pure wholesome fluff. just a drabble while I'm proofreading the multichap
You had been wandering, checking on the shed, when you finally spotted him.
The alleged Forest Spirit.
Hunched and still under your curious gaze, like a statue among the tools.
"Well, hello handsome…" you whispered, stepping closer, heart in your throat. "Mind if I…?"
He didn't speak, just gave a tiny nod, the way he always did when you slipped past the others' notice to spend time with him.
You knelt behind him, letting your hands hover for a second before slowly pressing them to his broad back. The scars were deep and precise under your fingers, but you didn't recoil. Didn't flinch.
You traced gentle circles along them, coaxing tension from the twitchy muscles.
A low, contented grown left his throat.
"Back… rubs… back… rabs…" he muttered, voice deep and gravelly.
You smiled softly, humoring him.
"Okay, back rabs it is" you said, fingers kneading with care. The words made him twitch in a way that was almost shy, almost delighted. He understood them.
He leaned forward slightly, allowing you to get closer, pressing his head into the crook of your shoulder.
"More… more…" he whispered, and you obliged, hands gliding across his patchwork-back, fingertips tracing each line and ridge.
It was quiet, save for his low purring. Yes, a soft rumbling sound, his pleased vibrations, a unique frequency. He simply loved the gentle rhythm of your touch.
You hummed, soothing him while he soaked in the comfort.
"You're safe here. With me."
"S—safe here... With me... With you?"
"Yes sweetheart."
Eventually, he sighed.
"Back… ra—ubs… good" he commented clumsily and you chuckled, leaning your forehead gently against his own.
"You're welcome, big cat. Such a handsome boy..."
The word finally registered—handsome— and he froze.
His shoulders went stiff under your palms, his spine straightened, and his breath hitched in the hollow of his chest.
"Hans… sum."
His head lifted from the crook of your shoulder, tilted, like he expected you to laugh or yell.
You did neither.
You gave him a kind grin instead.
He blinked.
Then, very carefully lifted a a huge, discoloured hand and tapped his chest.
"Hans… sum?"
You brushed his hair back from his face, thumb sweeping the ridge of his brow.
"It means good to look at" you explained, your tone warm, but not treating him like he's unintelligent –just someone who's just only now starting learning. A precious child.
"It means someone's face… someone's whole presence… is pleasing. Attractive. Beautiful in its own way."
He processed that with the slow intensity of a creature who had never once been given a word that wasn't meant to cut.
His breath left him in a shudder.
"Me? B—Beautiful?"
Fiend. Demon. Wretch. Monster.
Your heart squeezed.
"Yes" you said, sliding your hand to cup his jaw. "In a way that's all yours. Not like anyone else. But still real, still deserving to be cherished."
He stared at you as if the wrong move would make the moment vanish. Then his brows drew together in confusion, maybe even awe.
He looked overwhelmed.
"You… see me."
"I do" you answered, leaning your forehead to his again. "I see you."
Very quietly... "Call… again."
You huffed a tender laugh.
"Handsome. You're very handsome."
He curled around you, feeling like he couldn't hold all that affection inside his chest.
He whispered the word back to himself, testing it, savoring it. Disbelieving it too.
"Handsome… handsome… is me…"
✧*。🌼
my masterlist // my ko-fi
divider @strangergraphics
taglist, please accept this as a starter before the main course : @alyssa23145678910 @nerdypinupcrystal @die-prophetin @scarlettvoidsmile @anniebannanie0315 @daniiibananiii @bellaisasleep @swimmingrascalbatdragon @weirdlittlelady
Haymitch in the books is described to look a lot like Pedro, soooo where is the hunger games AU where Joel is the mentor of a girl that wins her games and has to marry her so she doesn't get sold around in the capitol, but then there is a time jump to when she is not 18 anymore and he starts to see her in a different light???? HUH???WHERE IS IT? WHO WROTE IT???
Seriously, guys, the cheer leading does help. Sometimes the only thing that gets the next chapter out is “I’m gonna do this for starfleetlinkuei69! ;_;”
tags: predator/prey kink, annoyance-to-lovers, outdoor sex, rough sex, references to oral (f rec.), teasing, implied established safeword, dom!kraven, possessive!kraven, softness mixed in because it’s me
a/n: something quick & smutty, based purely on trailer vibes
“We’re about five miles from the edge. If you can find your way out before I find you, I’ll let you take point until we get there.”
“But when I win, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He rasps, the words slow - drawn out, “No more of that smart mouth. Understand?”
His eyes had flickered as you had paced. That swirling change, darkening from blue to black to gold.
Tracking you slowly, automatically.
As you had complained - tired of another day of him ignoring the map you’d been following. Insisting on taking you up and around and down and over.
So confident that he knew. That he knew better.
But, christ - you weren’t helpless. Calypso has sent you with him for a reason.
And maybe - perhaps - he was right, about some of it. Avoiding a flooding stream, picking around a jagged outcropping of rock. He did have a real track record, after all.
But he was so goddamn annoying about it.
A heavy sigh had cut you off.
The flex of a bare bicep, as his arms crossed, “Tell you what, sweetheart.”
Condescension dripping from the word as his eyes had scanned the horizon - through the forest of trees. Focusing for a second, before they were fixing on yours again.
“We’re about five miles from the edge. If you can find your way out before I find you, I’ll let you take point ‘til we get there.”
Your pacing had slowed to a halt, thinking for a moment about his offer. Stepping closer, as you scoffed.
A finger had pointed, twirling up into the branches, “No way. You’ll just use them.”
The creatures of the forest. His unnatural connections.
His tongue licked across his teeth, his look dark. Voice quiet, laced with assurance as he had smirked.
“I won’t.”
A moment, then, “Don’t need to.”
Your eyebrows had rose, challenging. Irritation prickling at his confidence, that need to best him rising.
“Fine.” You had bit out.
“Fine.” He smiled.
His own fingers reached out then, hooking around the thick strap of your belt, looped into your jumpsuit.
Giving it a sharp tug, as he pulled you between his spread knees. A slow drag of his eyes, starting at his hands, then up and up.
Tracing over your form.
A heat had burned, even then. Flickering to life, as his voice has dropped.
“But when I win, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” He rasps, the words slow - drawn out, “No more of that smart mouth. Understand?”
The look he had given you had made you shiver. Heated, as his face has tipped up to yours. Daring you.
You swallowed, before your tongue peeked through your teeth, to wet your lips. His eyes watching the movement, as you had nodded.
Letting go, as you stepped away.
“No cheating.” You reminded him, as you turned - starting to plot out your own path, “And I get a head start.”
A rough laugh, as he shifted fully onto the stump he was leaning against, slowly crossing his legs. Ensuring that he wouldn’t be able to feel the tremor of your steps, sending the direction you’d be heading.
“Fifteen minutes.” He had warned you, as his eyes closed.
“Go.”
A branch scrapes against your cheek.
A flash of pain that you ignore, a small flinch as you push past it and keep going.
Resisting the urge to look around. To check if you can see him - high in the branches above. Lurking behind a tree.
No, you decide to continue. A path's been set in your mind, during that brief second you had taken to get your bearings. Purposely taking off in the wrong direction, hoping he'd hear.
Changing course soon after. Wading through streams. Up and across logs, only to drop down half-way, to throw him off.
You think with the head start, you can make it. He was a tracker, but you were a survivor.
Keeping both of you alive, when the weather turned cruel. Stitching him up when he fell apart, when he was too hell-bent on revenge to care.
The plains were his home but the forests had been yours. A comfort in the shades of green and brown, some sort of internal compass that kept your path true. You just have to be a little faster, a little smarter, than him.
A branch snaps behind you, the sound echoing. A thrill shoots through you - fear and something more, something hot and twisting - as you take off at a run.
Not bothering to look, keeping your eyes fixed ahead.
Ducking past the tall pines and through the foliage. Your heart pounding in your throat as you eye a drop in the path you've chosen - a second before you decide to make the too-wide jump.
You land, a throb in your ankle, fingers grasping onto a shrub as you pull yourself up. There's a second as you think you hear your name - breathed out in the wind.
It makes you push on faster. Risking a glance this time, a second where you think you see a flicker in the dark shadows behind you.
Your jaw grits, as you fling yourself forward. Eyes fixing on the layers of green ahead. Where you think it's been getting thinner - some of those miles and a long stretch of time passing since you first began.
Bring the edge close enough to taste.
But there's another flicker, off to your left.
One that diverts you, a shift as you veer off-course, your straight line turning serpentine as you adjust. That spike of unease back again, with that same melding of something warm and smooth in your belly.
The rustle comes again, as you push yourself into a sprint.
Again, and then again. Echoing off the trees, a layering of footsteps that blend with yours - chasing you - until your head is spinning and each breath is coming in a short gasp.
Forgetting for a second, that this was a game.
A splintering jolt of fear coursing through you, that word on the tip of your tongue, for just an instant. The one that would end this, and bring him back to you.
But then there’s a whisper, that cuts through your thoughts. Pulling you back, as you recognize his voice. Making you remember that you had intended to beat him.
It has you skidding to a stop. Taking just a second to get your bearings, your head whipping around as you realize the footsteps have stopped.
That the only thing you can hear is your panting breath.
You see nothing. Not even a shadow.
That is, until his voice comes again - sounding so close to your ear.
“Found you.”
A cry is caught in your throat, as he crashes into you. Sending you both tumbling onto the ground, across the dirt and moss.
You’re able to roll, to push yourself up. But you’re no match for the speed that the melding of the serum and blood had given him - still rising as he’s already crouching over you.
His hand shoots out, as you duck to the side. Managing to get back on your feet - evading him for a second until the second dart of his hand finds its target.
Catching your arm, sending you down, again.
There’s a split second as you’re able to kick out. Hooking the toe of your boot around his ankle, taking him down with you. Scrabbling in the dirt as he shifts, pulling himself on top you - his weight pinning you down.
A grin, as his thighs slot with yours.
Your groan disguised as a shaky breath when he nudges purposely against your core. Straddling your leg as his hands grabs your wrists.
A knee rises, intending to connect with his back - but he uses the momentum to roll with you. Flipping you over onto your stomach, twisting one of your wrists behind your back.
The other fisting in the collar, pushing down hard. Scruffing you like a cat as he laughs - shifting onto his knees behind you.
“Good try with those tricks of yours.” Sergei sighs, with another click of his tongue, “But not good enough.
You’re panting beneath him now, all of that exhaustion catching up. A stitch in your side from the running, layered with the bitter taste of defeat.
“How did you find me?” You finally manage, as your cheek presses into the soft moss - a little wiggle as you try to break free.
There’s a hum then, at your attempt - a little jolt as he adjusts you beneath him. Pulling you onto your knees as he pushes down, leaning over you.
Caging you in, as he reveals his own trick. The words drawn out.
“I could smell you.”
His nose skims your ear, making you tremble. Lowering it to press against neck, just at the curve of your jaw. Inhaling.
The breath he exhales is slow, shaky. Edged with the low rumble of his voice.
“And right now… you smell like you wanted me to catch you.”
You moan without thinking - an unconscious rocking of your hips that sends the curve of your ass pressing against his thighs, nudging against where he’s hard.
A whimper stifled as he meets the shift of your hips with a grunt of his own. A hiss of breath through teeth as he bears down on the hand that wraps around your wrist.
Curving himself down until his mouth ghosts against your ear, and you can feel the warm curl of his breath against your skin.
“Am I right?” He croons - his voice low and smooth, as his hips rock lazily against yours, “I bet you are soaked, baby.”
You’re grateful he can’t see his expression. To see how right he was - how that heat has settled into a heady thud between your thighs.
A sigh, then, as he presses himself flush. Nudging the thick ridge of his trousers against your core, as your eyes flutter shut. Your teeth gritting, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.
Lips press against your neck, right where you pulse thuds. You wonder if he can hear you, too. Where the adrenaline has bled into need, if he knows how the beating of your heart has changed it’s course.
“You couldn’t get enough of me last night.” He sighs - and you squirm again, as you remember.
His mouth between your thighs, for hours. Pulling pretty sounds beneath the little camp you set up. Over and over, until you were trembling.
You’re brought back, as Kravinoff’s voice drops.
“And I know you’ve always liked the chase. “
You do groan then, some of that strung-tight tension going slack. A pleased hum as he leans back, letting go of your wrist. His fingers wrapping around your belt instead, anchoring you to him.
“Show me.” He commands, as you finally glance back his way.
Following the line of his arm, up past the curves of muscle. To bare shoulders - the straps of his leather vest.
To eyes that suddenly fix on yours, pulling from the curve of your ass, your spread thighs.
They ensnare you, sending your heart tripping. An intensity as their shade flickers to that gold again, above the tick of a jaw.
“You agreed to listen,” He reminds you, firmly, “So show me how much you want my cock, sweetheart. You’re not getting it until you do.”
Indignation lances through you, as you consider his offer.
But desire wins out, as it always does. That pressure against the small of your back easing as your fingers find the zipper between your breasts. Tugging it down - opening you up.
Reaching between your thighs, the quiet jingle of metal as you let the pull go. Your thighs shifting further apart, an arch to your back as you try to entice him.
Watching as he clicks his tongue, the slightest shake that sends his long curls brushing against his cheeks.
“Not good enough, baby.”
With your own muffled growl, your gaze tears from him. Fitting your hand between your thighs again - hooking around the gusset of your underwear. Tugging it to the side, where the elastic digs into your skin.
Baring you.
He hums then, his other hand leaving your hip. A soft moan as his fingers trace against your folds, sliding over your slick. Teasing, making a wide circle around you clit before he pulls back, leaving you wanting.
Glancing down at his fingers, where your arousal webs between them. Leaning over you again, nudging those fingers against your bottom lip.
You open for him, and he smiles.
“Do you taste ready?” He asks you, his fingers pressing deep.
You moan around them in answer, as the coarse canvas of his pants press against bare skin. As you taste the tang of your desire, as his fingers inch towards your throat.
The pressure on your waist lifts, the clink of his belt coming a second later behind you.
His cock hanging heavy as you suck, his thumb pressing on the hollow under your chin when your teeth graze purposely his fingers.
Pulling them free, glossy again with you. A low growl as the wrap around his cock, slicking himself up with a rough pump of his fist.
The fat head slides against your folds, bumping against your clit. You hiss his name, his smile slow and dark as he wraps your belt around his hand again.
“You’d let me take you? Right here?”
He’s pressing against your entrance now, the slightest tease before pulling back. Again, and then again, until your frustration wells up, before spilling over.
“Fuck.” You whine, “Yes. Yes, okay? Anywhere you want.”
There’s a rumble in his throat, then. A deep pleased hum, “You’re so fucking filthy, sweetheart.”
Then with a grunt, he’s yanking you backwards. Spearing himself deep into you with a sharp thrust as you cry out, your muscles clenching around him as he bottoms out in you.
He’s big - on most nights he works you open with his fingers. Making you come on his tongue, unable to resist tasting you before you’re coming on his cock.
Right now, you’re both too keyed up. That sharp snap of his hips a surprise, but your thighs are slick and damp with need. From his teasing.
From the chase.
He’s hushing you - his words low as he pulls back, a groan as he fills you again.
“You can take it.” Sergei grits out, punctuating each word with a rock of his hips, “Know you can-”
With each stroke the pressure twists into pleasure. Letting him tug you back to meet his thrusts, a moan pushed from you with each one.
Your fingers curling into fists, as your thoughts begin to turn fuzzy. His cock pounding again and again against a spot he found those many weeks ago.
When the lingering looks on the road to hunt down his father had turned to touches. Layers peeled away under the blanket of stars. Committing each little sound you made to memory - remembering exactly what to do to make you cry out.
There’s none of those soft touches here. He’s relentless - a steady pounding of his hips against yours. The wet suck of your cunt as you take him, loud as skin slaps against skin.
Your boneless beneath him. A pleasure building that has you trying to reach between your thighs against, but his thrusts send you off-balance.
A hand steadying on the ground against as he groans, his head tilting back. Hair swaying with each rock of his hips, curling clinging to the sweat on his forehead.
Your voice cracks on a moan, as you try to ask for just a little more. Needing that friction against your clit, instead of the teasing slap of his balls when he grinds himself deep.
“Sergei, please-”
His head tilts forward, eyes meeting yours. There’s a clench in his jaw that tells you he’s not far off, that he just as wrapped up in this as you are.
A moment, when you’re certain he’s going to deny you. A whine in your throat - coming out broken as he pulls himself from you.
Leaving you feeling empty, ripped away from the cusp of your release.
“What are you-” You’re hissing, before he’s shoving at you, pushing you onto your back.
Crawling between your thighs, hands gripping at the fabric of your suit as he hauls your legs around his waist.
Filling you again, with another devastating thrust. It had your back lifting off the ground, your hand scrabbling as you keen - catching on the leather of the cuff around his wrist.
Clinging to him as he tugs your hips higher. Keeping you arched against him as he angles himself until he’s stroking that spot again.
And Christ, you prefer this angle. All the better to see him, something you can’t appreciate at night.
The bounce of the claw against his chest, swinging from the cord. The press of the leather knife hilt against your thigh.
The snarl of his lips when you clench down - a hand leaving your hips to trace against the space where you’re stretched wide around him.
Still letting you cling to the other, as his thumb traces up. Hovering just where you need him, as his eyes flick up to yours.
You’re sure you’re a mess. Sticky, skin dewed with sweat. Your suit split down the middle, right down to your cunt.
But his lips curls - a flash of white teeth with his sharp smile. Finally letting his thumb press against your clit as you sigh, amused by the way you rock needily into his touch.
A moment of silence as he watches, before he’s confessing.
“I liked watching you run.”
His voice is smoky and low, eyes lingering on the flushed peek of his cock as he pulls out - before it’s buried in you again.
“Think if it was anyone else, you might have made it.”
An almost idleness in his tone. Like it’s something known, like it always would be.
But that’s before he shifts - letting your hips drop, as he leans over you instead. His thumb pressing tight circles as he arcs over you, as your hands wrap around the edge of his leather vest.
“But not me.”
A moment, as his eyes search yours. A predatory look to them, unblinking as he ensnares you, once again. The smallest shake of his head.
“No. I’ll always find you.”
A long time ago, it would have been a threat. Now, it feels like a promise, seeping into the cracks of your skin. Filling you completely, utterly.
“I know.” You breath. And then, with your admittance, his head dips - lips pressing hungrily against yours.
It’s messy, all teeth and tongue. You swallow his growl as he licks into your mouth, a little tug as you pull him closer.
The press of his fingers, this new angle, pull you back to the brink. So close you can almost sink you teeth into it - that mindless feeling drifting back into your thoughts. Everything else emptying out, as you try to grasp at your release.
He pulls back, only to brush his lips against yours. The bristle of his beard tickling your cheek, as his nose bumps against yours.
“Wanna feel you come, baby.” Sergei husks, “Know you’re close, I can feel how needy that little pussy of yours is.”
His lips press against your throat again. Teeth scraping skin as he groans, his thrusts turning shallow as he ruts into you. Leaving a mark against your skin that he soothes with his tongue.
Your grip on his vest allowing you to chase the feeling, using the leverage to meet the slap of his hips.
Until you feel it about to break, his name chanted out with each heady thrust.
“S-Sergei, please don’t stop. Oh my god-”
Suddenly, it’s crashing over you. Your teeth sink into his shoulder as you come, the moan high and muffled as you pulse around him. Scoring the leather as your muscles string tight - a mark that he’ll wear with pride.
“Fuck. Feel so fucking-” He growls - never slowing, never stopping.
Leaning into your release. The way it coats his cock, makes each thrust most slick. Easing back when you finally let go, only to catch his hands beneath your knees.
Spreading your thighs open and then back. Bending you near in half so he can be as deep as he can when he comes. His own pleasure a tight ball that sparks in his belly - a foot planted on the ground as he drives into you.
“So good to me. So fucking good-” He growling, before you feel the pinch of his hands, squeezing the flesh of your thighs.
Another sloppy thrust, as his lips part on a guttural groan. Grinding himself as you milk him - feeling each twitch of his swollen cock inside your tight walls as he spills himself inside.
A secondary pleasure flaring to life, as he marks you so thoroughly. Knowing it will be dripping into your suit for the rest of the day - the thought making him moan as he continues to rut into you until you’ve taken every drop.
Only then does that tight grip loosen - you legs finally lowering.
A hand under your head as his touches turn gentle, easing you beneath him as he settles between your thighs.
Lips pressing between the curves of your breasts, a contented hum when you finally have the strength to brush your fingers through his curls.
Unable to help chancing a look, your head tilting back. Where you can just see the edge of the tree line were breaks into an open field.
Not realizing he was watching until you hear a low hum, a rough sound of amusement, “Mm. So close, sweetheart.”
You scoff, but it’s light-hearted. Still too fucked-out to care about the wager anymore.
“But I won, which means you agreed to listen to me.” He reminds you, as he pushes himself up on an elbow.
Still buried in you, even as his release has begun to leak from you. The smallest rock of his hips, as he nudges himself deeper. As his head dips so he can brush his lips against yours.
You sigh into the kiss, as you feel him twitch inside you. Swelling, as he rolls his hips against yours.
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
areudirty
annaxmalina
