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beardburnsupersoldiers · 5 days ago

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Absolutely delicious! 🥵😍🫠

Depraved

Pairing: Cassian x female!reader

Description: On a reconnaissance mission deep in the Illyrain Mountains you and Cassian come under the spell of some strange and exotic plant that sees you both subject to your basest desires.

Word count: 5.3K (ish)

Warnings: 18+ only! this wasn’t a request it’s just shameless smut with a smidge of plot (unedited sex pollen fic, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, kind of dubcon but not really, etc).

For my fellow Cassian girlies. this is kind of a hot mess but honestly at least i'm writing something.

The winter sun is sinking low into the western horizon when Cassian motions for you to fall to your knees beside him. It’s depraved the way you drop to the floor wordlessly as Cassian towers over you, his large frame concealing the last slivers of sunlight as they give way to the rapidly falling night.

“How we doin’ this, then, General?” you ask, peering through the thicket of blackberry bushes and into the small encampment nestled into the depths of the valley. There are three Illyrian’s gathered around the campfire and two flanking the makeshift entrance to the north.

Cassian seems to be lost, somewhere distant and far away. Abandoned to the hazy recollections of warfare and bloodshed. He wears blood well you think. Carries the weight of war with the deference and respect it deserves.

Still, he looks peaceful then. Despite the storm raging inside of him. He wears peace well too; the sulk of his lips and the straight slope of his nose and fine-high cheekbones give the impression he was carved by the first Gods. Primordial and celestial.

He is as good as a God himself in this light-- the way the burnt sienna of the winter sun reflects in his hazel eyes. They look like molten gold.

Your heart is thunderous in your heaving chest as he finally turns to you and offers you his large, broad hand. It’s rough against the smooth silk of your palm and his fingers flex around your wrist in a way that makes heat coil in the lowest parts of your stomach and the leathers you’re wearing cling to your skin in a way that is not all together uncomfortable.

“Are you even listening to me, princess?” Cassian huffs running a hand over his face, leaving a smear of dried blood in his wake.

“I’d pay good money to know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.” He muses.

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” You say smiling wide at him. It’s only half-teasing.

Cassian watches you curiously as you begin to readjust your thigh holster and reach for your Illyrian daggers in an futile attempt to distract yourself from his shameless flirting.

“You’re the second prettiest girl I know,”

“Only the second?” You say feigning offense and bringing a hand to rest on your chest.

“Az is the first, obviously.”

“Obviously, Azriel is the prettiest person I know too.” You tease, catching his eye.

The smile. No. Smirk, that spreads across his face then is full of devilment and harmless flirtation as he pulls you closer to his side in a sidelong hug.

“And here I thought I was the prettiest.” he says, nudging you playfully.

Once again his eye hone in on the group gathered around the campfire in the dip of the valley. The way his face sets so beautifully as he takes the time to calculate his next move is enough to take your breath away. He is utterly devastating you think.

“I say we go in quietly,” he nods to you as he unsheaths his dagger from its holster. “Take ‘em by surprise.”

You nod slowly in understanding and agreement as you follow him into the thicket.

You sink low and take a fighting stance as you begin the descent down the side of the valley with Cassian in tow who only laughs and huffs pulling at his own knife.

No more than ten minutes later you’re both caught up in the fray, the dusky haze of combat falling over the encampment and the roaring of the campfire and Cassian’s deep primal shouts permeate the darkness.

You hoist yourself up from the floor with a flourish and flip your assailant onto his back in the mud as a determined elbow braces the nose of the Illyrian below you. His wings flare and flail helplessly under you in an attempt to free himself as your knife meets his chest.

He goes limp in your grip as the sickening squelch of blood and bone echoes in the night air. You pull your knife from him with a grimace as his blood spurts and pools on the soiled bedroll.

Standing on unsteady feet you’re surrounded by bodies; an assortment of splintered bone and broken glass, set against the backdrop of the velvet night.

Cassian comes to stand by your side, taking in your disheveled appearance. His large hand comes to hold you by the hip while the other brushes your hair from your face as he murmurs praises quietly. When you have regained your breath he pats you twice on the shoulder before leaving you with a firm squeeze.

There’s an uncertain tenderness in the way he regards you in the haze of battle that always catches you off guard. As though the fine line between friends and lovers is itself blurred. You can’t say you mind it. Sometimes it is this tender and rough version of him that warms you through winter nights. The fleeting memory of this version of Cassian is enough to sate your wanting.

When you look at him he’s coated in a thin veil of sweat and you swear you can hear his heart hammering in his heaving chest. His wings slump and strain in fatigue as he allows his body to falter in a state of near-exhaustion.

The reprieve is short lived when three more Illyrian brutes armed to the nines come trailing through the northern gate. All bared teeth and snarling fury.

“Shit!” You curse under your breath and catch Cassian’s glowing hazel eyes.

He looks feral in the moonlight as his eyes survey the three bodies approaching the encampment. His smile is wicked and glinting against the dark, his hair is wind-beaten and unruly, and his muscled chest draws in heavy, labored breaths as he struggles against his own exhaustion.

Even so, he is beautiful. And deadly.

“You got one more fight in you, big guy?” you say to Cassian regarding him warily as the three men approach.

“I should be offended you even felt the need to ask.” he says, smiling wickedly at you before charging head first into one of the three soldiers while the other two begin to circle like vultures as you descend upon them.

The soldier underneath Cassian shouts orders to his comrades but is quickly drowned out by the sickening crack of his neck as Cassian cradles his softening body in his strong arms.

In a flurry of movement you attack one of the other assailants with a fierce determination that sends you both tumbling to the ground in a violent struggle as you grapple with him. It takes a few moments but once he is disarmed you overpower him with a rehearsed ease as your dagger kisses his neck and you watch as his flesh gives way and his blood oozes hot and thick against the gravel.

You take a moment to gather your wits again, feeling slightly disoriented as you pry yourself away from the thicket of flowering bushes you had landed in before you see Cassian again.

A sudden rush of wind and a flash of movement that your eyes follow instinctively as Cass falls into view. He’s sprawled face down in the dirt near the bushes on the west side of the encampment, two bodies at either side of him.

Unmoving and silent.

Worry pools in your stomach when Cassian does not roll over with his signature smile on his face, the one that makes you weak in the knees. Instead he stays there, in the first, eerily still.

“Shit, Cassie” you ask, throat hoarse and you hand on your hip as you catch your breath, “You alive over there?”

Only Cassian doesn’t respond. He’s hunched over in the thicket of ferns and blackthorn bushes. You can hear his breaths, broken and ragged, as they come in sporadic succession.

Tentatively, you sink to your knees beside him. Still he doesn’t move. Your heart hammers violently in your chest and a wave of nausea washes over you. When he turns to face you.

His brows are drawn together and his full lips sulk before pulling into a frown as he holds a small flowering plant in his large, calloused hands. He’s sheened in a thin veil of sweat and you can hear the fluttering of his heart in his heaving chest.

He lets the flower fall limply in his hand.

It’s an unusual little thing.

Tender stemmed and pale pink petals that split open to reveal chartreuse orbs of pollen.

The air is cloyingly sweet, like candied rhubarb and honey.

You blink a few times as the word begins to falter around you and you fall to your knees in the mud.

The world spins on its axis and blurs at its edges as the white spots cloud your vision momentarily.

By the time you come to night has fallen over the camp casting the world in amethyst moonglow.

“Cassie?” You call out into the night.

You take a few moments to gather your wits and survey your surroundings. You’re in the main tent of the enemy camp and for a moment panic sinks low in your stomach, twisting and coiling. There’s heat too.

You’re so hot.

But there is no sun for which to ascribe the terrible heat that blooms in your chest. It runs a steady line from your fluttering heart and pools between your slick thighs.

You rise on unsteady feet from the bedroll and walk out into the night air. It’s cool as it kisses your skin but offers you little relief for the aching heat between your legs.

Cassian is pressed against the wagon in front of the campfire, his skin glows a soft ochre in the firelight and you notice then that he has rid himself of his shirt. The exposed contours of his chest glisten in the light of the flame and he looks haunted.

“Cassie,” you plead as you approach him carefully. Momentarily taken aback by the pure unadulterated need in your tone.

Cassian turns to you suddenly and there is a hypnotic, sinking dread painted on his face as he takes you in. The skin sheened in sweat and the flushed skin on your cheeks and the tips of your breasts. The sporadic rise and fall of your chest.

“Stay where you are,” He warns, his arm outstretched to you, “you need to stay away.”

You stop in your tracks for a moment to take him in.

He smells like fir trees and ginger.

“Cass what are you talking abou-” you ask before his voice cuts you off.

“please,” He says through grit teeth, his voice is thunderous and settles in your chest like a lead weight. “Just go!”

“Cass, I-i don’t understand,” your voice softens as you take in the pained expression on his face.

You remain firmly in place, mere feet between your body and his, and you can’t fight the heat that flashes through you then. Nor the ache between your legs as your eyes trail over his chest and toned thighs clad in his leathers.

Another pained groan from Cassian has you inching further towards him, your hands outstretched in caution as you close the distance between the two of you.

You lower yourself onto the ground, resting on your knees as you take his chin between your fingers, turning it in your firm grasp. His face, once golden, is pallid and veiled in sweat, his jaw, once set in determination, is slack and the words that leave him are pained. Tained with something darker.

“No, you don’t understand,” Cassian laughs cruelly, his eyes ardent gold boring into yours before flicking to your lips and then back. His voice is hoarse, and wanting. Animalistic.

“Yo-you need to leave, princess.” He whispers, it’s laden with dark promise as he rasps “or I’m not gonna be able to stop myself.”

You let go of his chin and fall back onto your knees.

“Stop yourself from doing what, Cass?” you narrow your eyes at him.

Cassian visibly stiffens, the muscles in his broad shoulders tense against you and his whole body seems to follow suit. His fingers flex around nothing, clawing at the floor in an attempt to ground himself as a wave of something washes over him.

The snarl that tears through him is inhuman.

Your trembling hands reach for him, brushing the hairs that stick to his forehead back and away from his face as you whisper reassurances to him.

“It’s going to be okay, Cass,” You murmur affectionately, “I’m not going to leave you.”

There's desperation in the air as you continue to comfort him through the onslaught of…well, whatever it is. He convulses violently in your hold and only when the convulsing subsides do you place a hand against his bare chest.

The jolt of electricity you feel as your hand comes to rest against his muscled chest elicits another growl from him. He whines desperately at your touch and heat pools between your thighs once more.

“You can’t,” he says, taking your hand delicately before pushing you away with such force that it nearly knocks you backwards.

“You can’t touch me like that.” He laughs cruelly as he cards a hand through his damp curls.

Cassian heaves a heavy breath and releases a broken cry like some sort of wounded animal. He looks utterly undone.

Your eyes trail him hungrily as heat rises in you again. It’s unbearable the pull you feel to him. The way your body reacts to his.

It’s then your eyes fall onto his leather clad legs, watching as he palms himself through the skin-tight material in a way that speaks to the pure depravity that clouds your judgment. Shame creeps up on you as your eyes meet. His eyes blown wide and darkening as he tugs his lip between his teeth while another snarl tears through him.

“Cassian?” you say firmly, drawing his attention to you once more “What is happening?”

You don’t give him leave to stop you as you once again sink to your knees to be by his side, placing a soft palm on the curve of his jaw, forcing him to look at you. Cassian lets his body melt into your touch in response as he lets out a shaky breath that fans your face as his eyes search yours desperately.

He seems to sober at your touch as the world around him falls into perfect view once more.

“The flowers,” he says, his voice hoarse and strained, “the-they only grow deep in the Steppes.”

“The flowers?” you repeat tentatively, “What do they do?” you ask.

“They use them in rituals,” he clarifies, his eyes boring into yours as if willing you to understand.

When you don’t seem to catch his meaning he breathes deeply before continuing “They lower your inhibitions completely until all that is left is your basest desires.” He stresses the last part hoping to jog your memory.

“Oh.” is all you say as realization settles in your bones and a new wave of arousal washes over you. You squeeze your thighs together hoping to find some temporary relief. But to no avail.

Cassian seems to go ridgid as the change in the air becomes apparent. It’s electric and heavy charged as he looks to you once more and his eyes glaze over with lust.

“You need to leave,” He warns his large hand coming to cover yours and he squeezes with all the tender reassurance he can manage in his half-delirious state, “right NOW!”.

The tension rises when the scent of his arousal hits you. Dark musk and sweat tainted with the faint smell of florals that sends your senses into overdrive. The urge to reach out and touch him is always maddening as he lets out another agonized snarl.

“Please, princess,” he pleads once again, “I won’t be able to hold off for much longer.” his voice is dark now and laden with desire as his eyes trail your form beneath your leathers.

You smell so good. He murmurs so low that the sound burns into the darkest, most base parts of your mind. That murmur you will think about in the nights to come.

“I can’t leave you, Cass,” you say seriously watching the way his brows knit together before allowing his jaw to go lax.

“I won’t leave you.”

“You have to,” he huffs as he palms his cock through the material of his leathers again, a sharp hiss leaving him at once, “or I-I’ll not be able to stop myself.”

“And you won’t either.”

The words hang heavy in the air as he allows the gravity of the situation to settle around you both and you try to ignore the way his words send a wave of pure unadulterated pleasure through you.

“And if I don’t want to stop you?” your hands trace lazy patterns into the slick skin of his chest, following the lines of his inky tattoos.

“Fuck darling,” he says letting his forehead to rest against yours as his eyes flutter shut, “you can’t say things like that to me and expect me to be able to control myself.” he chuckles darkly.

“Not when you’re lookin’ at me like that,” he takes your jaw between his thumb and index finger to bring your lips to his before placing a tender kiss there.

“Not when I can practically taste you.” His tone is much darker now as he nips at your lower lips to pull you into a bruising kiss.

“Then let me help you,” you whisper airily, your fingers ghosting along his arms, following the contours of his chest, running gently over the swell of his pectoral muscles, down along the ridge of his abs and coming to rest on the deep ‘v’ that disappears into the hem of his leathers.

Your free hand comes to the hinge of his sharp jaw, cupping his face as you pepper wet kisses along the skin there.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he says, his voice tense and body malleable under your deft touch. It takes all his self-control to insist again “I won’t ask that of you.”

In truth, you’ve wanted him this way for the better half of two decades but now, looking at him, all desperation and depravity, you’re not sure there’s any going back to the way things were. You want to be his friend. But you want this more.

You want to watch him come undone around you. You want to feel the rough pads of his fingers and they bruise the tender flesh of your hips and thighs. You want it to be you who he finds release. It has to be you.

“You’re not asking, Cass” you remind him, your hands coming to grip his face, “let me help you.”

He looks at you and something flashes in his hazel eyes; it's something dark and needy. A wordless plea.

He nods gingerly, letting his hands come to rest on your hips, his fingers digging into the skin so tight that he is sure to leave his mark upon you.

As you swing a leg over him so that his lower half is caged between your spread thighs he lets out to growl he has been holding. It’s feral and steeped in want. He’s near a primal trance by the time your hands find their home wrapped around his broad, strong shoulders as he bears your weight in his lap, letting you grind your wet core against him.

The whine that leaves you as his thigh comes into contact with your clothed core is perverse and has you clenching around nothing. Your body sings in his bruising grip and you fit in his lap like you were made for him.

His kisses are brutal and leave you half-breathless as he pulls away to gaze into your eyes.

“I won’t be gentle with you.” he warns sternly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. When he finds none he wastes no time taking the material of your leathers between his strong palms and pulling until they are bursting at their seams. Giving way to his strong grip and exposing your bare flesh to him.

The sound that leaves you as your bare cunt comes into contact with the cool night air is pornographic and has Cassian groaning into the bare skin of your shoulder.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me, Cass” you say to him as your lips skim his.

“I can take it.” you breath airily nodding to him.

He doesn’t say anything but dips his head into the curve of your neck before parting his lips. The feeling of his teeth sinking into the junction of your neck and shoulder feels as close to heaven as you might ever get.

As your back arches away from him in protest Cassian takes the opportunity to free himself from his leathers with a pained hiss that melts into soft whimpers as you grind against him.

He looks so beautiful like this; lips parted as his hand strokes his hardened length, the heavy length of him angry and red as the beads of precum glisten like pearls at his tip. He releases a heavy breath and pumps himself once more before dragging the head of his cock through the slick of your folds, gathering your arousal before pulling you down onto him with a force that sends tingles down the line of your spine.

You sink down onto him painfully slowly, savoring the dull ache as you take a moment to accommodate to his size.

“Takin’ my cock so well, princess.” he hisses through clenched teeth as you sink down impossibly further. He splays an open hand over the bulge in your stomach pressing lightly as he begins to roll his hips at a brutal pace. He moves without warning, unforgiving and cruel as he fucks into you roughly.

“‘Thought about this so many times, Cass.” you say burying your face into the crook of his neck as his hips snap against yours as you grind down onto his cock.

Cassian falters momentarily, a glimpse of the man you know through the haze of his carnal trance. His eyes glow golden in the low light and his hands come to hold your face in place as he brushes the stands away from your face behind the shell of your ear as he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose before his eyes darken once again.

“I’ve thought about it too, princess” he says softly to you, barely more than a whisper.

He takes hold on you firmly, one hand spread across the expanse of your back and one on your hip as he flips you over with all his brute strength, his careful hand beneath you cushioning your fall.

“Thought about how you’d look wrapped around my cock,” he growls, pulling all the way out of you before sinking back in with a harsh rut of his hips that has you fluttering around his cock like a velvet vice.

“How pretty you’d sound begging for my come,” he groans as you wrap your legs around the small of his back, pushing him deeper into you as you moan gospel into the shell of his ear.

“Beggin’ for me to make you mine.” It takes you by surprise as the words leave him, his voice is low and dark but laced with a certain clarity that rings true.

You want him to claim you. Make you his.

“Then make me yours, Cassie.” You beg prettily, your eyes boring into his with a vulnerable desperation.

He stares at you for a moment, a strange look of longing and awe on his beautiful face before it morphs into something carnal and animalistic that makes arousal coil in your stomach.

His amber eyes meet yours again, his hands coming to rest at either side of your head when your legs wrap tight around his middle as he resumes his brutal pace.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as his calloused palm runs over a hardened nipple before enclosing your breast and squeezing with fond pressure, “and all mine.” he finishes quietly, murmuring to himself.

Cassian pulls back slowly so that he comes to rest on his knees, his large hands honing in on your thighs and pushing them further apart exposing your cunt to him with a guttural moan as he regards the way you’re wrapped around him. The milky ring that appears at the base of his cock and the way your back arches with each slow drag of his cock as it reaches that spongy spot inside of you.

“This pussy is mine,” he snarls, fucking into you again before finding his brutal pace, “look at how well you take my cock, baby.” he praises.

“Like you were made for me.” he murmurs to himself, reveling in the feeling of your tight cunt fluttering around him again. A ripple of pleasure roars through him again when he feels you pulse around him and he senses your inevitable orgasm as you begin to chase it.

“Say it, princess” he commands you, his breath hot and dangerous as he lowers himself so that you are chest to chest, “I need to hear you say it.”.

You nod enthusiastically, your hands coming to tangle in his hair, dipping down to his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of his tattoos as you roll your hips to meet his.

“I’m yours, Cassian,” You confirm, your voice certain and thick with need. It’s desperate and depraved the way you beg for him until your voice is hoarse.

I need you. Need you to fill me up. To make me yours.

The words break apart in your mouth as your pleasure hits you like a tidal wave that crashes to the shore with a violent shudder.

“That’s it baby,” Cassian whispers as he fucks you through the last ripples of your orgasm. He draws one hand to rest against your abdomen, pressing lightly so that he can feel his cock move deep inside of you.

In a feverish desperation you claw at him, his shoulders, his waist, the delicate flesh of his sculpted thighs drawing him impossibly closer to you.

His own growl comes out in a broken rasp as he starts to lose himself to the euphoric feeling of your cunt clenching around him again in a desperate struggle.

You cling to him fighting to find purchase, to brace yourself against the steady wall of muscle while Cassian chases his own orgasm, setting a cruel pace that begins to blur the lines between pleasure and pain and threatens to tear a broken sob from as you fight against the urge to come on his cock again.

You kiss him desperately; nipping at his collar bones before pressing bruising kisses into his neck, mapping the broad expanses of his chest before coming to rest at the junction between his neck and the sharp line of his jaw.

Chest to chest, his heart thunders violently against yours and with every hungry kiss he seems to slip further into his primal trance. Another feral snarl rips through his chest as your lips connect in a kiss that tears the breath from you. It’s ceaseless, and leaves you senseless as he keeps fucking you at his brutal pace.

It’s all consuming and devouring as Cassian gives in to his basest desire, drawing his cock all the way out before driving back in with an animalistic force that has you coming undone with a gentle sob.

Cassian slumps against you so close you can feel his beating heart as he groans against you, kissing the skin of your neck before coming to your parted lips, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake, all while his hands map the contours of your body.

“That’s it, Cass,” you encourage him gently, pulling at the curls at the base of his neck as you feel him pulse inside of you as his hips begin to slow to a tortuous and teasing drag as he finds his release.

You feel the heavy tip of hip pulse violently in your cunt, the thick vein that runs along the underside of his marble length and the warm ropes of cum that coat your walls until you feel his release leaking out of you. It is depraved, the way your legs tighten against him, unwilling to let him go just yet.

His chest heaves, the rise and fall sporadic and wild as he breathlessly collapses against you, the weight of him a comforting crush as you chase the last waves of pleasure as your heart plateaus to a steady rhythm.

You look at him through thick lashes searching for any sign of regret but finding only a strange reverence and unspoken longing in his amber irises. It is a longing you have wanted to see in him for so long. And perhaps it has always been there, behind the darks of his eyes but now, in this light, they shine with it. It glints in his eyes with a knowing acknowledgement that it is keenly felt and received.

He’s dazed and still half-wild when he places another kiss on your lips. This time it is tender and loving. Not completely free of lust but there is something else there too. Something new and sacred and gentle.

His hair is damp and his skin glows golden in the dying light of the fire and the air is still thick with the smell of your union but you feel somehow lighter. Unburdened by the release of emotion you’ve both been holding for so long. You breathe deeply and your body relaxes into his once more.

Like you were made for him and him alone.

“You alright, princess?” he asks softly in a way that arches on anxious as his eyes meet yours in an unwavering stare.

“I’m just fine, Cassie.” You smile carefully, bringing a hand to rest on his cheek, rubbing tentative circles into the skin there.

“We’re going to be just fine.”

Cassian searches you for any sign of uncertainty all he finds in its place is love. A love that burns bright against the dark skies. A love that comforts him in the knowledge that his life is forever changed by what passed between them. A love that will warm him through the long nights.

The smile that blooms on his face is one full of ardour and child-like awe as he takes you in once again. Pressed so tight against him that he can feel the curve of your breast and the beating of your heart. Skin flush against him and flesh malleable in his deft grasp.

His eyes trail the line of your body, committing the curves and divots to memory as he recalls the sound of you coming undone around him again. In his memory it sounds like birdsong or some ancient song. Hypnotic and depraved.

He had dreamt of this so many times before and in the haze of dreaming you always felt so real. But having you here, in his arms feels like some cruel trick.

Like he’s just waiting for realization to set in. For you to recoil in unadulterated horror.

But you never do.

Instead, you take his face in your hands again and kiss him with a devotion that you reserve only for him before opening your mouth to whisper to him what he assumes are words of reverence and praise.

“I hope you know we’re going to do that again.” and your laugh sounds like birdsong in his ear.

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beardburnsupersoldiers · 8 days ago

Text

Intruder | Azriel x reader

Summary: As Y/N returns home from a long mission excited to reunite with Azriel, she is met with her own personal nightmare.

A/N: I just now wrote this in like an hour because it has been playing in my head all day, so please excuse any typos. It’s a bit ridiculous and it got a tiny bit longer than a drabble 👀

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: mild angst, a bit of hurt/comfort, mildly descriptive mentions of sex, language

Her favourite part about coming home after a long mission had always been the first few minutes after she stepped through the door of the rooms she shared with Azriel. She loved that he always waited up for her, and she loved the way he pulled her into his arms as she sank into the warm comfort of their bed. It was always the moment she felt like she’d finally returned home.

Today, Rhys had kept her in his office for almost two hours after her arrival—squeezing every last bit of intel out of her before he let her go. So it came that her steps were a little faster tonight, a little more desperate to return to the arms of her mate.

Her smile widened as she neared the familiar door at the end of the hallway, heart leaping with anticipation. She lifted a hand, the doorknob almost close enough to reach. But just as her fingers wrapped around the cool brass, a sound came from the other side of the door, and her heart stuttered in its rhythm.

A sinking feeling—dread settling heavy in the pit of her stomach, fingers tingling.

She held her breath as she listened, because surely, she’d misheard. Surely—but no …

There it was again. Soft moans crawled through the barely-there gap beneath the door—breathy mewls accompanied by throaty groans and a gentle but rhythmic knocking sound.

At once, she pulled back her hand as though the doorknob had burned her skin, unblinking eyes fixed on the door to her home.

The world seemed to tip to the side, knocked off its axis as Y/N stumbled to catch her weight by pressing her palm against the cool wall to her right. It felt like her insides were crawling, swelling with a burning sensation to make bile rise to her throat.

Images flickered through her mind—of Azriel with a faceless stranger. His bare skin touched by long, delicate fingers to run along the tattoos she so loved. Azriel buried between another’s thighs, hips rolling into hers to not only seek pleasure but to bring it too. Did he have his fingers twisted in her hair? His lips on her mouth? Was he whispering into her ear those very same words he’d spoken to her on so many occasions?

Another moan, male this time—desperate. Without meaning to, she pictured those hands dancing along the delicate membrane of his wings, and it drove a spike right through her guts.

The world was rushing past her, eyes focussed on everything and nothing as all became a blur of colours, and shapes, and sounds. Her ears were ringing, nausea now bubbling higher and higher, crawling its way up her throat.

She pictured the bed they shared, and somehow it seemed to her the cruellest detail of all. To take another in the bed where they’d shared … everything. It was where the bond had snapped for her all those years ago, where she’d accepted it too. He was fucking someone else in the very place they’d loved, adored, worshippedone another countless times. They’d spoken of having children there, they’d spoken of their past, of their future.

She felt her head shake, her throat tight enough to make it near impossible to draw a breath. She didn’t know why she continued listening, but the images in her mind would not slow down. They multiplied with every passing second—showing Azriel laughing with this stranger, offering the dazzling smile he solely reserved for her. He was kissing her as he rolled to his back with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, rumbling a groan deep in his chest as she rode him, biting his lips at the nails she dug into his chest.

Y/N didn’t know how long she’d been standing there already, fingers trembling as she once again reached for the doorknob—slow as though time itself was grieving with her, wanting to spare her what awaited behind the door, spare her the end of a love she’d thought greater than the Cauldron itself.

“Y/N?”

Her body gave a hard flinch at the voice coming from behind her, and she spun around fast enough to hear a distinct cracking sound in the back of her neck.

At once, it seemed her body deflated, hand coming up to search for stability with a palm pressed to the centre of a firm chest as she bent forward with her other hand pressing into her waist.

She felt a warm, secure hand on her elbow, another combing through her hair to brush the strands that fell into her face behind her ear.

“Oh Gods,” she panted, her chest shaking with quivering breaths, and her throat tight with tears of relief threatening to bubble to the surface.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she heard Azriel say, his soothing timbre vibrating beneath her palm.

“No, that’s—… give me a minute.” She shook her head, eyes closed as she took in a deep breath through her nose. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“My love, what’s wrong?” A note of concern now coloured Azriel’s tone, the hand on her elbow tightening its grip ever so slightly. “You look like Cassian when he first met Bryaxis.”

A laugh broke from her throat that sounded a little pathetic in her ears, but next thing she knew, she flung her arms around Azriel’s neck to bury her face against his skin. Squeezing her eyes closed, she inhaled his scent and willed her heart to slow to a regular pace.

Azriel’s arms tightened around her waist as though it was a reflex, and the pressure of his embrace calmed her at once.

Then, another soft moan crawled past the door.

She felt Azriel’s head lift from where he’d kept his cheek nestled to her hair, could feel his bewilderment on the other side of the bond.

“What the—”

“I thought it was you,” she whispered into him, her arms tightening a bit further around his neck, her lip wobbling despite her best efforts. She didn’t dare open her eyes.

Azriel stiffened in her arms, but after a long moment, his body softened, and he gently moved to loosen her hold on him. She let go reluctantly, but thankfully Azriel held her close, his palm coming up to cup her cheek as he kept one arm around her waist.

As she met his eyes, she wondered how she could have thought for one second that it had been him behind that door.

“Y/N,” he breathed with a quiet sense of devastation and a whole lot of love gleaming in the depth of his eyes. “I belong to you. Body and soul. I would never, I—”

“I know,” she interrupted quietly, lifting her own hand to cup the one he kept pressed to her cheek. “I know that, Az. It was just … when I heard that coming from our room …” Shaking her head to rid her mind of those images, she leaned her face deeper into his palm and closed her eyes. “I’ve never been that scared in my life.”

At her words, Azriel lifted his head, arching a single brow at the door behind her. “Why is that coming from our room?”

Turning to follow his gaze, Y/N could just spot a cloud of shadow crawling beneath the door, and not soon after, Azriel sighed next to her.

“We’re going to have to burn that mattress,” he muttered, and just as she opened her mouth to inquire who it was that had taken up camp inside their room, it seemed Azriel gave his shadows an order. It was only a second later that a familiar screech rang from behind the door.

A screech that sounded suspiciously like Cassian.

#azriel x reader #acotar

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beardburnsupersoldiers · 8 days ago

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How did it end...? Part Two

Cassian x Fem!Reader (I am open to writing more part twos with Eris, Lucien, Azriel, etc etc so just let me know!)

Part one // Masterlist

Your eyes flicker up to glance through the kitchen window, your heart swelling as you hear your daughter's delighted squeals of laughter. Cassian is chasing her across the yard, his wings tucked against his back as he ducks and weaves, trying to catch her. Your daughter darts and dodges with all the energy of a four-year-old, her giggles echoing through the air like music.

You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you as you watch Cassian scoop her up, lifting her high into the air as she shrieks with joy. It’s moments like these—moments of sheer happiness—that remind you just how far you’ve come.

Four years ago, your life had been shrouded in darkness. Pregnant, abandoned by your mate, struggling with the crushing weight of postpartum depression and the raw agony of being left alone, you never thought you’d see a day like this. You never thought there would be laughter in your home again, not after Azriel had left you. But then Cassian came into your life. It started as a quiet, steady presence. The Illyrian warrior who showed up with hot meals when you could barely get out of bed, who brought you tonics and whispered comforting words when your heart felt like it was breaking.

Cassian was there in every way Azriel never was. And over time, you let him in. At first, it was just friendship—mutual understanding. Nesta had left to train other females in camps, eventually leading to a split between the two of them. Deciding they were better off as friends.

As the months turned into years, that bond deepened. It was two years after Cassian and Nesta had broken up that he asked you to dinner. It wasn’t until the fifth date Cassian kissed you for the first time, it was as if the world tilted on its axis. It was the kiss you didn’t expect, but the one you needed.

You glance down at the ring on your finger, the sunlight catching it with a gleam. Some might call it quick—only a year of dating before Cassian proposed. But for you, it felt right. The cauldron had given you a mate in Azriel, but the love you shared with Cassian was forged not by fate, but by choice. And that made all the difference.

You look back out the window, where Cassian is teaching your daughter to wield a wooden sword, her small body mimicking his moves with determination. She lunges and lands a hit on the makeshift dummy, and her laughter fills the air once more. You can feel the soft pull in your chest, the peaceful certainty that your life is finally, truly yours.

The knock on the front door slices through the moment, and your heart stutters, the familiar pull in your chest making your stomach tighten. You glance toward the door, your breath catching in your throat. You hadn’t been expecting anyone—maybe Feyre dropping off Nyx—but the sensation that grips you is unmistakable. It's him.

“Come in!” you call out, but your voice feels hollow, as if something inside you already knows who’s standing there. You turn, drying your hands on a dishrag with a calmness you don’t feel.

When you see him, your breath catches.

Azriel.

He fills the doorway, his towering frame casting a long shadow across your kitchen, his wings dark and massive behind him. For a heartbeat, you almost believe it’s a dream. The man who was once your mate, the man who tore your world apart, stands in your home again, his presence suffocating the space you’ve carefully built in his absence.

"Azriel," you say, your voice an unsteady mix of surprise and anger, and you quickly cross your arms over your chest, defensive, protective. He doesn’t belong here anymore.

He takes a hesitant step forward, his gaze flicking down to your hand, and his eyes darken as they land on the ring. The bond flares between you, raw and aching, like a rope that’s been pulled taut, and the tug in your chest is almost painful.

“Feyre mentioned you were seeing someone,” Azriel says, his voice strained. His gaze drops to your ring again, the words heavy with something that sounds like disbelief. “She didn’t tell me it was this serious.”

The bitterness in your chest rises like bile. You scoff, dropping the dish rag on the counter and letting your arms fall to your sides. “So you came all this way to check if I’m really with someone else? What right do you have, Azriel?” Your words are sharp, cutting through the air with a coldness you hadn’t intended but can’t stop. You watch as his eyes flick back to yours, still haunted by that bond you never wanted, never asked for.

“No,” Azriel’s voice falters, and for the first time since you’ve known him, you see the cracks in his usual confidence. He takes a step forward, and you take an instinctive step back, your back meeting the edge of the sink. He pauses, then shifts his weight, clearly unsure of what to do with the distance between you.

“I came here to see you,” he says, almost painfully, as if the words are hard to force out of his throat.

You narrow your eyes, feeling a storm build inside you, the tension in your chest thickening with each passing second. "Aren’t you supposed to be in Dawn Court with Elain?" The words slip out, too quick, too sharp.

“Day,” he says.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Excuse me?” you ask.

He swallows, “We were- uh, I was in Day Court with Elain. I am not anymore,” he stutters out in response.

You turn to him fully now, your fists clenching at your sides. "What do you mean? Not anymore?" The words come out louder than you intend, but you can’t hold them back. Your pulse is racing as you try to understand, as you piece together the puzzle of his return.

Azriel shifts his weight between his feet, then steps toward you, reaching a hand out. You step back again, your heart pounding, the space between you growing. The bond tugs harder, pulling at the remnants of something you buried long ago.

“I made a mistake,” he admits, his voice almost raw, like he's forcing the words out through a broken throat.

Your chest tightens painfully, and all you can feel is the weight of years of silence, of abandonment. Your mind races with everything you wanted to say to him—the things you wanted him to hear, to feel. “It took you four years to realize that? After everything, you come to me now?” you snap, the words bitter on your tongue.

Azriel flinches at the accusation, his gaze dropping for a moment, as if the sting of your words cuts deeper than any blade could. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"I knew the moment I stepped into Day Court with Elain," he says, his voice softer now, full of regret. "I wasn’t clear-headed when I was here. But once I left... once I saw everything from a distance, it all became clear. I want to come back."

You laugh—a bitter, harsh sound that escapes before you can stop it. “And you think you can just walk back into my life after all this time?” Your voice rises, your anger now a storm you can’t contain. “You think you can come in here and take what you left behind like it’s nothing?”

“I made a promise to her,” he says quietly, stepping closer again, but you raise a hand, halting him.

“You made a promise to me first,” you bite out, your words sharp, cutting. “But you didn’t seem to have any trouble breaking that, did you?”

The shadows around Azriel flicker and retreat, as if they don’t even want to be involved in this conversation. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat.

“Leave.” You say it low, but it rings with finality. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you here.”

Azriel stays rooted to the spot, his eyes searching yours for something you’re no longer willing to give. "We built this house together," he says, his voice tight with emotion. "It’s as much mine as it is yours."

The rage that builds inside you is immediate, overwhelming. "You left me in this house, Azriel. Alone. Do you hear me?" you hiss. “And you think you have any claim here? I’m sure Rhysand would agree with me.”

Azriel's eyes flash with something close to guilt, but before he can respond, the back door bursts open. Cassian strides in, his eyes locking onto Azriel the moment he senses him. The warmth in his expression fades in an instant.

“Azriel.”

Azriel’s eyes flick to Cassian, his face twisting in a sneer. “Cassian? Really?” he spits, voice dripping with disdain. “So this is what you’ve been doing while I’ve been gone? Latching onto my brother?”

You step forward, all the rage in your chest boiling over. "You abandoned me. You left us-me. And now you think you have any right to—"

Cassian steps in before you can finish, his voice cutting through your words like a knife. “Am I mistaken, or were you the one who left your mate for another woman, and then followed her to a new court?”

Azriel’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing as he glares at Cassian. “Don’t you have a mate?”

Cassian’s wings flare behind him, the room crackling with tension. “Didn’t you?” he snaps, his tone like ice. He steps in between the two of you, protective and unwavering.

But Azriel doesn’t back down. His eyes flicker toward the back door, and before anyone can stop

You share a glance with Cassian, a silent understanding passing between you. You had spoken about what would happen if Azriel came back but the conversation never went far, neither of your expected him to return. To leave Elain.

It had been years since you even considered this moment. You never thought he'd come back—not after everything. But here he is.

You take a slow, measured breath, bracing yourself for what’s to come. You step outside, following Azriel, each step feeling like you’re walking into a storm.

The air is thick with tension, and as you emerge into the open, your daughter continues to practice with her wooden sword, her small body moving with clumsy determination. She’s completely oblivious to the storm that’s brewing just a few feet away from her.

Azriel’s eyes, dark and unreadable, follow her movements. He watches with a strange intensity, the gaze of someone who has been robbed of so much. He watches her with that look—the same way he used to look at you when you were still his.

“She’s mine,” Azriel’s voice is low, rough with an emotion you can't quite place, but it’s a truth, a quiet claim he’s making, the weight of it pressing down on you. “I have a daughter.”

You swallow hard, the words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. You feel a pang of guilt, of something deeper you can’t quite untangle. His words hit harder than you expected—he has a daughter, but he hasn’t been here. He hasn’t earned the right to claim her. The bond between you is still there, still tethered in a way you didn’t ask for, and it pulses with a harsh, bitter ache.

“Yes,” you say, and the word tastes like ash. It’s the only truth you can offer, the only thing you owe him.

Azriel’s gaze doesn’t leave her as he asks, his voice thick with something that cuts deep. “Does she know about me?”

It’s a question that stabs through the fragile walls you’ve built around your heart. You feel his pain through the bond—raw and jagged—and for a moment, you’re consumed by the intensity of it. Regret. Longing. Despair. It’s a weight you never expected to bear for him, but it’s there, wrapped up in the fibers of your soul.

Cassian gives your hand a gentle squeeze before stepping forward, his movements effortless as he walks toward your daughter. “Cassie!” she squeals in delight, charging at him with the sword. Cassian sidesteps her with ease and lifts her into the air, twirling her around as she bursts into laughter.

Azriel doesn’t seem to notice the joy, his eyes still fixed on her, but it’s clear he’s struggling to reconcile the picture in front of him with the one he’s missed.

You turn to face him, “Yes,” you answer, keeping your voice steady. “She knows her dad is an Illyrian who was away in another court for business. I never spoke poorly of you, but…” Your voice falters, but you force it to steady. “She stopped asking about you a while ago. She stopped asking if you were coming to her birthday. She stopped wondering when you’d visit.”

Azriel’s eyes snap to you, the hurt written clearly across his face. “I should be the one teaching her to fight,” he says, his voice tightening, like the admission is a knife. “I should have been there when she took her first step. When she said her first word. I should have been there for everything.”

You feel your chest tighten. The words settle over you like ice. The silence between you stretches, thick and uncomfortable. He’s right—he should have been here. And that truth is a wound you’re not ready to reopen, not for him. You wouldn’t take responsibility for his wrongs.

Your gaze flickers to Cassian, still with your daughter, correcting her stance, guiding her hand as she tries to raise her sword high. She listens intently, her little face determined. And there’s a part of you that can't let go of the hurt. The part of you that remembers the emptiness you felt when Azriel was gone, when he didn’t fight for you, when he chose Elain over your family.

Azriel’s voice is quieter now, regret heavy in his tone as he turns his gaze back to you. “Did you know? Before I left... did you know you were pregnant?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t expected it, and for a moment, you freeze, as though the words might choke you. Did you know? He’s asking as though he hasn’t spent the last four years somewhere else—as though you didn’t have to carry that burden alone.

“No,” you say firmly, your voice breaking the silence. “I had symptoms. Mood swings, sickness, no appetite... But honestly, I thought it was just the stress from what was happening between us. How the bond was crumbling. How we were crumbling.”

There’s a long, stretched silence. The weight of the years between you presses down on both of you, the distance too great to bridge in a moment. Finally, Azriel speaks, and his words are so full of pain that they almost break you. “I am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I missed the life we planned together. I should have been there.”

His shoulders sag under the weight of his words, as if they’re the only thing holding him upright. The regret that pours from him is so deep, so raw, that for a fleeting moment, you almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay steady, forcing yourself not to collapse under the intensity of it all.

“I’m not,” you say quietly, your words laced with the truth that burns in your chest. “I’m not sorry, Azriel. I can’t be. He’s been really good with her. He’s been really good to me, even when we were just friends. He showed up for me. For us.”

Azriel’s face hardens at the words, the sting of your admission reaching his eyes. But he nods, his jaw tight as he swallows the emotion. “Good,” he chokes out. “I’m glad you two have each other. I really am.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, the words too hard to speak. You want to tell him that he doesn’t deserve her. That he didn’t earn the right to be her father. But instead, you take another breath, calm and steady.

“I won’t keep her from you,” you say, your voice firm. “You can come visit. You can get to know her. You can tell her who you are. But she’s smarter than you think. She understands more than you’ll ever realize for a four-year-old. You might have a lot of groveling to do.”

Azriel’s face twitches, the corners of his lips almost curling into something that could be a smile. “She’ll be worth it,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as he walks down the path toward her.

You watch as Cassian kneels beside your daughter, his large hand resting gently on her shoulder. Azriel crouches in front of her, his posture tentative, as though unsure how to bridge the gap that has been formed.

For a long moment, they stand there, the two men who should have been father figures to your daughter, one of them returning, the other ever-present. Your heart twists in your chest as you watch Azriel’s first steps toward her, knowing that this moment, this reunion, will be so much more complicated than either of them can imagine.

Cassian strides toward you, his steps measured, the weight of the moment pressing heavily between you. When he reaches your side, he looks out over the meadow where Azriel is now kneeling, speaking softly to your daughter. But it’s clear that his mind isn’t on Azriel. He looks at you, the question he’s been holding back now escaping in a quiet murmur.

“Do you think he’s serious?”

You don’t immediately respond, your gaze lingering on Azriel’s interaction with your daughter—so careful, so tentative. You glance towards the steady, unwavering presence beside you, the one who’s never gone anywhere.

You half shrug, the uncertainty lingering. “I think if it was just about me, about trying to win me back, no... But for her...” Your words trail off, and the quiet hangs in the air between you. You know Azriel. You know how deeply he feels the weight of the things he’s missed. How he grew up. He would want to show up for her.

Cassian shifts next to you, the tension in his shoulders settling just a fraction as he processes everything. But when he speaks again, his voice is quiet, thoughtful, a little too careful. “I would understand,” he says, his eyes flickering briefly to the ring on your finger, and then back to you, gauging, waiting for your response.

You raise an eyebrow, surprise flashing across your face. You turn to face him fully, taking in his expression, trying to decipher what’s going on in that mind of his. “Understand wanting to know your kid?” you ask, your voice half teasing but with an edge of confusion.

But Cassian shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible, and his gaze drops to the ring on your finger once more. This time, it lingers longer, like he’s trying to see through the physical symbol to the emotions swirling beneath. When he looks back up at you, his eyes are full of something—vulnerability, maybe even a little fear.

“If you wanted to give him another chance,” he says, his voice barely a whisper now. “He is your mate, after all... and I’m just—”

“Cassian.”

You stop him in his tracks, your voice firm but soft, a quiet command. He goes still, his eyes locking with yours, waiting for the words you’re about to say. You reach forward then, your hand finding his, your fingers closing around his with a quiet but resolute grip.

“I love you,” you say, and the words feel like they’re meant to echo through time, a promise that has been forged in every moment you’ve shared. “You would have to pry this ring off my finger,” you continue, your voice unwavering. “I am not giving you up for anyone.”

Cassian’s breath catches, his jaw tightening as you see the weight of your words sink in. But you don’t let go. You can’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

“I didn’t need the Cauldron to choose you for me,” you continue, your eyes never leaving his. “I’ve chosen you. Over and over. Every damn day. I’ll choose you every time.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and warm, like a blanket that shields both of you from the storm swirling outside. You can see the conflict in his eyes—the loyalty, the deep affection for you, the fear of losing you, of not being enough. But you’ve never wavered. Not for him. Not for you.

Slowly, Cassian exhales, the tension in his shoulders softening just a fraction. A flicker of something raw and open crosses his face—gratitude, relief, maybe even a bit of awe. His thumb brushes gently over the back of your hand, a silent promise that he’s not going anywhere, that he understands what you’re saying.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion. “I don’t want anyone else.”

You smile, a soft, genuine thing that doesn’t need words to explain. The bond between you both hums with that quiet understanding, stronger than anything the Cauldron could have ever crafted.

You glance back towards Azriel and your daughter, your stomach tightens again. You’ve watched your daughter grow without Azriel, and it’s strange, even painful, to think that the man she will now come to know as her father had abandoned both of you. But the truth is, she had never needed him. She had needed you—and Cassian. He’d been there for every first: every word, every step, every giggle.

"I love you,” you say as you turn to Cassian.

He looks over in surprise. “Not that I don’t love to hear you say it, but is there a reason you’re saying it?” he asks almost teasingly.

You take a slow, steady breath, your eyes lingering on Cassian’s as you struggle to put your emotions into words. The weight of the past few minutes, the presence of Azriel, the unfamiliar tension in the air—it all rushes over you in a surge, but you know this moment is important. For you. For him. For the both of you.

“It’s just—” you swallow, forcing the words past the lump in your throat, “—everything feels so... fragile right now. I don’t know what Azriel expects, or how all of this is going to go, but I need you to know that I love you and that I love our little life together.”

Cassian’s teasing smile fades into something softer, something that reflects the sincerity in your voice. He steps closer, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there with the gentleness you’ve grown so accustomed to. “I know,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I know, sweetheart. I love you too, never doubt that for a second.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. “I don’t know how to do this,” you confess, your throat tight. “How to share her with him. I don’t know how to let her go a little, how to let him be a part of her life again after all this time.”

“You don’t have to figure it out all at once,” Cassian reassures, “It’ll take time. He’ll have to prove himself. And you don’t have to rush any of it, love. Take it at your own pace.”

“I don’t want it to ruin the family we’ve built together,” you say, and it’s the truth.

Cassian nods, understanding in every line of his face. “We’ve built something good, haven’t we?” he asks, his voice full of warmth and a touch of awe.

“We have,” you reply with a soft smile. “A life I never thought I’d have. A family I never thought I’d have.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing the space between you, his warmth seeping into you like a promise. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither is she.”

You take a steadying breath, letting the peace of his words wash over you. “Thank you,” you whisper, the words heavy with everything you want to say but can’t quite find the courage for. He doesn’t need to hear it all; he knows. He always knows.

Cassian smiles, a smile that’s all tenderness and affection. “You don’t need to thank me for that,” he says softly. “Just keep choosing me. Keep choosing us.”

Tagged: @12344321heyyy, @cleverzonkwombatsludge, @saltedcoffeescotch, @tele86, @arcanefeelingz, @scatteredstardustt, @melmo567, @lilah-asteria, @myromanempiree, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @favsrachz, @cumuluscranium, @kaitttttttt, @moosemahboi, @evergreenlark, @tenshis-cake, @crazylokonugget, @sunnyspycat, @rcarbo1, @uusipavalniemi, @circe143, @problemfinder, @hargrover

#cassian x reader

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beardburnsupersoldiers · 9 days ago

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my piece for @azrielappreciationweek day 7 💙

#gwynriel

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beardburnsupersoldiers · 9 days ago

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Gotta love those mischievous twins! 🥵🥰

P A R A D I S E // P O T I O N S!

PAIRING: Bill Weasley & You WARNINGS: smut!! so much smut!!, oral (giving, receiving), piv, sex pollen trope, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampies, all the makings of a bad porn plot **MINORS DNI** SUMMARY: As per Percy’s recommendation to his mother, you’re tasked to house-sit the Burrow while the family is away for the Quidditch World Cup. You’re Percy's closest friend and much like him, you are more than wary of his mischievous twin brothers, Fred and George. But what if their machinations lead you to something you’ve always dreamt of coming true? (8.0k words)

A/N: Been going through a bit of writer’s block recently, so hopefully a load of debauchery (as big as Bill's) breaks down that wall. I’ve been mad at how my sentences are coming out—they sound so redundant and boring. Also, I’m not great at editing my smut scenes because I get embarrassed reading them, so enjoy at your own risk. ;)

PARADISE POTIONS!

There was an undeniable feeling of late summer that nestled in the morning air, a pleasant marriage of warmth and wind. As you trekked up a tall, grassy hill, you breathed it all in. You were in disbelief that August had snuck up on you so suddenly. That meant only two weeks left of freedom before you were confined to a cubicle in the Ministry of Magic, wasting your life away.

‘It won’t be so bad’, you reminded yourself. After all, Percy Weasley would be there alongside you in the same department. He was your most supportive and reliable friend, contrary to popular opinion. And it’d been him that pitched the idea that you house sit the Burrow while he and his family were away at the Quidditch World Cup. Apparently, he’d told Molly that you were mature, responsible, and ‘very much like him.’ You had to tease him about the compliment he threw in about himself.

Molly would provide you room and board for the next week. Your tasks mainly included upkeep of the garden, feeding the animals, and ensuring the home didn’t seem completely empty as the whole family vacationed. Molly simply hated to keep an empty house.

“Good morning, Perce!” you greeted with a wave when you reached the tip of the hill.

He waved back from the main entrance. Then, he motioned for your luggage.

“How was your journey?”

“Uneventful,” you affirmed. “Though the walk up was great exercise. I feel very much awake now.”

“It’s quite the trek,” he agreed.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the orientation at the Ministry we had last week,” you gushed. “I’m so excited to start work.”

“Me too,” Percy agreed with a nod.

“Mum would like to have you in for a spot of breakfast,” Percy said.

“I’d be delighted.” You heard excellent things about Molly Weasley’s breakfasts.

Percy held the door open for you. The windchimes sounded from above you, signaling your entrance. You brushed past a fluttery overhead curtain. When the material unveiled itself, you came face to face with a long dining table. There were only six occupants: Ginny, Ron, the infamous Harry Potter, Hermione, Charlie, and Bill. You gave a small wave to the younger kids. They nodded wordlessly. You reckoned that in their eyes, any friend of Percy’s must be some masochist deviant.

To the side, Arthur was chatting with who you supposed was Amos Diggory, combing through their plans.

“Good morning, (Y/N) dear,” Molly greeted. You were glad she thought of you just as prim and proper and organized as her third-eldest son.

You took a seat with Percy. He sat where his newspaper and coffee mug laid, right in front of Charlie. With a nervous smile, you sat to his right and…

Your eyes immediately landed on Bill. He was Percy’s eldest brother, and by far the most handsome. You were embarrassed to admit that you’d always fancied him. Not in the soul-crushing-adult-love kind of way, but in a silly schoolgirl way. He was so tall, so subtly muscly from sports. And he was a little more fun than Percy, though you’d never tell him that.

But given that you were so young, there was no viable chance of anything happening. So, you chose to admire him from afar in the two years you overlapped schooling. You were now eighteen like Percy, but you maintained the fact Bill still saw you as a child, nothing else. It was an infatuation that would hurt no one, so you just let it be.

“Good morning, (Y/N).”

You suppressed a smile as he acknowledged you.

“Good morning, Bill.”

“Good morning, (Y/N),” sang Charlie.

You smiled. “Hi, Charlie.” Charlie was quite the handful. You preferred Bill’s calmness than Charlie’s calamity.

“I see it’s you who was tasked with watching our house,” Bill said. “I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”

“Thank you, Bill.” That compliment was going into your pocket for a rainy day.

Bill was still ever so handsome, appearances aging like fine wine, with his soft ginger locks that framed his sharp cheekbones. His blue eyes glinted in the morning sun. You peeked at his chiselled jaw and his—dare you say—kissable lips. His t-shirt barely hid the muscles in his arms. He might’ve been tall and predisposed to being lankier compared to Charlie, but you knew he had his own ways to keep fit.

You were so busy being entranced by Bill that you’d lost track of time and space. All you knew was that it was the best morning ever, sitting in front of him, surrounded by faint windchimes and the chirping birds outside to the window. Breakfast hadn’t even been served and you were already salivating thinking about Bill doing push-ups under the hot Egyptian sun, and that wasn’t even that deep in the gutter where most of your thoughts laid, in fact—

Suddenly, a large explosion reverberated through the house and shook the table. It jolted you and Percy. You yelped and ducked. When you regained your sense of place, you looked up. No one else besides you and Percy were fazed.

“What was that?” you asked Percy, trying to settle your heart.

“Fred! George!” Molly cried, walking over to the stairs with her spatula still in hand. “What have I told you about your experiments?”

“Sorry, mum,” George said, running down the stairs, a smidge of ash on his face. “That’s it for today, I promise.”

“I don’t want to hear this again, ever!” Molly shrieked. Then, she calmed down when she realised she was in front of guests. “Well, if that’s it, then help out a little bit, won’t you? We have to get going in less than an hour.”

“Sure thing,” George said with a smile. He ran over to the table and to the coffee pot. He gave it a jiggle, letting the remaining liquid slosh around. “Anyone need a top up of their coffee?”

“Mum made that pot, you can trust it,” Percy advised.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, and then looked up at George, “I wouldn’t mind a cup.”

George sauntered over and poured you a cup. “Coffee, Bill?” he asked.

“That sounds good,” Bill responded.

“You’ll have to wait another ten minutes then,” George said with a frown. He tapped the empty glass container. “I’ve just run out. If only (Y/N) didn’t drink for two.”

“Quit it,” Percy warned his brother with a low tone.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You were about to offer Bill your cup when Percy held out a hand to stop you.

“Keep it,” Percy countered as she shoved the white mug back to your side. “I wouldn’t trust anything they put out. I’m glad it’s you that took the last of what mum made.”

You kept your voice quiet and giggled. “I hope Bill has an iron stomach, then.”

Percy nodded.

While Percy could be harsh on his siblings, you were grateful for his looking out for you. To be fair, you were also skittish around Fred and George. They weren’t as easy to read as other people. A friendly smile often meant something sinister.

“Would anyone like some liqueur in your morning beverage?” Fred asked, skipping three steps as he ran down the stairs. He reached underneath his coat as if selling contraband. “I have whatever tickles your fancy. In fact, Georgie and I have been working on something we reckon will be extremely profitable.”

Molly shot him a glare. You shook your head politely.

“Don’t feel like you have to respond to his foolishness,” advised Percy. “He doesn’t deserve your time of day.”

“Loosen up, (Y/N),” Fred commanded. “If you hang around Percy all day and refuse any fun, you’ll both die virgins.”

You went beet red immediately. It was a shade that rivalled Percy’s in speed and depth. You prayed that Bill wasn’t paying attention to you.

“That is ENOUGH!” bellowed Molly who whipped around so quickly that she nearly decapitated George with her wooden spoon. She’d reached her boiling point. “I won’t have you ruining our morning with your distasteful conversations, especially with all our guests presents.” She charged over to Fred and handed him a stack of plates. “Go on, make yourself useful and set the table.”

“(Y/N), darling,” Molly said, her sudden change in tone a little frightening. “I’ve cleared out Bill’s old room for you. Since he’s heading back to Egypt right after the World Cup, he’ll share Charlie’s room for the time for the last night. There are fresh sheets and towels and a change of clothes if you need. You are welcome to use the bath right next to the room.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Fred’s comment about your virginity went through one of Molly’s ears and out the other. Thank Merlin.

“Coffee’s ready, dear brother,” George sang. “How do you take it?”

“Just black,” Bill responded. “Thank you, George.”

You peered at Bill through a sip of coffee. Your heart fluttered again. Summers were really the best. It was the only chance to see him again for a flicker of time, an hour or two, before he travelled halfway across the world again. In this case, in a week. As the meal went on, you stared at him so intently during breakfast that your fork speared your cheek instead of your mouth multiple times.

When breakfast concluded, you assured Molly that you’d take care of the dishes and ushered her to the door.

“I hope you have a nice time,” you said to Ron and his friends. He mumbled a thanks. You smiled at him, happy that you were making some progress with Percy’s younger brother. Your peace was ruined by Fred and George murmuring amongst themselves excitedly. You hoped it was about the World Cup and nothing else.

Arthur was doing a routine headcount when he asked: “Where’s Bill?”

“He said he had some emergency work to finish up for the bank,” Charlie said. “Keep the portkey open for him for another hour, and he’ll be sure to make it by then.”

“If you need anything,” Percy said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You know where to find me.”

You nodded.

After the Weasleys left, you locked the door and headed back into the house. Knowing Bill was upstairs working, you got to tidying the kitchen in the quietest manner you could. You hoped the running water and the occasional clinking of dishes wasn’t bothering him. It would be really embarrassing if he came down to complain about the noise.

After the kitchen was cleaned, you went outside to trim the shrubs, water the plants, and feed the cows. You forced yourself not to peek at the front door to see if Bill had left. He probably had, and it hurt a bit that he’d gone without saying goodbye.

The temperature had risen dramatically since you arrived in the morning, and by the time you were done, you were a sweaty mess. Bill had likely gone which meant you’d have the house to yourself. You caved into the idea of a long bath to wipe the mud and grime off your body. You dashed up to the main washroom Molly offered you and began running the water.

When you were finished with your bath, you wrapped a clean towel around you and proceeded to your room. Maybe you could do some reading and take a nap before deciding on dinner, Your chest tingled when you realised it was Bill’s old room—how lucky were you? The first thing you noticed when you entered was that Bill’s room was clean and sparse. Molly had left a window cracked open to allow for a gentle breeze, and placed your clothes on the bed. You took a couple steps forward and let your towel drop on the floor to reach for your tank top when suddenly…

Your hand met a tuft of hair. Hair that was attached to a pale, sweaty head.

You screamed as you tumbled back, your bare bum hitting the wooden floor. Oh, where the heck was your wand when you needed it? You grabbed a pair of slippers in self-defence.

“Who’s there?” you said in the bravest voice you could muster. “You need to get out of here, now!”

The thing in the bed just groaned weakly. You saw a pale, shaking arm stick out of the covers. Whatever it was, it was at least human, hopefully.

Your hand grappled the top of the desk for your wand. Once you found it, you rose cautiously from the floor with the intent to peel away the covers. You’d dealt with Boggarts; you’d seen your worst nightmares in person. You treaded cautiously because the creature could rise at any moment. But it didn’t, forcing you to get closer.

Your heart almost stopped when your hands grasped the hem of the covers. Your life flashed before your eyes. You needed to survive. You needed to live to work with Percy at the Ministry come September. You needed to live for your family. You needed to live for the off chance Bill Weasley shared the same feelings as you—oh, you were about to die, what was the point of thinking about Bill?

With your wand in an offensive position, you ripped the sheets off.

But there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

What?

It took you a few seconds to process it, but this… thing wasn’t a creature at all. In fact, it was Bill Weasley. Well, an apparition of him of sorts. He looked extremely pale and sickly, his skin the shade of paper. His ginger hair stuck to his face, his sweat binding it like it was wet glue. There was an intense warmth radiating from his skin, and his body jostled slightly as the cold air hit him.

“Bill? You called out in complete disbelief. “Are—are you okay?”

He groaned in response. Slowly, he turned his head towards you. He looked even worse up close, or as worse as Bill Weasley could possibly look. His eyebrows were intensely furrowed, his breathing laboured, and he could barely open those pretty eyes of his—oh, not this again! Bill looked to be on death’s bed and all you were thinking about was how handsome he was.

“I don’t know what happened,” Bill breathed out. His voice was a mere rasp. “I was feeling fine this morning. I can hardly get up now. And I can’t talk,” he coughed as if to prove a point, “above a whisper.”

“Are you running a fever?” you inquired, concern thick in your voice.

“No, I don’t think—,” Bill mustered the strength to open his eyes. He looked startled. “(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Where…”

You looked at Bill intently.

“Where are your clothes?”

“Huh?”

You looked down. Your mouth went slack. You were barer than the day you were born.

“Shit!” you exclaimed. “I’m sorry, don’t look, don’t look, sorry, sorry!” So caught up in the heat of things, you’d haphazardly abandoned your towel in exchange for your life. You scampered back to retrieve it and tied it back on yourself. When you looked up, Bill was, fortunately, turned away, and only a sliver of his naked back was visible to you.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you asked in a state of panic. ‘Besides giving you a show?’ On the inside, you had to laugh at the thought of a striptease benefiting Bill’s health.

Bill was looking worse for wear with every passing second, and you were just prancing around without clothes. “Your mother keeps potions in the cabinet, doesn’t she? I’ll go find an antipyretic--”

Bill swiped at his forehead with his palm. “I don’t think it’s a fever, well, to the best of my knowledge.”

“Then perhaps some water?” you offered. “Or some soup?”

“(Y/N),” Bill called. Your name rolled off like velvet from his lips. “Come here, please.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart was beating erratically and whether it was out of fear or anticipation, you didn’t know. Still, you complied and began walking over. The floor felt like pricks underneath your feet.

“Could you please take these sheets off?” Bill asked. “I might try to cool down.”

You nodded. “S-sure.” You pinched the hem of the bedsheet with your forefinger and thumb and carefully stripped the sheet off. Every second that passed unveiled a new, delicious sight: Bill’s toned chest, the crevice between his chest and abdominal muscles, the veins running down his forearms, and the shapely twin creases that led straight down to his briefs. A chill of disappointment ran through your body when you realised he was still clothed.

‘Stay focussed’, you pleaded with yourself. You were here to help Bill, not to take advantage of him.

“Is that better?” you asked Bill, but your eyes weren’t on his face. They were instead fixated on the centre of his body and namely, the very present bulge at the apex of his black briefs. His manhood had tented so viciously that it stretched the black fabric until it was translucent. Was that a spot of pink flesh or were you just seeing things? You gulped and tried to reign in your imagination.

Bill breathed out as the cool air kissed his skin. “Marginally.”

“I can bring the fan inside the room,” you suggested so quickly you almost toppled off the bed.

“Wait.” Bill’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could get anywhere. Your skin scorched. “Can you help me with one more thing?”

You were about to explode. “Sure, Bill.”

“Could you help me remove my briefs too?”

Your jaw had, at this point, permanently detached from your face. “What?”

“Just one last thing and my temperature should regulate itself.”

Was stripping really a remedy to Bill’s ailment? Shaking your head, you decided to help him in any way possible before running back to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face to ascertain that you weren’t dreaming. This definitely had to be a dream. Today probably hadn’t even started yet. Any minute now, your alarm would ring and you would wake up so disappointed.

“Alright.”

Slowly, you hooked your fingers underneath the elastic waistband of Bill’s briefs. His blue eyes fluttered close and his face twisted in relief. You suppressed a groan at the sight of Bill like this, pleasured by your every touch.

You’d never admit that Fred was right in his observation this morning, but it was true that you’d never seen a… penis in the flesh. But there was no turning away now as your hands worked to expose every inch of pink flesh hiding underneath Bill’s undergarments. It was deliciously lewd, the way his long cock sprang out from the confines of his boxers and nearly slapping you in the face. A tad closer, and the appendage would’ve swiped your cheek. Just inches in front you pulsed a swelling, oozing pink tip that was connected to a thick shaft that only seemed to grow slightly in girth as you stripped him.

You had nothing but anatomical pictures and the circumference of your wrist to compare him to, but even you knew he was bigger than average. Bill had, truly, the prettiest cock to ever exist. Pale, smooth, pink, but an angrier shade coloured the head. He was thick, but even thicker near the base. Veins painted his manhood like art. You almost had to wonder how he’d feel inside you, splitting your virgin pussy open. It would kill you.

Holy shit. You had to stop thinking, because you were getting yourself wet.

Bill raised his hips up to help you bring the last bit of his briefs down from underneath him. Your hand grazed the back of his thigh. The unintended action elicited a not-so-subtle moan from Bill.

“I’m sorry, I—,” Bill said, pushing himself up on the bed. His neck was flushed crimson and his breathing heavy. You had plummeted into the ocean with the saltwater flooding your ears; you could barely hear. You gulped as a bead of wetness suddenly spurted out of the tip of his cock and threatened to run down the length of it. “I reckon I was cursed or hexed by someone,” he surmised. “It’s not like me to require such things of you, or anyone for that matter.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. Your hand was turning white with the deathgrip on your towel. “But Bill, did that… help?”

The smartest thing to do was to remove yourself from this conversation and call for help, but you kept pressing the topic. You planted your palms on the mattress and looked on in awe. Bill was well-endowed beyond your wildest dreams. You couldn’t stop admiring him.

Forgetting he was naked, Bill sat up. His cock curled closer to his navel as a result. “What?”

You ripped your eyes away from the bead of precum that’d captivated your attention. “When we touched. It seemed to bring some colour to your face.”

“Come to think of it, I reckon it did, yeah,” Bill responded. He furrowed his brows, his words dying on his lips. There was only one direction this conversation was going to go and you had steered it off the overpass and down the cliff.

You spoke up first. “Have you tried touching…”

“Myself?” Bill finished with a chuckle.

You blushed. “Yes, well,” you countered. “It’s not entirely unreasonable, and—”

“I have.”

You tilted your head. “And?”

Bill attempted to lift his hands, but they gravitated down to the bed. “Well, I’ve… tried,” he admitted sheepishly, “but it’s made it worse.” He chuckled and shook his head at the state he was in. “And now I can’t even manage to move my arm.”

“Oh.” You frowned. “But when I touched you, you felt better?”

Bill blew out some air which tickled the wet hair on his forehead. He gestured to his raging erection. “Can you… would you mind? You’re right, it might help.”

Would you mind?

Of course you wouldn’t.

“I’ve never, erm,” you countered. A blaze of heat rushed to your cheeks. You didn’t want to admit to Bill that Fred was right when he clocked you as a virgin, though it didn’t take a deep understanding of your person to come to that conclusion. You and Percy both looked down on dalliances as prefects back in school, even busting students in the act and sending them to be reprimanded. You reckoned Bill was going to find it uncool but it was better to be truthful. “I’ve never done this with anyone.”

He chuckled. “I figured.”

You wanted to shrivel up and die.

“But it’s absolutely fine,” Bill correctly quickly, knowing he’d offended you slightly. “You don’t need to have done it to know how to do it. I’ll guide you.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He did his best to motion to the base of him with his hands. “Grip me firmly down here.”

You obliged, holding him at the base with your right hand as you clutched your towel in the other. For an usually flaccid body part, Bill was very, very hard and warm. All the blood in his body was concentrated into one area, so it made sense. You were grateful when your thumb still managed to touch the tips of your fingers because, well, he was quite big and you weren’t confident he was going to fit in your hand.

“Move up and down,” Bill instructed in between heavy pants. You nodded. When you started shifting your hand from the base to the head and back, he let out a low groan. His skin felt like velvet in your hands; he felt so good. “Yeah, just like that.” Precum dribbled from Bill and onto from the side of your fingers as you moved faster and covered more ground. Bill’s eyes alternated from open to close in erratic intervals as you began to adjust your speed and the tightness of your fingers around him. When Bill stopped talking, you reckoned you were doing a pretty damn good job.

Bill was powerless underneath you and you relinquished the feeling. But you wanted more.

So, you shifted from the edge of the bed towards the end of it, squeezing yourself in between his long legs. You never took your hands off him in the process so Bill was none the wiser about your mischievous movements. So, it was only when Bill heard the creaking of the bed that he looked up in surprise. By then, it was too late. You had already stopped pumping his shaft and leaned in to inhale the sweet musk instead.

“Can I?” you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Bill inhaled sharply, his cock duking out his brain for once the last shred of modesty. Oh, fuck modesty. “Only if you want to.”

In one swift motion, you leaned in and kissed the red and leaking tip. Clearly, it was you who really wanted to do this. When the soft skin of your lips met the soft skin of his head, Bill let out an audible gasp that was immediately swallowed by a throaty moan. He was not expecting you to be so brazen, so generous in your help. Little did he know you’d do anything for him at this point, his own affliction long forgotten.

“How does that feel?” you asked.

“Amazing,” he rasped.

You licked the precum—salty, a little tingly, you noted—off his slit with the tip of your tongue. He tasted so good. Bill threw his head back. The ridges of his abs crinkled as he tried to hold himself upright with his elbows on the bed. He wanted to see you. You smacked your lips, unable to wait patiently to devour your meal. Then, in a moment of pure deviousness and sheer horniness, you enveloped Bill’s tip around your mouth.

“Shit!”

This was the last thing Bill said before he fell back onto the bed. You took that as a sign of surrender; what you were doing felt too good for him to keep his defences up. He’d long stopped giving you instructions and let you take reign. Emboldened, you licked the slit with your tongue with Bill still nestled in your mouth. You then began to take him in further, as far as you could before he reached a natural stopping point at the back of your throat. Your mouth tensed—he was too big to fit comfortably inside. You sucked in your cheeks, hypothesising that a tighter fit would feel better for Bill. Sure, you were inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid or ignorant on the subject of what was pleasurable.

“Yes, that’s it, (Y/N), just like that.”

You forewent your towel in favour of holding onto Bill’s thighs, placing one hand on the side of each of his legs. Still, you pressed your breasts down on the bed to hide your nipples to preserve what little was left for Bill to still see. Then again, what was the point of dignity when his dick was in your mouth?

Bill’s hands quietly crept along the bedsheets and floated towards your head. From there, his long fingers wove and nestled themselves in your hair so deeply that it wouldn’t be easy for you to untangle yourself. Clever of him. His fingernails glided across your scalp, slowly, tenderly, like a predator circling their prey before the attack. Bill then started guiding your head up and down slowly, his patience clearly wearing thin and needing to take matters into his own hands--literally.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to speak. Bill noted this and chuckled. You gave him a pointed look.

“Hard to look intimidating with my cock in your mouth, love,” he said, tightening his fingers around your hair. You grumbled something unintelligible. The wetness leaking out of your core spoke volumes for you.

Bill’s hands were fully entangled in your hair as he continued to lift you up and down. Slow at first, but he could hardly contain himself after the first minute. The way his big cock pulsed in your mouth, gods… The faster he commanded you to move, the more his visage grew streaked from the tears in your eyes. You tightened your grip on his thighs every time his cock glided across your palate and pushed itself down your throat. You did everything in your power to not gag or choke, but when he did strike particularly deep, you pulled off of him immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Bill quickly said. “Was that too much?”

You shook your head, wiped a wet line of tears from your face, coughed, and responded, “No, I’m fine.”

You crawled back to him and engulfed him without another word.

“Ah,” Bill breathed out. “Fuck, (Y/N). You feel so good.”

You shouldn’t be enjoying being used so much, but you loved it. Loved it especially when Bill held you in place and began thrusting into your mouth instead as a means to conserve effort and increase his speed. You were growing wetter and wetter with every compliment he spoke. You imagined Bill’s big hands gripping your hips, stilling you, as he thrust repeatedly into your pussy. You wanted to be used everywhere.

“Shit,” he growled, lazy eyes hovering on you. Deliciously lazy and so hazy. “I’m close.”

He stopped thrusting, but you hadn’t stopped bobbing your head up and down. You were so far gone in your quest to make Bill come that you’d thrown your own needs aside.

“Hold on, (Y/N),” Bill commanded. “Don’t you want to—ah—!”

You knew he’d reached his climax when his hips ascended and stilled above the bed. A deep moan left his mouth. Bill’s cock twitched heavily with every rope of cum that shot its way into your mouth. He didn’t quit until every crevice of your mouth was sloshing with his seed; he was a never-ending faucet of cum.

After a minute, you finally detached yourself from him, careful to keep the fruits of your labour in your mouth and not on the bed sheets that Bill’s mother had laundered so well. You swallowed all the cum in your mouth. It wasn’t as pleasant as the books and films had made it out to be—it was warm and slightly bitter, but it was Bill’s and heaven knew you’d do anything for him.

Bill threw himself back on the bed, his head meeting the pillow with a soft thud. He was still breathing heavily as he reposed. Though his hair stuck wildly to his cheeks—which were slowly regaining colour—his face expressed newfound calm.

Bill patted the pillow beside him, on the spot in between the wall and his body. “Come here,” he rasped, his eyes still closed.

You obliged and scooted upwards. Bill splayed his arm on the pillow to give you a makeshift headrest. You settled into the nook of his bicep. Through the corner of your eye, you stole little glances at Bill and the rise and fall of his chest. A warm, midday breeze fluttered through the open windows, the red curtains billowing out. Everything was so serene, so tranquil, so…Holy shit, what had you just done?

Just three hours ago, you were wistfully staring at Bill at breakfast, grateful to have seen him at all this year to feed your starving crush on him. Now, you were laying naked in his bed with him after giving him what you hoped was an acceptable blowjob. It was both great and terrible that you wouldn’t see him after today. How would you explain this to anyone if you couldn’t even believe it yourself? You needed to bolt and never see Bill again.

Bill snapped you out of your trance. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes, Bill?”

You turned around to find yourself reflected in his crystal blue eyes.

“Would you like to finish, too?”

“Oh, uhm!” Well, you hadn’t expected him to ask you that. “No, I’m okay.” An utter lie. Your pussy was pleading to be fucked. You sat up, preparing yourself to go. “I should finish up with my chores. You should get going before the portkey closes.”

Bill grasped your wrist again. “I don’t want to go.” He sat up with you and looked you straight in the eye.

He was serious. The intensity of his gaze was so overwhelming that you looked down. You sucked a quiet breath in.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said, placing a hand on your cheek. “Let me, please.”

You choked. Was Bill Weasley begging to go down on you? The resolute look on his face definitely extinguished any fight you had left in you. A fraction of a second after you nodded, Bill turned you over and kissed you. One hand remained on your cheek while the other wrapped itself around your naked waist to pull you closer until your chest was flush against his. If you weren’t focussed on how hard his lips were pressed on yours, you would’ve been more embarrassed about how your pert nipples were pressed against his chest. Bill obviously didn’t mind, in fact, he was trying to pull you in as close as possible, closing the last sliver of space between your bodies.

Bill tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His lips felt like hard silk—a walking contradiction— against you and now you wished to feel them everywhere: on your neck, on your breasts, on your stomach and in between your legs. You reckoned he should kiss heavily in between your legs.

Bill was all lean muscle and long limbs. He couldn’t splay out on the bed as easily as you could. He landed on his knees, then shifted you upwards until your head was resting against the baseboard of the bed. He spread your legs with his hands—so big that they absolutely swallowed you—using his thumb as anchors.

He looked back up at you. His eyes had darkened significantly, like a sudden storm that had broken through a clear day. Whatever drug was flowing through his veins, it was only growing more potent. “You’re so wet.”

You made an attempt to shut your legs. You were cycling through moments of confidence and embarrassment, and his words made you want to curl up and die.

“Don’t,” Bill said. “You turn me on so much. Who knew that behind such an innocent facade was a girl begging to be fucked?”

And just like that, your legs fell open in one buttery smooth motion.

”That’s it, such a good girl for me,” Bill praised. He leaned in and ran his tongue flat over your folds. You squirmed but his iron-clad hold on you prohibited any movement. You tried so very hard to quiet yourself as his tongue painted you in oscillating strokes. You gasped whenever he landed briefly on your clitoris. He hummed, pleased, and let the vibrations rock your body. Your breathing was dangerously unsteady as Bill pulled you closer to him and increased the intensity of his tongue. He unlatched one hand from your thigh and shifted them near your drooling entrance. Gently, he inserted a finger. Before you could jump upwards at the intrusion, he brought his tongue back to your clit to massage away any pain. “So sweet,” he hummed again. Bill kept his finger steady inside you until your squirming stopped.

“You’re so tight,” Bill whispered. He added another finger to your already taut hole. “I can barely fit two fingers in here. How do you suppose you’ll take my cock, hm?”

A rhetorical question. Instead of waiting for an answer, Bill began moving his fingers back and forth. You let out a small whine that you buried into the pillow. “Sh, it’s okay, just relax, darling,” Bill assured. In a matter of moments, Bill had gone from shallow little thrusts to burying his fingers to the hilt. The motion of his fingers curling inside you elicited a load moan from your lips, and your legs parted further in response. It was over when his stupid tongue found its way back to your clit; you nearly screamed. He flicked your sensitive bud over and over, building the pressure in the region. Between that, and Bill’s face buried between your legs and the wet sounds of his fingers inside you, you were just one thrust away from coming undone.

“Bill, Bill—” you tried to stop him, too scared to be thrown over the edge. But Bill showed no sign of stopping. When he sucked on your clit, you knew it was over. He had pushed you off the cliff. “Bill!”

You clamped down on his hand, but Bill hadn’t stopped moving; he was intending to fuck you through it. Waves of pleasure, sweetly punctuated by Bill’s nimble fingers, washed over you until you had no coherent thought left. You laid there for a minute, until your heart rate had finally settled back to normal.

“I’m getting impatient,” Bill chuckled. “Seeing you writhe around like that, coming on all over my hand, Merlin..”

You tightened your lips. “Me too.”

“What was that?” he teased, pretending not to hear.

“I’m getting impatient.”

“For what?”

“You know what for.”

He shot you a cocky grin. “I won’t know until you tell me.”

“Fuck me, Bill,” you almost screamed. “Fuck me, please.” It was killing you. You looked down at Bill’s manhood. He looked even harder and fuller than how you found him, if that were even possible. His cock twitched to stand at full attention when you shuffled back to him. You wanted to feel him, so warm and engorged, inside you, splitting you open with how big he was.

“You’re so needy, (Y/N),” Bill teased. He laid down. “Get on top of me, I want to see you.”

You clambered over immediately. You splayed a leg on each side of him and propped yourself up with your knees. Wordlessly, Bill pulled you in and your body listened. He met your lips for another kiss that showed no signs of being broken. Well, not until he decided to latch onto one of your nipples instead. His lips covered the circumference of your areola and sucked gently.

“Bill,” you whimpered, succumbing once again to his dexterous tongue. He swirled around your sensitive bud, flicking it back and forth, and sending little electric shocks down to your toes. You were getting so, so wet for him.

One of Bill’s hands trailed down to his cock and gave it a couple of strokes before he aimed it towards your core. You moaned every time he pressed against your throbbing clit before moving back to your opening and repeating the motion. You needed to come again, and Bill was intent on bringing you there. He rubbed the head back and forth, concentrating the slick to where he eventually wanted to be. He was showing great restraint; it was taking everything not to just thrust into you.

“You already feel so good,” he praised. “So wet, so tight, love, all for me. I can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy.”

Bill piled on the words and continued to ravish your breasts as a distraction of what was to come. The head of his cock was directly aligned with your opening that was weeping at the thought of him inside you. But the largest thing you’d taken ever were Bill’s fingers; he couldn’t possibly fit without absolutely destroying you. The universe couldn’t have gifted you with a warm-up, could it? Instead, it gifted you the girth of Bill. Still, you remained in place, readying yourself as he began to enter you.

You gasped at the first intrusion. You clenched Bill’s forearms in retaliation, your mouth parting in shock. You wanted him badly, but your anatomy wasn’t letting your desires take the front seat.

Bill placed a hand on your back. Stiff. “You’re tense,” he noted, kissing up on your neck. “Just relax. It’ll feel good, I promise.” You nodded, trusting him.

“Hngh—!” was all you let out when he pushed deeper. Your breathing fell out of sync as you tried to calm yourself. Maybe this was it, and all of him was already inside of it.

“That’s just my head inside you, love,” Bill stated, as if reading your mind.

You paled. “How are you so big?”

Bill chuckled in agreement before swallowing you in a kiss. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and you could taste the pure need radiating off him. He gave little shallow thrusts, trying to ease himself into you. Though it still burned heavily, a ring of pain, as he stretched you out, Bill’s pace was making it much more tolerable and frankly, more erotic.

When he was halfway in, Bill’s eyes fell shut in utter bliss. His hands gripped your ass cheeks, pulling them apart, as if it would help you sink further down on him.

“You take me so well,” he said as he continued impaling your poor little pussy. He never stopped littering you with kisses, whether it was on your lips, cheeks, neck, or breasts. He suckled your tits again when he rammed the thickest part of him inside you in one thrust.

You stifled a cry into the crook of his neck and tightened your arms around him. “Bill!”

“Give it a minute, (Y/N),” he assured, but his voice sounded garbled, so far away. “I promise, it’s going to feel so good.”

When he felt you relax a little, Bill began to increase the length of his thrusts, breaking into your pussy a little more each time. You fell onto him, the pleasure beginning to overwrite the pain.

Bill moaned as he sped up the slightest. “You’re so tight, (Y/N), tighter than I could’ve ever imagined.” His words only added fuel to the fire. “I can’t believe it’s me that gets to break into your pussy.”

“Then break me, Bill,” you pleaded. “Please. Harder.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to ask twice.”

Bill looped his arms around you to hold you in place. From there, he began to drive himself into you faster, harder, just like a hole to be used for his pleasure, just like you had asked.

“Oh!”

You could hardly keep your eyes open as he assaulted your body. He tested different depths and angles, watching your facial expressions for the perfect one. His long, deep strokes were landing on the perfect place - a place that had you seeing stars. So pleasurable but just millimetres away from being too much, too painful. There was so much of him inside you. Your legs stiffened, almost cramping, as the heat increased in pitches in your core. Your hands went wild, trying to find a place to stabilise your body. They found refuge on the top of the headboard. In one particularly hard thrust, he sheathed himself completely inside you, the widest part of him spearing you open.

That was the precise moment you came undone, screaming. White obfuscated your vision as you lost control of your body. You convulsed on him, your pussy contracting around his cock like a vice. Bill continued to fuck you through your orgasm, bottoming out in you repeatedly, letting you ride out the pleasure for as long as humanely possible. You fell onto him like a rag doll, limp, worn out from your second orgasm. Bill could only smile at a job well done. He withdrew himself from you and flipped you over. He nestled his manhood back between your legs. You watched with excitement as his cock, covered in your cream, sprang to his navel. You felt so hollow without him inside you, and you were about to beg for him again, but he moved quickly. He leaned towards you, placing the head of his cock to your opening once again. But instead of delving into you like you had hoped, he rubbed himself against you, occasionally pushing into you the slightest.

Confused, you raised your hips up, trying to align yourself perfectly with his cock and push him back in. But your attempts were futile.

“Don’t do that,” you chastised when you realised he was doing this on purpose.

“Do what?” Bill asked innocently.

“Tease me like this.”

He smirked. “Who said I was teasing you?”

Just as you were about to retort, Bill drove himself into you when you were least expecting it, burying himself entirely into you. Your body shivered in pleasure, legs straightening and stiffening. You screamed when he quickened his pace, pounding into you with deep, full thrusts. His hands gripped your bouncing breasts, keeping them in place and occasionally pinching your nipples. Bill pushed himself to the hilt, then almost withdrew completely, before filling you up again as hard as he could. At certain points, he would hit a bundle of nerves that caused your toes to curl. At some point, you couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure—it all felt so overwhelmingly good.

The lewd sound of his balls hitting your skin was heaven to your ears. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled with his seed.

“Come inside me,” you near screamed.

Your little request was enough to break Bill out of his trance. “What?”

“Come inside me,” you repeated.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

With no reason to ask you to clarify again, Bill obliged. He gave a couple more thrusts, so powerful it forced your body to slide up over the bedsheets and your head to almost slam into the headboard. Then, he let out a loud, choked grunt, his eyes screwing shut. You could feel his cock twitch heavily inside you as he deposited his seed, filling your pussy. He hovered over you, exhausted, draining every last bit of him inside you. Both of you shared the same laboured respiration. You reached up and pushed back the ginger hair that was strewn across his forehead.

Bill began to soften inside you, but refused to pull out just yet. If you stayed here like this any longer, there was no doubt you’d meld together into one.

With a heavy almost regretful breath, Bill reluctantly removed himself out of you. You felt his cum trickling rapidly out of you and onto the bed sheets. You sat up to look. There was so much. it was smeared all over your sex, all over your inner thighs, and all over the sheets. There was no doubt there was more deep inside you.

You looked up at Bill. Much to your disappointment, he looked to be back to his usual, happy self. Your services were no longer required. And much to your disappointment, he was looking around for his briefs. Well, it wasn’t like you could stay in paradise forever.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said.

“Of course,” you responded.

Bill gave you a small peck on the lips which made you smile. Then, it all went downhill from there, as he returned not more than a second later for another kiss. This time, deeper, thick with more lust. The next kiss, he had you pinned you on the bed by the arms. Unexpectedly, you felt him harden against you once more. His cock was back its previous stiffness and trying to find its way back to your cunt.

He paused. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me,” Bill admitted sheepishly.

“You mean you’re not usually like this?” you questioned with a smile. You didn’t mind it, not one bit.

He contemplated it. “It has been a while, but it’s highly unlikely for me to go twice, let alone three times a day.”

“Really?” You cocked your head. “Is that not—”

Before you could speak, Bill plunged himself into you once more. Your mouth went slack. It was quite an effective way to shut you up. Most of his spend was still either deep inside you or running down your inner thighs, but he was intent on pumping you full of him even more.

You had no complaints. Instead, you succumbed to the wet sloshes of his thrusts and messy kisses once again.

…..

In a tent one long Portkey away from the Burrow, a very different conversation was taking place.

“How do you reckon our Paradise Potions did?”

“Considering that Bill hasn’t joined us, I’d say pretty well.”

END!

#bill weasley x reader

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beardburnsupersoldiers · 10 days ago

Text

Lioness

Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter) x Reader

Summary: Your friends drag you to a club on Halloween and you catch the eye of a hunter.

Warnings: 18+, smut, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, no condom mention, self-deprecation, overall very fluffy. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Yet another work that's mostly self-indulgent, but partially for Lovely 💛

It was loud. Even with the earbuds shoved into your ears to drown out the incessient buzz of conversation, the music still pounded in your bones. And fuck, it was hot. You’d thought the cozy lion jumpsuit would be a better costume than the tight spandex catsuit Felicia had tried to get you to try on.

You sat in the booth watching the club move around you. Gwen had procured it at a discounted rate by promising a table full of pretty girls. Why you’d been included still confused you. At twenty eight to their twenty one, you felt more like a mother than a friend to the girls in your comms class. More often than not they were at your apartment, eating the only home cooked meals they’ll have all week, and enjoying the quiet they can’t get in a dorm. They’d invited you out before, but never as vehemently as tonight.

“If she’s not going, I’m not going,” MJ had declared, throwing her feet up on your coffee table. Most likely a lie, you realized now as she danced in her non-costume costume with a wide grin. But it worked. Because here you were.

Your focus shifted to each of the girls, checking they were all alright. Felicia was dancing with MJ in the catsuit she’d tried to get you in. Gwen in a some seventies aesthetic she claimed made her Stevie Nicks was at the bar talking to some guy you recognized from campus. You’d kept count of all their drinks and so far they seemed reasonably buzzed. But it was Halloween and the creeps were out in droves.

Your gaze drifted to the rest of the patrons standing at the bar. There’s more skin than fabric. One man in particular wore some cheesy jungle getup with only an open vest lined with a faux lion’s mane and a tooth necklace to cover his torso. Not that you blamed him. With a body like that…

Heat bloomed across your face as you realized he was watching you as well. Your attention fell to the table. God that was embarrassing. The rum and coke you’d ordered when you first set down was more water than anything, but it gave you something to fiddle with. It wasn’t enough to hold your attention for long. You looked for the girls again, finding them exactly where they had been a few minutes before. And finding the man gone.

You let out a laugh. You were being ridiculous. He probably wasn’t even looking at you. Who would? You sighed and leaned forward to put your empty glass on the table.

A shadow moved in the corner of your vision that made you jump. The man stood at the edge of the booth, smile playing on his lips. They moved but you couldn’t hear anything. Oh! Right. You pulled out the buds. He said something else, but you still couldn’t hear him. The loud beat drowned him out.

He gestured to the booth in a silent request. You nodded and moved over, biting your lip. He took a seat. His frame dwarfed the bench. And you. An arm stretched behind you. He leaned in, the smell of sweat and cologne drifting over you, beard scratching your ear. “Your costume is inaccurate,” he said with a voice like honey. Warm, rich, and sweet. Something tugged at the hood you’d pushed back. “A lioness does not have a mane.”

Something in you deflated. That’s why he’d come over? To mock your costume? As if you weren’t embarrassed enough. “I’m aware, thanks.”

His hearing was better than yours. A puff of air hit your ear. “Retract the claws, little lioness. I only meant to start a conversation.”

You’re saved from responding by the bottle girl, Amber you think, stopping by. She had a new rum and coke and two shots of a clear liquid. “I didn’t order this,” you tried to shout as she took your empty glass. She pointed across the table. At the man. Right. He stretched out his hand, a bill between two fingers. From the blue tint you’d guess a hundred. She disappeared a moment later.

"Let us start, again, yes? I am Sergei." He picked up the shot glasses and offered one to you. "Though I often go by Kraven."

"I don't really like to drink much."

"Neither do I."

He moved back and you stared confused as he downed one of the shots. He again offered the other. You took it, bringing it to your nose. There was no discerable smell. You took a sip. "It's water?"

Sergei laughed. "A hunt is no fun when the game is tranquilized."

It took a second before it clicked. "Ah. Hunter," you pointed to him, "lion," you pointed to yourself. "Clever."

“So,” he began, plucking the shot glass from your hand, and tipping it down his own throat, “why are you here tonight if not to drink or dance?”

“Who says I’m not here to dance?”

He nodded towards the floor where Gwen had joined MJ and Felicia. “If you wished to dance, you’d have joined your companions.”

You started to explain that it was them who had dragged you out here despite your protests, but stopped. “How did you know that?”

“Hunter,” he touched his bare chest, “lion,” his fingers caught your chin. “A good hunter always observes his prey before he makes his first move.” He was really into the whole hunter persona he’d crafted. Maybe he was an actor. Or one of those cosplayers. Either way you didn’t think it’d be quite so alluring if he weren’t so attractive. He leaned in again, that same scratch of beard against your ear. "Would it be to forward to mention how much I'm looking forward to having your pelt on my floor tonight?"

He couldn't be serious. You weren't ugly, but you were wearing some silly pajama-like jumpsuit and nearing thirty. There were several dozen younger and prettier options he could take home tonight. Ones who could match the aesthetic of his six pack. A quick glance around and you could see a sexy lion and tiger and bear. "Is this a joke?" Your gaze returned to him, trying to calm the quickening pace of your heart. "Some bet with your buddies?"

He head cocked to the side and released you, brows furrowed. "A joke? Why would I joke?"

"Why would you want me?"

"Why would I not?" Your mind raced to come up with a response, but Sergei continued, "You are a beautiful woman. I have not been able to tear my eyes from you all night." He brought a hand up and ran a finger down your jaw. "I am a simple man. I see something I want and I pursue." A flush crept up your neck. It's hard to ignore the hunger in his eyes. They bore into you, dark and earnest.

"You're serious?"

He took your hand and held it against his chest. His heart beat out of sync with the music. “There is nothing I desire more than to ravage you tonight.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Your gaze fell from his eyes to your joined hands to the muscles glistening beneath to the bulge in his—

You diverted your eyes back to the dance floor. None of the girls were there. For a moment he was forgotten. Worry replaced whatever feelings he stirred. Where were they? Did they leave you behind? Wouldn't Gwen have told you? You'd seen her only moments ago.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to the moment. Sergei was staring at you. He said something. Damn music was too loud. You leaned in, gesturing for him to repeat himself.

"Where has your attention gone, little lioness?" He sounded amused.

"I can’t see my friends."

His chest rumbled. “They are by the bar.”

You turned your head. Sure enough they were sitting at the bar. Watching you. Gwen held her thumbs up and Felicia mouthed, “Oh my god.”

It seems they approve.” Your heart fluttered. The way he was looking at you, the way his fingers had begun to stroke the back of your neck, the heat rolling off him in waves, it all left you breathless. “Perhaps we should get some air? I have a place not far from here. A little quieter, no?”

Your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes. Was this really happening? Was a man who looked like a Greek God about to invite you back to his place? Your eyes dropped to the tenting of his pants. Oh yes. He was. "Okay."

"Good." He rose and offered a hand.

The crisp air outside did little to cool your thoughts. The girls had been all smiles and wiggling brows as you made excuses for your exit. Felicia had pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, "That man’s going to wreck your pussy."

Sergei's place wasn't far, as promised. But you wouldn't be able to tell anyone how you got there. Terribly stupid, but allyou were aware of as you strolled through the crowded downtown streets was the firm grip of Sergei's hand and the warmth of his body beside yours. A ridiculously long elevator ride later and you were at his door.

"You've been quiet." The lock clicked after he punched a code in on his door. “Are you nervous, little lioness?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

The door opened. Sergei motioned you inside. You stepped into the darkness. The silence was deafening after the constant drone of music and busy streets. A click and the lights flickered on. The first thing you noticed was how normal the apartment was. Well, not normal. Rich. A bit old fashioned. But you half expected to see game heads on the wall and fur rugs. But the only thing that seemed to hint at such a thing a glass case holding an old style rifle.

Thick, muscled arms wrapped around your waist, dragging you back against the solid mass of a man. Your breath caught. His lips found your neck. "Are you saying I am your first?"

"Not first, but," you bit your lip, "first one I've followed home."

"I'm honored," he rumbled. Teeth nipped at the tender flesh below your ear, tongue tracing the shell. A shiver ran down your spine, heat settling between your legs. A hand roamed up, over your breast, and settled on the zipper on your chest. "May I?"

You nodded, a breathy, "Yes," leaving your lips.

His fingers toyed with the pull and slowly drew it down. Breathe fanning across your neck, he peeled it off your shoulders and down your arms. A trail of goosebumps followed his hands. The jumpsuit pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but the silly lingere Gwen had made you buy during a drunken late night study session.

"You are stunning." Sergei spun you around, his hands trailing down your sides, and resting on your hips. "My little lioness."

"Sergei," you breathed, hands gripping the front of his vest.

"Do not be shy." His lips brushed over yours. "Touch me. Kiss me. Claw me. Do what you will."

Your hands slid up his bare chest and locked behind his neck. His mouth covered yours in hungry kiss. Heat exploded within you. Desire you'd thought lost to youth roared. Raw, unbridled desire. He kissed you until the need for air became too great. Your lips broke apart. Your lungs burned. Sergei wasn't as bad off, his chest rising and falling evenly.

He smiled down at you, eyes bright, and stroked your cheek. "Breathtaking."

Your stomach fluttered. His words, the way his hand had moved from your cheek to rest against your pounding heart, the heat and hardness pressing into your soft belly. How was this happening to you? A man like this couldn't want you. Could he?

"Sergei, I—"

He pressed a finger to your lips. "You are still thinking this is all in jest."

"I'm—"

"A gorgeous woman," he said, pressing his forehead against yours, "who I wish to ravage until the sun rises."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped.

"You doubt my intentions," Sergei murmured. "Do you think I will leave you unsatisfied?" He rolled his hips into you, cock straining against the fabric.

"No."

"No?"

"Of course not, that's not what-"

"That is right." His hand found your ass and squeezed, fingers teasing at the lacy thong. "So, allow me to please you."

Your fingers twisted in his mane. "Okay."

In one smooth motion, he hooked an arm under your legs and swept you off the floor. You gasped, clinging to his broad shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my prize," he growled. He carried you through the living room and past the kitchen, your shoes lost somewhere in between. In the next breath he was kicking in a door. The bedroom. The lights flipped on and the bed came into focus. Your gaze flicked around. A bookshelf. Closet. A chair. And then, finally, the mirror. You stared, wide eyed, at the two of you. He placed a kiss against your temple and strode to the bed, setting you on the sheets. He shrugged off the vest, revealing his and kicked off his shoes. Your thighs pressed together.

Your hand reached forward. Fingertips grazed his abs. "Wow," you murmured, eyes following the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

"Does it please you, little lioness?"

You nodded and let your fingers drift to the button of his pants. You paused and looked to his face. "Is this okay?"

Sergei chuckled and cupped your cheek. "Of course."

You popped open the button with shaking hands. Your heart was pounding in your ears. You dragged the zipper down. Sergei's hands moved to his belt, tugging the leather free. A few tugs and his pants slid to the floor. His erection strained against the fabric of his boxers.

He pushed them down and kicked them aside. Your breath caught. He was huge. It must be against some law of nature for a man to look that good and be that big.

You reached for him and stroked. He groaned and leaned into the touch. Again, thumb running over the head.

"Enough of that." He'd pulled out of your grip, leaving the memory of his heat blazing your blame. "I want to taste you." He fell to his knees, dragging you further to the edge.

He bit into your thigh, soothing the sting with a kiss. Up and down he went on both, only allowing his nose to brush across your mound.

With a bit of help, he dragged down the lace and discarded them across the room. He purred, "What a pretty pussy."

He buried his head between your thighs, his tongue finding your clit with ease. You jerked away from the sensation. No man had found it before. They'd licked around for a minute and move on. Sergei swirled his tongue around it and you tried to pull away again. He growled, wrapping his thick arms around your thighs and dragging you back.

The tip of his tongue ran across it, teasing the sensitive bud. Your back felt to the bed, arching and gasping. He growled again, lapping at you. Your nails dug into his shoulders. Your hips ground against his, pushing his tongue harder against your clit.

"On my god," you gasped your body quivered.

It was so much so quick. The tension in your stomach grew. It was going to snap. You were going to fall apart. "I'm going to-"

He pulled away.

You whined and tried to tug him back. "I was so close."

"I know, little lioness." His tongue grazed over the clit. "But tonight you are only allowed to cum on my cock, yes?"

You whimpered. That wasn’t fair.

"Yes?" He asked again, sucking your clit between his lips.

"Ah!" Your back arched, but his arms didn't allow you to move far. "Y-yes!"

"Good girl." His beard tickled as his head dipped lower. A moan fell from your lips as his tongue entered you.

He continued, licking and sucking and fucking with his tongue until you were a quivering mess beneath him, once more on the edge. And then he pulled away. One of his arms released a leg. Your bra was tossed aside and a hand trailed down your stomach and through your folds spreading your wetness, before his thick fingers pushed into you. You groaned, hips bucking. It was slow to pump in and out, dulling the climax that had been so close but not allowing it to fade.

Sergei added another finger, scissoring them inside. His thumb rubbed your clit in gentle, but sporadic circles. He was torturing you, teasing the edge but never letting you fall over.

"Please fuck me.” You begged.

"As the lioness wishes."

The delirium he’d left you in made his actions seem like a blur. One moment your one the edge of the bed, him kneeling in front of you, and the next your somewhere in the middle, his body hovering just above, the head of his cock poking between your spread legs.

You reached up and gripped his back, holding tight. His cock slid along the lips of your pussy, coating the head with you. "Please," you pleaded.

His cock pushed in a single fluid motion. Without resistance or pain. Not even discomfort. “A perfect fit,” he said before capturing your lips.

You moaned against his mouth as he began an unrelenting pace. A hand slipped under your neck, the other holding your hip in a bruising grip. Every thrust sent you further into a blissful haze. You babbled, incoherent. Begging and praising. Your nails trailed down his back, trying to anchor yourself.

His rhythm faltered. He pulled away, panting. His face was flushed, beads of sweat rolled down his temple, pupils blown. "Turn over."

"What?"

He pulled out, cock bobbing, and gripped your hips. He rolled you over. "On your knees."

He slid back into you with ease. A groan filled the room. Yours? His? He was hitting a spot that had the coil in your belly tightening. "Fuck, Sergei, I—"

"Go ahead."

You fell forward, face pressed into the blankets, back arched, and came. Stars danced behind your eyelids. You clenched around him.

He leaned over you, lips on your back. "Good girl."

He didn't give you a chance to catch your breath as the high slipped away. His fingers found their way to your clit.

"S-sergei," you whined.

"Again."

He didn't relent. Didn't slow. Kept you there, trapped beneath him, writhing. Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. "P-please."

"Again."

You shook your head.

"Again, little lioness."

"I can't," you sobbed. A lie. You felt the wave gathering in the horizon.

"You can."

"Sergei," you cried.

He buried himself deep. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear. "Again."

You came again. A choked moan tore from your throat. Every atom felt as if it had exploded with you.

His teeth grazed over your skin. His voice, rough and deep, murmured, "Such a good girl."

A whine escaped you. His fingers had not stopped.

"Again."

"Sergei—"

He growled. His arm hooked around your chest, pulling you up. Your back flush against his chest, he moved again. The angle hit a new spot making you writhe and moan and beg.

"So good," he murmured. His other hand slid to your breast. His thumb brushed over your nipple, rolling and tugging and pinching.

"S-sergei. P-please."

"Once more."

"No."

"For me," he purred. “I must feel you once more.”

You shook your head, trying to fight it.

"I know you can."

You whimpered, a few stray tears leaking from your eyes. White filled your vision. Your whole body trembled, muscles twitching. You weren't sure what was worse-better. The torturous, slow build or this overwhelming pleasure that had you on the verge of seeing god.

The coil snapped. Your head fell back, a loud cry of his name escaping your lips.

"That's my lioness," Sergei growled. His hand fell from your breast, snaking between your bodies. "Cum with me."

His thrusts grew erratic. A string of foreign words left his lips. His fingers circled your clit, extending your climax with his. Your muscles tensed, a final cry of his name falling from your lips. Sergei cursed, the last of his spend filling you.

He dropped, the weight of him pinning you down. The smell of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air. His heart pounded against your back.

His cock pulsed inside you. For a while the only sound was your shared labored breaths.

You clenched as his lips met the junction of your neck and shoulder, his own hips jerking from the overstimulation on his softening cock.

"Sorry," you said.

"I am not." He kissed your jaw and slid out, a flood of warmth dripping down your leg.

"Fuck."

He rolled off and the bed dipped beside you.

You turned your head to watch as he splayed out across the it. One arm propped under his head, the other stretched out beside him. You let your eyes follow the trail of hair to his spent cock.

"I must apologize, little lioness, for ending the hunt so soon. I normally last much longer, but you felt far too good."

"Oh," was all you could think to say.

His laugh rumbled. "Do not be embarrassed. Your pleasure is a gift. I intend to treasure it."

You sat up, wincing. You were going to be sore tomorrow. But that was tomorrow. Tonight was a dream. And what a wonderful dream it was. You swung your legs over the side.

"Where are you going?" Sergei asked, sitting up.

"To get cleaned up and grab my costume."

"You wish to leave?"

You stood on shaky legs. "I should get back to my apartment before it gets too late."

"It is already late," Sergei said, taking your wrist. He nodded to the clock on his nightstand. How on earth was it already nearly four? It had only been a little past midnight when you’d left the club. "You'll stay here tonight. I want to make you breakfast."

Your brows rose.

"Unless you do not want to?"

You looked at him, eyes roaming over the muscles that seemed impossible for anyone to maintain. The handsome features of a man who could have anyone he wanted. And he’d wanted you. Why not let the dream last a bit longer?

“Come,” he said, patting the he’d beside him. “Lay with me.”

You joined him and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. His nose pressed against your hair, inhaling deeply. "I think this has been my most successful hunt."

You laughed, a yawn interrupting. Maybe he’d drop the persona in the morning.

His lips met yours in a lazy kiss, the scratch of his beard leaving you warm. You sighed against him and relaxed, listening as his heart began to beat in time with yours. "Sleep, little lioness."

“But the mess?”

“Tomorrow’s worry. Sleep not. I have exhausted you.”

You didn’t argue and nuzzled further I to him. "Night."

"Sweet dreams."

Other New Fics:

A Lady and Her Knight (Gwayne Hightower x Reader)

Favorite Dress (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

#sergei kravinoff x reader #kraven the hunter x reader

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