I like smut as much as the next person but yall aren't even trying to write anymore. All fanfic on here is just 300 words of sex and then just tagging any character you think fits.
Summary: After the unfortunate demise of the Star Plasma Vessel, Geto is spiraling. Gojo has everything he could wish for, including the girl he had been yearning for. That is until she comes to Geto with a proposition. Fuck her better.
Word Count: 3.0k
Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, pull-out method
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No one knew what it was like to swallow a curse whole. Aside from the splattering of demon guts in their mouths some unlucky days, they'd never have to choke down their bitter taste. It was a fact that Suguru resented.
He would think that after the years of swallowing curses, he'd get used to the taste, become numb to the vileness on his throat. But every curse exorcised was like choking it down again for the first time, the stench of vomit and mold filling his senses.
It was miserable.
It was an endless cycle with little thanks, little reward. He was stuck cleaning up the messes of people who didn't deserve it. Because it was his duty.
Suguru traced this over in his mind time and time again, letting scalding water pour over his back. It singed his skin when he first stepped under, but at this point, he had become numb to the heat. His palms had become pruned to the point of near pain, but he couldn't feel it. All he could think of was his hatred. Hatred for the people he was told to save. Hatred for the school. Hatred for the ones who talked down upon him. Hatred for himself, for always getting second place.
Suguru loved his best friend. But part of him loathed Satoru. It burned inside him as scalding as the water against his back. He hated how Saturo got everything he wanted, was able to play games, with no repercussions for his actions. Meanwhile he was stuck working his ass off for second place.
The solo missions.
The boasting.
And now her.
Suguru didn't value many things in life anymore. He was focused on being a sorcerer, pushing himself to the limits for a cause that he wasn't sure he believed in. It had been months since he had confided in Saturo about a girl he found interesting. So when he told his friend about the girl he was eyeing a week ago, a fellow sorcerer at the school who had transferred from Kyoto the previous fall. He'd expected the blue-eyed boy to serve as a wingman, set the two up so he could claim at least one victory. But he had fucked her.
Loud, panting moans coming from Saturo's room late last night, feminine voice that he was certain was hers. There was no way it couldn't be, with how much he studied her voice, the slight increase in octave whenever she got defensive, or the breathy sighs when she went to whisper in his ear. It was unmistakable.
"Geto?" a voice calls from behind him, the same voice he had replayed countless times.
Suguru whips his head around, ebony hair plastering itself to his hallow skin as he scans the steam filled room. There she was, standing in the silhouette of the doorway, barefoot, dressed in a long black robe, vibrant hair cascading down her back.
Suguru rarely saw her this way, in such a vulnerable form. Her hair always seemed to be pinned, a long braid down her back, so it was less of a liability in a fight. Still, he stutters, turning off the water quickly and wrapping his torso in a towel.
"What are you doing here?" he mumbles, avoiding her gaze.
"Gojo sent me," she calls out across the room, "he's concerned, says you've been acting different."
Suguru scoffs. Gojo was the person he wanted to hear about the least right now, "Please, he's too high on his horse to ever be concerned."
"Okay, well I'm concerned," the girl counters, stepping closer to the pale man.
He had lost weight, she could tell as water dripped from his pale body. She saw the x-shaped scar that decorated his chest, darken and raised along his skin, a haunting memory of the day everything changed. His cheekbones were sallow and dark circles hung under his eyes. She rarely saw him smile anymore, barely saw him at all for that matter. She had a right to be concerned. She watches as the ebony haired man smirks, still avoiding her completely.
"Damn it, Suguru, will you tell me what's wrong?" she says, a helpless whine in her voice.
Resentment welled up inside of him. Everything was wrong, this just happened to be the latest misfortune in the series. It echoed through the corridors last night, the faint moans of her calling his best friend's name while the patterned sound of slapping seeped through the paper thin walls.
He wished it was him. That he was the one who got to fill her insides, to elicit the sweetest moans from her throat till she was calling his name, begging for him.
"He fucked you," Suguru whispers quietly, in a low tone that only the girl could hear. He pulls on his sweatpants quickly, making an attempt to leave the bathroom. The girl blocks his path.
"He did."
Hearing her admit it made something heavy pool in his heart. That Gojo once again got something he had wanted. That his best friend had betrayed him. He doesn't register that the red-haired girl has moved till he feels the warmth of her hand grasping at his own. It forces him to look up, to meet her sorrowful eyes.
"Are you upset with me?" she says in nearly a whisper.
"It's fine," Suguru mumbles.
Truthfully, he wasn't upset with her. She wasn't his to claim, despite how much he wanted to. It was Saturo he didn't want to see, didn't even want to think about. He had betrayed his trust, head so far in the clouds that he couldn't even see that what he was doing was wrong. That alone was harder to swallow than any curse.
"Want to make him jealous?" he hears.
Part of him believed that it was just a figment of his mind, that the lack of sleep was finally getting to him, making him hear things that the real girl would never say. Yet, when he looked into her eyes, there was a spark of eagerness there, waiting for his response.
"What?" he spits, in a much harsher tone than he intended.
"Do you want to make him jealous?", she repeats, "I mean, I'm sure you'd love to one up the infamous Saturo Gojo."
"What are you proposing?" he grumbles, suddenly vividly aware of the space between them.
He could feel the blood rushing in his ears as his heart dropped. His gaze lowers to the floor, slightly ashamed of his lustful desire. The girl comes closer, so close that he can smell sweat from underneath the fragrant mask of her perfume. He feels her breath against his ear, faint exhale blowing away the stray hairs there and tickling his neck, "Fuck me better."
Suguru's heart jumped in his chest. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. But the hand that snaked down the front of his chest to brush against his cock through his sweatpants reminded him this was very real.
The girl smirked as she feels his cock jump underneath her touch, watching how Suguru's furrowed brows unknit into a face of pure shock. Her palm pushed against his shaft, tracing the thickness of him, "Is that a yes, Suguru?"
The ebony haired man's face burns, his chilled body tingles with arousal so much that he can barely form a though, "Yes."
The girl bites her lip, making a move to pull down the fabric and drop to her knees. Yet a strong hand catches, forcing her upright. Before she can protest, hands wrap around her waist, placing her on the cool granite of the nearest counter. The silk of her robes pool at her hips like melted raven feathers, her knees pushed apart as Suguru kneels.
He craved her cunt like a deranged man. It made him ache, the pain of existence dulled as lust clouded his mind. He could smell the arousal seeping from between her thighs, wanting to taste very essence of her.
"Is this okay?", he asks, hands paused on her knees.
The girl looks down at him through half-lidded eyes, untied hair draping across her chest as she nods. Suguru feels the pounding in his own chest as he pushes her knees aside, silk parting to reveal the delicate skin of her cunt. His eyes linger on her flesh for a moment longer, taking in the glistening wetness that decorated each fold of skin like it was the last time he would see such a beauty.
His nose nudges her clit as he licks a long strip against her cunt, ending with a faint kiss against the swollen nub. Her body was likely sore, if Satoru had fucked her. He could imagine the faint ache of her insides, the puffy look of her fucked-out pussy as he delicately moved his tongue against her cunt. The girl moans slightly, one hand moving to grasp the root of Suguru's hair, stroking his head softly before tightening against his scalp. Her other hand was posted behind her, holding herself up as her back arched, breasts spilling from the loosened robe, legs over Suguru's shoulders as his face was nestled between her thighs.
It was exactly how Suguru had imagined it. He moaned against her cunt, drinking in her juices. He would face the exhaustion, swallow thousands more vomit flavored curses if it meant he could come back to taste this again.
His tongue moved against he clit as she moaned, thighs clenching around his head, quivering as he used two fingers to toy at her entrance. The silky sheen of her wetness slicked his fingers as he pushed himself inside and curled his fingers, feeling her walls stretch around them. A mewling moan escaped the girls lips.
He could feel her eyes on him, captivated by the sight of his head between her thighs. Wet black hair fell against her skin as he lapped and sucked her clit, pumping his fingers inside her as she rolled her hips against him. It was like the fantasy he had only dared to dream of.
He could feel the girl's thighs tremble as she came, the tightened grip of her nails against his scalp that was sure to be tender the next morning. But he didn't care, blissfully feasting on the taste of her cunt. It was only when she pushes him away he withdraws his fingers and takes his tongue from her clit, to look up at her panting body.
She was like a goddess to be worshipped, chest heaving as her breasts spilled from her black robe. Hair cascaded across her shoulders, draping over her frame. Her hand was still clasped in Suguru's hair, a loose grip upon his ebony locks as he looked up at the ethereal woman. A smirk spreads across his face, "Did Satoru make you cum like that?"
The girl lets out a airy laugh, shaking her head before letting him stand. His clothed cock dangerously neared her drenched cunt, so much so he could feel the heat radiating from the soaked organ. He could feel precum leaking from his swollen tip, staining the from of his sweatpants as his eyes met the woman's.
She was smiling, gripping his arm to pull him against her. Suguru shuttered as her warmth pressed against him through the fabric of his sweatpants, involuntarily bucking his hips to rub against her cunt. A wanton moan escapes his lips.
"Sugu, " the girl says with a breathy sigh, "Please fuck me."
Suguru nods, pulling back momentarily to free his aching cock from the constraints of his sweatpants. It falls heavy against his stomach, tip a flustered red, shimmering with smears of precum that decorated the small slit. He pumps it once, sliding it between the glistening folds of her cunt. Then he pauses.
"I don't have a condom, " he flusters, looking back to the girl's sympathetic face.
Her hand trails up across his chest, to cup his jaw. Her palm was warm as he held her gaze, "It's okay. I've never-"
Suguru raises his eyebrows, "Not even for Satoru?"
Suguru knew that his friend liked it raw. To be fair, who wouldn't. But he could usually charm whatever girl he was with into doing so, making up some excuse about how his cursed technique could make it so his seed would never even touch her. How true that was, Suguru didn't know.
He watches the girl's lips twist into a wicked grin, "Not even for him."
Pride blooms in Suguru's chest as he realigns his cock with her slick entrance. Finally, he had gotten something that Satoru could never dreamed of. Even if he had fucked her first, he would never know the sweet taste of her cunt, feel her bare walls clench around his cock. He pushed slightly, the mushroom head of his cock breeching the open organ, sliding into the warmth of her cunt. His breath falters as he feels her walls flutter around him.
"Fuck," the girl breathes, her hair falling against her face, "You feel so good."
Suguru hisses, his grip tightening against her hips, pulling her body flush with his own. He felt himself deep inside her, swallowed by her velvet walls, slick dripping from where their bodies met, shimmering against Suguru's pale skin. He could feel the lust cloud his judgement, the primal desire to bury his cum against her cervix, in her womb so she could never leave him. Not for Satoru, not for anyone.
His dick was impossibly hard as he thrust into her, sound of his hips meeting her own echoing through the bath hall, nearly a perfect replication of the muffled noises he heard through the wall the night before. His eyes draw from their union to the girls face, where her eyes studied him intently, mouth drawn open as sweet sounds filled the room with every thrust.
She moaned beneath him, watching the way his ebony hair fell into his eyes, unburdened by the bun he usually wore. His jaw clenched, vein protruding from his neck as sharp exhales flared his nostrils. His eyes were focused on his own, the tiredness she had seen on his face the past few weeks replaced by a nearly animalistic gaze of possession. His body flexed with every movement of his hips, sweat giving ugly scar across his chest an ethereal sheen. He looked like a god as he grabbed her face with one hand, forcing her eyes to meet his own.
"Tell me," he growls, "Did Satoru fuck you this good?"
The girls lips purse as his thrusts become more erratic, "No, Sugu- only you."
Her words send his over the edge, orgasm shuddering through his body, turning his vision white as he quickly pulls from the girls cunt. Warm ropes of cum land against the girl's bare chest, dripping from one peaked nipple, decorating her soft skin.
His forehead rest against the girls as he rests for a moment. The cloud of curses seems to float away for a moment, the weight on his shoulders relieved so he could again carry himself like a man. And she was his. Panting and sticky with his cum, a broad smile on her face.
"Here, " he says, picking up his discarded towel from the floor to swipe across her chest, "Clean up before anyone comes in here."
He turns away to pull his cock back into his sweatpants.
"I wouldn't worry," the girl says, "Gojo's been guarding the door since I came in here."
Blood pounds in Suguru's ears as his body freezes. Was this some sick prank they had devised?
"What?" he hisses.
He barely registers the girl coming up behind him, grasping his hand in her own, " I never fucked him, Suguru."
"No," Suguru says wearily, a flustered redness spreading across his cheeks, " I heard you."
The girl smiles. Of course he had been listening. "What you heard was me jumping on Gojo's bed and pornstar moaning while he slapped his stomach with a shit ton of lotion on his hands."
"Why?" Suguru fumbles, eyes burning into the ground despite the girl's best attempt to look into his eyes.
"You aren't yourself anymore, Suguru," the girl says, finally reaching to grab his chin with enough force to tilt his head.
"Gojo and I were worried, so we wanted to give you a little pick me up. But you're too noble just to fuck me, so we had to make you jealous enough to get you to forget those hesitations."
Geto's brows furrow and he runs a hand through his still-damp hair, "And you were okay with this?"
She nods sweetly, "He told me that you had feelings for me, and it seemed like a good idea... seeing that I feel the same way."
Suguru could feel his heartbeat in his ears as his eyes narrow on the girl's grin. Part of him still believed this was some sort of prank, that it would all be over. But he swallowed that fear with the bitter taste of curses in his mouth, "You do?"
He freezes as a warm kiss is pressed against his cheekbone, the ones that he knew were becoming more visible by the day as he fell deeper into the abyss of his own mind. But in that moment he saw a light appear in the darkness, soft and pink, a mix of yearning and hope as he gripped the girls hand tighter in his own.
"I do," she whispers, "And if you'd like it, I'd like to get lunch sometime- like a date, not just as friends."
The glowing warmth spreads. It tastes like his mom's homemade zaru soba, mixed with the strawberry chapstick he tasted after his first kiss, "I'd like that."
"Good," the girl says, leading him to the door of the bathroom, "Because there's this place in Sendagaya that I've been wanting to try."
Geto steps through the threshold to the outside world and for once he feels lighter. The world seemed, clearer, brighter. Especially the glowing blue eyes that looked up from him from their spot on the floor. Blue headphones sat atop a crown of unruly white hair, plugged into a tablet that rested upon his knees, playing something loud enough that it was sure to drown out whatever he could have heard from inside the bathroom.
Satoru looks up at him with a small smile, "Hey, have fun?"
Toji Fushiguro x OC (or reader), JJK, Jujustu Kaisen
PLEASE let me know if this sounds like a story you'd want!
Broke, with a two-year old son, and mourning the loss of his wife, Toji Fushiguro is desperate. Alongside countless brutal jobs, Toji turns to research studies at the local college to earn extra cash.
That is until the psychologist in charge says is constant participation "skews the data" and offers him and his son dinner that night. She learns about his past, his relation to jujustu, Megumi loves her, and soon enough, Toji is falling for the psychologist.
Until the situation becomes too much like his dead wife.
One night, battered from his latest job, the two argue. Toji fucks up, and has to win her back.
Summary: Toji hated the Six Eyes. So when his sister shows up at the Zenin clan as an emissary, he proves just how powerful he is, even without cursed energy.
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: smut, slight dubcon, talks of murder, violence, p in v sex, oral (male receiving)
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When Toji first laid eyes on the legacy of the Gojo clan, he knew he'd always despise the little brat. It was the first time someone truly noticed him lurking in the shadows, yet his piercing blue eyes seemed to burn into his soul with such fire, he knew the kid was trouble.
Too powerful for his own good.
He knew if he had the ability, he would be able to see the curse energy radiating from him, encompassing his immature frame in tainted flames.
So he hated him. The whole fucking clan.
He lurked in the shadows as two of them stood in the dimly lit halls of the Zenin stronghold, negotiating something that Toji didn't care enough to clarify. They didn't bring the boy, that'd be too obvious, dangling the immense threat of power in front of Naobito like a loaded gun to his head. But the Six Eyes presence still lingered in a head of pure white hair.
His sister.
Toji knew of her existence from his impromptu visit to the Gojo clan the year before, though she seemed as thoroughly uninteresting as the rest of the assholes tucked away in that dreary land. She was quite a bit older than her brother, ten years at least, yet her birth seemed to make no significant impact on the jujutsu world. Not born with a hereditary technique, no immense power, she was just another stuck up member of the stuck up Gojo clan. He leaned against the doorway watching the discussion, till her head turned in his direction.
He half expected the glimmering, vibrant blue of the Six Eyes to meet his own, yet under white lashes, they were normal. Bland.
Yet, she caught a glimpse of his shadow, he could feel it. His breath stilled, turning his head away from the conversation. He went to leave, to go find some other uninteresting thing to entertain himself with till he heard the door slide shut behind him, "It's impolite to spy, Zenin."
Toji chuckles as he turns to see the girl, arms folded over her soft purple robes. She seemed angry, yet he couldn't care less, continuing to walk away. He hears shuffling footsteps behind him, smells a trace of lavender perfume breeze past him before the girl blocks his path, arms firmly planted on the doorframe, "And it's rude to ignore a guest."
"Maybe if you were your brother," he grumbles, pushing down her arm to maneuver his way through the doorframe.
The girl scoffs, following him deeper into the house, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The Six Eyes," Toji drones, "He might actually be something important. You're just another sorcerer."
"That's rich coming from a man who can't even see curses," she spits back, causing Toji to stop in his tracks.
The girl smirks, knowing her remark caught him off guard, "I've heard all about you, Toji Zenin. Bound by a Heavenly Restriction, you're nothing but a normal person swinging around a sword."
She knew it was true, that the Zenin clan despised him for it. She could see it in the way he slipped into the shadows like an unnoticed creature of the night, the boogeyman hiding under bedframes as the rest of the world was awake. She could see it in his clothes, the musk of wear that followed him while the others robes were pressed to perfection, so much that it looks like they had never been worn before. He was nothing to them. An insolent thorn in their sides.
A hand is against the girls throat, back slammed against the wall so hard she could feel the wood grain through her robes, "And I could kill you in an instant, cursed energy or not."
The girl lets out a gargled gasp, eyes full of fear as she looks up at the man. His hand wrapped around her throat, pining her against the wall with the strength of one arm, eyes casting a look full of hatred through jet black hair. Her nails instinctively claw against the back of his hand, leaving rough red scratches, before she gives up, looking him in the eye.
"Nah," she chokes, "I could take you."
She was close enough that she could feel his heavy breath against her face, the pure hatred that darkened his eyes and twisted his scarred mouth into a scowl. He wanted to hurt her. Still, she continues to taunt him, "No cursed energy, whatever weapon you want."
Toji chuckles under his breath, "And when I win?"
"If you win," the girl corrects, glaring at him through snow white lashes, "I'll give you whatever you want."
"Your brother's head in a basket?" he snickers, already knowing her answer.
"No," she growls, "Anything within reason. A tool from our vault, some new robes, cursed death painting-"
She continues to list items when a sick idea grows in Toji's mind, "If I win, I want you on your knees for me."
The girl scoffs, "Fine. Then when I win, I want the same from you."
Toji releases his hand from her throat, watches as she tries to cover up a desperate gasp for air, yet her breath is shaky, "Deal."
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The Zenin clan training room was ordinary. Weapons lined the walls, some wooden, some dulled for training, yet all true weapons were locked far beneath them in the sacred vault. Toji had caught a glimpse of it once before, though the cursed tools didn't seem to be of much use to him. He watches as the white-haired girl scans the open space, the mats that line the floor, the painting that decorated the far wall. She nearly jumps when he tosses a katana at her feet.
She picks it up, unsheathing the blade. It was lighter than the ones she used back home, only by a hair. She'd have to keep that in mind before she swung, or else she'd step too far in and expose herself. She eyes him cautiously, "Till first blood?"
Toji rolls his eyes. Of course that would be how they trained in the Gojo clan. Fighting just hard enough to be left with a mark of shame, but not hard enough to truly finish a battle. "Till one of us surrenders."
The girl nods in acknowledgement, holding the blade in front of her face, ready for his first attack. He watches as her eyes traced his movement, the subtle shift of his feet, the flick of his wrist as he rolled the blade in his palm. She had been well taught, he could tell.
Her weight shifted on her toes as he circled her. Of course she'd need to be light on her feet, the girl was small, trained to take on grown men nearly twice her size. She'd have to use her agility as an advantage, as a hard blow would throw her too far off balance.
He tests the waters, taking a quick step to her right side. Her sword comes up to defend as she steps back, to the left. Metal clashes as she counters, making an attempt at his side, only for it to be deflected. Toji chuckles, "Come on doll, are you actually trying?"
"Are you?" she spits back, twirling into another attack.
He blocks as the girl turns to his right, aiming for his knee, "I am. Just don't wanna hurt that pretty face, need something nice to look at when you lose."
"Fuck you," she growls, as Toji presses an additional attack. He expects her to step back, dodge his attack so he could catch her off balance, but she steps forward, billowing past him in a flurry of lavender robes.
It isn't till she smirks that he feels it, a warm sting against his bicep. He looks down to see blood slowly seeping through the fabric of his robes, tainting his monotone robes with a deep red. It wasn't a deep cut, he could see the faintest slice from where his robes parted, only a warning.
He assumed she would pull that move frequently back at home. If she were still at the Gojo clan, the fight would be over now, she would have won. Her opponent wouldn't be severely injured, able to walk away with only his ego bruised.
But this wasn't her home. He was going to make sure she knew that. One step and he has closed the distance, free hand squeezing her wrist so hard, she's forced to drop the katana. It clatters to the ground as she lets out a yelp of pain before her arm is twisted against her back. Her face meets the mat as she is pushed to the ground.
Toji's body is against her, pressing head against the floor, pining the girl completely.
"Surrender," he demands, tightening his grip in her pale hair.
The girl squirms underneath him, her ass rubbing against his clothed dick. He could feel it swell underneath his robes. When she doesn't respond, he twists her arm, feeling how her shoulder strained, as the girl cried out in pain, "Fine, I surrender."
Satisfaction grows in Toji's stomach as he pulls her to her knees, fist still in her hair. He pulls her forward, till her face is rubbing against his clothed cock. He hears a whimper escape her lips, the warmth of her breath even through the thickness of his robes. He runs his hand through her white hair with a smirk, "Good girl."
The girl's eyes stare intently at his waist as he undid the knot to his robes, pulling his cock from its confinement. It sprung against his stomach, thick and heavy. Gripping her hair tight, he forces her face against the underside of his shaft, public hair prickling her nose as she inhaled the musky scent of him.
"Open your mouth," he growls, tapping his cock against her flush lips.
He's surprised when she does so easily, mouth hanging open, tongue flattened, looking up at him through white lashes. He guides his tip in, swirling around the saliva that traced her tongue. The Gojo clan girl moans as her lips seal around him, bobbing her head against his cock. It prided Toji.
He loved the power, seeing the girl on her knees, defenseless. How horrified the Gojo clan would be when he defiled their precious daughter, the beloved sister of the Six Eyes. Would he know? Be able to smell sex on her robes, sense the sperm that would leak down her throat? Part of Toji hoped he would. Maybe he would recognize him as the man he saw that day in the Gojo clan, hiding behind in the shadows while the rest of the Zenin's lived a life of luxury.
His hips snap forward, driving his cock deeper into her throat. He could feel the muscles protesting as she gagged against him, see the tears that brimmed in the corners of her eyes, yet she made no indication for him to stop. Instead, she moaned around him, salvia drooling from her lips as he fucked her throat.
Toji was no stranger to sex. It was easy to find some whore to go fuck after a night at the bar. They'd throw themselves on his brooding personality until they'd invite him home, and he'd have their legs folded behind their ears in a cluster of pillows and pink sheets. But this was more than a fuck, this was pride. Straight dominance over the clan, the life that he despised that made the pressure built in his cock intense, painful as he felt his impeding orgasm.
Promptly, he pulls the girl from his cock with a harsh tug of her hair. She lets out a breath of air as saliva travels from the flushed head of his cock to her bottom lip, "Turn around."
The girl opens her mouth to protest, to question is statement, but Toji interrupts, "I said I wanted you on your knees, I didn't say which way."
Reluctantly, the girl obliges, rotating her body so her back faced him. He wastes no time pressing her chest against the training mat, her ass arched in the air. Toji traces the pale lavender fabric draping the swell of her ass before pushing it over her bare skin. He chuckles as he sees the state of her underwear, large wet spot making them nearly transparent against the outline of her cunt.
"All that arguing got you this wet," he mewls, "Look at you, doll. The precious sorcerer just aching to be dominated by the man who can't see curses. How pathetic you are."
The girl whines against the floor, hands balling into fists tight enough to leave moon-shaped fingernail marks in her palms. Toji traces the outline of her cunt before hooking his finger beneath the fabric and pulling. It rips with a satisfying noise, expensive fabric fraying beneath his tainted hands as the smell of arousal fills the room.
He pocket the soaked fabric before pumping his achingly hard cock, tapping his head against the slick of her cunt.
"Toji," the girl warns, muffled by the fabric that now pooled around her head. Her voice carried the weight of wariness as he drew his cock against her in long lines.
"Come on, doll." he pants, infatuated by the thought of his cock filling the tightness of her body, "You told me you could take me, so take it."
He slides into her inch by inch, watching as her hole stretched to fit him with each long draw of his cock. Her body trembled as he thrust against her, hips merging with her ass and his tip kissed her cervix. Her breaths left her mouth in long, desperate whines.
He could tell she was trying to be quiet, not alert anyone else in the Zenin clan. He had to admit, what he was doing was filthy. Fucking the Gojo girl in the openness of the training room, where only paper thin walls separated them from the widely used hallway. He could have brought her back to his room, tucked away in the darkest corner of the stronghold, but this was better. Here, anyone could walk in, see the obscenity before them, his fist wrapped around her pure white braid as his hips crashed against her skin, sinking deeper, and deeper inside her.
Lewd noises echoed through the padded space, flooring skinning Toji's knees with every rough thrust. No doubt she'd have matching bruises on her knees, a haunting reminder of the moment even when her cunt was no longer sore and cum no longer dripped from inside her. He hoped she'd look in the mirror and see the absolute disgrace she had become, dominated by the failure of the Zenin clan. And she was taking in every moment of it.
She squirmed beneath him as his nails dug against the flesh of her hips, holding her in place. Sweat prickled her hairline, clinging to her face like spiderwebs. Toji couldn't see her face, though perhaps it was for the best. Then, he couldn't see the fucked-out look in her eyes, the tears that brimmed along her waterline, the way her teeth dug into her bottom lip that he would have mocked her for. Now, he could only sense the way her body reacted beneath him, sucking him in with every thrust against her drooling cunt. The same aching pressure flooded the man's body, dick impossibly hard inside her.
He throws his head back in a satisfied smirk, "Taking me so good, doll."
The desperate moans he craved never come, only a sharp gasp coming from the girl, her head now turned to the wall facing the hallway. Through the paper thin walls, Toji could see the outline of two individuals shadowed by the overhead light, hear the muffled voices coming from the other side. He recognized the first to be the snake-like frame of Naobito, meaning the other must have been the Gojo clan emissary.
"Toji," the girl moans, a warning tone in her voice as she attempts to squirm away from the much larger man.
He holds her steady, feeling the orgasm build within him, "Afraid of what they say when they see you?"
"Hurry up," she whines, giving up her desperate attempt to get away.
His cock pulsed inside her till his head went fuzzy, a quickened pace due to the presence on the other side of the wall. His release is blinding, spilling deep inside the Gojo girl, body trembling as his sensitive cock brushes her insides as he pulls out. Thick white cum oozes from inside her, dripping down her puffy folds.
It prides Toji, the embarrassed look on her face as she pushes down her robes, standing quickly. He knew that his seed would be running down her legs as he tucked his cock back into his pants, just as the door slid open behind them.
The first words come in a shrill tone, "Miss Gojo, how dare you sneak off like this."
Once again, he was invisible. Toji looks to the girl beside him, her head now bowed in sorrow, "I'm sorry, Okana."
Okana looked as though she were going to explode, her ears turning red as she glanced at the scene behind them. Katanas discarded on the floor, sweat plastering her hair across her forehead, the vibrant red stain that decorated Toji's torn robes- she likely thought they were fighting.
The older woman turn to Naobito, expression changing into one of sympathy, " I apologize for her behavior, sir. This is not the image I wished to convey to the Zenin clan."
Naobito waves her off, a vein protruding from the side of his head as he stared at Toji with a look of pure rage. At least they were noticing him now.
"Not at all Miss Okana. I fear Miss Gojo has just fallen into the wrong hands, this one has proved himself to be quite troublesome."
This one. As if he weren't even competent enough to have a name.
The girl is ushered out of the room with more apologies from both parties. Soon after, the door closes behind them, leaving Toji alone in the training room. Like he wasn't even there.
Toji picks up the katanas, putting them back along the wall, smirking to himself.
He hated them all.
Naobito. The Zenin clan who stuck up their nose. The six eyes. The Gojo clan that seemed to ignore him even when he was staring them right in the face.
He would kill them all one day. Eradicate all their cursed energy with pure unbridled strength. Put the six eye's head on a stake, watching until the vibrant blue faded into a lifeless corpse.
But now, his cum was dripping from cunt of the white haired girl, his nail marks would be bruised along her hips, and the lingering ache of her empty pussy would remind her of his cock. That was a victory enough.
Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses, Azriel Shadowsinger x Fem! Reader
Summary: Two weeks after Azriel had fulfilled his part of the deal, he finds himself back in the room of the daughter of a wealthy businessman. Only, she wants to help him as much as he helped her.
Part 2 of Hurt
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: trauma, smut, oral (m recieving), p in v sex, slight somnophilia
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Fourteen days. Azriel had counted.
Two weeks had passed since the Autumn Court girl had arrived in Velaris and she still acted as a stranger in this place. She kept to her room most days, reading in the flickering candlelight, only appearing for her next meal or new books from the extensive library. He watched as her flurry of red hair would sneak down the vast halls of the House of Wind, head down as if she was trying to go unnoticed. But he noticed.
He watched as her eyes shifted around corners, small bags under each like she had had been jolted awake every time she dozed off. He knew she hadn't been sleeping. He'd watch her some nights from the grace of his shadows. It would be late when she finally blew out the candles in her room, settling into darkness only disturbed by steady streams of smoke dancing across the ceiling. Her chest would rise and fall for some time before nightmares woke her, and the candle was re-ignited. Sweat shimmered across her nightclothes and decorated her hairline as he slipped into the shadows once more.
He didn't watch her every night, but after the second time she jolted awake, he became aware this was a common occurrence. He understood her troubles, plagued with nightmares more often than not. Yet, it pained him to see the young girl tremble at night and hide away during the day like some cowardly prey.
Azriel hesitated in front of the girl's door, just as he did the first night she had arrived. Just as late into the night, just as silent as before. Only this time, it was his own free will. Nervousness pooled in his stomach. Truthfully, he didn't know why he was there, what he was going to say to the girl. They had barely spoken a few words since he had woken up beside her the second morning, her naked body curled against his in a way that reminded him of a fawn. But he found some strange connection to her, some heartfelt sympathy that he couldn't quite place.
The Spymaster only registers that he knocks when he hears a voice from the other room. Its quiet, but he can hear the surprise in her voice. Of course she wasn't asleep. Slowly, he cracks the door to the warm light of the candles. He expects the room to be stuffy, yet billowing curtains let in a breeze from the starry night.
She was sitting by the fireplace, deep blue nightclothes fanned out on the chair below her, pooling against the wooden floors till it was met by Azriel's shadows. They flitted across the room with little control, trailing across the floor as he entered.
The girl seemed startled, closing the book on her lap abruptly, straightening her spine as he silently glided across the room, "Is everything all right?"
Azriel nods, sitting in the chair across from her. It reminded him of that night, how he watched tears fall from her glossy eyes and stain the fabric of her gown.
"I came to ask you the same thing, " Azriel begins, not aware of the words flowing from his mouth, "Are the accommodations here not to your liking?"
The girls brows press together, "I'm afraid I don't understand."
The Spymaster runs a scarred hand through his hair, "You don't seem happy here, princess. I just came to make sure you were decent."
The girl lets out a small scoff, "Of course I'm not happy here, Shadowsinger. I may be free to wander these halls but it is no more than a prison, just as my home in the Autumn Court was. At least there I had the maids to keep me company."
The same ache pooled in Azriel's stomach with her admittance. He didn't know why he expected her to find a home here, it was just the happy ending he had once wished for. Truthfully, he would never find solace in being used as a bartering chip, no matter how free the terms were, "Is that why you're not sleeping?"
Another alarmed glance in his direction, followed by an angry glare. She didn't ask how he had known, to Azriel's relief. He had hoped she'd just assume he noticed the bags beneath her eyes, not that he had snuck into the shadows of her room countless nights before.
"I suppose so," the girl admits, "Though perhaps it is the fear that I will be sold off again that makes it so I can never relax. The last time I slept through the night was when..."
Her voice trails off, making Azriel glance in her direction, a stark contrast from watching his shadows float across the wooden floor. Her face was turned in the direction of the fireplace, watching the flames aimlessly with pursed lips. He knew what she meant even without saying the words.
The night when he fucked her.
He remembered how she curled into the pillows as he wiped her skin with a warm cloth, wiping away the ropes of cum that decorated her stomach and the blood that settled between her thighs. He settled in the bed beside her as she clung to his side, breathing stilled until he was certain she had fallen asleep. He had stayed awake for hours after that, watching her naked body, they was her chest rose and fell with each breath, how her auburn hair fanned against his chest.
He had meant to leave before the sun rose the next morning, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the girl. It wasn't until Cassian and Nesta had woken him the next morning that he slid from her side in silence. He had dressed himself, then folded the girl's clothes on the bedside table as she slept. Then he had left without waking her, barely speaking to the girl in the two weeks she had been in Velaris.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, only audible to the harkening ears of his shadows.
The two sat in silence, only the crackling of the reddened flames filling the heavy room. Azriel's shadows seemed to drape the walls, lulled by the breeze that flowed through the window. Yet it felt encompassing, his guilt.
"Can I do anything?" he asks, twisting his scarred hand in his lap.
The girl looks over, sorrowful eyes glancing at the Illyrian, the expression of nothingness etched in her features. But in a moment, her brows furrow, contemplating his question.
"I could stay here tonight, beside you," Azriel offers, "Perhaps you'd get some sleep."
He doesn't tell her how technically, he had been there nights before, watching from the shadows and she tossed and turned, coming in and out of fitful sleep. Only then, she hadn't been curled against his side, cheek pressing against the decoration of thick tattoos that stained his chest.
Her response comes in a whisper, "Okay."
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Azriel couldn't bring himself to sleep. Even after the girl's breathing had slowed, her hands tucked beside her head, back pressed against his chest, he couldn't. What if she woke up, tormented by nightmares, and he wasn't awake, she'd have no one to comfort her. It was his sole duty here tonight, to protect the girl from the demons of her mind, even if it meant staying up till the sun broke the horizon.
Azriel stared at the wall, past the girl's head of flaming hair. His hand was thrown aimlessly over her waist, resting against the pool of soft fabric from her nightgown. She had changed before slipping under the covers, into a small nightgown of silky white material that drifted just past her mid-thigh. Azriel had turned his head away out of courtesy, but now he could feel how that material had ridden up against his legs, her backside pressed against him.
A small whimper fills the silent room, and the girl's body tenses. Azriel strokes a hand along the curve of her waist, hoping the girl was awake enough to feel the comfort around her, pushing her nightmares to the back of her mind. But then, her body flexes, pushing her hips back against the Illyrian, grinding into his pelvis. Azriel froze, feeling the warmth of her ass against his cock. He could feel blood rushing to the organ despite his protest. She needed his comfort, not his cock.
He stays there for a moment as her body stills, listening to her breathing, now more forceful that just tranquil sleep. Another whimper escapes her lips, louder this time. No, not of fear, Azriel realizes, of pleasure.
Her hips press against him once more, and Azriel lets himself press his erection against the swell of her ass. Part of him felt shameful as he rocked himself against her, letting a low moan escape from his parted lips. He feels the girls body jolt with the noise, followed by a small gasp and her doe eyes snapping open.
"Fuck," Azriel curses, pushing his body away from her smaller frame. His gaze is frantic, looking at anything but the girl in front of him, who had caught him rubbing his dick against her. He was supposed to protect her, he was supposed to be different from all the men who had controlled her all her life, "I'm sorry, I- I don't know what I was thinking, I-"
His fumbled apology is cut off by a hand against his own, pulling his vision back to the auburn haired girl. Her hair was tousled by sleep, pupils blown wide as doe eyes stared back at him. One sleeve of her nightgown had fallen down, exposing the soft skin of her shoulder to the night air, flowing material draped across her curves, outlining the figure of her body like an ethereal goddess. He feels his hand dragged across that silky fabric till it reaches something warmer, her core.
"Please."
Her voice rings through the air like a siren, his body moving faster than his mind as his fingers find their way under her nightgown. Azriel smirks as he presses against her bare clit, circling it slowly, "No underwear?"
The shakes her head, burying her face in the pillow as her hips jut against his hand. He continues his ministrations with his thumb, bringing his fingers to trace the wetness of her cunt, spreading the slickness across the surface of her folds. Small whimpers escape her lips as he dips the first finger inside her, feeling the plushy walls of her sex before pumping it out slowly.
"Is this why you were sulking, princess?" he growls, hot breath fanning against her ear, "You just wanted me to touch you again?"
"N-no," she moans, stuttering as the Shadowsinger slipped another skilled finger inside her, curling against the sponginess of her cunt.
He knew it wasn't, that this was just some side effect, a distraction perhaps. Yet still, it made his cock grow hard in his pants as he rubbed against her shaking frame, pressing a chaste kiss to her bare shoulder, "I know. Just let me take care of you. Let me apologize for how I've been neglecting you, princess. Let me show you what I should have been doing all along."
The warmth of her back pressed against his bare chest as she arched against him, sweet moans stringing from her plush lips. Azriel rubbed her clit with his thumb, curling his fingers against her insides at a pace that made her thighs shake. His cock was painfully hard as he rubbed it against the swell of her ass, this time with a longing desire, not heated shame.
He felt the girl rock against him, the slight perspiration that decorated her glowing skin as her chest heaved. He heard the same whimpers turn to gasps that he did the first night he was between her thighs, the same quiver of her jaw like her breath was cut short as her orgasm seized her body. Her painted nails dug against the feather pillows in front of her as her body shook, before falling back against him with a satisfied sigh.
"Good job, princess, " Azriel whispers, warm breath fanning against her ear.
He removes his hand from her cunt, gathering the slick that seemed to be seeping from her and dragging in against his cock. He slid his scarred hand up his shaft, squeezing the head, feeling the small droplets of pre-cum that leaked down his tip. He craved to be inside her, feel the delectable warmth of her cunt, rutting inside her as her body pressed against him. Slowly, he guides his cock to the junction of her thighs, were her wetness shimmered, decorating her groin. He slid his cock against her folds till it nudged her clit, earning a surprised gasp from the red-haired girl. "Shadowsinger, I don't-"
" I don't have to fuck you," Azriel assures, breathing labored as his mind was clouded by their haze of arousal, "Fuck, just let me feel you."
He held her tightly as he rutted against the back of her thighs, lewd sounds coming from his hips hitting the plump of her ass. He could feel every fold of her cunt as he dragged his cock across her wetness, each valley of tissue and the swollen nub of her clit. Her nails dug into the muscles of his arm with each brush against that nub, eliciting sweet, helpless moans. Her body draws back, pushing against Azriel just as his cock trailed her opening, mushroom shaped head dipping ever so slightly inside her.
It makes Azriel's body short circuit, cock hovering against her twitching cunt. He craved he be inside her, it would be so easy to slip inside her drenched core. But he knew it would hurt, knew she didn't want his dick splitting her open, tearing at her delicate insides.
He thought he knew.
Till her hips snapped back against him and his hovering cock was pressed into her cunt. Azriel lets out a sputtering moan as the head of his cock is swallowed by her cunt. Warmth swelled inside him as his cock twitched from the warmth, he could feel the pressure building as she pushed herself against him, sinking deeper.
He wanted to apologize for every inch he was giving her, the flustered contortion of her face that signified the discomfort his cock provided as her tight cunt worked desperately to fulfill him. But he wasn't moving.
She was.
Pushing back against his body with the soft movement of her hips, mewls escaping her plump lips. Fuck, it felt good. Azriel's wings tucked tightly against him as he soaked in the feeling, her body working so well with his own. His shadows began to dance, curling from the walls to form a black sheath against the bedframe, shifting like dark sand in an hourglass.
Azriel traces his scarred hands up her body, pushing past the thin material of her nightgown to cup her breasts, lightly rolling her peaked nipples against his thumb and forefinger. He makes a slight movement with his hips, earning a whimper from the girl as his cocks stretched her another inch before his pelvis lies flush with her ass.
He stays like that for a moment, hot breath fanning in the girl's ear, "What do you want, princess?"
The girls voice comes out shaking and desperate, "Just- just want you to feel good t-too."
Azriel chuckles darkly, burying his face into her scalp, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her soap, her perfume, her. "Me?"
She nods, back arching as Azriel began to slowly thrust, "Made me feel so good, Shadowsinger. Just want it to be your turn."
"How thoughtful of you," Azriel groans, snapping his hips forward with more vigor.
She doesn't respond to the comment, just a sharp breath of air escaping her lips. Filthy sounds filled the room as skin slapped against skin, sweat merged between their two bodied. Azriel held her tight, hand trailing back down to her clit. He could feel her tighten around him as his fingers brushed against the sensitive nub.
He squeezed his eyes shut, "Princess, you're gonna make me cum."
He meant it. Not just like rutting into any hole, like the women at the pleasure house, but her. Tight, warm, pulsing around his cock. Wrapped in his arms, hair splayed across the pillowcases, nails digging against his flesh, his. Panting moans sung from her lips as her thighs shook, cunt pulsing around him as she came a second time. Azriel pulls out quickly, throwing himself back against the bed, wings pinned underneath him. His hips jut from the bed as he finishes, cum spilling down the head of his cock, shooting against his flexed abs.
"Fuck," Azriel groans, going nearly limp against the bed.
His tattooed chest heaved, glistening with perspiration. His body quivers, eyes popping open as he feels a warm sensation on his stomach. Auburn hair pools against his skin as the girl licks across his abs, cleaning the cum from his body. Azriel brushes the hair from her face with his clean hand, looking down into her glossy doe eyes, "You don't have to do that."
A line forms across her brows, lips hovering inches away from his pubic hair, black mound soaked in sticky white cum. Her fingers traced up his sides gently, as if she was scared to touch him, scared to please him wrong, "But I want to. Can you teach me?"
Azriel threads his fingers through her hair, smiling, "To suck dick? Sure, princess."
She smiled back as he shifted to a sitting position, still-hard cock pressed against his stomach, "Take your hand and go up and down, when you get to the top, twist your wrist just slightly."
The girl seems hesitant, but lightly grips his cock, spreading the spilled cum over his length. Her hand didn't reach around his girth, at least an inch of room between her fingertips, yet, no women had ever been able to fully wrap their hands around him. Her touch is like a feather, gliding over his flesh till she reached his sensitive tip, thumbing the bead of cum that leaked from the tip, "Like that?"
Azriel's hips twitch beneath her palm, "A little tighter, you won't hurt me."
She obliges, gripping him firm enough to have a faint whimper escape Azriel's lips. His free hand strokes her hair, "Good, princess. You can take me in your mouth now."
Her first taste of him is slow, licking around the brim of his tip, tasting the salty substance left in his presence. Azriel's ab's flex, his stomach tensing as she slides him into her mouth, only a few inches. He could feel her mouth working around him, the delicateness of her virgin throat as he swallowed as much as she could. Her hand still stroked him, meeting her lips as she bobbed her head.
Azriel groans, wings tucked tight against his body, as was the grip on the girl's hair as he fought the urge to fuck her mouth, have her choke on his cock. But he would break her, like Cassian told him he would, spoil the little hope, little purity she had left. In due time she would learn to take him, but the auburn haired girl deserved her delicacy, for just a while longer.
"Hollow your cheeks," he says through gritted teeth, grinning as she quickly does so.
She sucked him in, bobbing her head up and down, the occasional gag as her head slips down too far on his cock hitting her gag reflex. It was sloppy, saliva spilling from her lips, coating her delicate fingers as she stroked him. But it was warm, intoxicating. Azriel groaned as his cock pulsed between her lips, immense pressure building inside him, begging to be released.
His head was thrown back against the pillows, tattooed chest heaving, sheen of sweat glimmering in the pale moonlight. Yet, his eyes remained trained on the girl, watching her like she was the goddess in corporeal form, made to please him. His hips bucked into her mouth, grip tightening on her hair as he failed to keep his composure, "Fuck, princess, I'm going to cum."
All he gets back is a hum of acknowledgement from the young girl, her throat working to take him deeper, keep the grueling pace that she had set. Azriel roars, his orgasm coursing through his body. His thighs shake against the girl's soft hand, as he releases himself down her throat. She rode out his orgasm, letting the shaking mess of him finish on her tongue before pulling, cum dribbling from her lips.
Azriel watches as she wipes it with the back of her hand before swallowing thickly, consuming his release. Hopeful doe eyes meet his own with a wishful glance, "Was that okay?"
Azriel chuckles, cupping her cheek in his hand. Her delicate skin stood out vibrantly against his scars, but he didn't shy away. In a strange way, it seemed to fit. Her internal scars matching his external ones, both tortured by a heinous past. " Of course, princess."
The Shadowsinger doesn't recall when he fell asleep, only to wake a few hours later to find him still naked in her bed, the girl's fragile form curled against his side. She seemed peaceful, no torturous nightmares to plague her mind. Azriel smiled, placing his hand over the girl's waist. This time, he wouldn't disappear.
Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses, Azriel Shadowsinger x Fem! Virgin! Reader
Summary: Azriel knew his dick wasn't small. So when he found himself in a sex pact with the virgin daughter of a wealthy businessman, he really didn't want to hurt her.
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: trauma, virginity loss, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v sex
Azriel didn't know what he had gotten himself into. Correction, he knew what he had gotten himself into, a pact with one of wealthy businessmen of the Autumn Court, he just couldn't figure out why he agreed.
It had been a short trip to the Autumn Court, standing alongside Rhysand in the vast expansion of gold adorned marble floors, black leathers standing out like a sore thumb, drying blood on a pure white dress.
The man sat atop a makeshift throne, some mad grasp for power as he held two of the highest ranking Illyrian males in his courtroom. Gray stubble decorated his cheeks, a snide look across his sallow skin. He had suggested, with a sneer on his face, that in exchange for valuable information of the upcoming war, one of his daughters must be granted safe passage into the upper workings of Velaris, reasoning that he wished for his blood to be spread across the realm in a matter that could only be secured through sex.
Why Rhysand had agreed to this arrangement, Azriel didn't have time to ask. More importantly, he never had the chance to ask why such a task had been entrusted to him. But as Rhysand left for yet another meeting in the Winter Court, Azriel returned home to the House of Wind with the man's daughter trailing behind him.
She didn't talk much, keeping her eyes down as they arrived at the doorstep. He showed her to her room, promising to return later that night. Which led him here. Standing outside the doorway of one of the many rooms of the House of Wind, a scarred hand posed to knock. His heart pounded against his chest as he rapped on the door, listening for a response on the other side.
"Come in," he hears faintly from the other side.
He steps through the barrier to see candlelight flickering throughout the room. The fireplace was bare, remnants of once burned wood still charred on the brick. Three small candles illuminated the room, casting a haunting glow onto the young woman. She had exchanged her autumn clothes for something more fitting of the court, a soft blue gown of flowing silk. Her red hair fell down her back, released from the intricate updo of the day. She was beautiful, Azriel could admit, but on her face, she wore a mournful expression.
"Did you eat?" Azriel asks, scanning the room for some sort of food. Dinner had been some time ago, and although she was free to roam the House of Wind, the girl never left her room.
The girl nods, her gaze never meeting his own, "The house provided some a while ago."
He grimaced at her answers, short and full of hatred. He knew she wanted nothing to do with this place, only a pawn in her father's grand scheme. Something ached inside of him, mourning the loss of her freedom, how she must fulfill her duties. Yes, he tortured people for a living. Countless nights he shed blood in the name of the Night Court, dissected eyes, limbs, and genitals, dumped bodies where no fae would ever find them, yet nervousness pooled in his stomach at the thought of having to fuck her.
"I'm sorry it has come to this," the Spymaster says plainly, taking a seat a few feet away from her in an opposing armchair, "I can't imagine how it must be to be taken from your home in such a manner."
The girl shrugs, moving her hair aside so that Azriel could see the outline of her face. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, shining in a way that could only be the product of tears. They glistened in her eyes, threating to spill onto her flush cheeks, "It's my duty. Besides, I've been dying to get away from that place for a while now."
Azriel's hands twist against the fabrics of his pants, searching for something to make the woman less miserable. His shadows frolic in the low light, twisting around the furniture, cascading over the covers of the bed, like a sign of where his thoughts were.
"Will you be taking me tonight, Shadowsinger?" the woman asks, her voice smaller than it was before.
Azriel's gaze snaps away from the bed to find the girl staring at him, bright eyes shining in just the way he had guessed, "Yes."
It was in his best interest to comply with the pact before the magic started overtaking him. The girl was right, it was his duty, "Are you on a contraceptive?"
The girl tilts her head slightly, before casting her gaze to her lap, "No, I'm sorry, I- I, I didn't know-"
"It's alright if you're not," Azriel starts, sensing the worry of her words, " I just... wanted to know."
I wanted to know if I could cum inside you.
The thought echoes in his mind as an uncomfortable silence fills the room. He takes the time to look at the woman. She was young, having to be less than a century old. In the dim light, he could see the faint silver sheen of scars tracing her upper arms, trailing onto her back. They appeared to be healed, but his line of work told him that they were made from a thin whip. Perhaps that was why she craved freedom from that place. A tortured soul from a tortured home.
"Will it hurt?" drawing him back to the present.
He sees the first tear fall from her eyes, dropping onto the fabric in her lap. It mars the dress with a deep blue splotch, blooming against her lap. "Will what hurt?"
"You," she whimpers, drawing her hands against her abdomen, "Inside me."
Blood pounds in Azriel's ears as his face drains of color. Sickness pools in his stomach. He couldn't do this. Couldn't take her like this. "I- I have to go."
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Nesta and Cassian sat in the library, listening to the flickering flames of the grand fireplace, each holding a book in their hands. Nesta, engrossed in a new romance novel that Cassian had already teased her about on numerous occasions, and Cassian pretending to read one of the more interesting historical texts of the library.
"I can't do it," they hear from the doorway.
Shadows flit around the room in a jagged motion, mimicking the agitated state of the Spymaster. Cassian puts down his book first, watching as the man sits across from them a solemn, and nearly fearful look on his face. The long-haired Illyrian already knew what he was referencing, the Autumn Court girl. Azriel had spoken about his reservations earlier that day, when she had first arrived.
"As in, couldn't get it up?", Cassian offers in an attempt to relieve the tension of the moment with crude humor.
Hazel eyes meet his own in a glare, " I won't fuck her, Cas. She's scared, and I don't think she's ever-"
His voice trails off as Nesta leans forward, "She was raised as a bartering chip, I doubt her father would ever let something spoil her purity before she could be used for his plans."
Azriels heart sunk as the harshness of reality weighed down upon him, " She thinks I'll hurt her."
"You probably will Az," Cassian sympathizes, "No virgin is taking that cock without feeling like they're splitting in two."
Nesta slaps him on the arm with a judgmental look on her face, brows furrowed at her mate, "He's being a gentleman. Something you could work on."
"I am a gentleman, " Cassian counters, " Especially when my face is buried in your cunt."
Nesta rolls her eyes, turning back to the scarred man, " Azriel, you made the pact, you have to do this now, before it turns into something you'll regret."
"Just be soft, show her that she can trust you, " Cassian states, offering the man a pat on the back.
"I torture people for a living," Azriel whispers, " How the fuck am I supposed to come off as trustworthy?"
Cassian shrugs, wings flaring behind him as he leans back against the couch, "Lube? Just talk to her first, she's not some mindless doll, you can change her mind."
Azriel runs his hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, "Fuck."
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"Come in," Azriel hears for a second time. His hand hesitates on the doorknob before turning it, and letting himself enter. The room seemed even dimmer this time, candles nearly burned to the end of their wicks, moonlight casting a pale glow on the twisting wood of the floor.
He finds the girl sitting on the edge of the bed, dress flared over the neatly tucked sheets. His frame illuminates the room, shadow cast over her frame. Her head snaps up, panic in her eyes, "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, I just-" his words trailed off, "I don't want to hurt you."
The girl swallows thickly, lowering her gaze to the ground, "I'm used to it, Shadowsinger. My father isn't the most caring. I've been beaten and bruised till I thought I'd break and somehow I survived. I just don't know how much more pain I can handle."
Azriel takes slow steps over to her, kneeling in front of the young fae, " I understand, princess. This moment is supposed to be special, and he's tried to make it anything but that."
Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks once more as the reality of his words sink in. It was a simple understanding of what she was giving up, her fears, her suffering. "I won't lie to you, it will hurt. From what I've been told, with good sex it only hurts for a moment. I can warm you up so you won't feel such a sudden intrusion. But I won't touch you unless you want me to."
Azriel watches as the girl nods, her mouth turned downwards into a weary frown "I've never-"
"I know, princess, " Azriel says softly, lifting a burned hand to brush the stray tear from her cheek, "But I can take care of you. Or, I can leave this room right now, pact be damned. Just say the words."
"You can fuck me, Shadowsinger," her voice is still quiet, but fear has been replaced with a mournful acceptance.
He could recognize it from his own endeavors. When the world seemed to fade away when it got bad, slipping into the numbness of his own mind. It was an escape. It was defeat.
"I want to taste you," he says, earning a shocked glance from the auburn-haired woman, "May I?"
He could see the gears shifting in her head, how her mind was snapped back into the realm of reality. Her glassy eyes look down at him with a newfound curiosity, " Why?"
Azriel smiles truthfully for the first time this night, "Because you smell so sweet, and I want to hear the pretty noises you make when you're about to finish."
An embarrassed blush spreads across the girls skin, brows furrowed in contemplation, "Okay."
Azriel smiles, placing his hands against the girls knees, pushing the fabric of her gown over her silky skin. Scars traced her thighs as well, shimmering lines in the moonlight. He could smell the sweetness of her cunt as he drew closer to the body, close enough that she could feel his warm breath against her skin.
His hands drew higher, rough skin tracing up her thighs to hook along the waistband of her underwear, pulling it down her legs and discarding it on the floor below. Hazel eyes met her glassy ones one last time as he looked at the young woman for any indication he should stop. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, brows cinched together in concern, but the scent radiating from her body assured him that it was solely nervous arousal.
He pushes her dress up enough to reveal the delicate folds of her pussy, plump and shining. He drags a finger through her slick, eliciting the smallest whimper from the girl, "That's good princess, let me hear you."
The whimper she lets out when he attaches his lips to her cunt is nearly godly, causing a stir in his pants. His cock swells against the leather as he flicks his tongue against her clit, watching as the woman's head rolls up towards the ceiling in bliss.
His shadows lick up her legs, play with her neck as he continues his ministrations on her clit, using his fingers to trace the delicate folds of her slick. Another moan is earned when he slips a finger inside of her, feeling his way to the spongey section hidden behind the ridges of her walls, curling his fingers. Lewd noises echo through the small chamber as he pumps his finger in and out before adding another, then another.
The girl whimpers at the third, snapping her head back to watch his hazel eyes. Her chest heaves above him and he could feel the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, she was close. Whimpers turn into gasps as pressure builds within her body, her thighs trembling as her orgasm comes crashing like a wave hitting the rocky shore. As her body calms, Azriel removes his mouth from her clit, giving a quick draw across her glistening cunt to lick up all of the delicious juices of her release.
"Was that okay?", he asks, chin slick and cock painfully hard in his pants.
The girl's chest heaves as she nods, eliciting a small smile from the Spymaster. He goes to readjust his cock in his leathers, a movement that the woman picks up on immediately. Her eyes fall to the tent in his pants partially masked by dark leathers, but still visible.
"Fuck me?" she says, the words coming out as more of a realization than a plea.
Azriel encompasses her with his shadows, drawing her warm body close to his, his lips tracing the delicate skin of her neck, "I will, princess."
He kept a cool front, kissing down her exposed collarbones as blood pounded in his ears, anxiety pooling in his stomach. He threads a hand through the girls auburn hair, drawing her eyes to meet his own, "You can touch me, if you'd like. It won't bite."
She doesn't say anything, but one of her hands travels down to the base of his leathers, palm rubbing against his hard cock through the material. He groans into her skin, hips pushing against her hand in search for more friction to alleviate the growing feeling of arousal. He craved to be inside her, as much as it pained him to say. He knew this was solely their duty, that it meant only the fulfillment of a pact, yet he craved to rut into her virgin pussy like a depraved animal, drinking up the sweet sounds of her moans.
He pulls back slightly, only to pull off his tunic shirt and undo the strings of his leathers. He watches at the girl's eyes go wide at the sight of his cock, thick and heavy in his hand, tip a flush pink as precum oozed from the slit.
"That won't fit," he hears the girl whimper.
He's reminded of Cassian's words, no virgin is taking that cock without feeling like they're splitting in two. He didn't want to hurt her, though he knew they very act of pushing his tip inside her would stretch her to a nearly painful extent. If her body didn't reject him.
Sighing, he goes over to the nightstand, taking out a small blue vial. Lube. As much of a joke as Cassian made it to be, the situation called for it, "It'll fit princess."
He helps her out of her of her dress, scanning over her naked body. He runs a lube covered hand through her slick, dipping into her cunt ever so slightly, before coating his cock with the same liquid. He looms over her body, dragging his cock through her fold, nudging against her sensitive clit. Finally, he positions himself against her entrance, tip taunting the small opening.
Entranced by her pussy, Azriel finally looks up to the woman. Fear still clouded her eyes, yet her chest heaved and breath shook in arousal, "Tell me to stop and I will. I don't care if I'm two seconds away from cumming, I will stop."
The woman nods, Azriel taking it as a sign to start pushing himself inside her. He could feel the warmth of her core as his tip slips into the pussy, earning a small whimper from the girl. Her face is contorted into one of pain as Azriel slips a hand under her neck, drawing her into his body.
She hisses against his chest as he pushes himself an inch further, pulling out so that only his tip remained, and going back in to sink deeper.
"I know princess, I know," he coos, stroking her auburn hair, hips still moving at a tantalizingly slow pace.
He feels her body tense beneath him as his cock slips against the same spongey area his fingers found before, pussy tightening around his cock in a way that made him need to focus on anything else to avoid cumming in her right away.
He traces his hands up her body, toying with her delicate breasts, pinching her nipples, dragging his nails over her skin. He feels his hips become flesh with her own, looking down to see he entire cock snuggly fit inside her. He could feel her walls work around his size, adjusting to the intrusion as he begins a slow thrust.
The girl watches the Shadowsinger's face, etched with concentration. His hands planted themselves firmly on her hips, wings flared behind him, a sheen of sweat glistening on his tattooed chest. He was right. It did hurt. When his tipped pressed inside her, she felt as if she was going to tear, stretched beyond repair. Yet every time his cock hit that spot inside her, a wave of pleasure rushed over her body.
Azriel catches her gaze with a smirk, grabbing one of her hands, and placing it against her entrance, "Feel how good you're taking me princess?"
Wetness coated her fingers as the hardness of his cock continued to drive inside her at a quicker pace. Her body tenses, causing Azriel's hips to snap forward instinctively. Loud squelching filled the air, cream coating his cock, leaving a sticky mess with every thrust.
"Fuck," he groans, scarred hands tightening on her waist as his own orgasm approached.
The girl moans, tits bouncing as Azriel continued to fuck her, thighs beginning to shake in ethereal pleasure, "Shadowsinger, I'm gonna-"
"I know" he groans. He could feel the way her inexperienced body tightened around him, how her breathing became heavy pants as he rutted into her perfect cunt. It is only when he presses his thumb against her clit that she truly shakes, back arching off the bed, voice echoing throughout the silent room.
"There you go, princess, fuck-"
Azriel slips out from the girl quickly, hips stuttering as he thrusted into his hands, lube and slick coating his cock in a milky haze. A deep groan echoes from the back of his throat as he finishes, ropes of cum painting the girl's lower stomach like the next artistic masterpiece of the modern age.
He was still partially hard as he wraps a blanket around his torso, looking back to the young woman in front of him. Sweat coated her chest, hair a mess above her head, but her face sported something he had never seen before, a smile.
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"Do you think they did it?" Nesta asks in a hushed whisper as they stand outside the guest bedroom.
"Shhh," Cassian hisses, cracking the door open with as much stealth as he could muster.
He peaks his head inside for a moment, large wings blocking Nesta's view of the scene. "Well?"
She forces her way beside him, smiling as she looked upon the ornate bed. Azriel's large wings took up a large portion of the bed, moving slightly as his tattooed chest moved up and down in the lull of sleep. His hair was unkept, blanket draped around his waist to reveal the toned-V that Nesta has fantasized about. Wrapped in his arms, Nesta could see the smaller frame of the Autumn court girl.
She turns to her mate, "Oh they definitely fucked."
Cassian smirks, "I didn't think he'd actually fit."
"He can't be that big," Nesta combats, well aware of the rumors that circulated the Night Court.
Cassian looks at her with dead seriousness, "Nes, I've watched whores struggle with his cock, and those girls get stretched out ten times a day at least. How he managed no not break some virgin is a mystery to me."
Nesta shrugs, a hushed snicker coming from the mated pair. It comes to an abrupt stop when someone on the bed moves, Azriel's eyes snapping open, finding their way to the light coming from the doorway. When he sees the two, his face contorts into a resentful glare, "Get the fuck out."
Fandom: House of the Dragon, Aegon II Targaryen x Fem! Hightower! Reader
Summary: Alicent Hightower's sister has always hated the King, and transversely, he has hated her back. But, that all changes after he returns from Rook's Rest.
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: none? I think, I don't know, its HOTD but mostly hurt/comfort and fluff
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They say that burns are a sacred death. The death of dragon riders, honoring them among the living, and the dead. In his history lessons, Aegon had heard it was peaceful. Yes, there was supposed to be a screaming, agonizing pain, but as flesh burned away, it took nerve endings with it, leaving them to feel nothing, numb.
But Aegon hadn't been so lucky, he had only wished he had died back on the battlefield, died on impact of the flames. Then he wouldn't have had to suffer through spiraling to the ground, snapping his bones, or feel his armor being peeled away after it had merged with his flesh. He wouldn't have had to sleep nearly every hour of the day, waking up only to experience excruciating pain, relearning to walk when every step made him cry out in agony.
The once comforting walls of his bedroom had turned into a torture chamber as he was forced to his feet by the Maesters, only to hobble around the confinements of those walls, good hand gripping the cane with enough force to drive splinters in his hands and cause his knuckles to turn white.
He cried out as the Maester pushed him into another step, holding him upright as best he could. Larys Strong stood in the patch of sunlight in the room, giving him an angelic halo, ironic as it was his devilish idea to make Aegon start walking so soon, only weeks after he had returned to the Red Keep.
"Impressive," the club-footed man says, heads turning in his direction, "But I'm afraid you must work harder."
Aegon screams as Larys reaches around his other arm, cries of pain sounding like twisted laughter as together, they move him another step. Burned tissue stretched as they did, a blinding pain seeping through his barely-healed broken leg.
The men pause in their persistence as the large bedroom doors swing open, silver-draped guards pushing them back to reveal the figure of Y/N, the youngest Hightower daughter. Her frame was draped in a long black gown, tied around her center with a golden chain that stopped several inches above the hem of her skirts. Long copper hair draped down her back, just as her eldest sister, yet that was where the similarities stopped.
While Alicent was looked up to, a regal Queen of the realm, her sister had all but denounced her high-blood status, working in the streets as a herbalist, giving medicine to the poor, healing wounds, and delivering children. It wasn't until Viserys had died that Alicent welcomed her into the castle, for her protection, she had explained, though no man nor woman would dare to touch the 'witch'.
"Return the King to his bed, my Lords," the woman says, striding into the room, hands folded neatly in front of her gown.
"The King must regain his strength, my Lady, he must practice," Lord Larys calls over his shoulder, dismissing her command.
Y/N smiles curtly at his defiance, "How would you like to disfigure your other foot, Lord Layrs?"
The man stops, struggling out from underneath the King's arm, "The King-"
"The King is too busy moaning in agony to give a shit about what you think," the woman interrupts, a boldness frowned upon in the castle, "Return him to bed, and leave us. I'm sure there are whispers to attend to."
Reluctantly, the Maester carries Aegon to his bed, allowing him to fall back onto the sanction of his covers. The Maester moves to lift the King's legs, despite his protests, earning a painful cry as they hit his sheets.
Vhisrya watches as the King rolls to his untainted side, arms curled up against his chest in defeat, body trembling as whimpers escape his scarred lips. The Maester exits quickly, Lord Larys slowly following, glaring at her with every step. It is only when she hears the large doors latch shut behind the men that she makes her way over to the King's bedside. He resembled a small child more than a man, curled around himself in loosely fitted clothes, eyes squeezed shut as his body shook.
He takes a ragged breath as he senses her presence beside him, eyes opening just the slightest to glare at the black-clothed woman, "Come to finish me off, witch?"
The witch makes no remark against him, only motioning for the boy to sit upright in the bed. He does so, grunting in pain, bracing himself on his good arm as he slides up to prop his back against the headboard.
Y/N makes note of his trembling hands, the way he still insisted on putting up a bitter front despite not being able to move even a foot without collapsing in pain. It reminded her of his father.
Regardless, she reaches for the buttons of his nightgown, pulling them apart hastily till his chest was exposed. Blistering red wounds stretched across the expanse of his left side, charred and black in some places, while in others, the skin had been cut away in jagged marks from separating melted armor from the King's flesh.
"What-what are you doing?" Aegon trembles, fear lacing his voice.
The woman's eyes move from his chest, to his face. He watched as they drifted from his swollen eyelid, to the top of his head, where silvery-blonde hair parted from vibrant burns, to where his ear once was, reduced now to a small lump that opened into his eardrum. He knew it was hideous, he wouldn't lie to himself, trying to persuade his own mind that he was still the beautiful boy the kingdom worshiped. He knew that if he healed, he couldn't even be seen in a pleasure house, not even the whores wanting to be fucked by a monster such as himself.
"Your grace?"
A soft voice draws him out of his own mind, one that was nearly unrecognizable coming from the woman beside him, "I have an ointment, one that should assist in healing your burns. But, I require you to remove your sleeves."
"Can't", Aegon grunts, talking becoming an exhaustion.
"I can assist you," the woman cooes, dragging the soiled fabric down his good arm first.
Aegon whimpers as her hand moves to his burned side, gently peeling the fabric from his neck, then down his shoulder, drawing near his bicep. He could feel the fabric stick to his skin, the pus that leaked from his wounds drying, attaching itself to the coarse fabric.
"I'm going to lift your arm," the woman says, earning a series of pleading "no"'s as she does.
The prince groans in pain, feeling the blistering skin stretch, muscle burning as she peeled the fabric away from his body, letting it pool around his waist.
Y/N could see the King's murderous gaze as she finished, pulling his arm back immediately, heavy breaths filling his chest, followed by shaking exhales.
She makes haste, placing a mortar on the nearby table, filling it with oils and herbs, grinding it till the scent fills the room, overwhelmed by lavender. The King watches as she pulls a small vial from the pocket of her dress, opening it to reveal a nearly clear, thick liquid.
"What is that?" the King asks, the filth of his mind overpowering common sense.
Y/N looks back to the burned man, unaware he was watching her, "It's dragon saliva. Something in it prevents the dragons from being burned when they breathe fire, and proves itself to assist the healing process quicker than the Maester's brew alone. It only took me so long to bring it to you as your brother won't let me near his dragon, Sunfyre has not returned from Rook's Rest, and Helaena won't speak to me as she thinks I had something to do with your son's beheading."
Her last words come out as an aggravated shout, making the boy flinch. With a deep breath, she regains herself, carrying the mortar to his bedside, black dress fanning out on the sheets beside him, "I apologize, your Grace. You all think of me as some plague here to ruin the sanction of your home, yet Alicent refuses to let me leave the castle walls."
It was strange, hearing his mother's name be used so plainly, everyone else referred to her as the Queen, even Aemond and him referred to her as "your Grace".
Aegon clears this throat as the woman begins to spread the paste across his chest. It burned at first, but not to the level of the Maester's concoction. Perhaps dragon saliva was the key.
"She believes you would flee to Rhaenyra, aid her conquest for the crown," he grunts, intently gazing at the greenish mixture spread across his skin.
"And she is right," Y/N states plainly, "Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and you have usurped her crown."
"I could have your head for that," Aegon jokes, a faint smile, one of the first since he had returned, spreading across his lips.
The woman smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues to coat his torso, " I could have already had yours."
"Why haven't you, then?"
The hand that holds the brush hesitates, as Y/N searches for an answer. In all honesty, she has had many opportunities to kill the man, yet the thought never truly crossed her mind. She takes a deep breath before continuing her strokes, "You may be a monster- the sins you have committed are so terrible that you'd burst into flames if you ever set foot in the Sept. But, I know you did not choose to be King, just as I did not choose to waste away in this castle. I do not wish to punish you for something you cannot control, you have suffered enough."
Aegon says nothing, only faint whimpers coming from his lips. His breathing stilled as the woman traced a line of ointment across his face, delicately placing it across the edge where untouched skin met charred flesh. His body jolts as she accidentally brushes over an open wound on his cheekbone, where his helmet had melted, merging itself with his flesh. Despite how careful the Maester had been when removing it, deep gashes still marred his face.
The King yelps in pain, eyes shut as the oils burn their way through his open wound, sending a new wave of intense pain across his face. His body curls against itself, a position he found himself in more and more often these days. But rather than digging the nails of his good hand into the palm of his fist, he found a softer, more delicate hand in his , softly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, "I'm sorry."
Aegon whimpers, the comfort of her touch calming the scarred boy. It was rare that he obtained touches like these, not even from his mother, despite how much she claimed she loved him. No, she was more focused on being Queen than being a mother. His wife was the same way, more fascinated with her bugs than her husband, only laying with him when they were forced to produce an heir, before returning to her own quarters in solitude. He would watch Helaena with their own children, interacting with them, holding them, reading to them, only wishing that his mother had done the same.
So Aegon welcomes the warmth of the witch, clutching her hand with the intention to never let go until his scars had healed and he could hold his head with as much dignity as a true king. "Tell me a story," Aegon whispers, distracting himself from the pain that stretched across his body with every breath.
Y/N smirks, placing the mortar between her legs so she could continue placing the ointment with his hand still clutching her own.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Princess, who was locked away in a tower guarded by a fierce dragon. Her parents, the King and Queen, missed her dearly, and declared that any knight who were to rescue her from the dragon's keep, would marry the lovely Princess.
Not far from the kingdom lived a beast, alone. He was happy that way, till a power-hungry Lord wished to take the beast's land for himself. Upset, the beast made a deal with the Lord, in exchange for his land, the beast would rescue the Princess from her dragon's keep, so the Lord may marry her. True to his word, the beast saved the girl, yet as they traveled back to the Lord's castle, the beast found himself falling in love with the Princess."
Beside her, Aegon's breath slows, muscles relaxing against her grip, yet his violet eyes stay fixated on the woman. He listens to her intently, soft voice ringing through the silent room, as airy as wind blowing his curtains in the night.
"One night," Y/N continues, brushing the ointment across his scarred forearm, "The beast sought to confront the Princess, yet when he came to her cabin, he heard vile words coming from her mouth, ones solely describing such a monster as the beast. Furious, he gave her to the Lord, returning to his swamp alone. Yet, he couldn't forget the Princess, as even if she despised him, he loved her. So, he returned to the Lord's castle the night of the wedding.
As the sun fell that night, the beast watched as the beloved Princess transformed before his eyes, to a beast herself. Cursed by a witch many years before, the Princess turned ugly, monstrous, every night, the curse only to be broken by true love's kiss.
Together, the beast and the Princess slayed the Lord, and wed that night. Yet, when she kissed the beast, her appearance remained disfigured. The Princess then realized, that love's truest form was not based in beauty, but in happiness. She returned to the swamp with her beloved beast, and the two lived happily ever after."
Vhisrya finished her story with a smile, placing the brush back in the mortar. She looks down at the King, whose eyes were shut. For a moment, she thinks he has fallen asleep, but Aegon grunts, indicating he is still conscious, "Was there a moral to that story?"
He had only thought of the question after listening to one of Jaehaerys's lessons, one of the few times he was sober while the sun was still high in the sky. It made him feel like a child himself, curled along his tutor's side as she read him tales of past Kings.
The woman beside him rolls her eyes, placing her hand atop his own, "The moral is that even though someone may appear hideous, it does not make them a beast."
A deep flush overtakes Aegon's body, understanding her words. Still, he purses his swollen lips, "What if one's insides are as hideous- as hideous as their outsides?"
"Then that is truly a monster," Y/N replies, watching as the boy's face turns to a scowl.
A few moments of silence pass before the woman lets out a heavy sigh, "The beast was known for killing villagers set foot near his swamp, yet after he rescued his bride, he never killed again. He changed, Aegon, and you can too."
A chill is sent up Aegon's spine when she says his name. Like the rest of his court, she only addressed him "your Grace", and even when she did refer to him indirectly as "King Aegon", spite laced her words, bitter as poison. In every sober moment he had believed that she had hated him, yet her presence and aid in his time of need dismissed the notion from his mind entirely.
Not even his mother had looked at him for this long, or made conversation so kind. Aegon had seen her, several times, hovering behind the Maester's as they tended to his wounds, yet she never dared to approach him, so close to his gnarled flesh. He couldn't blame her, he knew it was hideous, and the Queen's stomach was not meant to see such obscenities.
In all honestly, neither should Y/N, but her previous line of work made her accustomed to such sights. The King swallows thickly, pain stretching up the left side of his neck, causing him to let out a small whimper.
He feels the woman's hand stroke through his matted hair, hair that hasn't been brushed, or even washed in days. It shamed him, that he was incapable of keeping up his own appearance, needing the hands of servants to take the place of his own in combing his hair, washing him, dressing him, feeding him.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispers, discarding the last bit of dignity he held.
Y/N looked to the boy below her. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she had never seen before, a glisten of sadness, despair, hopelessness. "Of course."
Aegon grunts as the weight shifts on the bed as she lays beside him, on his good side, not wanting to damage him in his slumber. The tormented King watches as she discards her jewelry on the furthest bedside table before fluffing a pillow to join him in the bed. Her long hair splays across the pillow as she grasps his hand, leaving several inches between the two of them.
"Come closer," Aegon pleads, pulling gently on her hand, as much as his muscles would allow without excruciating pain.
"I don't want to harm you," Y/N says quickly, concerned etched in her features.
"You won't" Aegon replies, sinking into the warmth of her body pressed against his own.
His body aches from his burns, the ointment only soothing his pain so much. It was nights like this, when Aegon couldn't sleep, when his body caused him so much trouble that he trembled and moaned until the morning sun rose. But as he curled against the woman, his pain began to subdue. He knew it wasn't literal, that her presence made his hurt go away, but he wished to believe it that simple, that she was his cure.
Y/N listened to his wheezing breaths slow as she held him, hand tight in her own. She felt the King's nose bury itself against the nape of her neck, a small grunt escaping his lips. She could feel his chest rise and fall against her own as the King falls into a dreamless slumber.
Darkness fills the room as the final candle burns low, the witch finally closing her eyes for her own rest, holding the broken, tortured boy in her arms, keeping him safe through the night.
Fandom: House of the Dragon, Daemon Targaryen x Fem! Niece! Reader
Summary: The youngest born daughter of King Viserys is punished for her outburst against her bastard nephews. In doing so, Daemon ensures that her outburst is forgotten, replaced with rumors of their coupling.
It had all happened so quickly. One moment, she was in the courtyard, watching the knights train, and the next, she was in the middle of the Targaryen family feud. It wasn't a rare occurrence at King's Landing, even more prevalent when Rhaenyra and her boys would come to visit, always by request of the opposing party.
But this time, the fight was her own. She recalled the events as they played out, thinking of what she would tell her father. News would spread quickly throughout the castle, rumors would start before she could even process what had happened.
She had been in the courtyard, sitting next to Aemond as she watched the two eldest sons, Aegon and Jace, sword fight in the midst of a crowd of people. It was for practice of course, yet still the violent echo of metal on metal rang through the open air. Jace had pinned his uncle, who was laughing underneath him, muttering about how strong he was. And that was when the real fighting broke out. Curses spewed at the other side, yelling rang louder than blades, as the family was driven further apart.
So she had intervened, pulling the two boys off each other by the collars of their tunics, turning to Jace to reprehend him.
"A wise king does not quarrel over petty insults," she had said, "If you are willing to kill a man for a single spoken word, then perhaps you shouldn't be king at all, no matter how strong."
She shouldn't have said the last part, and the smile it placed on her lips was soon replaced with a frown as Aegon gripped her arm, pulling her back from the nearly fatal blow from Jace's sword. Next thing she knew, the cold steel of Aegon's blade was in her hand, and she was thrusting it at her nephew. The metal vibrated in her palm as it made contact with Jace's blade, as he attacked with much stronger force. Just as guards began to close in on the pair, she had managed to quickly flip him, pressing her lace decorated heels into his forearm as she looked above him.
"Careful, nephew. We wouldn't want the future king to lose his life over such a petty quarrel."
With that, she stormed off into the castle, sure to get lectured by her father, Alicent, and every other member of the Small Council for her actions.
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Hours later, Y/N sat by the fire in her room, listening to the crackle of the flames as it consumed the dry wood below. She knew that she had faltered, she saw it in the eyes of her family that night at dinner. Rhaenyra looked at her with hatred, Alicent with sorrow, and her father had shunned himself from her gaze altogether.
Guilt welled inside her as she looked into the flames. There was a knock at her door, the large oak creaking open before she could answer. Silver-blonde hair stormed into the room, attached to the body of Daemon Targaryen, brows furrowed as he made his way to his niece.
The princess rolls her eyes, turning her head back to the flame, "Māzigon naejot vēdros issa hae sȳrī, Kepus?" (Come to hate me as well, uncle?)
The Prince Consort laughs, bitterness still etched across his face. He situated himself in the armchair next to Y/N, "ōregon aōha ēngos, riña." (Hold your tongue, girl.)
He doesn't give her the chance to quip back, carrying on in a low hiss, "I agreed to teach you combat under the condition that you would be sworn to secrecy and would only use it if absolutely necessary."
"It was necessary," the girl counters," Prince Jacaerys swung at me first, I was only defending my honor."
"Your honor will mean nothing if word of this reaches outside the castle walls!" Daemon shouts, "I should punish you for your ignorance."
Y/N snorts, pushing herself off the floor to stand before him, looking down on the seated Prince," I assure you, you will get in much more trouble from my father for whatever punishment your sick mind can think of, then I will for defending myself from that impure boy."
Daemon's hands reach for the girl's hips, sliding down the silky fabric of her dress before pulling the girl to stand between his legs, "Do you truly think so little of me?"
"The contrary," Y/N replies, putting her hands on his shoulders, "I know you're good enough a man to honor my virtue, and smart enough a man to know anything you try will be disproved by my father."
"Of course, princess," Daemon retorts, violet eyes staring into her own, " I would never be such a monster to dishonor your maidenhead, though, I'm not sure how many Lords would like to wed you given your brazen display in the courtyard today."
Y/N pulls away, turning her back to the prince, "If you only wish to rebuke me, then you may leave, Prince Consort. I am in no mood for it."
For a moment, silence fills the room, only the gentle crackle of the fire heard in the stone walls. Daemon makes no move to excuse himself, nor does the princess, her feet firmly planted on the cold floor below. The Prince lets out a sign, "There are other ways, you know."
Y/N doesn't move, eyes darting silently to the fire, not daring to look at the man behind her, "I don't know what you speak of, Uncle."
She shivers as she feels the Prince's hand grab her own, rough and calloused from years of welding a blade, and riding on dragon back. This thumb caresses the back of her hand, as he pulls Y/N back into his grasp, "Other ways of punishment, ones that don't involve giving up your precious virtue."
This time Y/N faces him, a twisted smirk on her face, "Did one of your whores teach you?"
"You are aware that I do more than fuck and kill, aren't you?" the Prince Consort responds, a faint smile on his lips.
"And here I thought it was your only pastime," Y/N answers, "Anytime you return to King's Landing, you're always boasting of the women you've impregnated, the bastards you've fathered, and the men you've killed."
She looks for a retort, a flicker of anger in his eyes, yet cannot find a glimpse. Daemon's face contorts, eyes looking up at the Princess with an expression of sorrow, of sympathy, like warm honey against the flickering fire.
Y/N exhales, "Fine, what ways do you speak of?"
"Dēmās," (sit) Daemon responds, smirking at the girl's surrender. He pats his leg, watching as she obliges, smoothing the expensive silks of her gown as she does.
"You mustn't be so tense, princess," Daemon whispers, toying with the lace on the back of her gown. His nimble fingers trail down the criss-crossed strings of the gown, falling to the base of her back, where the strings were tied in a dainty bow. The Prince tugs at the bow, releasing the knot, and allowing him to pull apart the confines of her dress, revealing the soft, pale skin of her back, and shoulders.
Y/N sucks in a surprised gasp as she feels his lips press against her skin, soft kisses trailing across her shoulder blades. She feels Daemon's hands wrap around her waist, one placed against her lower stomach, the other against her thigh, securing her against the warmth of his body.
Slowly, the kisses turn to nips against her flesh, faint moans escaping from the young Princess's lips, a discernible, yet foreign heat rising from the apex of her thighs.
"Daemon," she whispers, feeling his grip around her waist loosen ever so slightly.
"Laehurlion issa," (Face me), the Prince commands, watching her skirts slide up her legs as she straddles his thigh, stockings noticeable from beneath the pool of fabric along your waist. He could feel the heat of her core through the leather of his trousers, smirking as he recognized her arousal.
"Move your hips," he states, looking up at the disheveled princess above him. He saw the way her lips parted, breaths heavy from the simplest of touches, the simplest forms of affection.
"What?" she breathes, watching as Daemon places his hands along her hip bones, rocking her ever so gently.
And then, she feels it. A jolt of arousal surged at her core as she rubbed against him. A whimper escapes her lips as she rocks herself, falling against Daemon's chest, inhaling the scent of his skin as her nose rubbed against his neck, face tickled with long strands of his silver hair. Daemon's hips buck up instinctively, feeling Y/N's warm breath on his flesh.
Y/N moans into his skin as she continues to grind against him, overwhelmed by the feeling of pleasure that came from the simplest movement of her hips. She fell into a rhythm, feeling the pressure build in her core. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that made her toes curl, and breath well up inside her, making her words feel caught in her throat.
Daemon watches as the girl all but moans his name, feeling the rhythmic drag of her hips against him, the smoothness of each glide as her undergarments become more and more wet. He sees her chest move against the loosened fabrics, deep breaths of air coming out as helpless moans, and pants, echoing across the silence of the castle. It made him painfully hard, watching her chase her orgasm through the use of his body, her legs nearly brushing against his erect cock with every methodical rock of her hips.
It is with a shrill moan that the Princess finishes, resting her forehead against his own, layered in a sticky sheen of sweat. Daemon moves his hands across her body as her movement stills, tracing the curves of her sides, her breasts, mesmerized by the enchanting sight of her body.
His exploration is interrupted as soft hands find his cheeks, caressing his jaw, feeling the slightest bit of stubble that rested there. His eyes met her own, vibrant and violet, hazed over with the unmistakable glisten of lust.
"I'd like to repay the favor," Y/N whispers, her hot breath against his lips, "I believe you have more to teach me."
Daemon watches as her delicate hand slides down his chest, down to the noticeable bulge in his trousers. His eyes flutter, as he lets out a shaky breath, "Of course, Princess."
He allows her to rub against him several more times, before directing her to the floor, kneeling between his legs. Her hands find the laces of his trousers, undoing the simple knot.
Y/N paused, a thrum of nervousness echoing over the overwhelming feeling of arousal. Her hands hesitate, hovering over his cock. Daemon's hands lift her chin, bringing her to meet his eyes, "Do you trust me?"
Y/N smiles, swiping her tongue against the plumpness of her own lips, "Never."
Daemon shifts in his seat, pushing himself back to lean against the plush cushions. It was nearly humorous, the obliviousness of his niece. She may have been a weapon with a sword, and a poison with her words, but deep down, she was still a maiden, innocent, and pure.
"Give me your hand," he says, extending his own.
The girl obliges, watching as Daemon guides her hand to his cock, curling it around the base. He begins pumping himself slowly, Y/N's soft hand dragging along every thick vein that runs across his shaft. He watches as her eyes never leave the sight of his cock, fascinated by the beads of precum that leaked from his red tip.
A sense of pride wells in his stomach as he tilts his head back, eyes closed, mind clouded by lustful bliss. Y/N's pace never falters, stroking his cock with a delicate, yet firm hand, grazing her thumb gently against his tip. Daemon's hips buck involuntarily as she does, and a small moan escapes his parted lips.
"May I use my mouth?", the Princess asks, a small sultry voice as blood pounded in Daemon's ears.
"Yes," he breathes, nearly pleading, not stopping to think of the consequences he may face for her boldness, for his willingness and persuasion.
He was expecting a kitten lick, perhaps, an experiment of his niece's newfound pleasure, nothing like the long draw of her tongue against his shaft before his tip is engulfed, tongue swirling around the most sensitive part of his manhood.
Daemon gasps, eyes opening in shock to glare down at the hollow-cheeked girl between his legs. "Where in the Seven Kingdoms did you learn that?", he says, breath shaky.
The Princess smiles, shying away with a blush across her cheeks, "I read about it."
Daemon nearly laughs at her answer, running a hand through his silver hair, "You read it... in a book?"
"Yes, there are many romance novels in the castle," Y/N elaborates, haste in her words, "Not every book is full of our histories, many are novels of fiction, which I find much more interesting than the accounts of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives."
"No wonder your mind is filled with so much filth," he says mockingly, tapping against her temple.
"I simply wish to be knowledgeable of the subject for when the time comes that my husband shall bed me," she says, swatting his hand away, resuming her ministrations of his cock. Warmth pooled between her thighs as she began giving open mouth kisses along his shaft.
Her kisses now reached his tip, where he watched as she licked up the slit, swallowing the moisture that beaded there. Finally, she slides his cock into her mouth, inch by inch as she bobs her head, knowledge failing her as she attempts to take him all, only to gag around the sheer length of his manhood. Daemon groans as he feels her, craving more as she wraps her hand along the part of his cock that she couldn't take in her mouth. His hand snakes into her hair, threading through her silvery-blonde braids, pins falling to the ground below.
She moaned around his cock as he pushed her head slightly further, guiding her pace. Daemon's chest heaved as he hissed behind his teeth, eyes shut in torturous pleasure, feeling his release building quickly, craving that relief.
Y/N watches through hooded eyes as Daemon throws his head back, breaths becoming ragged pants. She knew from her novels that meant he was close, continuing to sloppily bob her head, saliva running down the base of Daemon's cock like a precious elixir, dripping down onto the cushioned seat below.
Daemon's hand tightened in her hair, digging into her scalp. Even in this state, so desperate for release, she could tell he was holding back, not wanting to hurt her.
Y/N heard his loud moans echo through the room, feeling his thighs shake against the palms of her soft hands. She tastes his release on her tongue, seed shooting to the back of her throat, thick and heavy as Daemon finishes. She continued out his orgasm, letting the shaking mess of him finish on her tongue before slowly sliding her mouth off of him, to leave his cock exposed, sleek and shining with saliva, his cum bubbling from the tip.
Daemon pants, looking down at the Princess, watching as his seed drips from her mouth, masking her lips in a faint white glow. Smirking, he leans forward, shoving his thumb into the girl's mouth, pulling down her jaw to see his seed nestled sweetly inside, coating her tongue, her cheeks, her throat.
He roughly pushes her jaw shut, a dominating, possessive urge fallen over him, the urge to claim the Princess as his own, "Swallow."
Obediently, Y/N does, feeling his warm seed trail down her throat. She opens her mouth again, revealing nothing but the pinkish inside of her gums, no evidence of Daemon's release only moments before. "Was I thoroughly punished, teacher?"
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Daemon awoke to find himself naked, yet surprisingly, alone, in his own bed. A faint breeze carried the scent of the sea through an open window, early morning sun shining on his pale skin.
Daemon rolls over, smiling at the fond memories of the previous night, the Princess between his legs, her harmonious moans as she rides his thigh. He did honor his word, keeping her maidenhead intact, despite every masculine urge begging for him to go further once his initial release. Like a true Prince, he had kissed her hand goodnight, before returning to his own chambers, stroking himself to completion several more times before he rested.
His impure thoughts are interrupted by a faint knock at the door.
"What?" he barks, watching as a nervous looking chamber maid enters, her arms tucked neatly to the sides of her baggy clothing.
"The King requests your presence in the Great Hall, Prince Consort," she murmurs, averting her eyes as the Prince stands, attempting to locate his trousers.
"I shall be there in a moment," Daemon replies, shooing away the chambermaid to leave him to dress himself.
He is true to his word, minutes later at the doors to the Great Hall, heavily armored guards hauling them open to their Prince. There was no need to announce his presence, as the only other person in the Hall was the King himself, seated on the Iron Throne, withered as ever, cane replacing the sword he once carried.
Daemon knew this ploy, his brother's use of the throne for power. It had been used on him many years ago, when he had first been banished for declaring the "king for a day." Yet still, as the brothers aged, Viserys relied upon his throne, basking in the light of a King, rather than a man who Daemon had grown up sword fighting, and racing horses with.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, brother?," he says, head held high, bold voice echoing through the high stretched walls.
"Did you do it?" the King growls, his voice hoarse, yet face stoic and unchanging.
Daemon rolls his eyes, stopping at the base of the throne, right where the melted swords jutted against the ground," I don't know what you mean."
Viserys stands, his cane clicking on the stone as stepped down the stairs, facing his brother, "My daughter, Y/N. Rumors have spread in a fortnight that you bedded her."
A smirk appears on Daemon's face before he can compose himself. Pain stretches across his leg as he drops to the ground, the heavy metal of Viserys's cane hits against his shin with enough force to bruise.
"Won't you even deny it?" the King hisses, looking to the Prince, now on his knees before him.
"To discredit these charges I must know what you are accusing me of," Daemon returns, attempting to stand.
The harsh blow of Viserys's cane comes again, this time to his back, causing him to fall forward, stomach hitting the floor. Daemon groans, face meeting the cold stone of the Great Hall.
"You have defiled her. Your niece, my daughter. What Lord will wed her now, now that she has been ruined by such an insolent, whore-fucking beast!"
Daemon attempts to stand once again, only to be held down by the firm leather boot of his King. Instead, he rolls to his back, so he can look the furious King in the eye, "What would it matter? Any man has fucked their way through the Streets of Silk by the time he has reached Y/N's age."
Another whack of the cane hits his side, one that Daemon can feel against his ribs as pain radiates across his body. It blinds him temporarily, white, searing hot, and when he regains his vision, Viserys has crouched down beside him, crown mere inches from his face.
"You know why, Daemon! If you wish to speak foolishly then I shall have my king's guard cut out your tongue so you may not speak at all!" He shouts, before falling back, into a coughing fit.
Daemon takes this time to push himself off the ground, now in a sitting position. He inhales sharply, glaring at the man he had once thought so highly of, many years before.
"I didn't bed her, brother. Her virtue is still intact, her cunt will still bleed when she is penetrated."
The King looks to him, and for once, there is a flicker of sympathy in his eyes, mixed within the exhaustion that plagued his waking hours, "Don't let your tongue defile my daughter as your actions have, tell me what you did. Moans were heard from Y/N's quarters, brother, the quarters that you exited after the noises silenced. You have plagued this family enough, Daemon, the truth, swear it."
Daemon smooths his leathers, now coated in a thin layer of dirt from the castle floors, " I merely assisted her in achieving pleasure, to which she offered to return the favor. Your daughter is keen on keeping her maidenhead till she is wed, as a man of my word, I never touched her precious cunt. I swear it, on the old Gods and the new."
Viserys rubs his face with a tired hand, "You understand what this has cost our kingdom? What have you done for the future, what alliances have broken? What little honor we have left?"
"You are the dragon, brother, your word is law. Y/N is untouchable if you declare her so." Daemon hisses.
The King stands, leaning heavily on the metal cane, resuming his place on the Iron Throne, " You act as power is something that can be demanded, yet it can only be earned. I have worked hard to ensure the protection of the realm, of loyalty from our people, and you have dilapidated the foundations I have built, not just for the realm, but for her, for our family! I have given you resources, I have given you a wife-"
"A wife whom despised my being with every honor she stood for. A wife who is now dead!" Daemon counters, anger in his voice.
'What is it that you want, brother?" Viserys growls, "What will tame your path of destruction?"
Daemon hesitates, rolling the offer, as backhanded as it was, over in his mind, "I want Y/N. Give her to me, brother, and I will wed her in the tradition of our house, produce for you a true Targaryen offspring, one of pure, unsullied blood."
Viserys brings a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples in exhaustion as the Rogue Prince continues, "Would it not bring you peace to know she is treated well? To know she is in safe hands, not forced to be bed by a prideful Lord in a house that is not her own?"
"You have never brought me peace, Daemon," the King says, spite and hatred lacing his words,"I want you out of my sight. Go, while I clean up the mess you have created."
"As you wish, brother.", the Prince exhales, nodding his head as he briskly turns to the door, boots clicking on the stone pavement as he does.
"She sucks cock like a whore," he calls out, loud words echoing through the Great Hall, ensuring they were heard by the King, no matter the elongated distance between them.
Daemon turns around, watching as a hateful glare appears on the King's face, red from anger, or even the slightest bit of humiliation. A smile graces the Rouge Prince's lips, "I swear it."
Summary: Kaz Brekker asks his most valued Crow to do the unthinkable, take his virginity.
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: smut, Kaz's touch aversion, death, blood, touchy men, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, etc...
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It was far too late for anyone in the town to be bustling about, any young woman or child should be sound in their bed, safe from the dangers of the night. Monsters lurked around every corner, man or beast, it was true, the freaks come out at night.
The club, however, was still active, several games of poker still being played, dancers still upon tables and deals being forged. Music echoed from the walls as the crowded swayed, talkative and busy. The women who dared to be in the club at this time, were bold indeed. Among the drunken men, who wanted a good feeling, and all the thieves who could slit a helpless woman's throat, it was no place for a lady.
But Y/N was no lady. Belonging to the master of the Crows, Kaz 'Dirtyhands' Brekker, she had traded in her ladylike dresses a long time ago. As she nudged her way through the crowd, many men stole a glance, at the tightness of her leather pants that stretched across her ass, and the cut of her flowing shirt, but most importantly, the dagger that was strapped to her thigh, alerting any man who touched her, there would be consequences. Her black boots clicked against the tile ground as she hurried through the club, going up the stairs to her bosses office. The crowd parted as she walked by, staring at the young woman as she heaved open the doors, before slipping inside. Then knew her well, well enough as anyone goes, Y/N, the Fury, another one of Kaz Brekker's toys.
As Y/N stepped into the office, her eyes scanned the room, which was nearly empty, besides the one and only Dirty Hands sitting behind a long desk. Y/N sighs, dropping the act as she heads over to him. To the public, she may be seen as one of his warriors, but in reality, she was one of his friends. Kaz himself, looked intimidating, stern look on his face, fashionable suit and high priced gloves. Y/N, also wore gloves, out of respect for the man who didn't like to be touched. She leaned against the tall desk as Kaz scanned her body, "Jesper said you needed something."
Kaz swallows, an action that portrayed fear onto his face, " Yes, I have a request."
Y/N brings her hand to the hilt of her knife, tightly strapped to her thigh, " Who do I have to kill?"
The man glances up, this time to her face, towards the gleam in her eyes, " It's nothing like that, it's a more personal request."
The Fury tilts her head. She wasn't used to this. Kaz and her did have a bond, but usually his personal requests went out to Jesper or Inej, the more long term members of the gang. She shrugs, shifting her weight to each of her feet, " Okay."
Kaz takes a deep breath, running a gloved hand through his hair, " Through consideration, I've been looking at my reputation as a leader. I'm 18, quite young, but that also means that I have to be intimidating. And I've come to the realization that a virgin is not intimidating."
The bluntness of the phrase takes a toll on Y/N's face, as she stutters out a response, "So then just lie. I mean, you can't touch anyone, and sex involves a lot of that."
Annoyance gleams in Kaz's eyes, along with something different, innocence. "I know. That's why I've called you here. I'd like you to take my virginity. If you'd agree to it." He adds as an afterthought.
Y/N's jaw drops at the bold statement, before she regains her composure. He may be her friend, but he was still her boss. "Kaz..." she starts, but the words seem to get lost.
Kaz watches his Fury carefully. He saw the uncertainty in her body language, and heard the doubt in her voice. One thing was certain though, he wanted her. There was a way she made him feel that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was a tingling feeling, something that he only assumed would get better with his feelings being brought forth, but even now it was still there. Kaz looks down, maybe he was wrong. "You don't have to say yes. I just believe that I share a connection with you, and I may be broken, but I'd like to experience at least something. For all I know, I might die tomorrow, and no one wants to die a virgin."
Y/N doesn't meet his eyes, doesn't even speak up," I don't want to ruin what we already have. I care about you Kaz, but I don't want you to have to step up to this."
"I want it, " The boy whispers. He did, but he'd never done anything before. This craving, it was something deep inside of him clawing to get out.
Y/N nods, taking a deep breath before holding her head high once more, "Alright, stand up."
Kaz's head snaps up, "What?"
"You think I'm going to let you lose your virginity in an office? We're going to my bedroom." Y/N smirks.
Kaz, follows her into a decent sized room, one with a large bed in the middle, draped with light blue sheets. As Y/N locks the door, Kaz stands at the foot of the bed, staring down into the sea of sheets. Sensing his fear, Y/N runs a gloved hand over his back, " Lay down."
Kaz moves over to one side of the bed, taking off his coat and shoes. He may be inexperienced, but he wasn't stupid. Sliding into the softness of the sheets, Kaz watches as Y/N takes off her boots, and crawls onto the bed, next to him. A wave of nervousness strikes Kaz as he takes a deep breath, and another. The woman next to him, purrs, gently rubbing his back, "Have you touched yourself before?"
Kaz shakes his head, letting out a shaky stream of words, "No, I-I can't."
Y/N places a hand on his own, silk gloves meeting Kaz's leather ones, before pulling his hand down to place over the bulge in his pants. Kaz's breath shakes, as Y/N coaxes his hand to the zipper, "It's okay, I'm right here. Small steps, okay?"
Kaz nods, rubbing himself through his black boxers. It felt strange, a part of him wanted to repulse, scrub off his skin, while the other wanted to rub harder. This is what arousal feels like. Kaz thinks, as he shivers. Y/N coaxes him on, "I want you to take your cock and touch yourself. You can keep the gloves on, and you don't have to do it hard. If you want to stop, tell me, and I promise we will right away."
Kaz swallowed thickly, heart beating against his chest as he pulled down his boxers, taking his flaccid cock in one hand. He could wrap hand around it, not fully, but enough to feel something. He wasn't sure what he felt, how dirty he felt as his cock swelled in his hand, making him want to sob. But he wasn't doing this for him, he was doing it for her. With a reassuring glance, he began to drag his palm up and down his shaft, watching as it hardened against his finger tips.
Kaz laid his head back into the pillows with a sobbing whimper as is cock pulsed. He could feel everything, everything that made his forehead sticky and body tense. He could feel Y/N's body shift on the bed beside him, as he looked over with stinging eyes. She smiled, "You're doing great, may I?"
Kaz groans, but Y/N understands the want in his voice. Carefully, she took a glove hand and placed it over his own, setting a pace as they stroked his cock. Moments later, Kaz took his hand away, leaving the cold satin of Y/N's gloves to drag against him.
Y/N watches as Kaz tilts his head back with heavy breaths as his hands clutch the sheets, twisted in his fingers. After setting a good pace, that Kaz seems adjusted to, Y/N began to pull, twisting in a slightly rough motion that caused Kaz to whimper. She continues, dragging her hand up his shaft and rubbing a thumb against the tip, where pre-cum had already begun bubbling there. Kaz's hips buck up instinctively, creating more friction as her palm rolled around his cock.
Y/N looked up, to Kaz's squinted eyes, and open mouth, and down to his cock, how hot he looked in this disheveled state. "Kaz?" she groans, " Are you alright?"
Kaz moans, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Do you want me to keep going?"
"More," Kaz hisses, as Y/N rubs her thumb against his tip.
He felt good, with her doing it, with her gloves rubbing against him. The filth was gone, for now, as he opened his eyes, feeling an emptiness on his cock. He watched as she slid off the side of the bed, and began to unzip her own pants. Fear coursed through Kaz's body, he wasn't ready for that yet.
Y/N meets his eyes, sensing the fear, "Not yet, one step at a time. It's just hard to bend down in these pants." She says, slipping the leather down her feet, revealing her toned legs and a pair of scarlet panties. She unbuttons her shirt as well, leaving it open to reveal her matching bra.
Kaz scans her body as she comes closer to him, pulling her hair back as she does. In front of his cock, Y/N bends down, to face level. Oh shit, she was going to give him a blowjob.
Y/N wiggles her ass from behind him, "Is this okay?"
Kaz nods, and Y/N begins to stroke up his shaft. He was a good size, thicker than her hand could fit around, and enjoyably long too. What a fool he'd been to keep this to himself for so long, how many people he could please with a body like his. As Y/N went down on him, felt the slickness of her inner thighs, how wet she was from her master.
Kaz groans, hips bucking into her mouth, as she gagged and hummed, taking as much as she could of his cock. This was different though, with this, his body was stimulated but his mind wasn't. His heart beat faster as he watched her take him in her mouth. Why had he made her do this? Why did he think this was a good idea? Fuck-
"Stop." Kaz groans tightly, a spinning sensation overtaking him.
Y/N releases his cock with a pop, looking up as tears form in Kaz's eyes. Kaz curls himself into a ball, tears pricking his eyes, disgust raging through his body. Why did he think he could do this? Why would he ask her? Why would he ever be able to be normal when he could be the broken bitch of a man he was?
"Shit." Y/N curses, wiping the saliva off her chin and going to sit next to the boy. She rubs her hand against his back, in small, circular motions, "Kaz, what's wrong?"
A tremble racks through his body as Kaz looks up, "I'm sorry. I-I just can't do it."
Y/N smiles, "It's okay. No one was asking you to. If you want to stop, I'm fine with that. Do you want to tell me what was wrong?"
Kaz places his head in his hands, not wanting to make eye contact with her, "It felt good, when you were just... touching me. But then you were sucking me and I could feel you. It felt wrong, it felt forced. I felt dirty and it... it scared me. Then all these questions got into my head- why the hell did I make you do this- fuck- I'm so sorry."
Kaz takes quick breaths, matching the trembling of his body, and the whimpers that escaped from his lips. Y/N rubs circles on his back, " Kaz, it's okay that you didn't like something, I don't like blowjobs either."
For once, Kaz looks her in the eyes, his brown ones meeting her own, "Then why would you do that?"
Y/N sat back on her heels, " Because you asked me to."
Kaz shakes his head, another tremor running through his body, "No. I'm such an ass, making you do something you didn't want to. I didn't mean-"
"I know you didn't," Y/N interrupts, "I'm going to get a bath ready for you, I figured you'd want to clean yourself."
Kaz, lays out on the bed, looking down at his still hard cock. His body wanted this, wanted her, showed such a reaction, but his mind was like a steel gate, never wanting to get over his past. He'd tried, with Inej, by himself, and now with Y/N. They weren't Jordie, they were nothing like Jordie, but at the same time, everything about them screamed Jordie. Sometimes, he believed that he was only using the ones he cared about to keep afloat. "No, you don't need to."
With this, he tucks his hardened cock back into his pants, showing a very prominent bulge. He picks up his coat and shoes, not looking back into the room as Y/N stands there, half naked and shocked.
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Kaz's erection doesn't go away, not before Jesper finds him at the bar, drinking his consciousness away. Jesper knew something was going on with Kaz, even before he looked down to see Kaz's predicament. Ordering two shots, Jesper hands one to his friend, "Are you gonna tell me?"
Kaz gives Jesper a sour look before rolling his eyes, "I thought I could do something but it turns out I just made a fool of myself."
The gun master looked down, finally, and laughed, "You asked Y/N and it didn't work out. Was it you or her?"
Kaz swallows the shot Jesper placed in front of him, "Me, I fucked it up. I thought I could get over my fears but it turns out I can't. Not to mention that I fucking used her."
Jesper chuckles, "What makes you say that?"
"Are you deaf!," Kaz exclaims,"I made her screw me, well attempt to at least. She didn't want that, she only did it-"
"Because she likes you." Jesper blurts out.
Kaz turns to his friend, "What?"
Jesper smirks, " We're talking about Y/N, the fucking Fury. The girl who'll cut off a guy's dick if he even looks at her the wrong way. The girl who will follow you into the fire just to make sure you get out safely. She cares about you, not because you're her boss, I mean she really cares about you. She didn't do that because you asked, she did it because she cares for you."
Kaz stares at the empty shot glass, he had to apologize, do something at least. He rushes off, leaving Jesper alone, smirking into his drink.
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Y/N was outside the club, leaning against the back wall, bricks poking into her back. She watched the entrance as women came out of the club, making sure that no men were to come and take advantage of them.
Back in her leather pants and shirt, a cloak hung from her shoulders, and the hilt of her knife was rested by her hand. As a young woman with curly blonde hair and a very revealing dress exited the club, Y/N watched as two men followed her into the street. She could hear their filthy whispers as she stalked after them, keeping to the shadows.
She watches for a moment as the men surround the young blonde, who looks very much in distress. Sneaking across the muddy street, Y/N pauses behind the men, "Excuse me ma'am, are you alright?"
The blonde looks at her, and smiles, " Of course, I was just telling these men to leave."
The man closest to Y/N had an eye patch, straggly brown hair, and reeked of alcohol, purred in her ear, "But we don't wanna."
Another one came over, and placed his bony hand on her ass, "We'd much rather have some fun."
The blonde looks over to Y/N's new predicament, before hurrying off in the opposite direction. That was what she was supposed to do, and Y/N knew it. Once she was out of sight, Y/N focused on the man who was rubbing circles on her ass, "You have 3 seconds to get your hands off me or I will hurt you."
The man with the eye patch chuckled, grabbing her wrist," Oh yeah, with what, princess."
Y/N smirks, brandishing her knife, "With this."
The bony one hisses in her ear, "You know how to use that, hot stuff?"
She turns her head to look him in the eyes, "Do you really want to fuck around and figure out?"
With this,she stabs the knife upwards, right into the crotch of the man's pants, leaving him howling in pain. As the other man tries to pull her close to him, she slashes his wrist, hard enough to slice it in two. He screams as thick blood pours from the stump, coating the ground where his hand lay limp.
The man lunges at her, coating the front of her shirt with his blood,almost as filthy as he was. Y/N simply side steps him, as he falls forward, before she pushes into the grimy ground. She looked around the busy street to see if anyone had caught the commotion, but if they had, no one was speaking up about it. Across the street, she catches the eye of Kaz Brekker. He watches as she rushes off, and by the next passing wagon, she has disappeared completely.
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Y/N drew herself a bath, in a large, claw-foot tub. Bubble and steaming water reached the brim of the tub as she carefully placed herself inside. Her blood coated clothes were piled in a corner on the tile, giving off a faint metallic scent when she inhaled.
The water calmed her, as she thought about the events that had happened not even an hour before. Maybe she had taken it too far, had gone too quickly, or maybe she had just messed up. It was a pleasure though, seeing Kaz in that way, feeling his hips buck under her hands, watching his skillful hands clench the sheets. She could only imagine what those hands could make her feel, how it would be to have his hands dipping inside her.
Leaning her head back on the tub, she imagined Kaz's fingers in place of her own as she thrust them in and out. Saints, it made her swell even to think of him kneeling before her, in between her legs, just the thought of it made her want to -
"Am I interrupting something?" says a voice from the doorway.
Y/N's eyes open in surprise to see Kaz in the door frame, leaning against his cane. "Usually when a door is locked, it means do not open."
Kaz walks a few paces closer to the tub, shutting the door behind him. The metal of the cane clicks against the tile floor as he does so. " I had the key."
Y/N looks up to the man, who is much more composed now, " Is there a point to you being here?"
"I understand your mad at me but-"
"Kaz, why would I be mad?" Y/N interrupts, " Because you walked out on me? I'm not mad. I understand you needed space, it was a big thing for you."
Kaz leans against the counter, "I don't want to lose your friendship, or your trust. I just-"
Y/N begins to step out of the bathtub, water slicking her skin. Out of decency, Kaz turned around, feeling a slight blush on his cheeks. Y/N sighs as she puts on a nightgown, "What do you want?"
Kaz lowers his head, "I'd like you to take my virginity."
Y/N steps over to Kaz, turning him around. Kaz avoids her eyes, looking down, past the sheer nightgown she was wearing and to the floor. "Kaz?" Y/N whispers, bringing one hand to his face and forcing him to look at her.
The feared leader was shaking internally, heart beating quickly as he repeated, "I'd like you to take my virginity."
Y/N smiles, pushing her forehead against Kaz's chest. Her hair was damp as Kaz ran a hand through it, water slicking the leather of his gloves. Looking up, Y/N stares into the man's dark eyes, "You think you're losing your virginity in a bathroom? Go, I'll meet you in my bedroom."
Kaz does so, once again standing above the blue satin sheets, fear coursing through his body. Slowly, he takes off his shoes, then his coat, and then unbuttons the first two buttons that seemed constricting on his shirt. Then, he goes over to sit at the edge of the bed until Y/N comes into the room, slipping her hands into a black pair of satin gloves.
"No," Kaz says, leaning back into the pillows, "Leave them off."
Y/N tilts her head, but does what he asks, laying them nicely on the edge of the bed, "You sure?"
Kaz nods as Y/N leans between his thighs, undoing the zipper and pulling down his black boxers. With a reassuring look from Kaz, she takes his cock in one hand, slowly pumping it back and forth. Her hand was warm and textured as it moved along his shaft, Kaz leaning his head back. There was that same feeling again, the filth in the pleasure. He focused on her, as a whole, her hand dragging along him, the pleasure he could feel made his cock swell with pride.
Y/N smiled at his erection, and dragged her fingernails along the underside of his balls. Kaz moaned as she massaged them in her hand, awed at the soft feel of him. Once again, she pushed her thumb against the slit, squeezing the head slightly so beads of moisture formed at its tip. Kaz groaned, his hands going into the sheets, gripping them tightly.
The softness of his cock was unimaginable, as it was thrust into her hand, as Kaz's hips arched up with every stimulation. She hadn't been with a virgin in a long time, but as she watched Kaz's simple actions, she was glad she was with him. Kaz groans, feeling the pressure building in his cock, getting worse as Y/N went faster, harder. She knew he was close to coming, on the way his back arched, and the way his eyes were shut tight. "Let go, Kaz." she says, still pumping him.
The thief moans loudly as he releases, hot and sticky cum spilling over his button up shirt, and over Y/N's hand. She continues to jerk him through the orgasm, leaving the man a painting mess. "Please." he moans.
This catches Y/N off guard. The most feared person on this side of the fold, begging for her. Y/N smiles, wiping her hand on Kaz's pants before unbuttoning his shirt. The pallor of Kaz's chest gleamed in the flickering lights as his pants too were taken off, leaving him completely naked, vulnerable. The thought was at the back of his mind though, as he watched the goddess before him kneel over his body, "Would you like me naked too?"
He nods, too overwhelmed with nerves to use his words. He could feel the cold air on his skin, everywhere. The thought made him want to cry. But he could also feel heat, radiating from Y/N's body as she climbed on top of him, taking off the sheer nightgown. He watched as she smiled down at him, before her eyes went down further, to the plumpness of her breasts, the curves of her body, down to the nakedness of her cunt, that hovered above his erection. The curious man places his gloved hands over her hips as she positioned his cock under her opening, before slowly placing him inside her. Kaz's cum slicked his shaft as Y/N slid down, stretched by his thickness. She paused, resting an inch or so above his hips to look at Kaz.
He nods again, digging his fingers into her skin, pushing her further onto him. Y/N begins to move slowly up and down, occasionally rolling her hips getting a moaning reaction from Kaz. Saints, she felt so good, how tight she was over him, how warm. He watched as her pace began to quicken, as her breasts began to bounce in unison, as sticky strands of his cum coated her thighs, rubbing against his own hips to create a white masterpiece. He moaned at the pleasure, but he needed more. He needed control. He needed to please her. He needed to fuck her until she screamed.
Sliding his hands over her waist, Kaz flips his Fury over, cock still inside her, but now he was the one on top. Y/N groans as Kaz begins to slowly thrust, picking up her legs to get a deeper angle. Saints, this was amazing, seeing her beneath him, having so much control over her like she was his pet. His cock pulsed inside her as her walls clenched around him and she released a loud moan, one that the inexperienced Kaz took as pain. He slowed, looking down at her, the sweat prickling her skin, taking it all in, " Are you alright?"
Y/N hums, lifting her hips to fit more of him inside her, " I want you to fuck me hard, Kaz. I want to scream your name. I want to be yours."
Kaz smirks, driving himself back into her cunt with enough force to bruise her cervix. Y/N's back arches as she screams in pleasure, toes curled as he continues to thrust, feeling the pressure build inside of him. Saints, she felt so good. He was going to burst. Once again, Y/N sensed this and whimpered through her moans, "Please, Kaz. Please cum inside of me!"
A few more rapid thrusts and Kaz spills himself inside the warmth of her cunt, groaning as he continues to fuck her through his orgasm. Y/N writhes underneath him as he pulls out, watching his seed drip from her cunt, coating the satin sheets underneath.
There was silence for a moment, only heavy breathing filled the room, smelling of sex and sweat. Y/N hums as she rolls off the bed, already feeling the bruising of her cervix. Kaz's warm cum leaks from her, dripping down her inner thighs as she walks to the bathroom, pausing at the door to look at her lover, who was in what seemed to be disbelief. " I'm going to fill up a bath for you, okay?"
When there is no response, she calls out again, louder this time, "Kaz, are you okay?"
He nods, looking over to the naked girl in the doorway, "Come here."
Y/N smiles, walking over to him and kneeling alongside him on the bed, "What is it?"
Without hesitation, Kaz grabs Y/N's face in his hands and presses his lips to hers. Moments pass by as their lips glide together, before Kaz pulls back, face flushed, "That was my first kiss."
Y/N smiles, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from his forehead, "Tonight's a night of firsts I guess."
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