fire lord! Zuko x water bender! reader - 18+, MDNI
S/TW: Fire lord Zuko, water bender reader, forced proximity, hate sex/foreplay, slow burn, enemies to lovers, f x m, female reader, arranged marriage, SMUT, d/s, fire play? (obvi), oral sex, edging...
A/N: I apologize for the long hiatus, it was NOT intended, but med school majorly sucks! My hobbies were basically non-existent the last 6 months...anyway, I know I have said in the past I wouldn't write about characters I don't know a ton about, and this is me saying I lied. Obviously, I watched the last airbender as a kid, but it's been a hot minute. I also, obviously, shipped Zuko and Katara. That plus the newest leaks from the new movie, I felt inspired...hehehe. Please dont come at me with torches and pitchforks due to inconsistencies to the lore...I just let me imagination run with this one. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it ♡
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Your ceremonial wedding robes pooled around your feet, where the ocean breeze pulled flower petals, bright as flame, against the cerulean blue and white-trimmed fabric, yet another symbol of the reunion of the two nations.
Fire and water, perfect harmony, ying and yang.
Like hell, you thought, kicking your lace-adorned foot at the vibrant petals with disgust.
One could have hoped that after the old leader of the fire nation was defeated, his father, that there would be some doing away with all the traditions, and the need for treaties and reunions.
Unfortunately, that was not that case, and you were the lucky daughter who assumed the responsibility of it, ensuring that the peace was maintained.
You huffed out an exasperated breath, pushing a dolled strand of hair out of your face. What was keeping you here, anyway? Duty? Honor? The thought nearly made you snort in repulsion.
So, you'd run. Steal a ship, bribe a couple crew members with your father's name and a mention of riches, and go somewhere no one would ever find you. No name, no nation, no husband.
Before you could even dare to second guess it, you gathered your skirts in your hands and pushed for the door. It opened all too willingly for you, surprising you that your attending maids and guards were nowhere to be seen, just an empty hallway echoing your desire to flee.
Your heart fluttered as your feet carried you closer to your freedom, a frightening question of where your new path would lead you, who you would become.
All the possibilities flashed before your eyes, just before being stopped short with a sharp yank of the train of your gown, pinning you in place like a sheet in the wind.
Lord Zuko's voice slid smoothly through the darkened hallway to you as he spoke. "I would ask if you were running to begin our wedding ceremony early, but that wouldn't be right. You're running in the opposite direction."
You slowly turned, eyes landing on a booted foot pinning the end of your robes to the ground. They traveled upward, trailing rich, dark fabric to the gleaming metal of his ornamental armor, layered on broad shoulders that eventually led to his face, his eyes.
Like a predator's, they gleamed with satisfaction.
"I suppose maybe I am lost." you breathed.
His lips curled upward on one corner, devastating and villain. He removed his boot from your train, carefully stepping around it to approach you. With his arms folded behind his back, he moved with a lethal grace. Lord Zuko was a solider, through and through.
And he was quickly closing the distance between the two of you.
"You seemed to know exactly where you were going." he replied.
You bristled, but didn't yield a single step backward, if anything, out of pure pride. "It is considered poor luck to approach your bride before the wedding, my Lord.” Your words poured from your tight lips, more strained with irritation than you had intended.
“Oh? Is it not poor luck for the bride to flee the wedding altogether?’’ He asked, leaning down to be at eye level. His annoyingly handsome features were neutral set, but his eyes told you everything there was to know about how much he enjoyed this cat-and-mouse game. Even in the dark lighting, you could still make out the scar, deeply etched across his face; you had heard stories. “And it will just be Zuko, for you, my bride.”
You felt your upper lip twitch, nearly a sneer. You shoved your body in the opposing direction, making a break back for the balcony to await your inevitable fate, to be sold off like a prize animal for butcher. Stopped short again, you froze, a large hand clamped tightly around your forearm, dwarfed in comparison. Not too hard, but just firm enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to pull away successfully.
Zuko’s breath tickled your ear as he leaned in, words satiny and poisoned with truth. “The world out there is not safe for someone in your position, Lily of the North.”
The coined nickname bit, but the point he made was far worse. He knew. And the worst of it all, was that he was right.
You, a daughter of a great leader of the water nation, could hardly bend a drop. With your bloodline, your only ability to serve your position was to marry; secure peace, meld with another strong bloodline, and produce heirs.
The thought made the hair on the back of your neck stand, to be belitted to such a state.
The thought of having children and becoming a mother, a wife, had never been something you despised, but you deserved the choice of who and when that happened. Not this. With him.
"Are you calling my honor into question?" You asked, though it was less of a question and more of a challenge.
The sound Zuko made could only be closest related to a purr. He was not angered by your challenge, but...pleased by it? "My bride to be? No, that would reflect poorly on the both of us now, wouldn't it?"
You wanted to wipe that satisfied grin right off of his face, but you bit your tongue, for once.
As if finally satisfied with your response, or rather he had become bored already with his newest toy, he released your arm. You ripped it further from his grip, just for good measure, and you bristled at the low hum of a chuckle that leaked from his throat.
Melding back with the shadows, the lord of fire walked away from you, raising a hand in a casual wave, as if the two of you were long time friends.
“I will see you at the ceremony, Lily of the North. And for the record, you are as beautiful as the tales describe.”
The last of his words left you frozen, skin colder than you had ever felt in the water nation. You stood still in that dark hallway, unmoving long after you had watched the last hue of red disappear into the freedom you had just lost.
Wedding ceremonies, from the descriptions of your friends and women of your village, were painted to be one of the happiest days one could experience in their lifetime. Yours, felt like a slow and terrible torture, blurring and bending like a night you had gotten into your father’s wine stock and drank far more than your young body and mind could handle.
You remembered bits and pieces, the exchange of vows, the hearth-like warmth of his hand, the cold metal ring, the celebration full of empty exchanges, gifts, and pleasantries. Feasts, dancing, and the twirling of blue and red gowns.
Yet, some part of you would have endured it all for days, months, years. All to avoid the moment that now glared back at you.
You stared at his smug expression, unwilling to back down. Just you and him, at the top of some ridiculously ornate volcanic tower, with the large, lush bed that mocked you from the center of the room. It had also been decorated with those fiery red petals, stark against black silk, and it took everything you had to bite back the bitterness that threatened to leap off of your tongue.
“Do you not like it?” Zuko asked. It was not a question, just another strategic play. He was feeling you out and you weren’t ready to give.
You were both adults, both knew what you were present to do. The marriage was to be consummated, but you didn’t have to give him anything. No, you wouldn’t. And you most certainly wouldn’t reveal that strange ball of anticipation that sat low in your abdomen.
You scoffed. What was the point in fake pleasantries now, that you were man and wife, to spend the rest of your days together? He ought to know exactly what he agreed to.
“Which part? The forced marriage? The dungeon-like essence of this honeymoon? Or the ridiculous dress that makes me look like a pastry?” You questioned, your face tightening as the pressure that had slowly built over the weeks prior began to release.
He strode a few paces closer to you, stitching together precious inches of space separating the two of you. Your toes curled in your slippers as he deflected your icy defenses.
“Are you something to be devoured? I do enjoy pastries.”
It was you this time that charged a few more steps forward, getting as close as you dared to him, close enough that his masculine scent filled your senses. It was dizzying, consuming, like smoke and brimstone. “Do not toy with me, fire lord, or you’ll understand I don’t need any bending abilities to make myself a problem.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it for a second.” His eyes glowed as he pressed even closer. The proximity was dangerously electric. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were born and raised right here in the fire nation; but no, you are far colder.”
You snarled, baring teeth at him like some kind of feral animal, in the kind of way that would have had your tutors and maids reeling.
Zuko’s reflexes were quick though, catching your jaw in the sharp snap of his hand. “Know this, wife,” His eyebrows twitched as his face grew more intense, almost intimidating, if not for the strange spark of excitement that skittered up your spine. “Even the coldest and toughest of metals bend and melt for fire. Your steely little tantrum is no different.”
You felt your face twist in anger, your mouth opening to let the worst of your thoughts fly, before you stopped short. You had meant to look right into his eyes as you poured out your hate, your anger, your deepest shame. You had, but as soon as you had gone to do so, you found his eyes not on yours, but lower.
They were trained on your lips, just before his thumb moved to brush the bottom one.
Zuko looked entirely transfixed by them, as if their shape and color were some rare, foreign thing to him. Something deep in your core felt as though it melted, and for just one moment you believed what your new husband had said.
The lapse of weakness was all he needed, a crack in ice thinned from the heat until he was able to break through completely; then you felt it all again, that hatred, that anger, that shame, as his tongue explored your mouth, strong hands ripping and throwing the pins in your hair across the room.
You showed him, as you hurriedly undid leather buckles and ties, barely hearing the loud clanging of his ornamental armor hitting the floor. It must have scratched.
You certainly didn’t give a damn as flames burnt through the fabric of the dress you despised so ardently, licking your skin just enough for your moans to climb from your throat and vibrate against his mouth, your fists pulling the silky dark hair tangled in your hands.
The folds of your gown finally flowed to the floor in a pool of cloth, just before your thighs were hoisted up and around his chiseled waist. Your throat was tight and dry as your fingers traced the hard muscle of his marked chest, with some concoction of ire and awe with every inch of rippled, scarred skin below your fingertips.
You didn’t truly show your temper with him, no, not until he laid you down on the plush mattress and looked into your eyes with a light you had never seen in him before, and asked you what you feared most.
You hated that he cared. You hated your vulnerability. Some twisted part of you resented that he was even giving you the choice.
You threw your weight to one side, and he let you, flipping your bodies over as you pinned him beneath you. He was a large man, could have easily stopped it if he had wanted, but he had no intention; he was still enjoying himself.
You reached low for him, confident as you stared him down, until your hand gripped the length of him, not quite fitting around its entirety. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for just a moment, but it was enough for him to let out a satisfied groan.
"Do they not feel like that in the north?" Zuko chuckled, stoking the angst in you once again. He already knew exactly how to provoke you, and that was going to be a problem.
You stroked your hand up to his sensitive head, watching with enjoyment as he twitched. You didn't need him to touch you to know how wet you were already, you could feel the dampness between your legs, the heaviness in your stomach.
It was wrong, all of it, but if you couldn't control your situation, you were going to see what you could control.
That was exactly what you planned to do, before you were being pushed back into the mattress with enough force that a small puff of air whooshed from your diaphragm. Your eyelids fluttered for a moment from the shock of the sudden change, your vision finally focusing on that glib expression hovering just above yours.
“What are you doing?” You seethed, struggling against him to no avail.
Zuko clicked his tongue. “You took too long. I got impatient.”
You made to insult him once again, maybe even change your mind about the whole thing. There had to be a separate bed in that place, right? And who would know you hadn't consummated the marriage anyway?
You waited, from your very limited experience with men, for him to rush to enter you, take his pleasure and be done with it.
You watched, suddenly without thoughts or words, as his lips pressed gently against your stomach, heat blossoming from where his skin touched yours. His created his own path downward, until his breath tickled the sensitive flesh of your pussy, causing your whole body to shudder.
For a rare moment, all that you could hear was the sound of your breathing, and the pounding of your heart.
When his tongue suddenly flicked the sensitive bud of your clit, your nails dug tightly into the sheets. You hadn't ever experienced a feeling like that, not in your entire life. It didn't stop there, as he continued to massage the area, building a rhythm that turned sensitive pleasure into a burning need that kept building inside of you.
Your eyelids fluttered as your hips began to rock, the sounds and movements of your body far beyond your control. Pleasure possessed you like a sentient being, an entity you could not, and did not care to shake any time soon.
Zuko's dark eyes stared up at you with a satisfied gleam, as he gorged on you with no remorse, clearly proud of your inability to fight him any longer. Bitterness coursed through you, but it did nothing more but heighten those delicious sensations, until your cries were echoing off the wide, stone walls.
Your back arched off the bedding as you came, and came more, until your body was an aching, twitching mess. You could feel how intense it had been, how much you had finished, your own fluids polishing your cunt and the inside of your thighs slick. A shuddering breath escaped you as he rose, reaching over to grab and rip a silken casing off one of the pillows.
Your mind barely processed his actions, the movements not registering or making sense. Your thoughts moved like molasses, lazy in the haze of ecstasy you had fallen into.
You jumped with surprise as he tore the fabric, tendons working beneath the skin of his forearms as he used the ruined pillowcase to wrap around his waist, covering himself with little more modesty than when he was naked.
To your dismay, Zuko did not move to take your body fully. His want for you was more than apparent, by the firm print in the makeshift tunic, yet he turned and made for the door.
"Wh-...Where are you going?!" you stammered like an idiot, barely able to prop yourself on to your elbows.
Zuko paused just before opening the door, and you swore you heard that irritating low chuckle in his throat.
"You wanted nothing to do with me, my dear wife. You made that abundantly clear. Unless you have something you'd like to tell me?" His voice was smooth as he turned his body halfway toward you, almost expectantly, as he licked his lips. He was mocking you, dangling your submission from just moments prior before you like a puppet on strings.
Your lip curled as your face heated with blood, anger and embarrassment clawing its way up from your chest, muddling your already scattered mind.
"As I thought." he said, turning back to the door. It creaked on its ancient hinges, creating a noise that cut through the terse silence like a knife. "This is a long honeymoon, dearest wife, of nearly a month long. Our marriage is to be consummated before the end of it."
He paused for a moment just outside the doorway, and when he spoke again, you didn't have to see his face to know he wore the smile of a villain. "You come find me when you're ready to play nice."
A/N: This got a lot longer than I thought, so I ended up cutting it off at an edged cliff hanger!! How awful. Typically, Part 2's don't tend to do well for me, but let me know if you guys want more of this little fic! love youssss <3
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