#into the holster and belt you go

[lanternlightss]

okay .. take two !!!

+ bonus doodles

[eviebofficial]

this man's really walking around with no case on his phone?

[xryosakeyx]

Trying to get used to sharpies so I drew mostly Shirley :P (gonna take a hiatus during the summer months before any vamp comics pop up tho but that's alright bc I'll be back with new material!)

[ghostaholics]

.

[dirt-str1der]

Im like giggling and shit thinking about how me and dante are going to be vashwood , finally the four fingers will have me date every member (remembers im the number one vashwood hater) oh no

[ehlnofay]

updated my full body drawing of torr since I didn't have time to do it before artfight. now they're all ready for next year!! this image takes place sometime after joining the brotherhood and sometime before that whole concept went to shit. you can't see but they have so many weapons on them rn

[parkers-gal]

promise J.B.

summary: bucky is protective over reader, the new lab assistant and resident doctor at the compound

wc: 2k

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

a/n: no warnings (lmk if i missed anything). barely proof read. requests are open!

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

the first time he met you, he was expecting dr. cho’s usual lab assistant. it was meant to be a brief check in after his latest mission with sam, just a minor tweak to a piece of tech on his uniform. 

“hey, do you thin-” bucky strides in to dr. miller’s office, full tactical suit still on. he’d came straight from the quinjet, but glancing up from his arm holster he notices that dr. miller’s office is now replaced by your office. 

you look up from your lab report, a pile of open wires laying beside it as you twiddle with the machinery. “oh, i’m sorry. i think dr. banner forgot to notify you: dr. miller transferred to shield co-op missions. i’m his replacement.” you wipe the sweat from your hand onto your white lab coat and stand from your chair. “i’m y/n.”

bucky reads the nametag on your labcoat, dr. l/n. “oh.” his eyes move from the tag to your eyes. “sorry.” 

your smile immediately shifts whatever emotions he just had about the situation. your expression is soft and for a moment, bucky thinks you’re too innocent to be working in a business surrounded by violence. it provokes something deep in his stomach, something he can’t quite place.

“i’d be happy to assist you with whatever you need, though!” you smile again, this one giving bucky an even warmer feeling through his chest. “i already read all of dr. miller’s previous lab reports, and i’m just as good with needles as i am with technology.” you shift your head towards the mutilated hardware on your desk, then smile back at bucky.

he almost chuckles. almost. instead, he adorns a smirk, so subtle you might not have caught it had you not been staring at him, waiting for a reply. hesitantly, he steps forward, holding his arm out to show you what he needs changed.

that was four months ago. now, bucky looks for any excuse to head to your office, whether it be a slightly twisted wrist, a broken button on his suit, or even a question about a new weapon for his next mission. 

“what can i do for you today, james?” your back is turned to him. you’re busy fiddling with a microscope, but bucky can hear the smile on your face.

“bucky,” he corrects. “are you going to tony’s gala this saturday?”

you stop squinting and stand upright, turning to face him. you have a quizzical look on your face. “do doctors usually go to those sorts of things?”

bucky shrugs. “i think dr. cho has before.”

you hum, turning back to the microscope. “well, i do need to catch up with natasha…” you turn the knob for the lens. “is that why you came to see me?”

he pauses. you hear his feet shuffling and smile to yourself. “i just wanted to ask about… my… belt.”

you suppress a laugh and face him again ��really?” you grin. “your belt?”

he hums, a tint spreading on his cheeks. 

“well, i haven’t had lunch yet, if you would like to get something for us, we can talk about your belt during my break.”

his head perks up at that. “okay, i’ll be back in twenty.”

he’s out of the room so quick and it makes you smile again. as you turn back to the microscope, somebody else enters.

“back alread- oh.” 

john walker. 

you have never been particularly fond of him, especially after a heated argument he had with sam and steve a couple months back. he works for shield, but sometimes they send him to the avenger’s compound to retrieve specific types of upgrades or get intel about an overlapping mission. 

“aw, don’t seem too disappointed, sweets.” he smiles, the image disgusting you. 

you walk away from the microscope towards a centrifuge sitting on the opposite counter. 

“what can i help you with?”

“what, i come all this way and i can’t just talk to you?”

you bite your lip. “i’m afraid i don’t understand.”

he laughs. “i want to get to know you.”

“like right now?”

“right now… over dinner…” he smiles again, the same disgusting one. “whichever you prefer.”

unsure on how to reply, you turn back to the machine. “i don’t know if that’s appropriate.”

“but it’s okay if you do it with bucky?”

“what about me?” bucky steps through the door with a bag of food in one hand. once noticing john, his jaw clicks. “what are you doing here?”

“just wanted to talk to the lady, that’s all.” he shrugs his shoulders. “is that against the law?”

“it is if she doesn’t want that.”

your gaze shifts to bucky. his blue eyes are piercing, and his gaze is colder than any he’s ever given you. you sense the tension growing the longer he stares at john. 

john interrupts the silence. “what’s the issue, man?” he steps towards bucky. it’s a small step, but it has bucky rigid. “it’s not like she’s taken. she’s free game.”

bucky scoffs. “if you speak about women like they’re prizes to win then you don’t deserve to speak to them.”

your heart flutters. after all he’s been through, bucky still chooses to be an amazing guy. your admiration for him only grows. 

“nobody said anything about that.” john raises his hands in surrender. “don’t get jealous… it’s not like she’s yours…”

his jaw clenches again. you can see his hands are balled into fists at his side. faintly, you hear the whirring of the metal plates in his arm. 

“i think you should leave.”

bucky steps aside, clearing a space for john to walk out the door. reluctantly, he leaves, but not before sparing you another glance and whispering a “call me.”

when he’s finally left the room, you exhale, glancing back to bucky and his tense shoulders. 

“thank you… for that.”

he blinks. his eyes finally find you and he blinks away the tension. 

“of course. you shouldn’t have to put up with that, especially in your place of work.”

you nod and a shy smile takes over your face. you move a strand of hair to behind your ear and turn back to the machine so bucky doesn’t notice your face. he does anyway.

“so, lunch?”

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

saturday evening rolls around and, after having double checked with tony and natasha about the validity of your invitation, you get dressed for the gala. the dress fits your form and drapes down to just below your knees. you pair it with a simple pair of heels and your favorite necklace. 

you hope bucky likes it.

stop. that’s inappropriate. we’re work colleagues. he would’ve helped out any girl that needed it, he-

oh fuck.

you notice him immediately. he’s sat at the bar talking to steve, legs draped off the bar seat, thighs thick even in his dress pants. his long hair is neatly swept back, and the glass of bourbon in his metal hand clinks from the ice. 

natasha spots you first. she was just by the entrance, and she immediately greets you.

“how are you?”

you smile at her, happy to be with her after having not had the chance lately. “good, busy in the lab as always.”

she chuckles understandingly. “seems like tony has everyone working overtime.”

she goes on about one thing or another, but at some point you tune her out because bucky has finally noticed you. you can tell he’s tuned steve out too. 

he can’t stop staring. granted, he always stares at everyone, but the way he looks at you differs from that so much. it has your knees weak and you can feel your heart pound a little harder in your chest. his tongue darts out to wet his lips and the faintest smirk appears on his face.

steve turns around to see what his best friend is staring at. noticing you, he leans his head back at the sudden enlightenment and faces bucky. he speaks lowly, “why don’t you ask her out?”

bucky jerks his head towards steve. “what?” he’s defensive at having just been caught. “why would i do that?”

steve rolls his eyes. “because visiting her office everyday is totally normal…” his tone is laced with sarcasm.

you’ve been spending too much time with sam.

“shut up.”

“so you don’t like her, then?”

“i-” bucky huffs. “i never said that.”

“well, i’d act fast.”

his brows furrow. “Why?”

steve points towards you and bucky’s gaze shifts from his best friend to you. there, john walker attempts to offer you a drink, and bucky can tell even from his distant spot at the bar that you’re smiling to be polite.

he doesn’t reply to steve, abandoning his drink and his friend at the bar as he makes his way over to you. 

“can i help you?”

john has to turn to look at bucky, his smile dropping. you can tell he’s aggravated by the presence of the former winter soldier.

“no, i think we’re good.” he doesn’t even attempt to make his smile look genuine.

“i don’t think we are.” bucky steps closer to you. his head dips down, lips close to your ear as he speaks in a low whisper. “you okay, peaches?”

you smile, giddy at the sudden pet name. you nod gently, grateful for bucky’s care, and try not to bite your lip from the interaction. 

“why don’t you go somewhere else?” bucky’s gentle tone is replaced with a stoic one, his annoyance for john returning.

“why can’t i just talk to the girl?” he looks at you expecting your defense.

bucky’s left hand wraps around your waist. his fingers rub your side softly, gracing your hip. your stomach flips in a fit of butterflies. the sudden act of affection has your knees buckling. you want him to pull you closer in case you collapse.

“she’s not interested.” 

john’s eyes widen slightly and he backs away, muttering something under his breath. you feel bucky’s metal fingers squeeze your side slightly. he turns to look at you. 

“i’m sorry about him.”

you can barely hold eye contact. “it’s not your fault.” a sudden boost in courage has you pulling your hand up to smooth out the lapel of his suit. “besides, you’re my hero.”

his eyes flicker with appreciation at having been called that. “yeah?”

you hum in agreement. his other hand reaches towards your face, tracing the hair that sits behind your ear, pinned up in the updo you’ve done for the gala. another stomach flip.

“in that case, does your hero get any reward?” he has a playful smirk, his tone light.

“i suppose…” you smile back. “got anything in mind?”

he pulls you until you're facing him directly. his other hand sits at your waist, too. now you can’t look away, forced to look into his eyes as he undresses you with them. he hums as if the answer sits on his tongue. his metal hand pulls you forward, forcing you to take a step closer to him. his flesh hand moves from your waist to your cheek, nose brushing against yours, delicate, like a dance. his breath fans against your face and your eyelids flutter shut. you exhale, a bundle of nerves leaving too.

his lips ghost against yours, waiting to see if you’d pull back or say you’re crossing a line. you don’t dare stop him. you feel his lips curve slightly; he’s smirking against you. before it grows anymore, his lips connect with yours, warm and supple and tender. he kisses you like every second is a promise, like he wants the world to know you’ll never be anyone else’s.

and now, you know it’s a promise he’ll never break. 

[cowboybeepboop]

Hunted

"What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.5k 

Summary: Sergei finds you lost in the woods, comes to your rescue, and seduces you all in one day. 

Warnings: Mentions of being chased/harassed by men, being hunted, uses of “little one”, a size kink, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving)

a/n: Guys I’m so obsessed with Kraven omg, since I’m on break right now I’m grinding the fuck out of writing. also, I didn't proofread (per usual) I hope you all enjoy and send any requests you might have my way

You’re a little lost, well more than a little. Somehow you ended up being taken by a few strange men, and managed to get free but what good does that do if you’re lost, cold, alone, and limping in the Siberian forests? 

You drop down to rest, wrapping your arms around your body as the cool air assaults you. Trying to think of what to do next, while keeping in mind that there are three crazed men on the hunt for you. 

Kravinoff observes silently as he watches you drop to the ground, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep warm. His expression remains stoic, his eyes taking in every little detail about you. As he watches you shivering, he can't help but feel a small pang of...sympathy? No, that can't be right.

After a few moments of silent observation, Sergei finally breaks the silence, his voice gruff and blunt. "Lost, little one?"

You flinch at the sound of his voice, immediately reaching for a branch to attempt to defend yourself. "G-go away.." you murmur weakly, teeth chattering as you speak, your eyes trained on the floor. 

Kravinoff raises an eyebrow at your display, his lips twitching into a slight smirk as he sees you reaching for a branch to use as a weapon. 

He slowly takes a step closer, his heavy boots crunching in the snow as he does so. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? But that weak voice and shivering body are hardly intimidating."

"Please.." you murmur, eyes watery as you gaze up at him with puppy dog eyes, reminiscent of something his younger brother would do. "Please don't hurt me.." 

Sergei's expression softens for a moment as he looks down at you, the puppy dog eyes tugging at a very small part of his heart that he's long since tried to bury. "Hurt you? You think I'm going to hurt you?"

He takes a few more steps towards you, his eyes roaming over your form, taking in the sight of your shivering and shivering body. "You're trembling, little one. And that limp, you're hurt."

"It's not that bad, I can walk," you whisper, watching as he approaches you slowly. 

"Not that bad, hm?" Sergei lets out a scoff, his dark eyes flickering over your body. "You're shivering from the cold, and you're clearly hurt. You can barely stand, let alone walk."

He crouches down in front of you, his large frame towering over you. "Tell me, what's your name, little one?"

"My name is Y/N.. there's these guys, they're hunting me. I don't, I don't know what to do." Your expression is pleading as you weakly stand up, shakey voice matching the trembles of your body. 

Sergei's expression darkens at the mention of other men hunting you. He glances around, his eyes scanning the area like a predator watching for prey.

"Hunters, huh? And they're after you. Interesting." Sergei's eyes return to you, his hand instinctively going to rest on the handle of one of the knives holstered on his belt.

"Why are they hunting you? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you lean toward him, seeking the warmth that's radiating from his body. "At least I don't think I did? All I remember was waking up in a tent, they said that we were going to play a game.. I-" you trail off, a small tear falling down your cheek. 

Sergei watches as you lean towards him, a small pang of sympathy shooting through him again when he notices the tear rolling down your cheek. He's not used to comforting people, but something about you triggers a protective instinct within him.

"A game... What kind of game, little one?" He asks, his voice gruff but surprisingly gentle. He gently reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder to steady you.

"He said they would hunt me.." you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as a whistle sounds through the air. You press your body to his, eyes wide with fear, "i.. think they're getting close." 

Sergei's expression hardens as he hears the whistle through the air, his hand instinctively tightening on the handle of his knife. He glances around once more, his senses on high alert.

"Shhh," he murmurs, his other hand gently reaching out to hold you closer to him. "Stay quiet. They won't find you."

He pulls you to his chest, his large frame shielding you partially from view as he scans the woods once more.

You bury your reddened face into his chest, breathing in his musk and seeking safety in his grasp. Your arms move to cling to his waist, holding yourself closer to him. 

Sergei's nostrils flare as you bury your face into his chest, the scent of your skin, mixed with the musk of the forest, filling his senses. He can feel your arms clinging to his waist, the feel of your body pressed against his stirring something deep within him. He slowly reaches up and rests his hand on the back of your head, gently holding you against him.

"Don't worry, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his eyes still scanning the woods. "You're safe with me." You nod against his chest, too tired to speak. 

Sergei can feel the exhaustion radiating off you, your weary body leaning heavily against him. His fingers gently brush through your hair in a small, comforting gesture.

"You're exhausted," he murmurs, his voice still gruff but softer than before. "Let's find somewhere we can rest and get you warmed up."

Sergei shifts ever so slightly, his large frame adjusting so he's able to lift you gently into his arms, cradling you like a child.

You gasp as he effortlessly picks you up, arms instinctively going to his neck. "Where will we go?" you murmur.

Sergi glances down at you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, and a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He enjoys the feel of you in his arms, the way your body fits snugly against his.

"Somewhere safe," he replies, his voice gruff. "Somewhere these 'hunters' won't find us."

Carefully, Sergei begins moving through the forest, his powerful legs carrying both of you through the deep snow with ease. You nuzzle your face against his shoulder, finding him comforting in the vast forest. 

As you nuzzle your face against his shoulder, Sergei can't help but notice how much he's enjoying the feel of you in his arms. Your warmth against his chest, the soft sound of your breathing, and the gentle feel of you nuzzling against him.

He continues to move through the forest, weaving through trees and navigating the deep snow like a natural tracker. Every now and then, he glances down at you, his eyes taking in your tired, but now tranquil face.

You drift to sleep in his arms, body going limp as he continues to trek toward his home. Bringing you closer and closer to a warm safe shelter. 

Sergei feels your body go limp in his arms, signaling that you've fallen asleep. His arms instinctively tighten their grip on you, holding you securely against his chest as he continues to trek through the snowy forest.

Each step brings you both closer to his home, a small cabin nestled deep in the forest, away from the chaos of the outside world. As he approaches the cabin, Sergei can't help but feel an odd sense of protectiveness over you.

He gently pushes open the door to his cabin and steps inside, careful not to wake you. The cabin is warm and cozy, illuminated by the soft glow of a fireplace in the corner.

Sergei carries you over to a large, comfortable armchair and carefully sets you down, ensuring you're settled and comfortable. He takes a moment to gaze down at you, his eyes roaming over your tired face as you sleep.

He sighs deeply, his hands resting on the arms of the chair as he contemplates what to do next. You stir slightly at the lack of his body against yours, your arms reach out, seeking him once more. 

As you stir and reach out for him, searching for the warmth of his body, Sergei can't help but smirk to himself. He's not used to being sought after like this, and it brings an odd feeling of satisfaction to him.

He steps closer, gently taking hold of your seeking hands and holding them in his own large, calloused ones.

"I'm right here, little one," he murmurs gruffly, his voice low so as not to startle you.

As the morning sunlight streams through the windows, bathing the cabin in a warm, golden light, you stir in the soft, comfortable embrace of the armchair.

Sergei, who had spent the night keeping watch by the fireplace, notices your movements and rises silently from his chair. He watches as you pull the soft cloth blanket up to cover your face, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

He takes a step closer, leaning against the back of the armchair, and speaks in a low, gruff voice. "Morning, little one."

"You never told me your name.." you murmur, sliding out of the chair and sleepily moving to his side. 

Sergei's eyes roam over your sleepy form as you move to stand beside him, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he hears your question.

"I suppose I didn't," he says gruffly, his eyes watching you with a mixture of amusement and something else, something he can't quite place.

He lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, before replying, "My name is Sergei. Sergei Kravinoff."

"Sergei.." You repeat, settling onto the ground next to him, basking in the heat of the flames.

As you say his name, a small shiver of satisfaction runs through Sergei's body. He can't remember the last time anyone has spoken his name with such soft, sweet lips.

He watches as you settle onto the floor next to him, your body seeking the warmth of the flames. He can't help but admire your small, fragile form, your skin flushed and weary but still so very beautiful.

He glances down at you, his voice still gruff but softer than usual. "You should eat something, little one. You must be hungry."

Your face lights up at the mention of food, your stomach growling as if on cue. "I am a little hungry.." 

A small, satisfied smile tugs at the corners of Sergei's lips as he watches your face light up at the mention of food, and hears your stomach growl in confirmation.

"Looks like that settles it," he says gruffly, pushing himself up off the floor. "I'll fix you something to eat. Stay there and warm up."

Without waiting for a reply, he strides over to the small kitchen in the cabin, starting to prepare a meal.

You turn to watch his movements, craving his company at your side once again. A feeling of heat rises in your stomach as you gulp, eyes glued to his muscular frame. 

Sergei can feel your eyes on him as he moves around the kitchen, his muscular frame easily handling the preparation of the simple meal. He can't help but detect a hint of something in your gaze, a heat that he's not sure he quite understands.

He glances over at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he meets your gaze. "What is it, little one?" he asks gruffly, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.

Your cheeks flush a bright pink, causing you to shake your head. "Nothing.. it's nothing." you reply softly.

Sergei's smirk grows wider as he notices the bright pink flush on your cheeks, knowing that he's caused a reaction in you. He can't help but be captivated by the innocent, shy look on your face.

He lets out a gruff chuckle, returning to his task of preparing the meal. "It's not nothing," he says, his voice holding a hint of playfulness. "You're staring at me, little one. I can feel your gaze on me. What are you thinking?"

"You're just very big.." you whisper, shocked by the words coming from your mouth. Clenching the blanket tight around you, you carefully adjust your clothes, feeling your panties becoming wet.

Sergei's eyes widen slightly at your words, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the innocent bluntness of your statement. He can't help but be amused by your shyness, your flushed cheeks, and the way your body fidgets under the blanket.

He turns to face you fully, his eyes roaming over your form, drinking in the sight of you. He can sense the change in you, the heat in your body, and he can't help but wonder if you're even aware of it. 

"Is that so?" he asks gruffly, his voice holding a hint of something else, something deeper.

You nod, mind wandering to.. other parts of him, and how big it might be. "Mhm.." you murmur, looking up at him as he brings you a plate of food.

As you nod and confirm his words, Sergei can't help but notice the way your eyes wander over his frame, lingering on certain parts of his anatomy. He knows what you're thinking, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

He approaches you, holding out the plate of food. As he does, his eyes lock onto yours, his voice gruff as he speaks again. "Eat up, little one. You need your strength."

"Thank you Sergei.." you smile up at him, taking the plate and beginning to take a few small bites, your mind still focused on him. 

Sergei watches as you take the plate and begin to eat, his gaze studying you intently. He notices the small, subtle things, the way your eyes wander over his form, the way your lips move as you chew.

A small, amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he watches you, his own thoughts wandering to the same subject as yours.

"You're welcome, little one," he grunts, his voice gruff and low. "Make sure you eat all of it. Can't have you wasting away on me."

"Yes sir," you murmur between bites. Comfortable silence fills the air as he takes a seat next to you, his shoulder lightly brushing yours.

As you finish your meal, the silence of the cabin is filled with a comfortable stillness. Sergei lowers himself down to sit beside you, taking a moment to admire the sight of you as you finish eating.

His shoulder lightly brushed yours, the contact sending a small shiver through his body. Despite his gruff and stoic exterior, he can't help but be drawn to you, your innocence and vulnerability stirring something deep within him.

"Feeling better now, little one?" he asks, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.

"Much better," you grin, leaning against him, your hand falling to his lap. You're craving more, more of his touch, more of him, you just need him. 

As you lean against him and your hand falls to his lap, Sergei's body tenses momentarily, his breath catching in his chest. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, the slight weight of your hand on his thigh, and it awakening something within him.

He can't help but glance down at your hand, then back up at your face, a mix of surprise, desire, and a hint of hesitation in his gaze. "Little one..." he growls, his voice deep and hoarse.

"Yes, Sergei?" you breathe out, biting down on your bottom lip with desire. 

Sergei's eyes are fixated on your biting your lip, the sight sending a wave of heat through him. He can feel his body reacting to your closeness, to the desire in your voice.

He leans closer to you, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks, his voice a low, gruff whisper, "What are you doing to me, little one? You're driving me insane.."

You gasp as his voice sends shivers down your body, leaning closer to him you find a small amount of confidence. You slide your hand up his though, nearing the place you're most curious about. "Sergei.. I'm curious about something.."

As your hand slowly slides up his thigh, nearing a sensitive spot, Sergei's body tenses once more, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel the heat of your touch, the desire in your movements, and it's driving him wild.

He glances down at your hand, then back up at your face, his eyes dark and intense. "What is it, little one?" he growls, his voice thick with desire. "What are you curious about?"

"How big is it?" you gulp, looking up at him through your lashes as you settle between his legs. Almost salivating at the thought of seeing his cock.

As your words sink in, and your body moves between his legs, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, a low growl escaping his lips. He can feel the heat in your body, the desire in your gaze, and it's driving him crazy.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and ravenous, as he responds in a low, guttural tone, "Are you sure you want to know, little one?"

"Mhm, I'm really curious," you whisper, hand sliding to the buckle of his belt and slowly maneuvering to remove it. "Is this okay?"

Sergei watches as your hand moves to his belt, slowly working to undo the buckle. Your touch is innocent yet filled with a desire that he can't deny.

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he contemplates your question. "You're very forward, little one," he says gruffly, his voice thick with a mix of desire and surprise. "But yes.. it's okay."

You slowly remove his garments, moving to free his hardness. Your body trembles in anticipation, desire coursing through you.

As you remove his garments, revealing his hardness, Sergei's breath hitches in his chest, his body trembling slightly as you bare him to your gaze.

He watches you, his eyes roaming over your face, studying the mix of desire and innocence in your expression. He can feel his own desire growing stronger by the second, a mixture of primal need and unexpected gentleness.

"Look at you..." he mutters gruffly, his voice thick with want. "You're so, so curious.."

Your hand wraps around his thick hard dick, eyes wide as you take in the sheer size of it. "I want to taste you," your gaze is focused on his length as you stick your tongue out, licking his tip slightly.

As you wrap your hand around his length, a low, guttural moan escapes his lips, his body tensing at the feel of your touch.

He watches as you lick his tip, your gaze fixed on his manhood, and it drives him crazy. The heat in your eyes, the desire in your movements, it's driving him to the edge.

"Is that so, little one?" he growls, his voice thick and strained. "You want to taste me, do you?"

You nod, lips wrapping around his throbbing cock. Your mouth is full of his manhood, eyes fluttering shut as you moan at the taste of his precum.

With a deep, shaky breath, Sergei allows you to continue, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels the warmth of your mouth engulfs his cock. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through his body, his muscles tightening and his heart racing. 

His hands instinctively move to the back of your head, guiding your movements gently as you take him in deeper, your soft moans muffled by his flesh. The feeling of your wetness and the gentle suction as you work your mouth over him is almost too much to handle, and he has to fight the urge to thrust into you.

Sergei's eyes snap open as your eager mouth continues to explore him, his grip on the back of your head tightening slightly as he watches you with a mix of hunger and amazement. "You're a natural, little one," he grunts, his voice strained as he feels himself getting closer to the edge. 

His hips begin to move almost imperceptibly, matching the rhythm of your mouth. The warmth, the wetness, the way your tongue swirls around his head – it's all too much for him to handle. He can feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling in his stomach and balls, begging for release. But he doesn't want this to end yet. He wants more of you, all of you.

With a sudden urgency, he pulls you off his cock, panting heavily. "Not yet," he growls, his eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing over you, his large frame looming over you protectively. 

His hand moves to the hem of your shirt, sliding it up to reveal your soft, pale stomach. His lips follow the trail of his hand, kissing and nibbling gently, leaving a path of heat in their wake. 

You gasp and arch up into his touch, your own desires spiraling out of control. His rough hands begin to unbutton your pants, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly reveals your most intimate secrets.

As he unbuttons your pants, Sergei's eyes are dark with need, watching your every reaction with a predatory focus. 

He can feel the heat between your legs, smell the sweet scent of your arousal, and it's all he can do to not rip the rest of your clothes off in one swift move. But he holds back, enjoying the slow, methodical unveiling of your body.

He slides your pants down, his calloused hands brushing against the softness of your skin. His eyes are drawn to the small, lacy underwear you're wearing, the stark contrast to the ruggedness of the cabin and his own attire not lost on him. 

With a smirk, he hooks his fingers under the elastic and pulls them down, revealing your bare, shaven pussy.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. His eyes roam over the delicate folds of your sex, the sight of your wetness making his cock throb even more. He leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

You whimper at his gentle touch, your body quivering with anticipation. "Sergei," you breathe out his name like a prayer, your legs falling open wider to give him better access. You can't believe this is happening, but all you want is for him to keep going.

His mouth follows the path of his kisses, moving closer to your core. When he reaches your pussy, he lingers for a moment, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh before his tongue darts out to taste you. The sensation is electric, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through your body as he explores you with the same curiosity and hunger he had when you first touched him.

"Oh god," you moan, your hands fisting in the sheets as his tongue delves deeper into your wetness. He licks and sucks, his beard scraping gently against your thighs, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your hips buck against his mouth, seeking more, begging for it.

Sergei growls in satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your clit, sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands move to grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours you, his tongue swirling and flicking with expert precision. You're lost in the feeling, your world narrowing down to the warmth of his mouth and the exquisite pleasure he's giving you.

And as your orgasm builds, he slows down, teasing you, making you beg for release. "Please," you whine, your voice desperate and needy.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something else, something that makes your stomach flip. "Please what, little one?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that resonates through your core.

"Please, make me cum," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a smirk, he goes back to work, his tongue and lips bringing you closer and closer to the precipice until, with one final, hard suck, you're tumbling over, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax. You cry out his name as waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless beneath him.

Sergei watches you come with a fierce satisfaction, his cock pulsing with his own need. He moves up your body, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself at your entrance. "Are you ready for me, little one?" he asks, his voice a gruff whisper.

You nod, your eyes glazed with passion as you reach up to pull him closer. "Yes," you pant, your body arching up to meet his. "I need you inside me."

And with that, he pushes in, filling you up with one long, slow stroke that has you gasping for air. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. He begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes you, claiming you as his in this moment of raw, primal passion.

With a fierce growl, Sergei slams into you, his cock stretching your tight pussy as he takes what he's craved since the moment he laid eyes on you. The feeling of you, warm and wet around him, is indescribable, and he can't hold back any longer. 

He begins to pound into you, each stroke hitting just the right spot, making you scream out in ecstasy. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, your heels digging into his muscular back as you meet his rhythm, urging him to go faster, harder. 

The bed beneath you creaks and shakes with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming into the wall in a steady rhythm that matches the beating of your heart. The room is filled with the sounds of your passion, the slapping of skin on skin, the harsh breaths, and desperate moans that fill the air like a symphony of desire. 

Your nails dig into the smooth skin of his back, leaving swollen red marks on his tanned skin, your pussy clenching around him as he continues to thrust into you. With each move of his hips, you become more and more needy, gasping and moaning his name. 

Sergei’s movements stutter, his hips pushing flush against yours, his head digging into your g-spot. His thick cock swells inside of you as your grip around him, your body coaxing his orgasm out of him. 

He buries his face into your neck, moaning lowly as he fills you with his warmth. You arch up into him, spasming around his still-hard length. 

“Fuck, oh fuck…” you whine, eyes fluttering shut as he collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you to his chest. 

[zhelin-thames]

Sixteen Bucks and a Grudge

Inspired by this post

Masterpost

The Batcave descended into silence as the glowing figure hovered ominously, his voice reverberating through the space. Everyone stared at Bruce, whose face remained impassive, though there was a faint twitch in his left eye.

"Bruce," Danny's eldritch voice echoed again, the flickering green light from his form illuminating the cave. "You promised."

Jason was the first to break the silence, biting back a laugh. "Wait, hold up. Bats, you owe this guy—" he gestured at the spectral figure, "—sixteen bucks? And you didn’t pay him back?"

Tim blinked in disbelief. "Sixteen dollars? That’s it? Why not just pay him?"

Bruce’s jaw clenched. "It’s the principle."

"The principle?" Danny’s ethereal voice sharpened. "The principle is that you owe me money. I spotted you when you conveniently ‘forgot’ your wallet on that mission in Prague. Fifteen years, Bruce. Fifteen. Years."

Dick swung down from the obstacle course, landing with a flourish. "Bruce, this is... shocking. You didn’t pay back a friend? A ghostly friend?"

"Former associate," Bruce corrected, standing straighter.

"You don’t even have an excuse," Damian said, crossing his arms. "Father, this is shameful."

Cass, who had been silently observing, tilted her head at Danny and then at Bruce. "Pay him," she signed.

"Thank you!" Danny exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "See? She gets it!"

Steph nudged Duke, grinning. "This is the best thing that’s happened all week. I’m rooting for the glowing guy."

Jason smirked, holstering his guns. "Hey, Phantom—what happens if he doesn’t pay up? Do you haunt him or something?"

Danny’s eyes gleamed mischievously. "I’ve had fifteen years to think about that. Let’s just say Bruce would learn the true meaning of regret."

Bruce let out a long-suffering sigh, finally reaching into a compartment in his utility belt. He produced a crisp twenty-dollar bill and held it out toward Danny.

"Here."

Danny crossed his arms, floating closer but making no move to take it. "Sixteen. Not twenty. I’m not taking tips from someone who stiffed me for a decade and a half."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, then withdrew a smaller wad of cash and counted out exactly sixteen dollars. He handed it over wordlessly.

Danny plucked the money from Bruce’s hand with a smirk. "Pleasure doing business, old friend."

With that, Danny dissolved back into the glowing green portal, leaving the Batcave in a dim eerie glow for a few moments before it faded entirely.

As silence returned, Jason leaned back, arms crossed, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "So, Bruce, what’s the real story here? Because I need to know why you’d rather let a ghost King hunt you down than pay sixteen dollars."

Bruce turned back to his computer. "Get back to work."

Tim was already typing away. "Oh no, I’m finding the mission logs. There’s no way we’re letting this go."

"Sixteen years of holding a grudge," Dick added, shaking his head. "That guy has serious commitment."

Jason laughed. "Sounds like he’d fit right in."

[gravegoer]

i humbly suggest pirate sevika in small letters

thank you for your service

Sail the Seven Seas ☠︎︎

i had this in the works ! you read my mind, we have cowboy sevika, but we absolutely need pirate sevika, i did a little "how you met" before the hcs ! also ill greatfully take any other requests for pirate sevika i love her sm (i hope you appreciate the pirate hat i edited on her lol)

She found you when her crew was raiding a ship, you were kept prisoner in the dark dungeons below deck after the pirates robbed a bar.

Sevika was inclined to leave you there, as she was in a rush. But your pleading eyes convinced her.

She told you to back up and pulled the flimsy metal door right off the hinges. Your only experience with pirates was your former kidnappers.

They were ruthless and had not a care in the world. They were greedy enough to pat you down even though you cried and insisted you had no form of money on you other than the jewelry they had ripped from your limbs.

But after she ripped the door off, she simply walked away, not sparing you a second glance. She set you free, but now what? Were you supposed to swim to land?

You hesitated before running up the old wooden stairs, the faint moonlight beamed on your face. It smelled fresh on deck, no longer having the musky odor of mold and wood filling your nose.

You were also greeted with the sight of the woman that freed you, her back facing you and pointing to crew members, yelling orders. She must be the captain, signified by her detailed hat and especially the way the crew listened to her.

People scurried under her gaze almost cowardly. Boxes were being hauled onto a much bigger ship (which you assumed was hers) over a wooden plank.

She was tall and obviously built. You could tell even though she was adorned with many layers, straps, and belts accentuated her curves and edges. She had a metal prosthetic that looked dangerous. Not only that, but a gun and two swords hung from her waist.

You approached her timidly, the floorboards squeaking under your bare feet. When you sat a hand on her arm, urging her to turn around, she put a larger hand on the hilt of her sword defensively and spun to face you.

At just the force of it, you stumbled back. She was strong. Your eyes widened at her hands, hovering over the holster of her weapon. She spoke, "What are you trying to do?"

Her voice was gruff and demanding, leaving no room for questions. "I don't have anywhere to go," you stated honestly.

"And what do you expect me to do about that."

Although she put on the front of a rough demeanor, her eyes scanned your frame in curiosity. Worn clothes hung from your body, hair a mess, and despite it all, you were quite pretty.

She knew she couldn't take you on a ship with a bunch of men. In her eyes, it was almost as dangerous as leaving you on the ship to fend for yourself.

Almost.

She took you onto her ship with the promise that at the next stop they had, she would drop you off there. Whether or not you knew where you were.

Having no better option, you opted to go with her. She didn't shackle you up or restrain you, knowing you could do little to no harm to her or her crew.

She refused to put you in the berth with other pirates. It was stuffy and cramped, and all in all, no place for you.

So you had a room next to her (and an odd blue haired girl). She said it was fine because it's temporary anyway.

She gave you some clothes that fit, and a pair of shoes to put on your feet. And the room was more than you could ask for. It was spacious and contained a lavish bed.

You assumed it was someone else's room previously as it was already decorated. (Plus, she told you not to meddle in any of the stuff)

Sevika didnt expect you to do anything, thinking you werent fit to operate on a ship so, you were not asked to do any work. In all your boredom you found yourself roaming around the ship, looking at the stuff that was collected in each corner. Some trinkets, belts, broken weapons, etc.

Sevika watched you closely, making sure you didn't have any ulterior motives. Eventually, she realized that you were nothing but curious.

Then she watched you closely to make sure you didn't fall overboard.

At meals, you stuck close by her side, not really knowing anyone on board yet. She gave you things off her plate, saying you looked starved. And you didn't complain. You weren't really fed in the dungeons.

She started to show you around the deck, answering your questions about the sea and her ship. When you started to ask too many questions, she sighed and shook her head, wandering off to attend to her duties.

She was truly a mystery to you, not being able to read her gaze or body language. But what you did know is that she was a ruthless captian. Always having something for her crew to do and ordering them around with her loud, booming voice.

She was intimidating in theory, yes. But towards you, she seemed a bit more.. lenient?

Nontheless, in a few days, you finally arrived at their next destination, and you stepped off the ship with everyone. Taking in the way the ground felt against your feet, no longer swaying from side to side.

You had no idea where you were, and even though it didn't seem like a bad place, you couldn't just start anew again. I mean, how were you supposed to rebuild your whole life?

Sevika sensed your anxiety as you wandered through the streets with her crew. She saw your eyes flick side to side, looking at the buildings and people.

She might regret it, but she couldn't just leave you here.

You were growing more worried by the hour, and when night fell and everyone started back to the docks, you felt lost. You stayed behind, watching them load back onto the ship when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. "You coming?"

Looking up, you locked eyes with Sevika, her brow was cocked and her lips slightly upturned. "You're letting me stay?" You questioned, in shock.

"Well, the ship is leaving soon, so only if you can make it." She teased.

You hugged her tight, wrapping your arms around her large frame. Her eyes widened in shock, not returning the hug before you ran off to the ship.

HC time !!

Now that you were deemed officially a part of the crew you had work to do, scrubbing the deck was a daily task. Even though other crew members seemed to dread it, you enjoyed smelling the fresh ocean air and feeling the wind on your back.

Sometimes you could feel Sevika's eyes on you as you cleaned, she sat at the helm, supposedly watching everyone. But when you turned around you would lock eyes with her and she would smirk.

When she sent the crew out on missions you grew to never be afraid, picking up on how to use weapons easily and fight alongside other people.

She almost admired this about you, it was like you were a natural. Like you belonged on her ship.

You didn't know what was on her mind most of the time. She was always closed off and didn't converse with anyone on ship except for Jinx, who was obviously closer to her than the rest of the crew.

But one fateful night you ran into her when you couldn't seem to get to sleep

You approached the bow of the ship, watching the moonlight reflect off the waves, and the clouds move with the wind. It was quite beautiful at night even though there wasn't much to look at other than water.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you put a hand to your holster but spun around to see Sevika. Seeing her in this light reminded you of the day you met her, but now you were in front of her, compared to the day she found you.

"Up so late?" She questioned, her voice indicated she had waken up recently.

"Yeah, I couldn't fall asleep," You let your guard down again and leaned against the wood, hand cradling your face as you stared back into the sea.

"Y'know.. I didn't think you had it in you." She commented.

"Had what in me?" You chuckled, "The guts to be a pirate?"

You talked for a long while after that, the sun hit the horizon by the time you said your goodbyes. You had a feeling that Sevika wouldn't be a mystery to you for much longer.

Eventually, she would come around to teach you how to fight properly, as you mostly fought based off of what you saw others do. She held your body close to hers, helping you mimic her movements. Feeling the buckles of her belts on your back, the coldness of her metal arm on your waist.

As a matter of fact she taught you a lot of things, like how to steer the ship: putting her hands over yours, pointing in the direction of where to go. Teasing you when your hands got tired, and taking over for you, letting you stand between her and the wheel.

She joined you in the crows nest, sitting beside you on the railing with a hand on your back, making sure you didn't fall. She would direct your telescope to look at nearby land or into the horizon.

You had a lot of talks up there.

Sometimes, the crew wondered what was going on between you two, as you were practically always together. (She denies all allegations.. for now)

She taught you how to wield a sword and fought with you for fun. Letting you win from time-to-time, you knew she let you. I mean, there's no way you'd be able to pin Sevika to the wooden deck without a struggle.

You would catch her sleeping on the helm, her feet kicked up on a chair and her hat on her face. As punishment, you would take her hat and keep it until morning. Then, prancing around the next day with it on, commanding the crew jokingly, pretending to be her.

When she finally caught you, she would sweep you up and take the hat right off your head, chuckling at your mischievousness. Sometimes, she would let you wear her hat, only if you promised not to lose it.

After particularly stressful missions, the crew would throw a small party for their winnings, needing time to wind down. You grew accustomed to the crew, even making a few friends with unlikely people.

You and Jinx drank a bit together and danced around on the table, singing sea shanties loudly. But eventually, Sevika would catch you all. And make you clean up. (But not before having a drink herself)

And it was almost a nightly routine to go up to the deck and talk once everyone was asleep, gazing into the moon with her. It felt natural. You felt like you belonged.

God i love her, i dream about her I swear. I love pirates... and I love sevika, pls send in more pirate sevika asks i wanna do a siren one too ngl maybe how Sevika isnt drawn in by your siren call because the captain is a woman AUGHHHHH

[sunflowerwinds]

nobody but you | v.a

summary: you lost everyone close to you, including your best friend (and childhood crush) when you were fourteen years old and had to grow up on your own. seven years later, a ghost reappears, igniting those same feelings from all those years ago to come bubbling back up. bed-confessions lead to what you’ve wanted for years.

pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane

contains: reader is described to wear skirts and have longer curly hair, reader’s nickname is star, mature language, mentions of vi and reader being each other’s first kiss, caitlyn being a third wheel (i’m so sorry :/), mature content: dry humping & hickies (vi!receiving)

a/n: …. hey. arcane is a new fixation and i HAD to write for her. inbox is open for more vi ideas! (modern or not) <33 4 DAYS until arcane🙂‍↕️!!!

That night that the explosion happened, you were a wreck. You had lost so many people that you held near to your heart; Vander, Claggor, Mylo, and Vi. As much as you hated to admit to yourself but losing her had the most impact on you.

Her body wasn’t found so everyone, including yourself, assumed that she was dead.

Powder, god, you couldn’t get to her before Silco did. When you arrived at the aftermath of the scene, she was gone and all that was left was a piece of a bomb that was undeniably Powder’s creation. Guilt settled within you at the rumors that spread of who Powder had become; Jinx.

It took years for you to become somewhat okay, falling into a new routine. With Silco running Zaun and dowsing the streets with shimmer, you had to watch people you knew become addicted and lose their minds over it.

You were alone.

It was a last resort but you took up a job at The Last Drop; as a barkeep. It was shitty pay but at least you had enough for food. It, of course, was nothing like when Vander owned the place. There was no family feeling or sense of comfort and unity.

You had accepted from that point on that this is how things were going to be. You live in the space above Benzo’s souvenir shop, making it your own home. Since his death, the space had been unoccupied. You took it upon yourself to make it yours.

It was decorated with remembrance of your late friends and knick-knacks you’ve collected from around the Lanes.

You had gotten off of your afternoon shift at the Last Drop, making your way back to the broken-down place you called home. You were ready to sit back and make dinner for yourself, sitting with your thoughts and silence. However as you approached the door to the shop, a weird sense settled into your gut.

The front door was open ever so slightly, barely noticeable at first glance. You usually would’ve dismissed it as a mistake on your part.

But this incident mixed with the weird feeling in your gut told you that this wasn’t just forgetting to close the door all the way. You hovered your hand over your leather holster that held your coins and a few ninja stars that you had been holding on to since you could hold one.

It was also helpful to hold up your extra layer of skirt.

Carefully, you peeked into the shop to see if you could see something or someone inside. From the small crevice, your sight was limited so you couldn’t confirm anything just yet. Lifting your left boot, you push the door open with the toe of your foot. You look into the shaded areas of the building, waiting for some form of movement.

Once you carefully step into the abandoned shop, you reach behind you to grab the doorknob to shut it closed. Your eyes flicker around the room, squinting in concentration as you continue to walk across the wooden floors.

A second passes and that’s when you hear a creak come from behind you. Reacting quickly, you grab a ninja star from the pocket of your belt and launch it into the darkness. The sound of the blade splitting into the wood and a grunt relax your worries somewhat.

Reaching for another star, you raise a hand to turn on the light to see who exactly made their way into the shop. Your face hardened as you lifted your arm once more, preparing to defend yourself.

The intruder stood against the shut door, eyes locked on the weapon in your hand.

“Star?”

They question you, stepping forward into the light.

You grip onto the ninja star tighter, confused as to how they know who you are. You suck in a deep breath, tilting your head as the strangers' features reveal themselves in the light. You squint for a moment before letting out a soft gasp, letting the bladed weapon slip from your fingers and onto the ground.

It couldn’t be. It was impossible.

Were you hallucinating? Have you finally reached your breaking point?

The hair, the bandaged arms, the same slope of her nose.

“Vi?” You breathe out, your eyes welling up with tears.

The pink-haired girl nodded, letting out a shaky breath herself. She took a few more careful steps towards you. You take the same amount of steps to meet her in the middle, throwing your arms around her neck with desperation. You let out a sob as you bury your face into the crook of her neck.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s me,” her voice was gentle in your ear, one of her bandaged palms cradling the back of your head while the other held you close by your torso.

Your eyes squint shut as you take in the fact that this is really happening. Vi was here; alive and so different. You pull away from her now-inked neck, brows furrowed from the questions rattling through your head.

“You… Where have you been?” You ask her softly.

“I got arrested and I’ve been in Stillwater since that night,” she explained carefully, one of her palms cradling your elbow.

“How are you here now? How did you get out?” Your eyes flicker to the ink on her cheek and the nose ring.

“I got released earlier today. I—I just had to see you. To make sure you were even…” Vi trailed off as she brushed a flyaway out of your face so she could really look at you.

The way you looked both so different and the same; how much you still look like that same girl that used to cut your fingers on your ninja stars. She remembers how you would try to hide the little slits on the tips of your fingers from her until you would physically wince from the cuts, forcing Vi to tend to the wounds.

You, unknowingly, did the same.

Too distracted just like how you would be all those years ago. Two teenage girls just trying to survive every day, secretly meeting up on the rooftops to snuggle dangerously close when everyone was asleep.

“When you said we were making a quick stop, I did assume it would be quick,” a posh English accent emerges from behind Vi, causing you to pull away from her comforting touch.

Vi let out a sigh before turning her head to peer at the tall woman standing in the doorway. You immediately recognize the attire underneath the small coat she was wearing and raise your hand to aim a ninja star at her. She was an enforcer.

Vi had an enforcer… get her out of prison?

“Who are you?” You snip, eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?” The dark blue-haired woman quipped back.

You hold back the scoff bubbling in your throat before Vi reaches forward to gently push your hand down. You hesitantly did so, still gripping onto the weapon between your fingers.

“I was thinking that maybe we could lay low here for a bit. Get some rest,” Vi attempts to ease your obvious tense figure.

“We?” You glance over at the woman watching her face soften.

“Yes. Just until tomorrow. Then we’ll be out of your hair to go to Babette’s.”

Voice still calm and gentle, Vi explained the situation at the moment. It turns out the tall woman’s name is Caitlyn, they’re looking for Powder Jinx because they believe she’s involved with an explosion that happened in Piltover.

You could see the desperation in Vi’s eyes when talking about her sister and your heart broke for her.

“Okay. I’m up top so,” you nod towards the door more into the shop that leads upstairs.

“Lead the way, Star,” Vi grinned, shoving her bandaged hands into her pockets.

You look over at Caitlyn who is standing right behind Vi, towering a bit over you both. You lead the pair to your living space, flicking on the light to reveal the new made up home. Vi whistled as she walked around the familiar space now made into more than just an attic.

“You did all of this?” She questioned with a smile as she walked over to the shelf of books and trinkets.

“Uh, yeah,” you feel a bit vulnerable knowing that both a stranger and past best friend who you thought was dead are in your home. “No rent, no roommates, just me.”

Your childhood friend traces the hanging lights from your ceiling, grinning for a moment when they make a soft twinkling noise. Being as nosy as she was, she made her way over to where you slept. Her eyes locked on the beaten-down table next to your table, focusing on the small ceramic bowl full of trinkets.

“Shit, you kept this?” Vi grabbed an item off the bedside table that was next to your bed that made your eyes widen with embarrassment.

It was a star ring that Vi had gotten (swiped from an antique shop) when you were thirteen. That day she gave it to you was also the day you brought up the idea of being each other’s first kiss to get it out of the way. Dating wasn’t a worry but you both agreed that you might as well ‘prepare for that day when you’d need to.’

It wasn’t the most amazing kiss, of course as you were preteens but you still became flustered the second you two made eye contact as you pulled away. You remember twiddling with the star ring after and how much you felt so cared for by someone.

“Oh yeah. It was to remember you by,” you sheepishly reply.

Vi hummed at your response, her smile creeping onto her lips as she set it down.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but is there someplace where I can rest?” Caitlyn questioned from behind you, seeming to be standing carefully near the door.

You glance over at Vi who had laid back on your bed, shutting her eyes with a sigh. One of her bandaged arms draped over her lower stomach while the other rested above her head on your flattened pillows.

“You can rest over here.”

You motioned for the tall woman to follow you. You walk around the wall, pushing back a curtain to a secret space where you usually allow some acquaintances from work or people in need to sleep, turning to Caitlyn with a friendlier grin.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn called after you as she sucked in a deep breath, looking around the small room. “For allowing me in your home.

“Thanks for bringing her back to me,” you nod.

Caitlyn nods in return, a small smile on her lips as she lowers herself on the dingy mattress.

“I know it’s not the ivory walls you’re used to but make yourself at home,” you notice the small, barely noticeable gap in between her front teeth as she smiles at you.

“It’s lovely,” her posh accent makes you chuckle.

You simply shake your head and shut the curtain to give Caitlyn some privacy. You recollect yourself as you think about Vi who is currently lying down on your bed. Vi perked up as she heard footsteps walking towards the bed, making eye contact with you as you rounded the bed to the other side.

“Hi,” you mutter as you lower yourself down on the opposite side of the bed, knee first.

“Hi,” Vi replied, her lips twitching into a small smile.

You can’t even hide the smitten smile on your face as you lay yourself down next to her, back on the mattress as well. Your palms rest above your navel as you try to act as normal as possible.

A tense silence filled the open room; the both of you not knowing what to say to one another. You could hear the shouting and loud music of the streets coming from your open window but all you could focus on was your own nervous breathing.

“I thought about you every day,” Vi’s the first to break the silence. “Every fucking day there, I thought about what it would be like coming back to you. I hoped you’d be here, Star. I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone too.” Vi admitted as she shook her head, snuggling into your bed.

Your eyes bore into her side profile, admiring the slope of her nose and the ink etched into her cheek. You turn the rest of your body to match your head.

“You would’ve been okay,” you joke, weakly chuckling.

Vi blinks and looks over at you with a soft and meaningful gaze. She’s silent for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts before she speaks.

“Do you remember when we would go up to the roof of the Last Drop and talk about what we would do if we ever got out of here?” Vi questions gently, facing you so that you are face to face.

“Yeah,” you mutter, not knowing where she was going with it.

“Every scenario we talked about whether it was taking over the streets or getting bucket loads of cash to build a new life there, I never imagined what it would be like without you by my side. You were always… right here.” Vi breathed out, her gaze avoiding your own. “Now that I know what it’s like to have that reality, I don’t want it to happen ever again.”

“Vi,” you whisper with tears in your eyes.

Her eyes carefully lifted to meet yours, pupils dilated with vulnerability.

“I was so… scared you were gone too,” Vi whispered, hesitantly reaching for you but her hand retracted quickly.

You took the reins and carefully hooked your finger onto one of hers, sighing in relief at the touch. Vi stared at the courteous touch and wrapped her palm over your own, running her thumb over the back of your hand.

“Do you remember what happened after you gave me that ring?” You ask softly, using your free hand to brush a piece of her hair out of her face.

Vi wasn’t stupid. She knew you meant that kiss that put a pep in her step for a few weeks after; the girl that she had been crushing over since before she could remember. Not wanting to confront it head-on, she quickly stumbled out a little joke.

“I think I thought about doing that for months. Mylo wouldn’t stop giving me shit for it every time you came around, blowing kisses at me when you had your back turned.” Vi chuckled as she shook her head.

You smile at the mention of Mylo, not doubting it for a second. You, in a similar fashion, turned to Ekko for your little crush on Vi.

“You know, come to think of it,” you pretend to recall, “I remember you asking me an important question too.”

Vi wanted to punch herself in the jaw as you brought up another rather embarrassing moment. She could see it now; two teens sitting on a rooftop, shoulder to shoulder after sharing a quick peck and avoiding each other’s eyeline.

“We could be each other’s… back up when we get older, you know.” A fidgety thirteen-year-old Vi had proposed.

You remember glancing down at bright-colored streets and clouds that intoxicated the air of Zaun. Vi glanced over at you to see if you had even heard her as you had gone completely silent.

“Back up?” You questioned, your voice still going through the ups of puberty.

“Yeah, well, when we’re old, like, forty or something and have no one else, we could be each other’s.”

Vi didn’t really explain what that meant at the time but you agreed with ease. You knew how much you would do for Vi; maybe it was a little obsessive and unhealthy but she had a grip on you that you hoped never left.

Neither of you were near forty yet but there was a sliver of hope you could enact that pact today.

Something took over you after that confession and you scoot your body closer to hers. You reach your hand up to brush your hair out of her face, cupping the side of her face. Vi held onto your wrist as you began to lean into her.

Before you could even comprehend it, Vi pressed her lips to yours. Your eyes widen at the sudden movement, releasing her face in shock. Her hand was still gripping onto your wrist as her lips moved against your own.

After the initial surprise of the kiss, you follow her rhythm. You place your hand back onto her cheek as you suck in a deep breath, letting yourself enjoy what you have been craving to redo after seven years.

The soft smack of your kisses and you and Violet humming against each other's lips silently drove you insane.

“I missed you so much,” Vi mutters against your lips.

You sigh at the confession, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Never thought I'd get to do this,” you confess. “To be with you like this, Vi.”

Vi’s palms move down your body, rubbing down your sides carefully like you were going to disappear at any moment. Years of confinement and getting into fights with inmates led her to this very moment; the only person in her life that was really here for her.

“And now that you are doing it?” Vi questions, her big rounded eyes boring into your own.

“I don’t want it to stop.”

Vi beams at that and you dive back into her lips, humming against the gentle touch of her lips. This second time around was more hungry, eager for one another. There was nothing that could compare to the feeling of her bandaged arms wrapped around your waist as you kissed like you needed her; craved her.

Oh, how needy you were at that moment: selfishly grabbing onto her like she could disappear at any moment. She wasn’t; at least you hoped not.

“I still can’t believe you’re really here,” you sighed out, tears welling up in your eyes.

Vi immediately notices your mood drop and shakes her head, leaning in to kiss your cheek and placing a few more gentle touches on your neck and jaw.

“I’m here. Right here, sweetheart,” she murmured against your skin as she continued to carefully kiss your skin.

You suck in a deep breath as you cup either side of her face to pull her away from your flustered skin. Vi’s chest was heaving up and down from her own hunger for you becoming overwhelming.

“I want to make you feel good, Vi,” you admit, whispering just below normal speaking volume.

Vi stares and blinks, her breathing slowing down.

“Me?” She questions as if she misheard you.

“Yes, you. Please.”

You couldn’t even feel an ounce of embarrassment from your begging as you meant it more than anything. Vi, with not much more needed convincing, nodded frantically as she allowed you to take the reigns.

You pull away to sit upright and straddle her lap, your skirt lifting up your legs to rest on the highest part of your thigh. Vi’s eyes widened for a second at your position in your lap, her bandaged hands resting on the flat pillows as she stared up at your figure. Her eyes were rounded with admiration and lust.

“Is this okay?” You question, tucking some of your hair behind your ears.

“Yes. Yes, you’re… good.” Vi reassures you as you smittenly smile down at her.

She matches your smile as you lean down to reattach your lips, placing your hands on her collarbone. Vi’s hands grip gently at your upper thighs, frantically pulling you in closer to her. The strap of your shirt was slipping down your shoulder, resting on your triceps.

You allow yourself to be there in the moment with her. You had the tendency to think about the worst outcomes of every situation but right now as Vi’s palms move more up to your hips, you just feel her.

Not afraid, not depressed; just her.

Her touch was electric on your skin. Vi sits upright from her laid-back position, humming as you run one of your hands up the back of her head into her hair. Feeling her body running hot, she removes her hands from your body to shrug off her red jacket from her body.

You pull away to help her remove the jacket, throwing it to the side and hearing it hit the ground. You look down at her now-revealed arms and eyebrows raise up at the sight of her toned upper body.

You were gawking; you knew you were.

“What were you doing in there?” You shamelessly ran your hands down her firm biceps.

Vi lets you feel her up, watching your hungry eyes follow your hands on her body. She doesn’t answer your question but she does place her palms back at their rightful place on your hips.

You snap out of your daze as her hands squeeze your hips. Your cheeks lit aflame before focusing on the task at hand. Did you 100% know what you were doing? No, but you figured if you just do what you do to yourself to her, it was bound to make her feel good.

So you slowly began to grind your hips down onto her own. Vi sucks in a sharp breath at the unfamiliar feeling, letting out a shaky breath.

That only fueled your keep your hips moving against her. Vi’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, tilting her head back to huff out a soft moan. You let out your own noise at the feeling, leaning forward to attach your lips to the length of your neck.

Vi moaned your name at the feeling of you kissing the sensitive spot on her neck. Her grip only becomes tighter on your waist as you begin to suck and lick, creating a dark spot on her pale skin. You pull away after a few seconds to brush your finger over the mark, feeling disgustingly proud of yourself.

“What are you doing to me?” Vi whispered, groaning under her breath.

“I could say the same,” you quip with a cheeky smile, grinding down hard once.

The motion tugs out a moan from the both of you. The thinnest layer of sweat began to form on your neck and crevice of your hip and legs. Vi leans forward, panting into the crook of your neck. She attempts to hide her needy whimpers against your skin but you can’t miss the desperate sounds.

You were growing wetter by the second, aching to get her off.

“Vi—“ You gasp as her palms rest on your hips, helping you grind down onto her clothed crotch.

Your hands rest on the broad on her shoulders, feeling over the tight muscle. She was panting softly as she took in the sound of you asking for her; needing her like this. Her blue eyes admire the way your jaw was left open as you pant and whimper from the friction.

“So beautiful, sweetheart,” she praises, a low moan leaving her own hips.

You almost shake your head at her words but you knew it would be a huge mistake to do so. You allow yourself to take in the words, not wanting to seem like you didn’t believe her. She drew the beautiful inside to the surface with ease.

Your hips stuttered, wondering if you were going to cum like this. It wouldn’t be the first time as you’ve shamefully done the same to your mattress.

“You’re perfect,” you tell her honestly, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

Vi wanted to tell you you were far from correct but you were persistent on the fact.

“You are. You are, Vi,” you cup her face as you weakly grind your crotch on hers.

Vi nods to show you she is listening, one of the few whimpers she’s made throughout the night bubbling in her throat. You place a few kisses over her face before placing the final one on her awaiting lips.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna—“

“Me too. Cum for me, please,” you encourage the pink-haired girl.

You watch as her muscles tighten, a vein popping out of the side of her neck. It beautifully highlighted the mark you’ve made on her.

With your grinds becoming sloppier and weaker, Vi assisted you by practically doing all the work. Your hips and inner thighs were growing more and more tired out by the second. Your will to make sure Vi came was the only thing keeping you going.

Your mouths were hovering over one another, whining and moaning onto each other’s lips. Your core tightened as you felt your orgasm approaching. Vi’s whispers of praise only drew you closer.

“Just like that,” you whine.

“Yeah?” Vi whines right back, kissing right above your chest near your collarbone.

You nod with a whimper, muttering ‘please’ and ‘right there’. The mix of your panting and hot moans drove you both to cumming against one another.

You were shaking at that point, arms now wrapping around her neck for stabilization. Vi, mimicking you, wrapped her arms around your torso, burying her face into your chest as she tried to catch her breath.

Your hair was now frizzy, your whole body aflame from the orgasm that tore through you. Vi’s lips were dragging on your heated skin causing you to shut your eyes as you, too, attempted to calm down.

The two of you sat there, matching each other's breathing patterns as you both came down from your highs. Your eyes before you knew it grew heavy with exhaustion. Vi noticed how slumped you were and cradled your body to maneuver you to lay back down. Your arms were still locked around her neck, refusing to let her go.

“Are you okay?” Vi asks after a few minutes of silence, licking her swollen lips.

You chuckle softly at her question, resting your forehead on her shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m perfect.” You mutter before placing a loving kiss to her bare shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Vi nods at your words, rubbing her hands down your back. She traces the length of your spine, lulling you into the sleep that your body was asking for.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you up before I leave.” Vi encourages when she notices you fighting your tired eyes.

Your heart sank at the word ‘leave’, brows knitting with betrayal. Your exhaustion left your body for a moment at her words.

“Leave?” You delicately whisper.

“No, no, not for good. I’m not doing that to you again,” Vi was quick to reassure your worries. “I just—I have to find Powder. I don’t know how long it will take but I will be back for you.”

You swallow your doubts that Vi will be able to change Jinx back into the girl she once was. You knew you wouldn’t be able to convince Vi into staying, especially with Caitlyn tagging along with her.

“Be careful, okay? I can’t lose you again,” you cup her face, running your thumb over the ink on her cheek. “You’re my backup, remember?”

Vi manages to chuckle at your words, shaking her head.

“I never should’ve asked you that. You were never going to be just a backup, Star,” Vi told you softly. “You were always going to be first for me.”

Your eyes rounded with admiration at her confession.

“We were kids when you asked me that, Vi. I’m glad you did. I’ve never wanted anyone but you,” you tell her with a smitten grin on your lips.

Vi presses a deep kiss onto your awaiting lips, nearing knocking your teeth against one another from her own smile. You lazily kissed her back until you physically couldn’t anymore. Sleep overtook you as you rested your head on her bicep that was acting as your pillow for the night. You felt one last kiss on your temple before you knocked out.

The next morning you awoke to the feeling of the bed shifting next to you. You slowly peek through squinted eyes to see Vi’s blurred figure sitting on the opposite side of the bed, quietly speaking with Caitlyn’s undeniable taller figure.

“I’m just pointing out how you completely disregarded the fact that I was in the room opposite of you. I had a curtain as a door,” Caitlyn quietly scolds the pink haired girl.

You try not to show any reaction but you were embarrassed that you had completely forgotten about Caitlyn resting just 10-15 feet away from you two.

“I’m not sorry for what I did but sorry you heard,” Vi snips, no doubt in your mind with raised brows.

Caitlyn sighed rather loudly before shaking her head, holding her hand up to Vi.

“Let’s just… get going, please. We haven’t got much time.”

Silence from Vi.

“Okay. Just give me two minutes. You can wait outside the door.”

You quickly shut your eyes and pretend to sleep once again, listening for the receding footsteps. Vi spoke with care as she gently tapped your shoulder.

“Star, sweetheart?” She hummed, brushing your flyaways from your face.

“Hmmm?” You open your eyes, stretching one of your arms up.

“Hey. I’m gonna head out, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Vi traces the apple of your cheeks as she talks to you.

“Be careful. I mean it, Vi.”

The blue eyed girl nods at you, giving you one last meaningful kiss onto your lips.

“I will. In fact,” Vi pulls away to reach by the bedside table, grabbing the star ring she gave you. She slid it onto her middle finger, showing you the jewelry. “I’ll be back to give you this. It’ll be my good luck charm.”

There was a beat of silence before you let out a soft laugh at her ridiculousness. You adored her more than anything and anyone.

“I’ll be waiting, Violet.”

TAGLIST: @kylorey25 @evermorewest @breezy-sapphic @auraclus @ichig0nn4 @thesevi0lentdelights @vincinnamontoast @onesockcat @sc0ttstre3ted @seolarsistem @kissyslut @pinkdaisys4u

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 18) tw: minor character death, injuries, and misogynistic language

masterlist

-

He’s far off still, the smoking gun held tight in his hand and aimed up at the sky. A warning shot.  

At first, you don’t quite believe it. He appears like a mirage in the distance after wandering through the desert for days, on the brink of starvation. Like a trick of the eye. You squint against the light, sure that you’ve mistaken the familiar felt pinch front hat and the speckled Appaloosa he sits astride for someone else, a stranger come to save you instead of the man you’ve been desperately pining for since Graves stole you from your home. 

But the longer you stare at the man coming towards you, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face save for the grim set of his mouth, the harder it is to deny that it really is John. 

Your chest is fit to burst. Heart pumping wildly against your ribcage. The sight of him is revelatory—a burning bush, a stream of light through storm clouds, St Elmo’s fire. The euphoric high is almost overwhelming.

“Son of a bitch,” Graves hisses beneath his breath, hand reaching for the revolver on his belt. 

John is quicker though, firing off another round, this time at the ground between them, alarming Graves enough to make his arm jerk away from his side. Even you yelp. The gunfire cuts your swell of adulation short, bringing you back flush to the surface of the real world again. Graves’ horse scrambles back a few steps, nearly rearing up before Graves gets control of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now—” Graves booms, right in your ear, so loud that you wince, curling into yourself. 

The gelding chuffs at John’s approach, unsettled. Graves digs his spurs into the horse’s side when it takes a few nervous steps back, making it whinny in pain. You’d tell him off, but you’ve learned by now to hold your tongue around Graves. He only knows how to impose his authority through pain. 

“Easy, alright—” Graves calls out, holding out the hand not tangled in the reins to show that it’s empty, the revolver still sheathed in its holster. “No one’s gonna do anything stupid.”

The horse John sits astride is the one he never dared to train you on. The one you know would buck you straight off if you tried to hoist yourself up on its saddle. He’s bigger than Buttercup, all muscle and broodsome aura like its owner, and he doesn’t take kindly to strangers. 

When it breathes out, you imagine its breath should smell sulfuric. Fire and brimstone. 

Closer to you now, you can see his eyes under the brim of his hat. He glowers at Graves, the same look you’ve seen only once before, staring through the window of the general store at the scowl carved into his face when he dragged a man across town, but intensified. Not so much as a glimmer of sympathy or understanding in his eyes. Just cold rage. 

The lines in his face are deep from lack of sleep, dark troughs under his eyes. Shoulders stiff; every muscle of his tensed, poised to react. You wonder how long after Graves took you John realized and followed the two of you in pursuit. 

“I’m gonna say this once and you best not try my patience: let the lady go.”

The sound of his voice rumbles through you, making the hair on your arms raise. Seldom have you heard him use that tone of voice, more man than sheriff. 

Graves’ hand tightens on the reins, knuckles going white. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he has the same obsequious look on his face as he did back in town, indignation relegated to his extremities. You can see it in the tensed muscle of his forearms.

“Now Sheriff, you may have the run of this county, but I’ve got the power of the law on my side. The state of New York has issued a warrant for this woman’s arrest.” Graves’ smarmy evocation to the legality of his actions rankles you. He acts like the whole situation is out of his control, that he takes no joy in your apprehension. Simply a matter of duty. 

Not that it seems to make a difference. Even you could tell Graves that. 

“I won’t ask again.” John’s voice is threaded with fury, angrier than you’ve ever heard him speak. 

And true to his words, he doesn’t. The silence stretches between the two men, fraught with tension. Graves is a rigid line at your back. 

He’s the first to break the silence; the first to give. “At least let me show you the warrant, Sheriff,” Graves implores. “I ain’t just some vagrant that’s come and taken the sheriff’s wife without cause—and I assure you, there is cause.”

John doesn’t say a word, blue eyes still severe. Colder than the waters of Cocytus. 

Graves must take his silence as permission because he reaches a hand into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He holds it out to John at first, perhaps expecting the man to come close enough to take it from his hand, but John doesn’t even glance at the hand offering him the arrest warrant, eyes still locked on Graves. 

“See now, I’ll even read it out—” he says, clearing his throat and half turning the paper back to him. “‘Whereas it has been represented to Government that—’”

“Give the letter to my wife,” John cuts him off, gesturing towards the warrant in Graves’ hand with his gun. “She’ll deliver it to me once you’ve handed her over.”

The interruption stuns Graves into silence, the warrant still held in his outstretched arm. He must not be accustomed to men deferring to women instead of him, much less a criminal like you. Your stomach cramps with nerves. The blow to his ego worries you more than John getting his hands on the arrest warrant. His behavior up to this point has been predictable—violent, but unsurprising. You aren’t interested in finding out if losing his temper changes that. 

John’s eyes flick to yours. The first time he’s really looked at you since arriving unannounced, just a quick glance over you to ensure that you’re well. He must not like what he sees because the skin around his eyes tightens. 

The moment of inattention is all Graves needs, eyes trained on it like a hunting dog. John’s eyes barely twitch away to meet yours and Graves draws his gun, his aim wild when he shoots. 

You don’t see what he hits, but the gunfire drives John’s horse into a panic, throwing its head back and rearing up onto its hind legs. Graves fires again and the ground between you explodes, dirt and debris erupting into the air. The horse roars, the sound deep and throaty. 

Graves grabs you by the back of your dress, forcing your back to arch and shoulders to pull back, using you, for all intents and purposes, as a meat shield. You can hear John try to take control of his horse, but it’s near mindless with fear, braying and bucking when Graves fires again, white smoke billowing from the muzzle. Panic seizes you by the throat when John’s horse bucks him right off, bellowing a curse when his body slams to the ground. 

A scream bursts from your throat, but Graves holds you in place before you can slide off the saddle, spitting a tense shut the fuck up into your ear before digging his heel into his horse’s flank and steering him around, beating a hasty retreat. His horse moves in a wide arc until his body is turned back in the direction that Graves was originally heading. 

You struggle against him until the horse moves at a speed too dangerous to chance falling from its back. It covers ground fast, moving at a breakneck speed. 

“Stop—let me down!” you scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The howling wind carries your voice away. 

The violent toing and froing makes it impossible to cast a backward glance and see if John is in pursuit. All of your senses narrow down to what’s in front of you; from the saddle horn digging into your stomach and the air whipping past your face to the feeling of Graves’ breath wafting over the back of your neck as he pants. 

A booming crack fills the air and you scream, fear soaring to an unfathomable height. 

Graves grunts and tenses behind you, his hands spasming around the reins and letting go involuntarily. Then you feel the body behind you slump to the side, his weight almost unbalancing you until he falls off the horse altogether, feet slipping out of the stirrups. 

The blood in your ears masks the sound of his body hitting the ground. Your head whips around to follow the trajectory of Graves’ body, but a wave of vertigo slams into you, a head on collision that forces you to dig your fingers into the horse’s mane and turn your body back around. 

The horse barely notices the body slipping off its back though, tunnel vision on the road ahead. Legs pumping furiously beneath it, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt. You’d have thought the horse would’ve slowed up with the sudden unburdening of the other person astride it, but if anything, it picks up speed. 

You can’t calm down enough to catch your breath; it gallops ahead of you as well, your vision growing spotty with the short, jagged breaths you take in. Lungs collapsing under the weight of your chest. Eyes squinted against the piercing wind. Sunspots brighter than light itself. 

Your instinct is to make yourself small; shield yourself from the impending pain. That inescapable reality rushes towards you as quickly as you race towards it. You’re going to fall. It’s almost certain. You whimper when a particularly rough stride makes you slip an inch to the right, your fingers gripping into the horse’s mane ever tighter, desperate to keep yourself astride.

Someone’s voice breaks through the noise and you open your eyes. 

In your fearstruck state, you almost don’t recognize the man riding beside you and keeping pace until he says your name—your real name—and you snap back to yourself. No time to contemplate your name in his mouth though, no time for anything except keeping from slipping into total panic.

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the clamor of hooves. 

You peel your face from the horse’s mane to meet his eyes. The parallel of a memory from long ago. It flashes before your eyes and you remember yourself. Numb hands fisted in the horse’s mane unclench. 

“Pull up!” he shouts again, and this time you comprehend. It’s the same as the time before. 

Summoning every ounce of courage in your bones, you tighten your thighs and belly to lift yourself up, gathering and bridging the reins in your manacled hands. Half halt, release, and half halt again. 

“Good—now circle!” John’s voice booms in your ear and through your blood. 

You flinch when you try to steer your horse into a wide, sweeping turn and he resists at first, but on your second try, he follows your pull, his strides gradually slowing, easing up. When your horse finally comes to a standstill, walking its last few strides before coming to a stop, you sit with that bubble of tension until it bursts. Under your thighs, you can feel your horse’s ribs expand and contract with its labored breath. 

The world blurs for a moment. The adrenaline flooding your body dissipates more with every breath you take, but the crash is just as intense as the rise. You can feel the shakes that wrack your body in a way that your mind can’t quite yet take in, still outside of itself. The first thing you truly register is your husband suddenly at your side, coaxing you down from the horse, your handcuffed hands braced on his chest as he helps you down and then holding on to him when your knees nearly buckle under you.

“Thank Christ,” he growls, pulling you into his chest. 

The smell of tobacco and cloves is woven into the fabric of his shirt and you breathe it in zealously because it’s his. The reassurance that your husband has you, that he’s with you now, and the bad is over, nearly bowls you over. Makes you shake all the harder.

When you finally pull your face away from John’s chest, he cups your cheek with a gunpowder dusted hand, tilting your head up so he can press his lips to your forehead. Your gaze flits up and you stare at him with bleary eyes, wondering what he sees when he looks at you. Messy hair and a fleeting breath that quivers out, breaks to pieces, illuminates the sky when you glance over his head and it’s so blue that you could swim in it. 

John frowns when you accidentally roll your shoulder back and wince. “You’re hurt.” 

There’s no use in lying when he'll find out the truth soon enough, so you just nod. 

“His doing, was it?” he assumes more than asks, inspecting you closely now and noting all the fresh abrasions immediately visible to his eyes.  

Most of your injuries are surface level, more than apparent to him after a quick perusal. A split lip and plenty of scrapes just beginning to scab. You’re too tired to recount the events of the day before though, so you just shrug. Then hiss, the pain so intense that your bones go cold for a split second. 

His forehead pinches with his frown, ghosting his hand over your shoulder as if to hold it in place. “I’ll look at it later, okay, darlin’?”

Every inch of you aches. You wish it could just be over now and you could be back in your bed by sundown, but you know the way home will be just as long. No rest unless you want the journey to be twice as long. The exhaustion alone might have you keel over before night falls. 

Then someone coughs and drags you back into the real world. 

You follow the sound with your eyes until they land on its cause. The crumpled form of the bounty hunter that dragged you out of town lies a quarter mile back. It’s difficult to make out the state of him from so far away, but you can tell it isn’t pretty, mangled and bloody from the fall he took off the horse. 

“Oh God…” you murmur, eyes widening when the man twitches against the grass. 

John’s hand falls away from your cheek. His anger is so palpable that you can feel it fill him back up, blue eyes going steely and jaw tightening as he stares at the man that tried to take you from him. 

“Stay here,” your husband growls, hand reaching down to draw his pistol again.

John leaves you by the horses some distance away as he makes his way over to Graves’ prone form. Blood seeps from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, saturating his shirt and wetting the dirt beneath him, and even from where you stand, you can see the odd angle of his ankle from where he hit the ground. 

With no small amount of effort, Graves props himself up on his good arm, the other hanging limp against the ground. Even the sight makes you wince, bile churning in your stomach. He has to be in tremendous pain. Even John limps a little as he approaches the other man, hip likely sore from his own fall. 

Against your better judgment, and your husband’s command, you take a step towards them. And then another.

You have no reason other than the sinking feeling in your belly. If it were you with the gun, things would be different, you think. You’d do it again, without a second thought. Anything to keep Graves from opening his mouth. 

The gun in John’s hand makes clear his intentions in no uncertain terms. Out on the plains in the middle of nowhere, even taking pity on the man and bringing Graves to the nearest town might not be enough. It’s a rough world out there. Tougher still with a wounded shoulder and sprained ankle. 

More to the matter, John’s face says it all, jaw clenched and lips drawn into a tight line. 

“It doesn’t have to go this way, sheriff,” Graves wheezes when the other man draws close enough to hear. 

“You know I haven’t got a choice now,” John says, gazing up at the sky for a moment before looking back down at the man on the ground. “Not after you laid a hand on my wife.”

Despite the distance, Graves’ voice carries when he speaks. “You think you know that bitch? You don’t know this woman from Eve. What makes you think she won’t butcher you like she did that man back east?”

So casually he says it that you almost miss it. And then you don’t. The words pour over you like a sudden rain and you are back in that room, dread so potent that it chars the flesh, leaving cratered, necrotic holes wherever it touches. The worst moment of your life. 

And Graves says it like a sin of your own making, like it was something you wanted, not a moment in your life haunting you from beyond the grave. 

Your heart stops when your husband looks over at you assessingly. The truth lours over the two of you now, out in the open at last. All those months of hiding it, squandered in a moment by an injured man’s words. All you can do is stare helplessly at the man outlined by the blue sky, the horizon forever etching him into your memory. It’s the first time since you stumbled into the sheriff’s office all those months ago that you haven’t wanted him to think that you weren’t the woman that was supposed to be his wife.

“Shoulda listened to me, sheriff,” Graves laughs, his voice pained and raspy. “That Jezebel needs to answer for what she did.”

You can see it in his eyes that he believes Graves. And why wouldn’t he? The man has committed no crime; spoken not a lie to this point. 

John looks at you in such a strange way though. There’s no surprise there; just a glint in his eye meant only for you. A glint that says darlin’, this ain’t nothin’ new; you never could’ve fooled me. 

He knew your name after all. And you wonder how long he’s known. If he found out sometime in those first days or somewhere down the line or if the arrest warrant fell across his desk in recent days and he knew it would come to this, someone hunting you down across state lines to bring you back. If he knew he’d always have to come after you and rescue you from the jaws of death. 

Everything comes all at once, each moment flashing across your mind barely long enough to leave an impression. Everything is proven immaterial in seconds. 

There’s so much between the two of you. History, obligation, duty. Tenderness shouldn’t even be the half of it, and yet it bears down twice as hard. It’s the only thing that matters when you look at him—not the thought of being dragged back east and forced to stand trial, not the injustice of being made to atone for protecting yourself against a worse fate, but the thought of being taken away from him, of never seeing him again.

You can feel that worry evaporate the longer you hold his gaze. There’s something intentional there, something he is saying without words. 

These days, you do not think to tremble when his hands are on your lips. You tilt your head instead, wait for him to make his next move. Your trust, implicit, underlying everything. Knowing he’ll break the bread and feed you from his hands if need be.

Though you can’t unhinge your jaw enough to ask him to promise that he’ll keep you, his eyes say that it’s a foregone conclusion. How could he ever let you go? You’re everything he’s ever wanted, the only thing even duty could never take from him. 

John looks back down at the man lying at his feet. “Couldn’t help runnin’ your mouth, now could you?”

Graves opens his mouth, but John doesn’t wait for a response. He pulls the trigger.

[gghostwriter]

Level-One Intruder

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: Spencer apprehends an unexpected but adorable trespasser Trope:It’s fluff in a meet cute type of way w.c: 1.8k a/n: I'm a liar. I said I was going to post once I get over this flu but I couldn't help myself, not at all. I just really really wanted to share this cute cute fic I wrote with you all. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The brown tweed coat on Spencer’s shoulders threaten to droop down his arms as he wrangled his keys to unlock his apartment door.

There was little light on the hallway, something that could be attributed to the late hour of twelve midnight. Muffled noises could be heard from next door—a new tenant must have moved in while he was away. 

The FBI agent could feel himself coming apart at the seams from the lack of proper sleep. The latest case took eight long grueling days to solve and the team had to make do with what the small town could offer as arrangements.

His back felt stiff from curling on the squeaky sofa bed, trying his best to make himself comfortable and now, all he wanted to do was decompress with a totem of a book and sleep like the dead until his alarm clock rang for the next day. 

Dropping his satchel on the ground, silently assuring himself to get the laundry going the next day, a tiny scuffle echoed through his heavily darkened apartment.

Spencer tensed, unsure if his overtly exhausted mind conjured up the noise or if someone else found their way into his haven while it was otherwise unoccupied.

Another sound confirmed the reality causing him to draw his gun from his holster, ends pointing down, as he slowly made his way around the sofa to the first bedroom, minding his steps to avoid the sections with creaking floorboards.

He rounded the corner, eyes straining to adjust to the minimal light the outposts provide him—and nothing. 

The room was stale from lack of use and everything looked to be in the right place. The stripped spare bed looked untouched and all the windows were sealed shut. Exactly how he left it.

Another noise caught his attention.

Spencer tightened his hold on the gun and tiptoe’d to the next room—the bathroom and in there, the first real evidence was uncovered. 

His eyebrows threatened to meet in the middle as he took in the unspooled tissue roll hanging from its holder. The unused sheets of paper now sat on the green titled floor, no doubt flooded with organisms and bacteria that the naked eye couldn’t see. 

He shuddered from the thought.

Quickly moving on, he shuffled his way to the open kitchen. Right away he spotted something amiss—rather a few items amiss.

First, the lower cabinet was ajar. It was where Spencer stored his cleaning supplies and it was rarely opened as it was.

Second, his favorite Star Trek mug that he left out to dry near the sink was now precariously near the edge, threatening to break into a thousand pieces.

And lastly, the empty plastic bag of bread on the counter that he was sure had two more slices before he went away for the case.

There was an intruder and it seemed like he was hungry.

Weapon still in his hands, he slowly he crept his towards the slightly opened mahogany door of the main bedroom. He took a deep breath before rounding up to the room, pistol pointing forward to the unsuspecting guest. 

Except there was no one.

“That’s strange,” he muttered to himself, holstering back the revolver to his belt and to his surprise, someone answered or rather, meow-ed back. A fluffy orange cat with a collar on his neck.

The agent smiled. “You must be my intruder—”

Meow.

“—Now, who are you and how did you get in here?”

The cat was silent, content with rubbing his body on his black pant legs, leaving behind stray hairs that Spencer would have to lint away before laundry.

He bent down to see if there was any information hanging from the cat’s green collar. 

“Mr. Chewie. Is that your name?”

Feline eyes stared into his and blinked once. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe you could understand me but actually according to studies, cats lack the cognitive skills to interpret human language so I still don’t know why I’m explaining that to you.”

Meow.

“Nope, I’m sure you’re just responding to the fact that I am talking to you and my rambling is clearly brought by my lack of proper sleep—” a knock on his front door interrupted his musings. “—one second,” he called out, swiftly unbuckling his holster belt and placing it on top of the dresser. There was no need to frighten the knocking neighbor with a gun. 

Spencer turned back to the cat inquisitively sitting next to his feet. “Don’t move.”

As he made his way back to the entrance, opening lights as he went, he could hear the click clack of the feline’s claws against the wooden floorboards. It clearly didn’t take his order to consideration.

Spencer swung the door open as the stranger was poised for a mid-knock.

“Uh—hi,” the woman breathed out. 

“Hi,” Spencer drawled out in reply. “Can I help you?”

You rocked on your heels, fingers pulling down the ends of your oversized sweater as if it could lessen your state of undress. Spencer didn’t judge, it was early into the morning after all, nor did he stare long at your navy blue shorts and pink fluffy socks adorning your feet. 

“I’m your new neighbor and it’s not really the time to introduce myself but by any chance is there—”

“An adorable intruder in my apartment?” 

You nod, sweetly smiling. The glint in your eyes filled with apologies.

“Yes actually, I was trying to ask him where he came from but I don’t actually speak cat and neither does he understand human.” 

You laugh sheepishly, fingers gently rubbing at the side of your neck. “I’m so sorry. I hope he didn’t make a mess or bother you at all. I left my fire escape window open for a little bit to let the breeze in and he must have explored out while I wasn’t looking. So sorry again, let me just get him out of the way—”

A rustle from behind made him turn, not before he caught your eyes widening to the scene inside his apartment. Your cat kneading on his brown throw blanket before settling on the sofa.

“Mr. Chewie, what are you doing?” You squeaked out.

Spencer laughed at the outrageous tone coating your voice. It reminded him of Garcia swatting the other agents away from her tech equipments.

The cat answered back with a meow.

“No, mister. You cannot sleep here, this isn’t our home! It belongs to this lovely gentleman over here—” you flashed Spencer a smile. “Now, please get your butt off the sofa and back to our apartment.”

The feline seemingly rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

“Huh,” Spencer observed. “The studies might be wrong after all. I think he understands you.”

You laughed, shoulders shaking from the absurdity of his comment. “Mr. Chewie might be special or at least that’s what every pet owner believe to be. I never introduced myself have I? I’m Y/N. I moved next door a couple of nights ago.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he replied back. 

You tilted your head to the side. “Oh, is that why I haven’t seen you around, Doctor? Busy saving lives?”

He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. In a way, you weren’t wrong per se. His title did let people assume his career to be in the medical industry instead of having three PhD’s under his belt. The former was more plausible given how young he looked.

The sound of a door opening and closing at the end of the hall caught both your attention. Your eyes flashed back to his, twinkling. “So, Doctor. Will it be alright if I step inside and grabbed my cat?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh—yeah, yeah. Sure, come right in.”

You sheepishly smiled before entering his sanctuary. Eyes soaking in any piece of information that represented who he was.

Spencer felt your warmth as you passed his body. The smell of warm cookies wafting to his nose, dissipating the anxiety that threatened to creep up his spine from letting a stranger into his home. 

“Nice apartment,” you complimented. “There seems to be a lot of books.”

He tucks his hands inside his pant pockets. “I like to read.”

“Me too. It’s a great hobby to pass the time.”

You sweetly smiled before swiftly scooping up the lounging cat in your arms with little protest. “Again, I’m so sorry if he disturbed you in any way and please, let me know if he made a mess. I’d like to make it up to you—as a thank you and apology, I mean.”

“It’s no problem,” Spencer watched your cheeks match the color of your socks under the fluorescent light. It suited you, he thought. “Actually, can I just ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why is he—” his calloused hands reaching to pet the orange feline nestled on your chest. “—named Mr. Chewie?” 

You giggled, the sound similar to wind chimes being rustled by a gentle breeze. It settled the ache caused by his lack of proper rest. It was fascinating, intriguing, and a little bit frightening if he had to be honest.

“Well, I actually named him after Star Wars, Chewbacca, because of how fluffy he is and the name just shortened itself once I found out how perpetually famished he is.”

“He’s named well,” Spencer surmised, the empty plastic of bread flashing in his mind.

“Well, I shouldn’t be bothering you any longer,” you slowly backed away from his space. “Thank you, Doctor, and have a good night.”

With a sleepy smile on his face, Spencer watched you push open your apartment door. “Good night.”

You flashed your saccharine smile one last time before closing it behind you, leaving him feeling light and bemused for the first time in a long while.

And as he woke up to the gentle streams of the sun on his face, feeling well rested and ready to tackle the paperwork on his desk, the emotion still lingered causing the corners of his mouth to rise up into a soft smile. An after effect of your encounter that he didn’t mind experiencing. 

It was a certain type of high. 

It was something bright and puzzling.

A note and a batch of cookies taped to his door caught his eye as he exited the apartment. The  treats were in this clear, non-labelled package. Handmade then, Spencer noted.

His smile stretched his warming cheeks wide as he took in the scripted letters written on the pink post it that reminded him of your blush and your fluffy socks.

See you around, Doctor! 

Have a great day saving lives! 

- Your Nurse neighbor & Mr. Chewie xx 

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[spitefulsatanfics]

❝𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐁𝐂𝐒❞

Dean Winchester x Female Hunter!Reader Rating: 18+ (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) ⚠️ Warnings: Graphic sexual content, kink discussion, dominant!Dean, soft!Dean, oral sex (f & m receiving), praise kink, overstimulation, slight bondage, aftercare, emotional intimacy, jealousy kink, dirty talk, feral protectiveness, possessiveness, slight degradation, vulnerability, and more (it’s Dean, baby — man’s got layers).

❝𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚. 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅. 𝑰 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓.❞

— Dean Winchester, somewhere between love and sin

🜛 A — Aftercare

Dean acts like he doesn’t need it — until he does. And he gives it like it’s second nature.

His voice drops low, raspy with concern as he tucks you into his chest, pressing lips to your forehead like he’s sealing you shut, safe from the world. Calloused hands rub slow, lazy circles over your spine. He’ll clean you up himself if you let him. Bring water. Fix your hair. Stroke it out of your face while whispering soft things like “You did so good for me, sweetheart.”

It’s the one time you ever see Dean not pretend he’s invincible.

🜛 B — Backseat of the Impala

Classic. Sentimental. Dangerous. Holy.

He’s feral when you crawl over the leather, looking back at him like sin wrapped in denim. Your name sounds different when he groans it against the curve of your thigh. The Impala has seen blood, guts, demons, salt — but the look in Dean’s eyes as he ruts into you under the Kansas stars? That’s reverence.

His hands don’t just hold your hips — they claim. Fingers bruising. Panting against your shoulder like he needs to stake his soul on the way you scream his name in his car.

🜛 C — Control

Dean doesn’t play with power lightly. But with you? He devours it.

Being in control doesn’t mean cruelty. It’s calculated, coaxed, sweet-talking you into giving in until you’re begging — not because you have to, but because he’s made it feel good to let go.

He ties your wrists with his belt when he’s really feeling like a menace. Growls things like “I got you, baby. Don’t even try to think tonight.”

And you don’t. You can’t. Not with him above you like that — dripping devotion between every filthy word.

🜛 D — Dirty Talk

Dean is fluent in filth. But his filth loves you.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs while you ride him, half-broken with pleasure. “Fuckin’ perfect like this, takin’ me so sweet. Made for it, weren’t you?”

He whispers things in your ear that make you shudder. Tells you what you look like. What he’s going to do next. What he wants you to do — and always follows it up with a raspy, “Atta girl.”

🜛 E — Exhibitionism

Dean likes the risk. Motel curtains half-open. Car parked just off the road. Someone might see. Hell, he wants them to.

He wants people to know he’s the one making you cry out like that. Wants to fuck you in your hunter's gear, boots on, still smelling like gunpowder and sweat.

It’s primal. Territorial. He wants the world to know you’re his without having to say a damn word.

🜛 F — Face-Sitting

His favorite throne? Your thighs.

Dean worships from below like it’s the only prayer he believes in. He growls when you try to squirm off. His grip bruises your hips as he pulls you back down, voice thick with hunger.

“Nuh-uh, princess. You stay right here. Gonna make you come ‘til your legs shake.”

🜛 G — Gun Kink

You clean weapons together. You fight side by side. You trade bullets like love notes.

He’s never more turned on than when you’re cocky with a blade or blood-smeared from a hunt. He’s had you against the trunk of the Impala with your gun holster still on — his fingers between your thighs, saying, “Still got one weapon loaded, don’t we, sweetheart?”

🜛 H — Hair Pulling

Dean lives for that grip. Yours in his, his in yours.

You tug on his when he’s eating you out? He groans like it fuels him. He tugs yours when you get mouthy — or when you’re riding him too slow, torturing the both of you.

Hard enough to guide. Soft enough to care.

🜛 I — Intimacy

It’s not just fucking. It’s seeing.

When Dean touches you, he looks you in the eye. Kisses you soft, slow, like you matter. And when you tell him you love him — panting, half-drunk on him — he freezes, like he doesn’t think he deserves it.

But you say it again. And he says it back. Barely a whisper, like it might break him.

🜛 J — Jealousy

Dean doesn’t share. Period.

He’s not proud of it. But he’s honest. When some rookie hunter tries to flirt with you, Dean wraps his arm around your waist so tight you can feel his gun digging into your hip.

Later, he fucks you like he’s rebranding your body — leaving marks, claiming skin, biting your shoulder with a muttered, “Mine. You’re fuckin’ mine.”

🜛 K — Kinks

Let’s summarize the top tier:

Praise kink (King of this)

Light bondage

Oral obsession (giving and receiving)

Overstimulation (especially when you’re already shaking)

Possessiveness/Jealousy

Semi-public sex

Wearing his clothes while he wrecks you

Slight degradation (when he’s angry or desperate)

Hunter gear/knifeplay light aesthetic

🜛 L — Lingerie

He loves it — but rips it off half the time.

Tells you to wear it under your flannel on a hunt. Nearly crashes the car when you show him in the rearview. He’ll mutter curses under his breath like “Fuck, sweetheart, you tryna kill me?”

But he never forgets to tell you you’re beautiful first.

🜛 M — Marking

Dean leaves love bites like warnings.

You’re his. You wear him. Your neck, your thighs, your hipbones — he paints them in his name.

“I want people to see 'em,” he says against your skin. “Want ‘em to know.”

🜛 N — Name Calling

Sweetheart. Baby. Princess. Angel. Gorgeous. Good girl.

And sometimes — only sometimes — “My girl.”

He means it when he says it.

🜛 O — Oral Fixation

He could live between your thighs. Man’s on a mission.

Tongue slow, eyes locked, fingers tight on your hips. He talks you through it. Tells you how you taste. How good you look coming undone on his mouth.

And when you return the favor? He tries to keep eye contact, but ends up with his head thrown back, lips parted, guttural moans falling like prayers.

🜛 P — Possessiveness

He’ll never admit it outright. But he is.

Keeps a hand on your lower back in bars. Eyes follow you like a shadow when you're around other guys. He calls you “his girl” even when it’s just you and him in bed — like a reflex.

He needs to know you’re his, and you let him. Because you want to be.

🜛 Q — Quickies

Before a hunt. In a grimy bar bathroom. Between gas station stops. His hand down your jeans in the Impala.

He doesn’t always have time. But he makes it. And he makes it good.

🜛 R — Rough Sex

When Dean’s emotions run high, the bedroom gets feral.

He slams into you like he’s losing his mind. Grunts out curse words and prayers. Tells you how much he missed you. How fucking good you feel.

He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. And you are.

🜛 S — Soft Sex

Because Dean isn’t just about rough.

Sometimes he takes his time. Slow grind. Warm touches. Eye contact and gentle kisses and “I love you” said between every stroke.

It’s sacred. Sacred and safe.

🜛 T — Teasing

He’ll edge you until you’re crying — and smirking the whole time.

His voice? Lethal. His fingers? Worse. He’ll pull away right before you fall apart just to hear you beg. And when you finally do? He rewards you.

Beautifully.

🜛 U — Undressing

He loves taking your clothes off — especially after hunts.

Bloody, bruised, breathing hard — he strips you slow. Peels away your layers like gifts. Licks the wounds clean. Worships you like a warrior goddess.

🜛 V — Voyeurism

He doesn’t even mean to sometimes. But you touching yourself? That’s a religious experience for him.

Especially if you whisper his name. Especially if you ask him to join.

Spoiler: he always joins.

🜛 W — Worship

Dean worships you. Your body. Your sounds. Your smile.

His lips trail prayers over your skin. He tells you you're beautiful even when you're sweaty and spent and ruined beneath him.

“You’re everything,” he whispers. “Everything, baby.”

🜛 X — X-Rated Photos

He keeps one Polaroid in his wallet. Secret. Just for him. You in his flannel, nothing else, grinning wicked.

He looks at it when he’s lonely. When he misses you. When he needs to feel you close.

🜛 Y — Yearning

Sex isn’t just sex for Dean. It’s yearning. It’s wanting. It’s need.

He doesn’t always know how to say he loves you — but he’ll spend hours proving it with his body. Fingers memorizing every inch. Lips tracing your name in reverence.

You’re the only one he lets see him like this.

🜛 Z — Zzz / Sleeping Together

Spooning, tangled limbs, his hand on your bare stomach. He sleeps better next to you.

And when he wakes up hard, pressed against you? You know how that story ends.

𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒚: 𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 ♡ | Date written and published: 2025™

[jjenthusee]

Woven Hands

jason todd x reader

A/N: thank u to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes for their post linked here for their jason headcanons, they got me dancing and swinging my feet while I wait for my classes. 🤭 ENJOY my small drabble, tell me ur thoughts in the comments :D

also small rant but tell me why i never undated my tumblr app and i was struggling for so long and everything didn’t look like how it was supposed to? 😀 please don’t be like me and update yo shiz like responsible human beings

“Don’t make me do this.” You muttered, standing on top of the couch cushions, water gun hoisted in your pocket, filled completely with sink water.

You felt the weight of the water droop in your pants, you squinted, trying to frighten your opponent. You didn’t have a holster, so your sweatpants pocket was the next best thing.

The couch increased your height, made you stand tall, allowed your voice to be more direct. You wanted to overpower Jason, part-time Red Hood, full time smack talker.

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t listen?” Jason’s eyes lowered, voice deepening to a menacing tone. Invisible cowboy hat tilted on his head.

He stood tall, spreading his legs shoulder width apart, letting muscle memory place him in an opposing stance that’s proven effective each time someone has tried to stupidly test the Red Hood.

He lowered his hands, fingers dancing in the air as he waited to reach for his water gun in his holster.

Lucky fucker was wearing a holster because he’s the Red Hood. Not only does he get a cheat, but he has two water guns?

Completely absurd.

“You might not live long enough to find out.” You tilted your chin up, trying to attempt to be arrogant, but the smirk on Jason’s face was telling you it wasn’t as effective as you hoped.

Maybe if you could actually be taller than him, it would make you sound tough, but looking from just above his eye-level was the best you were going to get.

Jason’s shook his head, slowly, calculating your moves as he never took his eyes off of you.

You met his stare, never blinking as you watched.

You could feel your eyes wavering, shaking the longer you looked.

Jason was calm, his stare locked onto you. Countless interrogations under his belt, aiding him the experience you didn’t have.

“You know we both can’t walk away from this. We have too much history.” He spoke, letting the words settle between your showdown.

You firmly frowned.

“I stand by what I said and if you can’t live with that…I guess you leave me with no other choice.” You quickly grabbed your water gun, angling it to your partner.

By the time you could pull the trigger, water was hitting your shirt. Soaking into your skin as you looked down, watching the fabric darken.

Like in slow motion, you fell to your knees, watching Jason also get his shirt soaked, but not nearly enough as yours.

“No, no, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.” You dropped your plastic water gun, reaching up with your free hands to grab your shirt.

You plopped down onto the couch, letting your body go limp as you laid there.

“I told you, only one of us would walk away from this.” Jason walked over, kneeling next to the couch, where your body lay.

You reach up, feigning shaking hands as you reached for the muscular man with his imaginary cowboy hat.

You gestured for Jason to lean closer, following along with your antics.

You carefully lowered your voice to a whisper, a final wish.

“Delete my search history.”

You closed your eyes, arms going limp as you stuck your tongue out in a bad rendition of fake dying.

Jason laughed, reaching out to grab your hands in between his warm ones.

You never moved, zeroing in on the feeling of your fingers.

Soft caresses. A small peck before Jason littered your knuckles in kisses. Kissing down to your finger tips, then repeating down to your wrists.

“I should’ve chosen a sword fight, how could I choose water guns of all things?” You opened your eyes, shaking your head as Jason continued to worship your skin.

“You’re just pouting.” He said in between kisses, nose pressed into your palm.

“Come on, you always get to kiss my hands, when can I hold yours?” You watched carefully, thoughts slowly lost to the repeated warmth from Jason’s lips.

“Wanna sword fight to find out?” Jason smiled into your hands.

end a/n: serial hand kisser jason changed my life, thank u pooks for ur headcanons and restructuring my brain. and thank u 🫵 for reading my drabble, i just thought this was a silly idea :D

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Needy | Thunderbolts*!Bucky x Female Reader| Oneshot 1.1k

Bucky needs to leave for a mission, but you need him back between your legs. Maybe there's time for both?

Warnings: 18+ for adult content! P in v, unprotected sex, little bit of exibitionism kink, creampie, armour kink/hero worship if you squint. Hint of Thunderbolts spoilers, if you know you know.

HBS Week 3 -: “Not now!” | [Heat/Rut | Rushed Sex | Exhibitionism]

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Hot Bucky Summer | Bucky Barnes

"Babydoll, I've got to go." Bucky bent down to put his combat boots on, pulling the laces tight and tucking them in the top, no time for neat army knots. It gave you the perfect view of his shoulders though, rounded by muscle and trapped beneath his tight t-shirt.

You bit your lip.

"But Bucky," you pouted, "please, just quickly, I'm gonna miss you so so much." You dragged each syllable.

"God, don't do that face at me — or that." He gestured to where you lay on your bed, sprawled over the sheets biting the end of your finger as you spread your bare legs slowly.

"Why?" You asked, innocently, batting your lashes and earning yourself a growl of disapproval. God that growl did things to you, made your heart beat faster in your chest (between your legs).

"You know damn well why, I have to go." He said, shrugging his leather jacket on and checking each of his holsters in turn, knives at the small of his back, guns in his chest holster and at his thigh, a few bits of new tech stored alongside his fingerless gloves in his pockets. Bucky brushed his long hair back from his face, one hand on his hip as he surveyed the top of the dresser as if a rouge dagger may have escaped him.

"You've got a few minutes," you let your hand trail down your chest, fingers spreading over your wet folds and parting them so Bucky could see your sticky arousal.

"If I get back in that bed I want more than a few minutes." He allowed himself a smirk, winking before checking his watch and his earpiece.

"Oh, well, if it's the bed that's the problem..." You happily bounced up from the bed and jumped at him. Instinctively Bucky opened his arms, lifting you under your thighs so you could wrap yourself around him.

"You're making this so hard." He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder and kissing your neck.

"Ohhh, I hope so," you giggled back, squirming enough that you could rub yourself against the rough contours of his tactical gear. "Do you know how sexy you look like this, all scary and mean with all your weapons. Makes me just wanna —" you didn't finish your sentence, closing your eyes and moaning instead.

"Fuck — " Bucky whispered into your neck, already relishing and regretting his next actions.

"That's the plan big guy —" you rubbed your hands over his shoulders and down his pecs where his skin tight t-shirt moulded to every contour. "God damn it just look at you." You pressed your fingers into the muscle, desperate to feel his body without anything in the way.

Bucky slipped his metal fingers between you, pushing his tactical belt up and his zipper down, just enough to free his cock from the confines of his underwear.

"Yes — yes — yes—" You were squirming so hard he could barely get enough purchase to push inside of you, but then he was in, helping to guide you down his hard length at an agonisingly slow pace. "Oh — fuck — Bucky you fuck me so good, baby, thank you." You babbled incoherently, happy enough just to have him back between your legs. Wrapped around him you could feel every inch of his cock, his hard body, the hilts of his knives cold against your calves, the guns that bumped your knees when you moved. "I fucking love you, Bucky Barnes, so fucking sexy and — and — ugh — you're my hero —" you tried to move in his grasp, a slow up and down thrust.

"Okay, Babydoll, no messing about." He started a quick pace, keeping his fingers between you to rub at your clit, driving you quickly towards release with relentless precision. His vibranium thumb was cool, the perfect contrast to the burning heat you felt pumping through your body.

KNOCK

"Hey — Bucky, I think everyone's going." Bob's soft voice floated through the door.

"Just a minute." Bucky clenched his jaw and focused his gaze on you,piercing and perfect. You clenched around him, having Bucky's full attention was always delicious but knowing he was needed elsewhere, and he'd chosen you, was the cherry on the cake.

"Don't go, baby."

KNOCK KNOCK

"Bucky, hurry up I don't want to have to sit next to John on the transport."

Ava called, her boots already echoing down the hall along with John's grumbling.

"Buh — Buh —" You keened against him, body flush at both Bucky's ministrations and the thought that the entire team were just on the other side of the door.

Bucky pushed you up against the wall, half holding you up so he could speed up his pace and you pressed your face into his leather jacket, scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders and neck where his hair had grown longer.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Bucky, it is time for us to go now, let's go."

"FUCK OFF." Bucky shouted, his voice mingling with the sound of Yelena's chuckling.

He pushed you higher, holding you open while he fucked up into you. Helpless you gasped, letting your mouth fall open as you watched him chase your body towards release.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Mr Winterrrr, we must go, save the day time, let us hurry to glory!"

Bucky moved again, tipping you back on the bed, your legs up over his shoulders, he bent down and kissed you, messy and deep, "you gotta cum now, Babydoll, I'm not kidding - I've gotta go."

"Bucky! Tell me to cum again — oh my god — make me cum!" You twitched around him, so close.

"Cum, now, Babydoll, cum on my cock right now." He used that low, gravelly tone again and your couldn't control yourself any longer.

You screamed your release, clenching around him as he throbbed between your legs and you grinned at the feel of your combined release slipping out between you.

Bucky panted, hard, and pinched your cheeks between his vibranium fingers, "god I love you, I'll be back soon." He kissed you quickly, stuffing himself back into his combat trousers and heading for the door.

"Love you too, Bucky-baby, be back soon!" You stood at the door of your room, wrapped in just the sheet from your bed, and waved at him as he half-jogged backwards towards the others, eyes still on you.

"Hey, Barnes, what's that on your trousers." John pointed at a drying white smear of your arousal, stark on the matt black of the fabric.

"Not now, John, we've got a mission." Bucky slapped him on the back and strode up to the waiting helicopter.