Bloodhound x Fem reader one shots / Drabbles

Tender

I'm a slut, I've got three loves. Bloodhound, Mirage and Rev. So, here's a thingie booper for this precious little tracker.

- Reader is female// Mentions of pregnancy.
- Fluff, hardly any smut but still a little nsfw
- A quick Drabble that went a little too long. Maybe later I will redo this into something that makes sense and has plot.

Translations :

Líf mitt = My Life 

 Ástin mín = My Love 

Elskan = My darling 

Blóðhundur = BloodHound

Word Count: 1127

Tender

Every word from the beast of prey was a soft utter, their voice while still muffled by the mask at times, not losing any of its softness as it reaches the (h/c) haired woman.

Sprawled beneath with eyes shut in bliss, she holds in a quiet breath whilst the respirator is disregarded, it being a nuisance during such a cherished moment.

Skin is always met with skin and there is nothing in between, and if such a barrier comes, it never lasts.

It is the hunter's rule, all to her delight.

A sweet endearment makes her heart flutter, and she releases an airy giggle right as the words reach her in between light nibbles that trail from her ear down to her navel.

She smiled as every featherlight graze of her dear's lips tickles when they pass certain spots far too delicate to withstand the stimulation.

" Blóð .." she sweetly giggles as their lips land over a dreadfully ticklish spot.

Their travel pauses for a second, and she can feel their lips stretch as a gentle smile is executed.

"Ticklish?" Bloodhound asks almost innocently, the feigned tone holding far too much cheekiness for her to believe. Again, the act is repeated and she squirms within firmly placed hands that hold down her hips.

A warm chuckle leaves the teasing aggressor before they relent, their lips moving again with desire instead, traveling further down to her soft, wetness.

"Is this spot sensitive too?" Bloodhound asks coyly.

A gasp leaves her at the first quick swipe of the tongue which jolts the rest of her body.

Immediately her hands move towards long locks.

She start at the ends that had fallen onto her flesh, and she then weaves her hands through to find her lover's scalp. She pulls them close as her hips buck forward, shamelessly riding the pointed tongue that flickers and curls within her.

She's then angled as her legs are carried by strong shoulders, the sinful wet muscle that is driven within her and pleasing her enticing a voiceless cry from her.

She can hardly help herself from continuing to wiggle her hips, nor can she stop the involuntary shivers her body executes.

Never does it cease to amaze her that such a predator, so merciless to the point of it being bestial, could speak so tenderly as though every breath uttered carried the promise of a kiss that would reach her.