection, of love, of absolute surrender. He was the Fire Lord to the world outside, but in this bed, he was entirely your devotee, consumed by the beautiful, terrifying fire of loving you.

The rhythm Zuko maintained was almost hypnotic, a heavy, deliberate tide that carried both of you further away from the shore of reality. He seemed entirely unbothered by his own release, prioritizing the slow, torturous building of your own tension with a selflessness that bordered on obsession.

His thumbs stroked your cheekbones, wiping away the few stray tears of pleasure that had escaped your eyes.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, pausing for a fraction of a second, his breath hitching as you squeezed around him instinctively. A shudder ran through his entire frame, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles jumped. "Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me what you need."

"Don't stop," you gasped out, your hands leaving his hair to grip his damp shoulders, your nails digging into the solid muscle there. "Zuko, please... don't stop."

A dark, incredibly tender smile touched his lips at your words. "I couldn't stop if I tried," he whispered.

He resumed the pace, but there was a new edge to his movements now, a deeper urgency that mirrored the tightening coil in your lower stomach. The ambient temperature in the room seemed to rise, a subtle manifestation of his inner fire responding to his heightened emotions. The air felt thick, charged with an electric, heavy warmth that made every touch feel twice as sensitive.

He leaned down, burying his face in the curve where your neck met your shoulder, inhaling deeply as if your very scent could sustain him.

"You're everything," he growled against your skin, his hips driving upward with a sudden, powerful force that hit the exact spot inside you.

You shrieked softly, your back arching entirely off the bed, your toes curling into the crimson sheets. The world shattered into a thousand brilliant, burning sparks as your climax washed over you in great, pulsing waves.

Zuko didn't pull back. He leaned into the tightening pressure of your release, his eyes wide and fixed on your face as you rode the wave of pleasure. Seeing you shatter completely undid the last vestige of his control. His breath hitched, a low, guttural cry tearing from his throat as his own release hit him with the force of a tidal wave.

He drove deep inside you one last, desperate time, spilling himself into you as his entire body went rigid. The muscles in his back and arms locked up, his veins standing out under his skin as he poured every ounce of his love, his heat, and his soul into the union.

For a long, breathless minute, the only sound in the room was the harsh, ragged panting of the two of you trying to find your air.

Slowly, the tension left Zuko’s body. He didn't move away; instead, he collapsed forward, burying his face in the softness of your short hair, his chest heaving against yours. His heartbeat was a wild, frantic drumming against your ribs, a perfect mirror to your own.

He stayed inside you, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you were curled flush against his torso. He tucked your head securely under his chin, his large hand coming up to gently stroke the back of your head, his fingers smoothing down the short, rumpled layers of your hair.

"I love you," Zuko whispered into the quiet of the room, his voice thick with emotion, his lips brushing against the top of your head. He sounded exhausted, completely spent, but beneath it all was a profound, unshakeable peace. "I love you so much, (y/n)”

You smiled against his chest, your fingers idly reaching up to find a long lock of his hair, twirling the dark, warm strand around your finger just as you had done in the afternoon shadows. "I love you more, Zuko".

The Fire Nation, the council, and the endless rebuilding of a broken world would be waiting for him the moment the sun broke over the horizon. But for now, in the safety of the dark, the Fire Lord was exactly where he belonged—completely infatuated, entirely loved, and utterly whole.