#a longish drabble

[chaosfae-writes]

𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

premise: the lioness gnaws on her favored maiden.

pairing: yandere!cersei lannister x poc!reader

warnings: abuse of power, gender identity issues (slight, but this is cersei), wlw, dead dove smut.

ao3

a/n: although I love show cersei, she was watered down a bit. I wanted to see more of her delulu side, and exploration of her gender issues. Sansa Stark cameo! Sansa is just a baby that needs protecting! <3 anyways, enjoy! <3 do not repost my works!

Cersei Lannister doesn’t have companions.

An unruly child grew into a woman with a crude tongue. Where she lacks empathy with a blackened heart, she makes up for her beauty and charm—- that only extends so far.

Golden locks, and fair skin—- with a temper of a lion. Deludes herself that she has been deprived of her inheritance to Casterly Rock, and is the true queen majesty of all seven kingdoms.

Everything belongs to her.

Her kingdom, her brother, her children —- even you.

A possessive creature. Her love only extends to what she craves, and what she sees in herself. And whenever she senses a threat upon her possessions, that anyone could snatch away her toys —- the lioness becomes irate.

A small council, and a small flock of handmaidens. Only a handful of maids are entrusted in the queen’s space, but only one to bear witness the queen at her rawest.

You are punished by her unsought favor.

To clean her, to dress her, a vessel for her to unburden herself on you. Mistakenly you offered sympathies as a woman one day —- perhaps, too kindly.

Prior, you were just a handmaiden blending in within the palace.

The late king had struck Cersei, you catered to her. Cleaning her split lip, all you spoke was that a queen should be respected, no matter what she has uttered.

All you did was to perform your duty as the queen’s servant … no ill will. Perhaps it’s your shyness, or your taught obedience that caught Cersei’s meticulous eye.

Eventually, she demanded more of you. Requesting your presence for everything, and eventually more demanding—- more touchy.

Dressing you in her house’s colors—- gold and deep red. Adorning you with luxurious fabrics, and discreetly pinning a lion brotchee upon your shoulder. It brought a wave of embarrassment, for such clothing is above your station.

Showering you with such gifts as a king does so to his paramour. It became abhorrent at times to nearby eyes—- more than once, you caught her father’s cold glare.

Conversing with you—- or rather at you, rambling on about her fits of rage upon her father’s lack of respect, how she isn’t respected as queen, how the small folk should be kissing her feet—- or how her little brother should’ve died at the birthing bed.

Delusions of greed and arrogance woven with the silk of self-wallowing, and pity.

Always touching.

Grazing your skin by the fingertips, her breath upon the slope of your neck, gripping your mound tightly as if she possesses any ownership. Sending Bernadette —- against the maid’s growing irate —- to fetch for you almost every fortnight.

To the point where you don’t even sleep in your own chambers anymore.

-

The traitorous wolf is dead.

Long love the youthful stag.

A feast, a celebration held by the newly crowned king. As he cheers over the death of one of the noblest men to live. A cruel boy who immulates his mother’s strife. A feast of dancing, and platters of luxurious food, merry music and jesters.

Seated beside Cersei, as well as her other maidens Bernadette and Senelle. Carefully, your eyes float a peek at the little dove seated beside Joffrey. Sansa is now a shell of the young girl she once was. Pity dwells within you, a somber child, who’s eyes never leave her lap.

You were once that child, once hopeful, only for life to beat you as if you were nothing. Life doesn’t spare the young, age has no limits.

You’re picking at the fruits and meats on your plate, rather bored at the royal nonsense. Gossip among ladies, and redundant chatter of politics among the lords —- it doesn’t pertain to you.

Never has, never will.

As a young girl, it bothered you. How unfair it was that the town folks suffer, as the noble float above the clouds with fine clothing, unending platters of food, and spoiled beyond their dreams.

Now, it doesn’t matter. The bitterness doesn’t matter. Grief to spite, to then an achromatic sense of life. You learned that you are no different than these flocks —- we all are born, then we die all the same, buried in the same soil we go.

But fantasies of escaping to the East, to the land of your ancestors —- to start anew keeps you hopeful. Meet someone, have a babe or two. Live on a farm fruitful of crops.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t sense a presence looming nearby, ever so watching, gawking at its prey.

“May I have this dance?” A voice soaked in sultry warmth, beckoning and confident. Startling you to jump just a bit, turning over your shoulder, standing above you, is Jaime Lannister. Gold yellow hair, smooth and silky, and a confident smirk to match.

“Lord Commander.” You speak in a gasp, bowing your head respectfully. Jaime’s smile twitches, growing wider—- Lord Commander —- not many address him as such. It’s always Kingslayer , never an ounce to respect.

“May I have the pleasure of a dance?” Jaime’s tone is more smoother, his canines flashing as if he’s ready to bite.

Cersei’s eyes narrow, “Jaime, let her be.” She tries to keep her voice low. Jaime scuffs playfully, “ And why? All these squawking hens must be such a bore.” He turns to you with a boyish grin, making you laugh softly.

All it does is make Cersei more annoyed. She has been upset all evening—- rather all day. Cersei found you earlier in the morning tending to Sansa. The little girl was bruised and broken by the mongrel of Cersei’s beastly son.

Tending to Sansa felt wholesome, it filled a void inside you. Reminded you of how it felt to be a mother again.

It irritated something in Cersei, to see you so kind to another.

“Thank you, Ser,” You cautiously say, you can feel Cersei’s tension. Doe eyes flutter back to Jaime, “But there are more gracious ladies who are more suited for your hand.”

Jaime tsks at your rejection. “ Nonsense. These birds are not to my taste.” He out-stretches his hand, not taking no for an answer.

Hesitantly, you take his hand, his fingers curl around, no space for escape. Jaime guides you by the feet, feeling the heat of anxiety flood your flesh, as if you felt the thousands of gazes in your direction.

But—- the daggers lodging themselves in your back were from a pair of greens.

A clunky sway between four feet, it’s quite difficult to catch up to Jaime’s step. Unaware at first to steady yourself; Jaime takes this to his advantage, slithering his palm to the nape of your tailbone, luring you into him.

Muttering low, “Follow my lead.” Jaime whispers. Slowing his footfalls, you follow his pace. Clenching your jaw, rather upsetting to be in this position, in the hands of a noble —— in such a vulnerable display.

“I am afraid I won’t be much of a dancer,” Your eyes glued to your feet, a little flumpily. “I haven’t had lessons.” Not daring to glance upward at his intense eyes.

“And weren’t taught lessons on manners.” Jaime jests, earning your head to snap up swiftly, now eye to eye, with a frightened stare of a doe. “Have I offended you, Ser?” Your eyes wearily gaze down.

Jaime chuckles, “There it is again,” his finger curls under your chin, making you look at him in the eye. “Most of the dance, you have not addressed me with so much as a glance.”

You hum, eyes downcasted to the flooring. “My apologies, I am accustomed to not stare too long at the noble.” Swapping harshly, your throat clenching a little.

“Mousey little creature, you are.”

You breathe a titter, bowing your head still, “The bored lion plays with the mouse.” Shyly staring at your feet, careful not to step on his toes.

“Bored isn’t the word.” Jaime whispers, tilts his head closer, attempting to catch your eyes. He leans in your space, you can feel his warmth beat against your face. His nose is just inches from yours.

“Merely curious.” Jaime teases. “My sister has had many maidens, but never any has been beautiful.” He has always snuck glances.

Your eyes slowly gaze up, fully taking in his golden hue.

A natural skin of rich brown —- not many folk in the West possess such color, he can tell you are not of Andal birth. Your flesh shines as sun brown, and curly tresses brushed back to a gold thin lined headdress.

You hum low, not intrigued in his antics, your mind is too preoccupied by another twin —- one who is more meaner.

“You hide yourself in plain cloth, dare to deprive a man?” He chuckles, but his eyes are heavy with need. A simple dress of royal blue—- not the colors of the house you serve, it doesn’t shape your bodice, nor do you seek for it to.

“There is nothing beneath to be desired.” You snip softly. A ripple of fear shivers your flesh, sneaking glances over Jaime’s shoulders. Barely a glimpse at the royal table, a flash of angry green eyes burns you.

“I beg to differ.” His voice pulls you back, eye to eye now. Jaime swirls your bodice around, his open palm tight on your tailbone. Sending a shiver upon the curve of your spine, never been touched by a man.

“My sister has kept you all to herself, I’m envious.” Jaime holds you to his chest, heavy breathing collides. “You tend to her hand and foot—- is there any way you can tend to my needs?” A smirk curls on Jaime’s mouth, ready to sink his teeth.

“When I am cold in my grave.”

“A knight and a handmaiden,” Jaime’s shrugs his head, “A sight all too common.” Gesturing to this as it could be a casual affair. He enjoys your bite, so used to the familiarity of women throwing themselves at him, such easy prey to play with, but he rejects them all.

This is new, a fun game.

You admittedly enjoy his touch, Jaime is breath-taking. Golden honey hair, a strong beautiful sculpted nose, and beautiful green hues.

“I must behold my reputation.” You said in a hush, “I am a lady in your sister’s circle, it would be improper to entertain her brother—- a Lord Commander no less.” You hum low, a small twitch of a smile.

Before Jaime could speak, you catch a glimpse of an ornery glare from a distance, burning with fury. The boldness fades on your lips, but confidence still lingers.

“Doesn’t your oath forbid you of any intimacy?” You jest with him, but your mind is still wondering for Cersei, as well as making sure your feet are coordinated.

You’re nearly breathless, and frightened.

Jaime feigns shock. “My oath won’t be burdened nor broken, if it is kept a secret.” He twirls you again among the sea of dancing lords and ladies. “Secrets can be delicious.” He whispers a wisp into the shell of your ear.

“Even poison can be enticing.” You tilted your chin at him, Jaime smiles, his hands circle your waist even closer to himself. His thumb stroking against your waist.

The environment blurs for a moment, it feels nice. To be treated with kindness, and gracious banter. To not be touched so harshly. But simultaneously, it’s all too much. As if a foreigner in unknown land, touch such as this is—- new.

“How could anyone deny themselves pleasure? Even if it’s —- dangerous?”

You gasp, mouth agape, for once, you didn’t have a snip to his flirtations. Jaime hums a chuckle, “Why, has the mouse lost her tongue?”

“I—”

“The Queen is ready to retire for the evening.” Bernadette’s voice floats behind you, and you thank the Gods above for her —- for just a moment. To be freed from this burning grasp.

“A thousand apologies, Ser. I must tend to—”

“My sister… yes. ” There is a mirth to his tone, mischievous. His eyes stare as if he knows something, toying with it his tongue.

“Yes…” You nod with a timid smile. You bow your head to him, grabbing the skirt of your dress, “I am grateful for the honor of a dance, Commander.” Jaime’s mouth is agape, and genuinely it spreads to a wanton smile.

“ Jaime.”

You gasp a breath, eyes taken back. Jaime grabs your hand into his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

“Please call me Jaime.” His eyes are pleading, almost glassy. You blink, a simper of appreciation. A royal has never been so amiable with you. Always ‘my lord’ this, and ‘my lady’ that.

“Thank you, Jaime.” You say, a human sensation of appreciation is twinkling like feathers in your belly. It feels nice.

A cough emits behind you. You close your eyes —- it’s time. Lashes blink back, “I must go.” Feet backpedals, hands slowly slip from the warmth of his fingers.

“Yes, you must go.” Jaime says coyly.

Oval nails slip back to your stitching, you twirl around to walk behind Bernadette. Duckling footfalls in line, as Bernadette walks with a hast stride, slinking through the dancing bodies.

“Our majesty is very impatient.” Bernadette’s voice is snarky, as if she chastises a child.

When has she ever not been?

All you can do is strum in agreement.

As you both reach the king’s high table, you catch Cersei’s eyes. Envy as green as her hues, mouth wrinkled. Immediately she stands from her chair, bidding her son a good evening —- all he does is give her a wave and a cantankerous smile, too busy boasting with low lords.

You immediately follow behind Cersei’s trail, biting your tongue, the edge of your jaw clenching in unbridled anger.

Bernadette is not far behind, trying to level at Cersei’s shoulders, but Cersei snappily dismisses her with a flick of her wrist.

Bernadette is sent away to her own rooms, much to her dismay.

-

The lioness is prowling.

Foaming at the maw.

Cersei walked with a firm gait. Her hands clasped over each other, her lips twitching; her brocade fabric sways against the flooring. Her brother —- her lover, and her maiden in such a display.

The walk back to her chambers is eerily quiet. Anxiously your fingers fiddle with your rings, as your belly is churning as slippery eels.

Hastily, you grasp the large oak brown door handles, opening it wide for her—- hopefully pleasantries can ease the tension.

Without a look at you, Cersei immediately walks into her chambers. Harsh fingers tugs at her dress collar, Cersei’s back to you. Routine is often instructed to undress her, but she isn’t thrilled to be touched yet.

“Prepare my bath.” She demands, without even looking at you. “Yes, your Majesty.” You speak in a strain. Rolling your sleeves up to the joints of your elbows.

In the washroom, you fill the tub with warm water that has been on flame for awhile. Carefully, you begin to pour in scented oils, put her bar of soaps on the dish tray, and a rag over your forearm.

Cersei strides to the room, only in a crimson robe, with golden threads. Her face is cold, frozen in disgust.

Ungraciously Cersei drops her robe, it glides down her arms. She steps out of the bundle of fabric, and into the steamy bath. The routine commences—- you have it ingrained on what she likes.

As you kneel, Cersei untangles your headdress uncouthly, letting it fling to the floor, your hair flows down your shoulders. You resume your duty, as if nothing happened.

You unclasp her hair from the gold clips, softly caressing her skull. Untangling her swirls, and unclipping her jewelry. Tenderly, you knead the nape of her neck, to the slope of her throat, to her collarbones.

Cersei moans, closes her eyes in content, but she won’t be manipulated by your touch.

Her eyes flicker open.

“Bring me wine.” Curt and sharp. A dismissive wave of her hand. You stand up from your knees, grabbing the wine jug, pouring the dry sweet Arbor wine into her cuppee.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Cersei asks, if possible, the heat of her jealousy can boil the bath. Hesitant, you cautiously say, “Yes, the Lord Commander is a gracious dancer.” You offer her the goblet.

“Formalities,” Cersei chuckles, her head bobs tipsily, “ Ser… Lord… ” Her laugh dies, with a frown, “—with how you were fondling him, might as well refer to him by his name.” Her voice is sharp. She snatches the cuppee from your hand.

“I wouldn’t dare to speak to him so formally.” You say, sinking into yourself more and more. You resume cleaning her, trying to get through the night.

“Is it men you seek for?” Cersei asks, twisting the cuppee between her fingertips. You shake your head, “No, your grace.”

“No?” Cersei’s voice rises in pitch, almost mockingly.

“I do not seek companionship.” You peek through your lashes, trying to keep your composure. As a fawn caught by the hands of a hunter.

A thread snaps in Cersei’s mind at those words.

“If I bore a cock, perhaps you would be enticed.” Cersei hissed, her milky fingers clenching her gold cuppee. Her voice slithers into an incoherent mumble, ‘If I was born a son, we would be wedded.’

Her drunken vulnerability turns sour once more.

An empty malicious thought plagues Cersei.

“The Mountain has a taste for sweet gentle creatures—-” Cersei whispers, fiddling with your sleeve. “He would eat you alive.” An airy laugh escapes her, head reclines. She’s rambling poison, trying to hurt you, as if you have pained her in return.

“Perhaps then your whorish behavior would then be satisfied.” Cersei growls into her drink.

You remain mute, not daring to speak in your defense. It’s better fitted to let her ramble in her delusions. Cersei’s eyes spark again, feline eyes stare at you.

“Remember what he did to our late Princess Elia Martell? That was just sport for him.” Her face morphed to a devilish grin, hazy eyes sharply baring into your wet doe ones. The threat is clear, but you don’t catch the bait.

“All of the realm recalls the tragedy.”

Cersei’s face falls a bit, her smile morphs to a frown, her eyes narrow spitefully. She hoists her slender leg up, splashing her bath water everywhere, even drizzling your fabric, and face; earning a flinch. Your eyes scrunches shut, from the swash.

“Scrub.”

Gently you resume washing Cersei. The wash cloth soaps her skin, avoiding her lower regions, not daring to touch her —- it will only spark her. You save that task for last.

Cersei gulped down her wine, the warm twang floods her blood, and her mean strike.

Cersei calms for a moment, her eyes staring yards away. Finally, her body is cleaned, and you cautiously dove your hand into the soapy water, scrubbing her mound. You can feel her pubic hair through the rag. Out of instinct, Cersei bucks her hips against your palm.

Cersei moans happily.

“My brother desires you.” Cersei slurs, just a little. Staring into her wine, her fingernail scraping against the gold engraving. She speaks in a manner as if she talks to herself. You ignore her, swallowing harshly. Cersei is bristling, you prepare yourself —- for the outburst.

Her wet hand reaches for your hair, waves of midnight brown. Her fingers fiddle with the tresses, coiling into a makeshift fist.

“Pretty little thing…” Cersei deadpans, her pink mouth purses. She tugs downward, causing you to wince. And without any hesitation, her back hand swacks your cheek, sending you to crash into the flooring.

That was Cersei at her gentlest.

Cersei stands from her tub, her tuft of hair in view, nose down at your pitiful state. Crumpled onto the floor, cheek swelling, wet moon eyes —- fragile and broken, just how Cersei likes it.

“My husband wasn’t so kind.” Cersei spits, “He didn’t grant me such mercy.” Cersei’s bare foot grazes against your belly, slightly pushing. Towering over you as if you were a mere worm.

The late king was a brute, harshly thrusting his drunken rage onto Cersei. His swollen belly crushed her, and to add salt to the wound, after violating her body, he would whisper Lyanna in her ear.

“Undress.” Cersei seethes.

Shakily, you untie your dress, one shoulder at a time. “If you dare lay with Jaime—- or with any man, I will cut that tongue out of your little head.” Cersei clicks her tongue, “But oh, that tongue of yours is too delicious. It would be a waste.”

You slip out of your dress, with only a simple white cotton undergarment. Cersei snags your cloth, tearing it to thin ripped shreds, ‘as so a man would’ , Cersei thinks.

Cersei kicks the cotton against the floor by her foot, as you stand shivering under her watchful gaze.

“Kneel.”

As you kneel onto the chilled flooring, Cersei waltz to the bedding, leaning onto her spine, her legs spreading as if she’s presenting a feast.

Crawling on all fours as a dog, head bowing, nose flaring to maintain a steady pace of breath. Closer and closer now, you can feel the heat from her thighs, a natural essence emits from her mound, damp and fresh with herbal water.

Cersei’s fingers sought through your hair, fondling your scalp; guiding you further into her.

Your nose goes against her pelvic bone, her blonde tuft of hair envelopes your entire mouth, tickling your skin. Cersei’s fingers interwoven with your curls, tugging against your scalp sharply now, tight at the roots.

You catch yourself voluntarily suckingly her clit into the cave of your mouth. Sloppily nibbling and licking her folds.

Suckling her mound, mouth latched onto her as if savoring a succulent fruit. Your nose pinned against her hair, all that can be heard is the echo of your tongue lapping. Cersei’s grip is woven tight, it feels like pricking needles against your skull.

Cersei hisses through her teeth, legs spreading wider, hips thrusting against your mouth. Completely at her mercy, her palms holding your head, struggling to breathe, as her cunt is spilt and soppy against your mouth.

Hair not as dark as Robert’s but thick as his once was in his youth, it stirs something in Cersei. As a pot boiling at the rim, she snaps.

“If I was born a son,” Cersei shouts, nearly at her peak, thrashing you off of her. Wiping your mouth by the back of your hand, it glistens with Cersei’s slick.

“Perhaps then, I would have my way with you, not in such a secret!” How dare Jaime try to sway you in his bed, although Cersei warms it herself.

“Fuck you on the hill of Casterly Rock!”

Cersei isn’t always this cruel. Sometimes, she can be kind, and gracious —- as much as she can. Find the humor and joys in her privileged life. When she isn’t drunk, when she can hold a conversation—- she is tolerable.

That Cersei is ‘sweet’ , and in those sparse moments, you can forget that you are merely a servant, and she is the Queen.

“On the bed.” Barking orders as if she is a commander on the battlefield. As you crawl onto the mattress on all fours, Cersei serves herself a handful of your ass, fingers digging.

A pregnant pause.

“Do you desire my brother?” Do you desire a man?

Your face wrinkles in a silent sob, shaking your head, “No, your grace.” Bowing your head down in-between your arms.

“Do you not find him attractive?” Cersei goads, her finger tracing between your cheeks. “No—” a whack against your backside, causing you to wince in pain.

“As children, many couldn’t tell Jaime and I apart.” Cersei says, as she relishes in the blooming heat of your ass. “We mirror each other in so many ways.”

Even both acquire the same appetites.

“You insult him, you insult me.”

“What do you most yearn for in this life?” Cersei asks, tracing your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I have no ambitions.” You tiredly say. Sucking in your lips into your mouth, tasting your tears. Blindly blinking with damp lashes. Cersei ignores it, humming low in her throat.

“Every little girl has dreams,” Cersei goades, hovering over your spine, her mouth edging near the shell of your ear. In a warm whisper, “to seek for a prince to whisk them away. Surely I did. ” Her pink tongue slithers, and kitten licks your ear, the warmth jolting a shiver to your mound.

Cersei’s mouth trails down from your cheek, to the slope of your neck, leaving behind open kisses. Scraping the skin of your shoulder with her teeth, nipping here and there —- as if an animalistic urge to tear you apart has overtaken her.

“To be Lady of Casterly Rock, is that what you want?” Cersei says, sitting up again, smacking your back, she hums at your whence.

“I do not yearn for a title,” You wail, speaking through choked tears. “I serve only you.” Wrinkling the satin sheets, bunched between your fingers. Strands of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks.

Cersei plunges her fingers into your cunt, making you cry out. “Does this cunt serve me as well?” Tight walls sucking her fingers in, velvety cave explored.

Intrusive thoughts plague her mind. Images of Jaime crawling and ravishing your body; kissing, biting, and licking. It drives her mad—- with lust. She yearns for it to be three of you.

He is hers, and you are hers.

But what if you two convalude with each other? To leave her behind? To have a life together? An intimacy she has no space to shoulder herself in.

“You plot against me—” Cersei yells, her chin wobbles. Any inkling of logical reason is dwindling now. “Where do you go at night?” She interrogates, nose flaring.

“You slip through the walls, parade yourself for the guards?” She spoke through the cage of her teeth.

“I do not conspire against you, Cersei.” You shrivel, trying to inch further into the bed. “I do not want a life as such with Jaime, I desire to stay here …” you swallow a sob, “in the Red Keep with you.”

That is not enough.

You are Robert, and she wants to hurt you—- sex is electric, or it can be painful. She will fuck you as Robert —- this is what men do. Powerful men take what they want, this is what her father would do —- take, take, take, take ! Power, fear! Take all that she desires, take what she loves—

Love?

Affection isn’t a foreign concept to Cersei, but it isn’t something she gives freely. Only threads of herself can feel her love.

Cersei exhales deeply, trying to organize her thoughts.

Her eyes open blankly, one closes lazily after the other.

“I can see it now,” Her voice is hushed. “A Lannister wedding. Lavish as it can be. Gold it shall be.” Cersei’s head glances down, with an unhinged smile.

“I take Jaime as my husband, and you as my paramour.” Her head is swimming, the wine has sunk her even deeper. “Or perhaps, you as my bride. Oh —- how my father would throw a fit.” Cersei slurs and chuckles as a child.

“If only I was a man,” Cersei leans her body down, engulfing your body into hers. “We would live here, as a man would not be questioned on how many mistresses he possesses.” Her slender fingers creepily slip near your ass.

Guiding the slope of your under thigh between her legs, resting her cunt on your kneecap. The soft tuft of blond hair tickles your bare skin, grinding herself.

Soft wet slick sounds fill your ears, as her fingers grip and tug on the meat of your ass. Her hips are thrashing a bit more harsher now.

Her milky hands slither up the hill of your navel, cupping the weight of your under breast; twirling your brown nipple between her fingertips, twisting.

You hiss at the sting, as she relishes in your distress. Cersei bows her head into your chest, swallowing your breast into her mouth. Her tongue lapping at your nipple, her ivories nibbling and tugging harshly against the skin.

Violently suckling your tit, as you twitch and gasp; worried she might bite it off by the teeth. Despite the astringent offense upon your body, the wave of pleasure cascades you.

Skin breaks into bruises, as you twitch. Sensations of pain and pleasure blur, confusion and ecstasy. Without thought, your fingers caress Cersei’s hair.

Cersei’s mouth releases your breast with a wet pop. A tint of burgundy against the brown of your skin, a reddish ring encircling your nipple. Her puss leaves your knee.

The tip of Cersei’s tongue glides down the path of your belly, down to your navel, to finally your pubic bone. Her warm breaths tickle you.

Raspy moans escape from Cersei, as she slowly licks your mound. Plump, and soft. Flickering with her pink tongue, teasing you.

Her green eyes watch you, as her tongue slips through your folds, tasting you. Delving deep, to your puckering hole. Fucking you with her tongue, no matter how much you fight yourself, the sensation of her mouth on you always sends sparks.

Wetness echoes, as her cheeks puff up against your mound. You move your hips down, fucking yourself on Cersei’s mouth. Slamming your hand against your bedding, gripping the sheets between your roving fingers, as undignified grunts leave your lips.

Cersei admires your heaving bare breasts.

The lioness is selfish—- her mouth leaves you. You whine, stiffly leaning back. Her mouth is damp with your essence. With a harsh slap on your cunt, and another. Cersei finds her enjoyment in your misery, as you mutter for more.

“Pathetic little mercies.” She taunts you.

Silently, Cersei kneels once more, twirling her legs. Lifting your knee upward, over her shoulder, along with your other leg underneath her.

Both of your puss connect, dripping with want. Panting, and sweating, only grunts are in conversation. Your hair is messy, damp baby hairs cling to your forehead.

Cersei’s milky fingers hold the flesh of your thigh, as she rides your cunt with hers. Spilt wet clits, dancing together. Electric sensation that pulls the silky moans from you, as Cersei rides you fast.

Your fingers daringly hold her jiggling ass, fondling her asshole. Toying with it. Cersei squeals at the intrusive touch. A primal surge takes hold of you, placing your fingers into the cave of your mouth, soaking in your saliva.

Your hand cups Cersei between her ass, fiddling the bridge between her asshole to her gaping pussy hole. Her head falls back, as you plunge your fingers inside of cunt.

Her golden hair is loose and disarrayed. Cascading down her face, a lion reduced to a whimpering kitten. Your leg twitches against her chest, Cersei bites at your calf dully.

Your toes curl and flex, as the pit of your belly is unfurling. A choppy high-pitched moan spews from you, your head digging back into the pillows.

Cersei shrills a yes , as her climax reaches itself to the heavens. Bruising your thigh under her fingers. Cumming together, Cersei grinds herself onto you, connecting together, with no space of separation.

Clits throbbing against each other, stinging pleasure. Riding your highs, gently thrashing her clit against yours, earning airy moans. The tuft of her pubic hair against yours fuels the sensation.

Cersei moans delightfully, satisfied with herself. Her body towers over yours, crawling into your heaving arms; not caring of the dewy sheen of sweat that covers your body.

Legs interlocking together, as she pulls you into her arms fully. Turning herself onto her side, her knuckles stroking your hip.

These are the sparse moments you enjoy with Cersei. When she is human, when she relishes in touch, rather than harshness.

“Jaime should not be burdened with duties of the King’s Guard.” Cersei whispers. “He needs a bride. Father is aging, and one day, Castlery Rock will be in need of a lord.” She is mumbling now, mostly to herself.

“That disease of my little brother will defile us with his whores.” Hate spills from her naturally, as it always does.

Her voice trails into silence, her fingers snagging onto your flesh, pulling you closer to her.

Sleep takes Cersei, sinking into the mattress. Paralyzed in her hold until slumber overtook you as well.

The morning sun shone through the windows, baring its light onto your eyes. Rubbing your eyes by the heels of your palms, sinking deeper into the blanket furs.

The hinges of the chamber doors creak, jolting you further into reality, eyes heavily leaning to shut closed. Clicks of heels follow, and a hum.

“It seems the morrow has escaped us.” Her voice is light, cheery even. Not an inch of maligne in her infliction. It’s eerie how the mask can slip on and off—- a performance.

Cersei leans, invading your space, seating upon the mattress. Her eyes lower, and darken. How easily eerie her charm and spite can transmute to one entity.

“If I were to find you in the arms of another,” Cersei says, her voice on edge, taking one step closer, her lips stretch into a gritted wolfish grin. “I will gladly brand your cunt with the sigil of my house.” Her green eyes unflinching, her lips smirking devilishly.

Silence prevails, your hair cascaded against your face. Barely hiding your shame, you subtly nod; submitting to her demanding presence.

Cersei smirks, “Good.” The lioness prowls around her chambers, licking your blood off her paws. A victorious slaughter, a fragile doe locked in her cave, with broken limbs—- and a broken spirit.

-

Peace and quiet.

You inhale a deep breath, as it floods your cavity. Solitude has finally granted itself upon you, away from the yaws of the lioness.

Flexed fingers stroke against the wall, basking in the brisk air. The balcony’s view is marvelous. Unclipping your cleavage, so the breeze can grace your breasts, and sweep against your scalp.

Cersei had taken her leave for a meeting with the king’s council. And surely, no mere maid is allowed in such a space.

Away from her suffocating touch, you can relax in your own skin. A thought comes to you, there are a handful of empty rooms to explore. Your feet carry you down the corridors.

Without thought, searching for an empty chamber, you find one. With the tug of the knobs, you walk freely inside—- only to be greeted with whisking reddish hair.

A gasp catches itself in your mouth, holding your stomach, kneeling legs curtsying in respect.

“Lady Sansa.” You bow your head dutifully. “A thousand apologies, I didn’t intend to intrude.” As your feet backpedal to the entrance, a soft whisper calls.

“Please stay.”

And just like that, her sweet child voice sweeps you.

“Oh, little wolf.” You pinch the fabric of your dress, lifting as you walk with haste. The instinct to hold Sansa over took you. Sitting on her mattress, engulfing her in your arms, quickly her red hair melts against the sapphire threading of your dress.

Sansa’s head is tucked in the crook of your shoulder. Quietly sobbing, her delicate fingers grip against the base of your back, as would a cub cling to its mother’s teat.

Caressing her hair, you shush her softly, rocking her back and forth. “I’m scared.” Sansa’s words are muffled, vibrating against you. “I want to go home.” She wails, mewling.

“My sweet girl, how I long for you to be safe.” You whisper, “I’m so sorry for what has happened.” You kiss her head, muttering apologies into her hair, hoping your kindness weaves itself into her hair, and stays for a rest.

The morrow stretches into noon, as you watch over Sansa. Comforting her in placid silence, brushing her hair. Humming a melody, as your fingers thread intricate braids within her auburn flaming hair.

This feels like home again.

Outside of these walls, both are prisoners within a castle. But here, in this moment, is a woman, and a child. Reliving memories past, as a mother, and as a daughter—- through each other.

To heal these wounds, as mother and daughter.

Just for a moment.

[zodiac--muses]

Sleepless

It's silent in the house at night. Scarce more that the creaking of settling wood, and the sounds of animals outside. Yet, Zephyr is awake to hear them all.

The young woman is laying on her side, hands intertwined with Caster. Her love, the one who loved her back. In a place that she feels safe and loved. Even as nightmares and worries creep in on her, and she curls her hands tighter around Casters.

It had been a few days since she had returned from visiting Andrii at his home. But one of the last conversations she'd had still weighed heavily on her mind. The one with someone who had apparently been Andrii's older brother. Someone she had known before she had become a runaway.

If he had recognized her, remembered her... It terrified her to her core. She knew, after all, that someone would be looking for her. That there were likely orders to bring her 'home' by any means necessary. You didn't escape from important families in Snezhnaya. Not easily. And not when they had the Fatui.

There's a shift from Caster beside her, as the man snuggles forwards. Like he knew what she was thinking, how worried she was. And he just gently presses a kiss into her forehead, quietly mumbling that "It's all going to be alright, precious. Rest now, you need it."

It eases her somewhat, knowing she has him. That she has all their friends. People who cared about her, that wouldn't let her be taken back against her will. That they would fight tooth and nail along side her, for that freedom she cherished. Because they loved her, the real her, with their whole hearts.

And Zephyr finally closes her eyes for the night, letting that comfort lull her to sleep.

[sparklytimebun]

As the ball continued the amount of drunk Ru became. Jasper switching her wine for water didn't work,not when pretty noble ladies and men and their human love slaves keptvfeeding her blood and wine.

She was dancing between partners, and was dizzy. Cheeks flushed, body hot. Hands, mouths all over her. Darius did not accompay her this night and so Jas and her bodyguard came instead.

More and more she allowed the fangs to pierce her, to feed. She's so aroused and drunk and suddenly being whisked away. Her first sober thought then broke through the haze.

"Oh no-"

Yet she's weak, body surrending to the touches.

"Please...I..."

"I won't tell your husband."

"And you won't leave alive."

A strong arm encases Ru and the noble woman gives the tiniest of gasps. Beside the other Jas who, despite how he seemed, also looked ready to murder.

Ru settles back in the arms of whoevrr is protecting her and feels the happy buzz fade. She had almost let herself go too far. In wanting to distract herself she indulged too much. Oh Gods bless her.

The vampiric man simply regards Ru, against strong arms and the head Butler who looked ready to murder and then turns to leave. As they step away Ru leans back even more.

"I'm sorry."

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

AHHHHH CONGRATS CONGRATS CONGRATS

how about like secret royalty, like very princess diaries-esque, with sirius???? he's basically royalty anyway, so either him or reader suddenly entering his world would be so cute

Thanks lovely <3

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 1.2k words

With the early arrival of the visiting king, the uproar the palace (You’re actually not sure what you’re supposed to call this place. Castle? Mansion? Home? (You really hope you’re not supposed to call it home, that seems awfully quick.)) has been in since your arrival triples in severity. Your grandmother completely disappears, the nice older man who’s been showing you around goes with her, and when no one wants to take on the problem of the new and completely untrained princess, you’re shooed into the nearest sitting room to wait things out. 

“Well, this has to have been a mistake.”

You give a start, turning in place to find a young man stretched out like a cat on a settee by the window. He has longish, dark hair that spills like ink over the green upholstery and cunning eyes that are narrowed curiously on you despite his disinterested countenance.

“Or I suppose maybe your team’s just stashed you here the same way my father’s stashed me,” he says, and the voice that emerges from that small, pretty mouth is just as smooth he looks like it would be, self-assured and infused with an accent that speaks to a privileged upbringing. “I don’t imagine they’d like knowing their new pet is cavorting with her equals so early on.” An untrustworthy smile curves his lips. “Could be fun. Should we ring for food?” 

You have half a dozen questions, but what makes it out is, “Pet?” 

The boy tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. “You’re an unhousebroken puppy, sweetheart.” His eyes dip to the dress they’d put you in this morning, skimming their way back up to your face and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “A very pretty one, but as far as royals are concerned, an embarrassment. From what I hear, that’s hardly your fault, though.” 

You sit a cautious distance away from him, on a parallel couch. The afternoon sunlight spills over the top of his settee and hits your eyes, but you bear it rather than move. 

A week ago, a couple of days even, you wouldn’t have been able to make eye contact with someone like this. But though this boy is prettier and speaks more brashly than nearly anyone you’ve come across, you’ve grown remarkably used to novelty since being sat down in front of relatives you didn’t know to be told that you were heir to a country you’d never heard of. One upside to the chaos of the last few days is, you suppose, it might be making you braver. 

“Who are you?” you ask. 

“Oh, my god.” He smiles, seemingly delighted. “You really are brand new, aren’t you? I’m not trying to sound arrogant,” he says at your flustered look, “it’s just we’re usually trained to know important people before we ever meet them. It’s not every day I come upon someone who actually has no idea who I am.” 

A little laugh trips off your tongue. You tell him, “You’re not making your not-arrogant point very well.”

“Well, I never said I wasn’t arrogant.” That dastardly grin again, slicing across his face like a weapon. “I said I didn’t want to sound arrogant. I’ve been told it doesn’t make a very polite first impression.” He stands, graceful limbs unfurling, and starts for the door. “I’m Sirius. Are you hungry?” 

You nod dazedly as he crosses the room, and it’s only then that you realize he’s wearing a suit. Or, parts of one. The jacket and tie have been cast off, hung over the arm of the settee, but he’s still wearing the pants (thank god) and a dress shirt that appears blue in the light but otherwise is so dark it might be black. 

Sirius opens the door, murmuring to someone outside. When he’s done, he heads for you instead of the settee. Kicks his shoes off and settles in across from you, legs crossed underneath him like you’re at a sleepover. You decide to follow suit, turning to face him and trusting the length of your dress to protect you from scandal as you tent your knees in front of you. 

“That’s better,” Sirius says, and his eyes look different with the light cutting across them. Before, they’d been in shadow, but now they’re the color of heavy clouds, a faint bluish hue brought out by his dress shirt. “You looked stunning with the light on your face, but you’re even lovelier when you’re not squinting. I asked for someone to bring us chicken nuggets, is that alright? You’re not vegetarian, are you?” 

You’re surprised at the choice, but that quickly gives way to relief. You feel a smile tugging at your lips at the banal normalcy of it. After the five-course dinner you’d had the night before that had tormented your unrefined stomach for hours afterwards, chicken nuggets sound like a dream. 

“That’s good,” you reply, and Sirius returns your smile with feeling. “Who were you talking to out there?” 

“A member of my detail is just outside the door,” he explains airily, as if security details are something everyone has and talks about on a routine basis. Your astonishment must show on your face, because he raises a slender eyebrow. “You don’t have one? I suppose not every kingdom does. Or, if you haven’t left the palace, you might not have met yours yet.” 

“You said your name was Sirius.” 

“I did.” 

“But you didn’t say your last name.” 

Sirius’ lips twist wryly. “I did not.” 

Maybe it’s his own audacious manner, but you feel like you can be straightforward with him. “Why not?” 

He shrugs and lists sideways, leaning his shoulder against the back of the couch. “Maybe I’m still enjoying the novelty of you. I don’t often get to talk to people without all the genteel manners and button-up-ed-ness.” 

You tilt your head. “You’re one of the Black family, aren’t you?” 

Sirius nods, looking unsurprised you’ve figured it out. It’s obvious he’s royal, so it really wasn’t that far a leap. He doesn’t look like any of the family you’ve met so far, and the only other royals are the ones visiting.

“So does that make you the king’s son?” 

“There are two of us, actually.” He mirrors you, tilting his head so it’s resting against the couch. “But I’m the oldest, so I get to go on all the fun trips.” 

You feel your lips twist again. “Yeah, you seem like you’re having a blast.” 

“Oh, let there be no misunderstanding, doll.” He straightens, looking you in the eye. It feels like being under a spotlight, and it’s all you can do not to look away. Sirius grins. “This is my fun face. I’m having a far better time with you than I have at any of these things in years.” 

“Oh.” You can’t help it now, and your gaze flees down to the skirt of your dress. You take a bit of the fabric between your fingers, distracting yourself with the extraordinary silkiness of it. “Well, happy to help. Maybe while your family is here our paths will cross again.” 

You look up, and his expression has softened into something nearing genuine. “I’ll be sure that they do,” he says.

[4rticbolt]

The Menacing Bra |Master-list|

Fluff, swearing, kissy-kissy, crack, cringe and cliche?? Longish-drabble

You and the cook have a moment, and he actually grew a pair to make a move

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

Laundry day.

Oh boy. What absolute joy, the repetitive chore that tested your limits. Chipping away your mental capacity, and your motivation to do anything at all.

You’d spent hours on end, scrubbing and rinsing, only to wear the clothes again, ferevently repeating the cycle.

You cursed, pinching a clip to your nose. You had always wished there was some cheat sheet, some easy way out, other than free labor from the boys. Especially, when you’d gotten stuck with Nami and Robin’s clothes. You’d kindly asked them, seeing their closets were getting low and they’d never decline an offer like that.

Because honestly, who would? Washing clothes by hand was time consuming, and neither you nor the women had the patience for it. Sure, you might be throwing yourself under the bus here, but you cannot for the life of you fucking throw soap and bubbles for an hour.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you scrubbed and submerged the materials hoping you could get done before lunch.

Luckily, the odds seemed to be in your favor. You hadn’t procrastinated as much as you normally did, so you’d be done with this before lunch. But the peace didn’t last, distant crash emitted from downstairs.

“Spoke too soon,” you sighed, hearing a distant laugh and girlish scream follow after another. A familiar angry shout rang from the kitchen and a chaotic catchy cackle echoed.

You didn’t even want know what the cook was dealing with now.

When paired, the trio of boys were a nightmare. Though speaking of them, if you even had to touch their laundry you’d pass away. That was an actual health hazard, and even thinking about it made your skin crawl.

You shuddered, shaking your head. A grossed shiver ran through your spine causing bubbles to fly.

Ew. Just imagining the men’s laundry was a shit show. Maybe not Sanji’s, as he actually cared about his hygiene—but regardless, it was still nasty.

Sanji, who seemed to holler again—made you crack a smile. Your thoughts centered to him as he consequently reprimanded the idiots for whatever ‘crime’ they outdrew.

Though the glimpse of his agitated face made your smile widen.

The way his brows would have creased into a frown, and the way his jaw would have clenched—sharpening his neck... You silently cursed as your mind filtered elsewhere, leaving the rest of you to the mercy of your imagination.

Ok, sure, maybe you had fallen for the hopeless cook but how could you not?

He’d always showered you in devoted affection—heartfelt compliments, and any craving you could possibly think of. You saw him as the perfect package.

Yeah, maybe he could be a little perverted in the terms of others, but that was just his charm. Or so you’d convinced yourself. You never had an issue with him, he’d always been kind—and that kindness easily swooned you.

Yes, he had unhinged compliments, but it was heart-felt. It had to be. Because deep down, his selfless acts and perverted thoughts felt more like a puppy love than anything. Appreciation, admiration, and his firm morals…were always so oddly refreshing.

Though, speaking of that appreciation, you were almost done. You just had to hang up one of your undergarment’s. The task was easy as the deck finally quieted, meaning lunch was ready.

So as quickly as you could, you stepped onto the rail, reaching to a height where you could hang the material. Ignoring the breeze that rushed by, you hopped down to deal with the soapy water—dumping it overboard.

“____, my love! Lunch is done,” Sanji called, his voice glowing with an excited smile as he steadily rounded the corner to take you inside.

“Yeah, just a sec.” You replied, shaking the soapy suds from the container, watching them fall to the ocean below.

“No worries, I can wait darling.”

Turning back, you weren’t met with the handsome face of the cook, but a sharp gust of wind and a wet towel. It speedily flew towards you, smacking you straight in the face.

“Shit—“ Thwack

“Damn wind—you alright?” His voice reached, muffled over the violent winds. The immeasurable pressure howled over the ship, shoving you against the Sunny’s rail with blunt force.

You managed a muffled holler as a response, but the towel had blocked your vision. Musky soaked flowers welcomed your sense of smell, but it quickly disappeared as it thudded to the floor. This wind died down, and you were left soaked. Your blue tank hard a darker hue, and your hard smudged to your face.

You annoyingly wiped the edges out of your face, quickly asking the cook if he was okay. But he wasn’t. You immediately froze at the sight in-front of you.

No.

Actually die.

He’s dead. You killed the man—or well, the bra that covered his face did. He was as red as a tomato, frozen in place.

You would’ve laughed at the sight if you weren’t so embarrassed.

Hesitant hands came in-front of you, debating what to do with yourself in this situation.

“Sanji?”

“S-so soft...” he whispered, dramatically plummeting to the floor.

There he goes…

A long huff escaped you, watching the pathetic trail of blood stream from his nose, and you slowly knelt beside him calling his name.

Sanji didn’t respond, so you tried again, and again, and again. But he was utterly helpless. He twitched like some possessed bug—far too gone to be saved, so you decide you decided to give him air.

Peeling off and tossing aside the bra, your hands hovered yet again, hesitating. You gently patted his cheeks, hoping to snap him out of his spell.

“Hello? Earth to sanji?” You called, patiently waiting. Though as time passed, you began to grow worried. You almost thought to call Chopper, but you didn’t really want to explain this situation.

Far too awkward, far too embarrassing.

So you took matters into your own hands.

“Hey,” You finally chided, swatting his face—leaving light pink marks. “Sanji, snap out of it!”

. . .

Nothing. Literally nothing.

God, how bad was he down for you? Like—religiously? Or—

Ok rude. That was rude. Don’t think that.

You regretted the act of your harsh hands, and impulsive thoughts, but this was ridiculous. His face was blissfully unaware of your torment, and he’d just been in heaven.

Thriving through the cusp of your bra—you couldn’t believe this.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, and you lightly cradled his face, quietly murmuring his name. No matter the frustration or embarrassment, you could never keep yourself from watching him, he was just too pretty for that.

Luckily, your gentle movement did the trick. It was almost instant.

“Yes, d-darling?” his eyes fluttered open, and he stuttered bringing a blue handkerchief to his nose, cleaning away the mess.

“Are you okay?”

“Haha, yes—lovely,” He breathed, locked in the aftermath of your bra. He couldn’t believe he’d seen the world.

You only seemed to grumble at his words, but your heart hammered when his eyes shined to your own. He gently smiled and you just froze, quietly watching him.

“Are you sure?” you asked, leaning a bit back.

“You’re pink.”

Ugh. Blow by blow, your heart was taking too many hits, and you wish you could just disappear.

This was not your friendly situation of: you could do this. This was embarrassing.

Sanji chuckled, leaning on his heels. He was far from you in your kneeled form, and it was just another hit to your chest.

“Positive Love,” he reassured, tucking his tissue aside. He seemed oblivious now, or—as he so acted, but for such a doting idiot he didn’t seem to take a hint.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be,” you muttered, averting your gaze. You were quick to stand, but he’d been quicker helping you to your feet.

“Just wondering, that towel flew by before I could stop it,” he said, looking you over. Taking in your dampened shirt and messied hair— he fell in love with you all over again.

An innocent silence went by as you fixed your hair, taking notice to his stare. You thought to comment on it, maybe to change the subject and flirt—but you’d just point out your own habits.

So you opted not to.

“Yeah—uh, it did,” you said awkwardly, transfixing your gaze to the deck, which he’d taken quick notice to. But you hadn’t been slick enough to keep to yourself.

“That wind was pretty crazy, huh? Pushed me into the rails.” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck.

“That it did, is your back alright chérie?”

“Huh? Oh—it’s fine, I’m okay. Push and shove is fine, I mean, no—it’s not.” you didn’t even know what you were saying now, you were tumbling over your words but you couldn’t seem to catch yourself.

But Sanji didn’t seemed to mind, he loved your little rambles.

He could tell you were nervous, and he just loved it. Inside, he was a wreck himself, but seeing you like this made him confident. Sanji saw how he was affecting you, and he only wanted to see more of it.

So, he pushed to make you blush.

“I should—“ you went to say something, but his hand found your waist and your stomach tightened.

There it was.

The cook gave you the option to step away, but you didn’t and he continued. He stepped closer, keeping a kind smile to his face—patiently waiting for you to look up to him.

But you only panicked, you didn’t know what to do, but you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted to kiss him—but was that the wrong move? Was that he wanted? Probably, but you’d didn’t know how to follow through with it. You were a complete ditz to this.

Romance wasn’t your forte, but it sure was his. He knew how to sweet talk a lady, and he knew how to treat one. He was the embodiment of a gentleman—and he’d never dare hit a woman.

Not even if his life depended on it.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he murmured, watching your hands stiffly come to your front.

You finally turned to look up at him, and he wanted to kiss you then and there, but he held back.

Sanji always had with you. He was gentle, and he always made sure you were comfortable. He was a flirt, and you were awkward but that didn’t stop him.

Reactions had never been hard to get out of you, and he liked that, but as more of those nervous rambles drew out; he found himself wanting more.

Unknowingly, you drew him in like an addiction, something he could just go hours watching. Taking pleasure from it. Nervous or rambling he adored you more than he could ever describe.

“If I’m being too much you can tell me,” he reminded, keeping considerate.

“No, no not at all I just,” your voice trailed off and you found yourself looking to his lips.

He caught that, and he took the hint pulling you closer. You chest bumped against his and you leaned back.

“Sorry,” you muttered, averting your gaze.

“What? Don’t apologize, there’s nothing you to be sorry for,” he chuckled, dragging a tender hand along your back, sending tingles of warmth along with it.

He looked to you, and he was drawn to your lips like honey to a bee. But that train of thought was quickly interrupted. His eyes widened as you impulsively leaned up, kissing him.

But it wasn’t long before he melted.

A soft groan muffled against your own, and he cupped the back of your head deepening the kiss.

Sanji always thought you looked sweet, but this far surpassed any imagination he could conjure.

His lips longingly met yours, and he groaned when your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders. His legs almost buckled at the feeling, and he needily slipped his tongue across yours.

You parted to take a breath, but Sanji was too eager. He kissed you again muffling a noise, as he walked to push you against the rail, tilting your head back.

A warm breeze blew by and hands were everywhere, dragging along every part of you, carefully squeezing your shirt and skin. Fingers dipped beneath your tank, trailing up your stomach to the soft dips in your ribs—brushing against the underside of your bra.

SLAM

A door across from you opened, and an impatient captain ruined your moment. “Sanji! Can we eat now?!”

With quick reflexes, the two of you flew away from each-other. You quickly fixed you tank while he tidied up his tux, an awkward cough sounded from you.

“Hey what are you—“

“Nothing!” You dismissed, coughing again—trying to rid the burning feeling in your mouth. You looked beet red quickly passing past the boy.

“He just came to tell me lunch was done, we can eat now!” you chirped, wiping a thumb your lips to rid it of any dampness—fleeing the scene.

You couldn’t believe you’d been so close to being caught.

“Uh—____ wait—“ Sanji tried, but he was fairing off no better. A deep blush was absorbed to his face spreading down his neck. He was a mess.

But as soon as you left, he was seething. It was like a switch as it came to play Luffy had interrupted something that he’d have continued.

“Huh? What’s her deal—“

“Did you have to ruin that?!” He snapped, grabbing the stretchy idiot by his shirt, rapidly shaking him. He didn’t even bother to hide fluster.

“You idiot! Could you not see I was having a moment! I’ve waited forever for this—and you just had to plow through and ruin it!”

“What moment?! And what do you mean ruin it! I just said I was hungry!” his rubber head helplessly flopped back n’ forth, as he tried to avoid the cooks wrath, but he’d ultimately failed.

Yes, Luffy might’ve been hungry.

But, Sanji had been starving.

[dragonrider9905]

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him. 

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart. 

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing. 

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same. 

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands. 

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could. 

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for? 

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you. 

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart? 

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.” 

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering. 

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage. 

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.) 

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you. 

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them. 

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok. 

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could. 

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little. 

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.” 

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved. 

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out. 

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better. 

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh. 

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit. 

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that. 

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.   

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door. 

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you. 

Kriff. He had to fix this. 

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship. 

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before. 

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken. 

He was lost. 

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it. 

A lost love. 

And it was his fault. 

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible. 

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on. 

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep. 

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty. 

He saw it. And he caused it. 

And he hated himself for it. 

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t. 

Turns out he was wrong.  

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that. 

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt. 

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold. 

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality. 

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else. 

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be. 

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her. 

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice. 

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate. 

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed. 

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand. 

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack. 

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy. 

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated. 

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands. 

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face. 

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for. 

It was ‘that’ look. 

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time. 

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.  

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone. 

You squeezed his hand. 

“We’ll find her. I promise.” 

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long. 

He squeezed your hands. 

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore. 

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself. 

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering. 

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free. 

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him. 

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again. 

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before. 

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”  

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead. 

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him. 

Taking a look around, you carefully considered. 

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.” 

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker. 

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back. 

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?” 

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.” 

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.” 

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?” 

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you. 

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go. 

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two. 

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun. 

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had. 

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed. 

Your voice. 

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training. 

“Meshla, no!” 

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror. 

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you. 

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you. 

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter. 

Your painful cry.

No

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart. 

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge. 

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.” 

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…” 

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“ 

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body. 

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.  

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled. 

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly. 

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?” 

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep. 

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run. 

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.” 

Hunter came in running. 

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him. 

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls. 

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open. 

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up. 

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you. 

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space. 

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand. 

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat. 

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up. 

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating. 

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing. 

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat. 

Oh well, you could only push forward. 

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help. 

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding. 

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago? 

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry. 

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing. 

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face. 

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak. 

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened. 

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing? 

You had an infection. 

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly? 

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you. 

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you. 

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water. 

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle. 

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter. 

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes. 

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least. 

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late. 

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response. 

 “Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope. 

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him. 

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk. 

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand. 

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her. 

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed. 

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area. 

You blinked your eyes open with a smile. 

“Hey Handsome.” 

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss. 

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?” 

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him. 

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled. 

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.” 

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help. 

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words. 

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.” 

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon. 

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you. 

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level. 

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets. 

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern. 

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way. 

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm. 

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out. 

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most. 

This one, he couldn’t do. 

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could. 

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you. 

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow. 

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes. 

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself. 

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips. 

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air. 

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain. 

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard. 

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.  

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there. 

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.” 

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again. 

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—” 

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss 

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier. 

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace. 

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened. 

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler. 

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest. 

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

[miela]

Shattered Memories {Masterlist}

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Reader Type: Afab! Iron Spider! Silk! Avenger! Stark!

Length: Series (Longish, about 20 chapters)

Series Genre(s): Romance with Dramatic and Comedic undertones (if you squint)

Series Theme(s): Fluff, Angst, Smut (some Dark themes)

Series Summary: After Peter sacrificed his identity for the sake of the world, five years go by before he finds you back in his life again.

Series Content: Content from Civil War, Homecoming, Far From Home and No Way Home will be heavily present. Some content from other MCU movies and shows may come up here and there.

Series Warnings: 18+ {MDNI}, Mentions of substance abuse, alcoholism, s*icidal thoughts, self-harm, abusive relationship (not Peter x Y/N) in later chapters. warnings subject to change. Please proceed with caution.

Extra Content: A Few of my OCs are in here! Let me know if you want me to make a character list to reference.

You can also send in request for drabbles for this story/AU!

Updates: Fridays (may post chapters eariler, but there will usually always be an update on fridays)

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↪ divider by firefly-graphics

CHAPTERS:

Prologue: The Last Moment Before New Beginnings Chapter I: The Expo & The Files Chapter II: A Sense of Reunion Chapter III: A Sense of Reunion II Chapter IV: What Friends Are For Chapter V: The Do Over Chapter VI: Two Spiders, One Sorceress Chapter VII: Full of Feelings Chapter VIII: Lovers at the Gala Chapter IX: The Thread of Silk & Gold Chapter X: The Return of a Hero Chapter XI: Hummingbirds & Honeybees Chapter XII: Sunflower Love Chapter XIII: The Rumor & The Scandal XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX (MORE TBA)

DRABBLES:

Two Peas in a Pod {Friendship with Gwen} A Sense of Reunion {Alternate Universe}

[widowsofchaos]

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫

—- your bodyguard teaches you a lesson.

pairing: bodyguard!natasha romanoff x black!fem!reader

warnings: dom tendencies. implied mommy issues. wlw smut. heed these warnings.

a/n: read it here on ao3. bodyguard au. spoiled rotten reader. a longish drabble for my nattie. enjoy. <3

It’s in Natasha’s nature to be dominant.

Her instinct to devour has been nicked at ever since you came bulldozing into her life.

Hired by your father to protect you from any harm, and watch over you as your own shadow. With all the harsh training Natasha endured, all the blood stains to survive —- babysitting you has proven harder than anything.

Yet, Natasha has found herself in a risky position.

Your warm skin under her bruising palm, and your soft muffled cries brings Natasha delight. Small sobs against the silk bed sheet. The fabric wrinkles and bunching between your curling fingers.

Her canines scrape against the brown welting purplish ass cheek, licking and nibbling. Her red painted fingernails digging and scratching, making more pinkish abrasions.

Natasha restrained herself as long as she could, but with how you flaunt yourself around, with an air of entitlement, it stirred a compulsive urge. It’s been boiling for so long.

That princess attitude, and the demanding need for attention. Asking Natasha to hold your bags, or your coffee.

One time, your bare legs were mid-air, asking Natasha what she thought of your new nail color, with only Nat firmly patting your legs away.

Natasha ignored your brattish antics, with only stern warnings for you to knock it off, but her snarled tone only spurred you on.

Till earlier tonight.

Huddled with her friends, all hired by your father as well, but Natasha was the one to solely protect you, due to her gender. Surrounded by rowdy friends who all shared life experiences—- Bucky, Steve, Sam and Clint.

All of them are hot, catching your eye whenever you see them nearby your father and his business partners. And as on cue, you sought out to push Natasha’s buttons, and try to get laid.

A night of late night beers, making crude jokes, and talking shit in the balcony, that was connected near the kitchens. With a flicker of her green eyes, Natasha caught you lingering around the kitchen with skimpy shorts showing your ass, and a tight crop top.

Low wolf whistles came from the guys, just as you hoped, whispering what a tight ass you had.

The rush of blood came to Natasha’s ears, as the guys joked around. Her knuckles clenched around the bottle’s neck. Steve passing by her didn’t go unnoticed nor was his imposing body towering over yours.

All mean names that came to Nat’s head, all daggered at you. Whore, and brat to name a few. A peculiar feeling of jealousy arose, but it was kept hidden by a cold resolve.

You knew Natasha was listening. To keep this little act going, you asked Steve to guess the color of your panties.

Natasha went frigid, her eyes void. Natasha’s fingers gripped the neck of the beer bottle harder, when Steve tried to peek inside your skirt, by his finger tugging at your belt buckle.

Her nerves snapped when she heard you whisper to him, you can’t cheat, with that annoying girlish giggle.

Natasha cut her night short with the guys, and next thing, she knew, she was dragging you away. Your whining only spurred her frustration.

Here now, making a mess out of you on your bed. Natasha’s fingers now knuckle deep inside you, as her wet tongue lapped at your puffy clit.

Natasha played your game, you sought her attention, and you got it. Knuckles deep inside you, pumping mercilessly. Soaking Nat’s fingers, as your welting slit slouches. Relentless, and mean, Natasha doesn’t stop. She has you shaking like a withering leaf.

Back arching, and your fingers wrinkling your sheets between your fingers.

There’s no mother in the picture. Natasha figured out your little mannerisms, that despite being a pain in her ass, you would cling onto her. Soft brown fingers would graze her leather jacket, or you would ask to brush Nat’s hair. Asking Natasha a million questions flying out the mouth.

In odd moments, your attitude would appear childlike, and clingy. Calling for Natasha just because you want her near you, asking mindless questions.

Your eyes are blurry with a sheen of unshed tears, cheek squished against the bedding. Incoherent muttering, begging for more. Sweat clings and glistens at your temple. Your heart is beating like a drum under your breast.

Natasha’s tongue glides from your velvety slit, to the flesh of your thigh, creating a trail of saliva staining your skin. She stops, and her hand cracks a smack on your ass—- a harsh sting reverberating through your skin. You slur a shout.

Natasha leans up, and grabs your waist. Maneuvering your entire bodice onto your back, as if you were a rag doll. Her hands lift your legs by the cusp of your knees, spreading yourself once more to her.

Her pink tongue peeks out of her mouth, kissing down to your belly, and slithers back down between your thighs. Natasha laps at your clit— throbbing against her tongue.

Nat halts for a moment, making you whine, your body is wound tight. “Hold.” Nat demands, making you grip one of your knees. Muscles burning, and the pleasure is too much to bear. Natasha takes two fingers into her mouth, soaking them between her tongue, and takes them out.

Without a word, Nat seethes her fingers inside of you, filling your aching hole. Your back arches again, as Nat fucks you with her hand. Pumping two fingers deep inside, she can feel your walls clenching tight. You can hear the wetness, it’s so erotic, and unashamed.

It feels right, as Nat’s flickering fingers mold perfectly inside of you, like she was meant to feel you from the inside out.

She nibbles your lips between her teeth, alternating between biting and suckling your clit. She’s been at it for an hour now, edging you to tears, only to stop just when you’re about to cum.

The pit in your belly is tightening, a tingling sensation that spreads throughout your body, making you curl your toes. Your hips thrust just slightly, desperating trying to reach that high.

Natasha’s lips are open-wide, suckling on your pulsating clit. Her tongue flickering mercilessly. Her mouth wet with your slick, unabashed moans slipping from your lips. Your head leaning against the mattress, your breasts heaving.

Natasha bites at your clit, making you shout and squirm. So close, a tidal wave of pleasure is flooding your body. Nat has an iron grip on your legs, restricting your hips from thrusting.

Nat’s tongue goes up and down from your wet lips, to your puckering hole. Messily suckling your essence, it felt heavenly. It’s all you ever wanted, to have her take you apart so dominantly. To finally have the mean sarcastic red-headed Russian—- this is better than all the gifts your father has showered you with.

You chant Nat’s name as a hymn, breaths choppy and short. Your hands fly to her red hair, holding onto her like a lift line. Your head lifts up, to see her green eyes staring back at you. Her whole mouth full of your cunt, hungrily eating you, it all makes your head feel hot, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“Please— guh—” You speak through tear stained eyes, a sob caught in your throat, “Please…” a whisper now. “Nat, I need to cum.” Tilting your head down again, chin to chest, to gaze at Nat once more.

Natasha releases your clit, slowing down her fingers. “Hmm,” she hums, “Go ahead. Be good and cum for me.” Her sultry voice always lulls you, silky as a spider’s web. Her ivory fingers speed up again, splitting your welting cunt viciously.

It felt as if you were going blind. Every fiber of your being, in every inch of your muscles, pumping in every vein—- you felt the impending heat that Nat has restricted finally flood out of you.

You cum in Nat’s mouth with a shrill, your face wrinkling. Nat doesn’t let up, lapping at your clit as you come undone. What a sight. To see her favorite brat quivering underneath her.

Nat can get used to this.

Natasha takes her lips off of you, gently putting your legs down. From the tips of your toes to your waist, you can barely feel anything. Brown skin buzzing and vibrating heavily in your mound.

Nat leans up on her knees, and looks down at you, towering over your tired body. A small curl at her lips, proud of her work. She huffs at you, mockingly.

“Next time, behave.”

[taintandviolent]

If it's alright, maybe Kai finding reader with another guy and taking her back to the cult house to teach her a lesson...in front of the rest of the cult? 👀

warnings: spanking, violence/aggression, Kai being Kai.

A/N: longish drabble done at work - I hope this is okay and what you had in mind anon! Sorry it’s not a full fic, the brain ain’t brainin’ as hard as I’d like today.

Kai couldn't believe his eyes. It was you. His loyal little lamb with her doe-eyes, perky tits and willingness to do anything he asked... in the arms of some dickhead. His hands explored your waist and ass cheeks in a disgusting display of public affection, and Kai clenched his jaw hard.

That evening, when you'd gotten back to his house, you walked downstairs to find everyone sitting patiently, almost as if they were waiting for your arrival.

"Ah, there she is. The disloyal one." Kai's voice was calm and level. He was exercising a lot of personal strength, you could tell. At his words, everyone's heads turned, the attention now fully on you.

Oh, you thought. They were waiting for you. Uncomfortably, you adjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder and swallowed hard. Kai was watching your every move, hands behind his back. You hated when he did that... It felt so authoritative. You guessed that the rest of the cult didn't know the details of what you'd done, only that you were quote "disloyal" to his cause. With one fluid motion, he gestured for you to stand at his side.

You obeyed, taking careful steps until you got to him. What was worse? The fact that you had everyone's eyes on you, practically watching you breathe, or that Kai's very presence seemed to vibrate with a fiery anger that you could literally feel as he stood next to you? You couldn't decide.

"What is the punishment for disloyalty?"

You said nothing, only bit your lip, chewing a piece of dry skin off.

"I asked you a question. Answer me."

"I wasn't... disloyal."

"That wasn't the question, was it?"

Kai took a fistful of your hair, and got close to your face, speaking directly into your ear. The rest of the cult couldn't hear his words, only saw the angry display. You winced; he was gripping the hair at the roots.

"You were. A greedy, disloyal bitch. Now you're lying?"

"Kai," you whimpered.

"Address me properly."

"Divine Ruler," you corrected without hesitation. "I can't be disloyal if I'm not with anyone..."

He gripped your hair harder, pulling your face closer to his. He was staring at the side of your face like he was trying to melt it off, and while you only had the peripheral view, the disappointment that burned in his eyes was apparent. What did that mean? You were loyal to the cult, but there was an unsaid implication that Kai expected you to be loyal to him. Your core tightened with a melange of excitement, desire and fear.

Kai straightened up. Someone cleared their throat awkwardly, unsure how to process the tension in the room. Kai inhaled a deep breath, and sat down on the chair behind him.

"Over my lap."

You put your purse down at his feet, and reluctantly, laid your body out over his thighs. With your ass on display in your short skirt, you felt like an idiot. Taking a fistful of the fabric, Kai pulled it up over the curve of your cheeks, revealing the cheeky lacy underwear you'd chosen that day. You could've sworn you heard some of the guys chuckling. Great.

It turned out, the punishment for disloyalty was humiliation. Public humiliation.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

Kai's hand made repeated contact with your ass cheeks, setting the skin aflame. You turned your head, looking out into the faces that were watching. Winter looked disgusted, and your eyes met hers for a moment before they squeezed shut again, wincing with the pain of another spank.

You were thankful that he hadn't decided to use a tool like his belt, and the smacks were just with his large hand. Still, they burned like nobody's business and you couldn't help but whimper each time that your cheeks vibrated with his determinate slaps.

Suddenly, they ceased, and Kai's hands left your body. You were almost disappointed -- something that came as a shock to you. You realized that despite the pain and embarrassment, you were enjoying the closeness of the situation.

"Now, go sit down. We have some important things to talk about today."

Bastard. It would hurt so bad to sit on a hard wooden seat and he knew it. He knew it. Further, you knew he intended for your continued discomfort.

Rolling your lips inward, you reached for your purse, and navigated around to the only empty seat in the back. Just as you anticipated; the wood was cruel and unforgiving as you sat down, wiggling around to find a comfortable position. Everything hurt; your ass cheeks ached and the hand-shaped welts still felt hot.

Kai's eyes lingered on you. They lingered long enough that you decided you'd stay after the meeting was over and drill him about why he'd punished you.

[cindol]

cotton candy princess and her lord licorice .

sukuna ryomen x black fem reader

cw + — literally anyone’s body in this au is immune to candy or food things hence why bubbling chocolate is normal, sukuna calls reader woman, jam is a replacement for wine, lore backstory building, candyland fantasy au,

syn — when sukuna’s servants aren’t around reader and sukuna love to kick back and relax .

a / n 🍭 : so self indulgent here, longish drabble. Was honestly confused on where I was going with this drabble lol!

back to candyland .

It was quiet, only the sounds of steams and your giggles as you sat into the pool of dark chocolate. For a rare time you and sukuna were actually alone. No servants, no knights or assistants, and no genuine chaos for once.

“You’re as quiet as a mouse today, rare for the lord of licorice.” you put emphasis on the word ‘the’, making him groan and roll his neck while stretching his arms out against the ledges of this hot springs dark candy edges.

“I can be tame when I want to woman.” He grabbed his glass of jam shaking his head and sipping. What a lot of his servants and people of dark licorice kingdom didn’t know was he could be… docile, not around them but all kind close acquaintances like you, or jin itadori of the red licorice kingdom.

“Mm, so you’re just optionally a mean guy?” You were only six feet across from him in the dark chocolate springs, being silly and kicking your feet in the ear at him.

It was childish but rare to see you acting more immature than him. You and sukuna’s friendship was always just him acting a fool and you lecturing him along with lecturing uraume to not feed into sukuna’s demands all the time.

Sukuna scoffed at your silly movements before doing his sharp teethed grin. If you had told a young seventeen year old sukuna in royal formal black and white suit that he’d be good friends with the bubbly girl with a pink fro he’d reject that and laugh.

It was actually a wonder how someone like you lived in their kingdom in general. You looked like you belonged in some pink candy kingdom, not here. When asking around all that was said was that one day you just, popped up. No explanation, just that you were found as some abandoned child and got taken in by a local black licorice orphanage.

But in a way he was glad he met you or he was sure he’d be dead in some ditch. If you weren’t always there to lecture him and toji actually both him and toji would’ve been floating in some chocolate river found deceased.

What dragged him out of his thoughts was you splashing him with some chocolate in the pool and making him scowl.

[kurosstuff]

For the event 🦇

Lute x Vampire! Girlfriend!reader where the reader is incredibly famished due to not having any blood to drink for a longggg time.

Lute being the amazing gf she is steps up and offers reader to drink hers! Reader is incredibly hesitant tho cuz she doesn't want to hurt Lute. However she eventually agrees to feed from her. (Maybe gold blood taste different from red). Lute praising her the whole while for being strong and patient even tho she'd been starved. <3

I imagine it would be an incredibly intimate and fluffy moment due to the trust required

Oo this is a really good idea- ima make it q headcanon this time around, though~ I hope you don't mind? +longish drabble

Warning(s): vampire stuff, some angst, reader doesn't take care of themself very well, Lute is soft, the end kinda got dark? Idk

Lute x vampire!f!reader: feeding headcanons

Being a vampire and dating an angel? How the hell did that even happen? Technically speaking, you'd have to have been a demon- who was redeemed EVEN BEFORE lute even considered dating you-

Like. Ofc it's lute she's a bitch to all demons(and deep down she may view your vampire side as the remaining sin of being a demon even now) but. She loves you- so she'll Over look it

Ofc like an amazing lover- she takes care of your feedings ensuring your eating properly- even reminding you at times.

"Little bat" lute grumbled seeing the undrinken hotel of donated blood in your fridge cause she REFUSEF to allow it in the normal one. "Come and eat or no damn cuddles.. or kisses"

Hearing youe running, she hummed, smirking. Worked every time.

Of course there will be times she forgets to remind you.

Never on purpose no- she's a busy woman. She tends to over work(alot) but she tries-

For you she tries to take breaks more often which..isn't much but by her standards it is- its her attempt at it

She'll spend hours if not if neither of you are careful. Days training even more if execution day is coming.

Then she forgets to prepare your drinks- aware you hate it. Hate being reminded of what you are. So she does it instead- she knows you can yourself-

But ita her way of saying she loves you through actions

Execution day sucks. It's exhausting- the aftermath is never fun. Lute was in an even more sour mood which. Didn't help.

She didn't get a kiss nor hug. She tried to remember- did she forget something? A date? A anniversary? A holiday?

Shes done those often. Never on purpose. But her work- her training distracted her

Walking into the house, she blinked. It was quiet. Too quiet. To dark. Sighing, she put her mask on the table, going to the one place you went when upset. Your shared bedroom. On the way she prepared an apology- for.. whatever she must have done

"Babe?"

Nothing but completely silence answered her back. Frowning she walked into your shared room seeing you curled in your shared bed. Shaking. Frowning deeply she moved sitting beside you- quiet as she rubbed your arm

She knew what this meant. She knew that tense movement. Experienced it herself. Knows why you starve yourself. Even more from being a redeemed soul.

God, does she hate it. When you get like this.

"How long?" She spoke softly, watching you shakily lift three fingers. Taking a deep sigh, she hummed "weeks?' A nod. Rubbing your arm, she hummed. "Come on. Let's get you some fresh food. Tugging you onto her lap gently. Knowing talking at this moment hurt you. So she took up most of the talking. Making sure what she asked would be easy to answer back for you. Seeing your confused face made her smirk amused.

"Eat."

Tugging her shirt open, brushing her hair to the side, seeing your expression made her chuckle smirking "babe you drank from me before~ you can again, no?" You shook your head

"Will- will hurt-"

"Dove.. don't talk for me ok? Be a good girl and drink. You need to drink- to feed- I'll stop you if need be ok?" That was all you needed as you sunk your fangs into her. And began to drink.

"That's a good girl~" she praised, trying to hide her wince from you

Everytime without fail as she allows you to feed off her. She knows how you get- how rich her angel blood is. She has been warned to be careful

She is. She takes the precaution that even though you have control of yourself. It isn't always the case- sometimes you attempt to get more then what you need- take more

Your addicted to her blood

And she knows it.

And she knows how down right dangerous that is- but she's a good mate. She'll feed you in anyway to ensure your survival.

And if not yours. Then, any poor soul you decide is your next meal. Your her responsibility just as she is yours

[hederasgarden]

Ivy!!! So, so happy to see you back and posting. I’ve missed you on my dash. Hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful and stress-free and that life is being kind to you. ❤️

Thank you! Life got a little rough there for a while but now it’s calmed down and I’m writing again!

I’m currently obsessed with these two and I’m actively working on a longish fic for Lucius. My inbox is open for your thoughts on these two men. Who knows, you might inspire a drabble or two from me.

[princesskaulitz]

I’m a new Tokio Hotel Writer, Feel Free to Send Requests

(masterlist is below)

about me:

✮ been a tokio hotel fan for almost 2 years 🖤

✮ enya is not my real name, it’s my almost name, i just use it cause it’s cute 💀

✮ i collect bratz & monster high dolls

✮ i’m 19

✮ i love to write and go shopping 😛

✮ i’m a bill girl 🩶

✮ i’m a christian ✝️ all glory to God for my writing skills/creativity

(that’s all i can think of rn, i might add more later)

rules:

i don’t write about:

✮ incest *cough cough* toll

✮ rape

✮ hc’s that involve odd kinks like piss and shit (yes ppl have fr shit kinks 😕)

✮ racism

✮ smut (i’d rather be the wholesome sfw writer ig 💀 i’ll probably put a little bit of it into my longish fics but i don’t do just straight smut)

i do write about:

✮ headcanons

✮ fluff

✮ angst (i’m very good at these)

✮ age gaps (as long as the reader is 18-19+)

✮ drabbles

✮ i’ll also do long like multiple part fanfics

(i’ll write about any of the band members 🩶)

MASTERLIST:

Bill Kaulitz:

✮ Dating Bill Kaulitz HC’s

✮ Pillow Fort

✮ Bailed

✮ Sub Bill HC’s

✮ More Than Just A Mess

✮ New Boy (Part One) & New Boy (Part Two) & New Boy (Part Three) & New Boy (Part Four)

✮ A Little Too Close

Tom Kaulitz:

✮ Stage Fights and Late Night Bites

✮ Tom Taking Care of You While You Have a Bad Cold HC’s

✮ Sleepy Confessions

✮ you’re his girlfriend but you’re also in the band headcanons

Georg Listing:

Gustav Schäfer:

[system-network]

The Small Cabin

Reminder that my requests are open for headcanons and possible drabbles!!

<<Part 4>>

Birdy

A soft tapping against your cheek woke you up.

You stirred slightly before letting your eyes open, looking at whatever was causing the poking sensation through unfocused eyes.

It was the man with brown hair. The only difference in his appearance was the absence of his golden goggles and muzzle.

The man had hazel eyes, although his right eye was lazy. The strangest part of his face was the gash on his left cheek.

The wound showed his slightly yellowed teeth and pink gums, the skin around it slightly elevated.

His gloved hands reached out as he realized you had woken up, helping you sit up.

He was kneeled down on the floor as he started talking again, “What's your-” he got cut off before he could finish his sentence, he snapped his fingers and whistled out, “Birdy!”

He shook his head before repeating his question, “What's your name?”

You opened your mouth to speak but he quickly interrupted you, “Wait- you need w-water.”

He shoved himself up off the floor before leaving the room.

You looked down at your lap, a soft brown blanket covered your body from the waist down. You ran your hands through the fuzzy blanket, it helped ground you.

Your eyes scanned the room, there was a large wardrobe in the corner of the room; it didn't look used though as clothes littered the floor. Next to the wardrobe were slightly ripped band posters and random sketches taped to the wall.

Your eyes landed on two hatchets that were leaning against the far wall. They looked rusty and broken down, the wood of the handles splitting underneath the wrappings that someone put on it.

The door creaked open once more, the lengthy man walking in with a cup of water.

“Drink this- then tell me your name,” he said as he gave you the cup.

You put the plastic cup to your mouth. As the cold water hit your lips you finally realized how thirsty you were. You started to chug the water, not caring if you choked in the process.

Finishing the cup of water you gently held it in your hands, you looked back up at the man. You took a deep breath before telling the man your name before repeating the question to him.

“My name is T- Toby,” the man said with a slight twitch in his shoulder. “You wanna tell me why you were in the woods?” He asked as he looked at you patiently.

Your body tensed as he asked his question. You tried to remember, why was I running?

Why couldn't you remember anything, “I..” you tried speaking again.

“I can't remember, I'm sorry-” you managed to say apologetically. Your hands fidgeted with the plastic cup in your hands to keep yourself occupied.

Toby didn't say anything, simply staring at you.

The moment didn't last long as another man walked into the room.

This man was definitely older than Toby, his dark sideburns framed his face as he looked at you and Toby.

This man wore a red and black flannel, it had multiple dark stains on it. His pants were a dark brown and his socks were black. He had longish black hair, it looked greasy.

He also had sideburns that were, honestly, pretty impressive.

He wasn't as tall as Toby, but he was definitely bigger and bulkier than him.

He looked at me, “you're awake,” he said gruffly.

His eyes were sunken into his face, he looked exhausted.

You nodded your head at the new man, unsure of what to say to him. You looked over at Toby, “Thank you, for helping me.”

He smiled at your words, before whistling and saying birdy again, “No p-problem.”

“Hey, old man,” Toby spoke to the other man, “when's Bri getting back? They n- need their feet wrapped.” He asked the man before clicking his tongue.

The man pulled out an old android phone, the screen was shattered beyond repair. “I'll call ‘em, keep an eye on the kid,” he told Toby before walking out of the bedroom.

Toby looked back at you with a toothy smile, “Don't mind him, he's just wo- worried.” He told you.

You raised an eyebrow confused, “why?” You asked without thought.

“Why?” He repeated back, “anybody would be worried when finding a kid in the forest by themselves.” He told you simply as he sat on the floor next to the bed.

“Glad I found you when I did, you looked like you were going to freeze to death,” Toby said before ruffling your tangled hair.

“When's the last time you had a bath? Or a new set of clothes?” He asked quietly.

You both sat in silence as you thought to yourself, you couldn't remember.

The last thing you could remember was running into the forest, nothing past that point.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I'm not sure,” you said quietly.

Toby chuckled at your answer, “do you know anything besides your name?” He said teasingly as the other man walked back in the room.

“He'll be back in an hour,” he told Toby before looking back at you. “When Brian gets back he's going to clean you up, okay?” He said with crossed arms.

He looked back at Toby once more, “Come on Toby, let them rest,” he said before leaving the room once more.

Toby frowned slightly before looking at you, “Y-yell if you need anything,” he said before getting off of the floor.

He quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.

You looked back down at the plastic cup in your hands. Only one thing ran through your mind.

Why couldn't you remember anything?

[self-destructinganimal]

To Take Beauty Within Your Hand

I had so many thoughts on the Adar and Elrond interactions in Episode 7 of the Rings of Power and this drabble contains some of them. This is all in Adar's perspective so it contains flashbacks to when he loved Sauron.

Potential warnings: Threat towards a character that can be interpreted as somewhat predatory (if you squint) nothing overt.

Spoilers for 2x7 "Doomed to Die"

Pairings: Adar/Mairon

What had happened to him, that now when he saw beauty, he wanted to reach out and crush it between his fingers? 

There had been a time when he saw beauty and rejoiced in it. When the light of the sunrise reflected the light in his heart. When flaming red had colored his world in vibrant, bold strokes, the entire universe awash in its tone. It was like the color of fire, burning hot. It had torn down his world and rebuilt it, into a glorious tower, a seeing, a knowing, an awareness never known to him before. 

…

The first time he had admitted he loved him was when they sat together on the side of the hill and the sun caught on the glorious red and turned it into something holy. He had reached out and touched the hair and Mairon had turned and caught his fingers in his hands. 

“You are greedy”. 

“How does one turn their gaze from that which is holy? How does one turn from the light of the burning sun” he had replied. Mairon had looked at him and he had prayed that in some manner, he was equally held in his esteem.

Mairon had smiled severely at him. 

“One should turn from the light of the burning sun only to to worship the glory of the night”. 

He had felt Mairon’s hands touch lightly on his own dark hair.

Colors, vibrant, bursting colors. 

…

She had mentioned his name, when he waited, patiently, for her to slip up and give him the information he craved. 

Elrond, carrying Nenya. 

And Nenya was what was important, he bent his mind towards the ring and obtaining her, and only a small flicker of his thought wondered if the child had followed well in the footsteps of his ancestors. 

And now he was here. 

When he first caught a glimpse of the face awash with horror over the cage in which his friend was held, white under his helmet, he had not thought of it. But the young commander had strode along him into the camp, accompanied by his companion with a head held high on shoulders that were comfortable and yet - untested. 

There was both uncertainty and steeliness under those shoulders, somewhere in the vicinity of the heartbeat Adar realized he was straining to listen to. 

A child of ancestors of staggering weight, he would never be freed from the expectations of their names. A child whose family had been taken from him. A child who had grown up with his kidnappers as his loved ones. A child whose half-elven status had still arisen on occasion, even despite the names of his heritage. 

Full grown now, gentle, too gentle for what he had ridden to. 

At the tent, they had dragged Galadriel in, still spitting curses, and as Adar sat down, the commander had taken off his helmet and given it to his companion. Dark, longish curls spilled out over his forehead and suddenly Adar saw her. Most beautiful, looking out with similar strangely slanted eyes under her long curls. 

How could one turn away from beauty such as this? 

There was a time when beauty had made him wish to reach out and take it between his fingers, worship it in examination. There was a time when he did reach out to take it, when the red colored the world in its warm, burning hue, and then there was the red of spilled wine and the fire had burnt his fingers even as he had reverenced it. 

He bent his mind towards the boy now, for a boy he was, to one of his age,  sitting across from him, wary and watchful, and saw that he was unshrinking. 

There was light in his eyes. The light of hope, of beauty. Of love. 

Love had almost killed Adar. 

Shining in the stalwart gaze of the descendant of Melian he saw it, and even as the boy countered his words with ready words and planted seeds of doubt in the minds of his children he saw it, that which would doom him. 

…

Love. Where did it go? 

From nights of red, and days of fire and knowing another so intimately, you let them into your world, let them redesign it, rearrange it, transform it from something ordinary to something profound. 

And then the children had come. 

The children had taken everything from him when the lover began to abuse them, and he could not bear to see them suffer. 

He grew to resent him, he could feel it, growing in his being, even as he still longed for and worshiped his lover. 

Love is there until it is not. 

Then came whispered talks with his children, the heartbreaking first time he thought of how it must be done. Not just any weapon, a crown. Not just any crown. 

Then came the assembly and the speech, even then, he thought he could not do it. Thought his own hand and strength would betray him as he looked at the red hair and the face that had been his god. Thought that beauty would prevail. 

How could one turn away from such beauty? 

…

How could one go from a world of color to a world of dull gray? 

He had not thought his time in the tent was gray, he realized when the commander left. He had thought of beauty. Had remembered what it was to have looked at another’s face and want to hold it in one’s hands. Wanted to mark it as yours. And there it was, for somewhere along the way, he had gone from wanting to touch and reverence beauty to instead, mar and mark it. At least, one thing he had learned from Mairon. How to transform, how to make what was not yours, into a thing of your own. 

…

On the battlefield before him the flames were washed out, pale and sickly. The gray of the sky above, the gray of the bodies in the mud, the gray of everything. 

It was like finding a flower in a pig slop he thought, reaching out to pluck it. Something too gentle for what he had ridden into, despite the names of the ancestors and the hardness of childhood, he had seen it in the eyes, that which would doom him. 

The shoulders which had once born both confidence and uncertainty now bore neither, they drooped with abandonment and pain. It was leaking out of him, from the trembling bent knees, to the forgotten sword, from the bowed head,  from the wounds weeping red on the cheeks. 

He could reach out and pluck it. 

And the face turned up to him and all Adar saw was pain, and he rejoiced. 

What had happened to him, that now when he saw beauty, he wanted to reach out and crush it between his fingers? 

His fingers closed around the throat, saw Melian’s eyes widen, heard the hidden ring around the boy’s neck sing in her alarm over the  threat against something so gentle and good and beautiful. 

Too gentle for what he had ridden to. 

There was a time he would have reverenced beauty, worshiped it, before Mairon had taken everything, before beauty had robbed him of everything he had ever had. Before he had turned his back on love and brought the crown down with dark, snarling fury. 

Now, when he saw beauty he wanted to mark and mar it, to reach out and crush it between his fingers, to watch the light die, to taunt and tame. 

What had happened to him, that now when he saw beauty, he wanted to reach out and crush it between his fingers? 

So he crushed.

[fawnhunter]

Sept's Aot Masterlist!

Hellooo!! everything here is written in a longish headcanon form, i will make sure to add correct descriptions to any fics i write in the future

Plug! Connie

Around her finger- When con can't go one day without speaking to reader

Patch me up?- When Con gets hurt and asks his girl to patch him up

Lover Boy Behavior- Some random Plug! Con headcanons/ world building

BFF'S4L- Con being the boy bestfriend (friend with benefits) we all love and fear

Put up wit her.- Con's just not going for that bratty shit

Time Stamps/ Drabbles

- its 9:34 and im thinking heading to bed with plug connie

- its 11:05 and i'm thinking about rich boy next door armin