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sometimesanalice · 6 months

Text

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.” You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in.

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean.

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up. Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger.

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment.

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him.

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face.

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper.

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up.

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet.

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine

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predninja · 28 days

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Tav brushed her thumb along his cheek. Save a few grooves and bumps, it hardly felt like scales. Just thick skin with a rubber texture. Would the rest of him feel like this, she wondered. “Sweet Ambrosia,” Vorcarion hummed. A warm pit formed in her stomach and Tav pressed her thighs closed. Her nickname spellsong paled in comparison to being called ambrosia. Tav suddenly didn’t feel the cold anymore. “Your presence eases me so,” the crimson dragonborn continued. “No nightmares, no cursed thoughts. Just your scent of citrus and pine.” He nuzzled her hand again. Tav curled her fingers along his face, continuing to rub her thumb against his cheek. What softness to his angular features. What weakness. What trust he was showing her exposing this all to someone like her. Silence stretched between them. The sun was starting to crest over the tree line now.

Da babies. And da size difference Also, my fanfic updated. Read it here

#fanart #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dragonborn #bg3 dragonborn #dragonborn dark urge #bg3 dark urge #dark urge #half elf tav #bg3 half elf #vorcarion #tav #fanfiction #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #i love draconic sorcerer patterns on dragonborn but holy fuck

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monpalace · 1 year

Note

what are the wolf thoughts. sharing is caring.

the thoughts were this,,,, and dilf twi,,,,, combined,,,, so tbh i dont think i really need to say anything for legal reasons 😁 so instead have my very incoherent thoughts on semi-feral (furry)! protective (territorial)! twi‼️

content warning/s.. this is me rambling. written with afab/fem reader in mind (BUT i think i kept it vague, so its more of a gn reader), possessiveness/territorial nonsense, not written with linked universe in mind, y'all remember the citrus scale? i do. (ending dips into lime territory)

i like to imagine that link kept some of his more inhumane traits after the events of twilight princess were all said and done. whether it be a parting gift from the twilight, or a side effect that came along with being a wolf, link never did enough investigating to find out what stayed, what left, or why.

his nose was better, so he could catch whenever a crop was bound to rot or flourish, so good for his stomach.

his eyes were better, so he could catch whenever the kids were making a fuss about something, so good for his mental well-being.

his ears were better, so he could hear whenever his herd were riling themselves up from the other side of the village, so good for his pockets.

all-in-all, he didn't really care to get rid of the side effects if they were going to be such a benefit to his work life— and even better for his personal and love life.

alongside rotting crops and his own post-work stench (yes, he is very self-ware, kudos to midna), link can smell a change you. whether it be a change in your emotions (pheromones were a tricky thing) or wherever you had wandered off after a particularly bad disagreement between the two of you— as rare as that was.

(he's been more ill-tempered as of late. seldom to you, more often to the adult villagers. always over something stupid like to little on an order of food and winter clothes not being thick enough.)

(something, something, the wolf has yet to fully leave him behaviorally, he guesses.)

it was a particularly bad spell between the two of you. link doesn't even remember what it was about and he wasn't keen on doing so. it was late and all he wanted was to apologize so you would return home, he could take being kicked to the couch if it meant you were in the vicinity.

his nose leads him to a darker part of the forest. the trees felt like they moved everytime you turned your back to them, working with the monsters to further trap you inside the woods.

bulbins always had a nasty smell; especially when it muddled and ruined yours.

it's a blur to link, really. it was like he was black out drunk, except rather than alcohol, something else ran through his veins.

there's the catching of your scent, the sprint to the forest, the blackout, and then there's you.

(you. you. you. youyouyouyouyouyouyouyouperfectyouwonderfulyouthereasonhestillbreathesyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyouyou—)

you're staring up at him with those big doe eyes of yours when he feels some semblance of himself again. he feels less like an animal and more like a person when he sees the way you're sitting against the tree, trembling, but not from fear.

he wipes away the stray bulbin blood as he checks you over for injuries, biting back gags of disgust and the urge to clean you then and there (mark. bite. claim. mark, bite, claim. matematematematemate—).

the way he feels is visceral when he sees your bruising skin, scrapes, and gashes.

it's suffocating when he pulls you into his arms, his tight grip making it hard to take a comfortable exhale. his face is buried against the side of your neck, a spot he's been more and more keen on paying attention to since he's returned home from his adventure.

his breathing grows heavy as he finally drops from his squat to kneel before you, hands traveling wherever they can reach after they pull you into his lap. they're heavy and would be overwhelming if you weren't used to the behavior.

his teeth make an appearance just as his hands make a dive beneath your clothes. he nips and nibbles the expanse of your skin while his hands squeeze whatever handfuls of flesh he's able to reach, the warmth and give of it working to further ground him.

(you were here, with him. alive. you loved him. you wouldn't be letting him handle you like this if you didn't love him. all he wanted was you. his spouse. his better half. the flame to his melting candle. the furnace that kept his home warm.)

(his mate.)

"link," you call when his nips turns into full on biting-and-sucking while his squeeze evolve into gropes and— goddesses, your voice is so angelic when you speak, he stops everything to stare up at you. the blues of his eyes barely visible with the way his pupils expand.

"i want to go home."

and home is where he takes you, hands gripping your thighs as he locks your legs around his hips and carries you home, lips pressing kisses to that spot on your neck that he can't get enough of, canines occasionally reintroducing themselves when he starts to feel greedy again.

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ink-and-blood-goddess · 1 year

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🪳🩸Dating Robert Montague Renfield Headcanons I🪳🩸

A/N- I watched Renfield for the second time a few days ago after watching it for the first time back in June and decided to write headcanons for our favorite, beloved character.

So, this is my first time writing character dating headcanons and had this saved up in my drafts for a few months. I’m going to be doing several of these as separate posts so that I don’t go overboard when I write the headcanons out

Also, I’m adding Renfield to my fourth list of character fanfic requests, so be on the lookout for that :)

So please enjoy these headcanons…

Warnings: Some language, minor angst, mentions of past abuse, minor violence, and a fluffy relationship

Citrus Scale: 🍎

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two of you met at Assholes Anonymous at the local church one night. Just two complete strangers listening to other people’s problems and how they got here.

You were the same way too. Looking for a place to spill all your fillings out after having a huge falling out with your NOW ex shitty boyfriend. It felt like the floodgates opened up once you began to talk about your fucked up relationship.

Sobbing over everything he’s done to you for the past few years you were together. Everybody sat there including him, listening what you’ve been through with a fucking low life like your ex.

After the meeting, he came up to you at the refreshments table to see how you were doing. Your eyes were very red and puffy from all the crying, he felt very bad for you. He took out his handkerchief and wiped away stray tears that were left on your cheeks.

He was so kind to you, the two of you started to talk with one another.

“I’m Robert Montague Renfield,” he held out his hand. You extended yours and shook his hand gently. “Nice to meet you Robert Montague Renfield, I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You said with a smile.

The two of you hit it off pretty well. You saw one another again at the next meeting and it was his turn to talk. He talked about his narcissistic boss that always gave him problems at his job and how it was hard for him to work with that type of person.

You felt more bad for him than yourself. Having his boss hound him everyday was harsh enough. That’s when something incredible happened.

After the meeting was over, he came up to you all nervous looking, fiddling with his hands, “(Y/N). Would you like to go get some dinner with me? I know a great place in the square.”

You nodded your head, “yes. I would love to grab a bite to eat, Robert.” He smiled back and both of you locked arms as you walked out the door.

Once the two of you got to the restaurant and seated at your table, you started talking about your lives.

Robert talked about his stressful job and how his boss is making his whole life a living hell. You talked about your very shitty ex boyfriend and basically walked all over you for the past few years.

“Wow. It sounds like we were destined for each other Miss (Y/N),” he said with a smile. “Yeah. I guess we were,” you laughed a bit.

After dinner, Robert offered to walk back with you to your place and you said yes.

You walked hand in hand, as you finally arrived at your apartment door on the third floor.

Before you went to unlock the door, Robert cupped your face with his hands, leaned over, and pressed his lips against yours. They felt soft and sweet on your warm skin.

Once he was done and lifted his head back up, you felt your face blush from the sudden move. Robert’s face turned to a bright pink shade as he laughed a bit.

“I had a great time tonight Robert. Thank you again,” you giggled. “ I did too. Good night (Y/N).” He leaned over again and kissed the top of your head. “Yes. Good night to you too Robert.” Then the two of you waved each other goodbye as Robert walked away and you went into your apartment.

From that night on, a relationship blossomed between the two of you.

Robert took you on all kinds of dates all over the city. Brunches, lunches, dinners, cafes, picnics, movies, a night under the stars, etc.

He really understood you and your feelings. Robert made you feel important more than ever.

Everything was going well, until your ex boyfriend came back. He wanted to have a fresh start and wanted to start over with you. But you saw through him quickly.

When you told him to leave, he grabbed you and held you by your throat against the wall.

“Listen to me you little bitch. You don’t belong to anybody else, but me. You belong to me and me only.” You let out a soft whimper, as tears fell down your face.

Before he could do anything else to you, the door to your apartment burst open and you saw Robert charging straight in towards your ex. He tackled him full force into the kitchen, with his hand letting go of you and dropping you to the floor.

You could hear the crunching of bones and tearing of flesh, as you watched Robert beat him into a bloody pulp and then stopped.

After a few seconds of silence, Robert turned and looked over his shoulder at you. His hands and face were covered with blood splatter. When you looked into his eyes, they weren’t blue. Instead, they were a golden yellow.

You wanted to get up and run out the door, but your legs felt frozen in place. Your soft whimpers turned into cries for help.

Robert quickly dashed towards you and embraced you in a tight hug. “Oh dear God (Y/N). I’m so so sorry you had to watch that.” He said, as he buried his face into your hair and ran his fingers through the strands. You continued to cry as you buried yourself into his soft sweater. Then as your cries soften, Robert cupped your face with both hands as he wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

“But never in my whole life, I’ll ever harm you in any way. I’ll protect you and make sure you’ll be safe. I swear it.” He said, as his eyes changed back to that beautiful blue color. He kissed the top of your head and then kissed your lips in a soft embrace.

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wolven91 · 6 months

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Drifting - Part 2

“Okay, make a fist.” Asked the serious geckin, blue in scale but the owner of long spines that started on his nose and continued up and over his head, down his back and finished at his tail. Zeet was his name.

Casper the friendly human, made a fist and felt the action drain him, as if he’d been at the gym for the last hour doing the same action. However, as his fingers met his palm and the tendons on the back of his hand tensed and corded against his skin, the giant metal fist not a few metres away, suspended in a secure field; made an identical fist.

“What’s the drift?” The blue geckin asked the second geckin who monitored the process not a few feet away, but a fair distance for the diminutive creatures. Her name, as far as Casper knew, was Wren.

“0.001%.” She retorted with an equally serious tone, she turned back and adjusted the two round panes of glass that sat across her snout. If not for the fact that Casper was sweating with the exertion of making a fist, he would have found her cute.

“Impossible. Check it again.” The first geckin demanded, turning to face her as if she had just made a poorly timed joke.

“Sir, I checked it three times, then used the older program to see if it got a different result.” Wren explained, quite confident despite Zeet’s incredulous tone.

“And?”

“It reports 0.002%.”

Both geckins turned back to the human, almost expectantly and gazed at him. No; studying him.

“W-what?” He asked, strain in his voice.

“You can relax Casper. You did very well.” Praised Zeet as Casper gasped, unclenching his fist, and slumping in the chair. He’d been fresh as a daisy when he’d sat down; why had a few wires been so draining?!

“That… took effort…” The young man explained, slipping his arm from the sleeve, and ensuring it was placed carefully onto the caddy.

“You were controlling more than just muscle and sinew young man.” Zeet explained, touching a finger to the control rod of his own personal walker and approached the human. At a foot tall, just like the rest of the geckins, he utilised mechanical legs attached to a platform that he stood upon to move around larger distances.

“Why am I exhausted?”

“Because, unbeknownst to your conscious mind, you not only controlled your own limb, but also controlled that robotic limb.”

“I’ve seen that done before…” Casper licked his lips to try and bring moisture to them. “They used electrodes or something… they had to concentrate, but it didn’t tire them out.”

Wren appeared at Casper’s side and pressed a bottle of orange liquid into his hands. It was almost as tall as her.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better.” She promised, her green scales were a deep emerald, her it was the frill around her neck that was only partially pulled in that made Casper smile. She was agitated. Perhaps worried about him?

The man gave her a curt nod, which caused her frill to pull in tight before he grasped the bottle and drank from it deeply. It wasn’t quite ‘orange’, but it was certainly something citrus and refreshed him almost immediately. After the first gulp he took a breath and downed the rest of the bottle in one, almost immediately feeling better and like his old self.

“What you just did was unconsciously control every single servo, circuit, and piston within that machine. Your mind: without your knowledge, was able to manage and steady all of that. The electrode method, that you mentioned, is a low intensity method of controlling simpler systems.”

“And we can’t use that method with these?”

“These are not for domestic use. I make it quite clear to you; these are bleeding edge machines. Capable of not only reacting as your body, not as a mere extension, but also your mind being able to incorporate the advantages these machines have.”

“Like what?”

“We can have a play with telescopic vision if you like? I’ve heard that is the easiest to manage. If you get addicted to the world those eyes, we can try out electromagnetic wavelengths, infrared, perhaps-“

“Sir.” Wren cut in, a frown on her face and her small, pointed teeth being bared.

“Mm, yes. Carry on.” Zeet surrendered, holding up his hands as if giving up.

“Before we go on, how are you feeling?” Wren asked, looking up at Casper and adjusting her specs.

“Better.” The man replied, giving her a warm grin.

“Better? You weren’t well before?” She poked, not letting him off the hook yet.

“I was tired, like I’d been doing bicep curls all morning. But now it’s like I’m fresh again?” Casper admitted honestly, if she was a doctor checking on him, then he wasn’t about to lie. The speed of his recovery was as if he had been fooled into being tired, rather than actually being tired.

“Marvelous.” Zeet whispered.

“*Sir.*” Wren immediately hissed; the respect of his seniority gone. Casper frowned then cut in, there was something he wasn’t being told.

“What’s going on? Is this about the.. the ‘drift’ thing? What was the drift you were on about?” He asked, demanding an answer.

“I knew he was bright, am I allowed to answer that *direct* question doctor?” Zeet asked the green geckin with a near taunting tone.

Wren merely sniffed, flattening her neck ruffle against herself and shrugged with a single hand, offering Casper up to Zeet, seemingly satisfied.

“’Drift’ is the natural loss of signal strength between your mind and the mechanical parts. The more parts, bits, and pieces, the greater the chance of drift and the more sluggish the movements and actions of the piloted mechs will be, all the way until failure.” Zeet explained with a toothy grin. It was Wren who spoke next, softly explaining it to Casper without infantizing him.

“Geckin have a fantastic drift score. We can manage mechs of incredible size and complexity without much loss of control. Realistically, the next closest would be chintians, but they refuse to be pilots for our mechs.” She said, turning her hand in a gesture as she spoke, still calmly and softly.

“Why?” Casper asked.

“You know the plug in your arm?” Zeet began, pointing at the limb that was limp in Casper’s lap.

Casper looked down and turned his arm over. There was a single dark red dot of scabbed blood. Around it was a bright red circle with the metal casing of the plug had been pressed into his flesh.

“Yeah?”

“It can lead to fur-loss.” Concluded Zeet, rather offhandedly.

“Along with other things.” Cut in Wren, with the speed of someone adding ‘terms and conditions’ at the end of an advert.

“They consider that unacceptable. We consider it the cost of having faster reaction speeds to our machines. They rely on taking hits and surviving them. We believe in the philosophy of never getting hit.” The tiny lizard explained with a mouthful of sharp teeth, eager at the thought.

“Do geckins have any fur to lose? Do you lose scales?” Casper asked, if there were side effects for some species, were there any for geckins?

“No.” Zeet answered immediately.

“Well…” Wren began, but was immediately cut off.

“No, we do not lose scales with use.” Zeet said again, staring at the doctor.

“They can dull though.” She explained, closing her eyes then turning her head to look at Casper before opening them again. She held his gaze firmly.

“Not through usage doctor!” Zeet snapped, certainly exasperated.

“A pilot who is connected for long periods or who is in intense environments requiring constant movement will find side effects, such as scale fading.” Wren continued, putting across the idea that it was not without a cost.

“He doesn’t need to hear this, what is the chance he’s going to be in that environment? Zero!” Zeet shouted, throwing his hands up before gesturing to Casper, then then inert arm.

“Look, it’s fine. As you say; unlikely.” Casper agreed, trying to calm the tension in the room. “So what about me? What about human drift”

“Ah, good male. A fine mind between those big ears.” Zeet grinned again, turning to Casper and clasping his hands. “Your drift, at worst calculation was about 0.002%. That is nothing. That is about as good as a prostetic replacing your actual arm. Unheard of for managing an arm that complicated.”

“What’s a geckin’s drift percentage?”

“5.” Wren said pointedly. “On average. Ace pilots are around the single percent or less range, but that is through biological luck, augmentation and prolonged life-long training. Your natural ability appears to be quite potent.” The tiny green lizard admited.

“Yours, baring in mind your evolution wouldn’t have any sort of natual selection for this, is considered a one in a life time pilot. If humans are all this well adjusted, each and every one of them will be very much welcome in geckin territories…”

Casper turned to the arm and gazed at it. A mech pilot? That would be fantastic! He didn’t like the idea of ‘stressful environments’ though.

“You wouldn’t want me in like, a fight or anything, right?” Casper asked, staring at Zeet carefully.

“May my tail fall off! No! Could you imagine what the GC would say if we endangered a human? Immediately after your new classification? Absolutely not. Completely out of the question.” He promised, waving his hand as if to dismiss a fly that was bothering him.

“Normally I would warn you about listening to our Zeet here, but he’s right. The geckin people are still under threat by ssypno aggression. Their seat at the table of three means all they have to do is convince one of the other two to agree that they be allowed to create a vassal of our people and we can expect no support from the GC to stop them. Endangering you would all but guarantee the support of one or both of the other two.”

A small hand touched his arm as she leant forward to rest her’s against him, the good doctor offering him a smile.

“The danger to you is over, you can rest easy knowing the rest of your life will be free of hardships.” She lied.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

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conundrumoftime · 8 months

Text

Was discussing the pre-AO3 days of fandom earlier today, mostly in the context of dead archives and creators sending C&D letters to fan sites (funnnn times). And I went to look at my old fanfiction.net stories to see the kind of disclaimers I put on fic, and… I made that in 2005. 2005! It’s 19 years old! Goodness.

I mostly lurked and read in Tolkien fandom back then although I have a couple of stories from ff.net and LJ from 2004/5. I remember it being an intimidating fandom, or it felt like it to me; I remember we were all very worked up over Mary Sues (why? WHY did we care?) and I remember endless discussions about whether slash should be rated higher than het on ff.net’s new rating system (sigh); I remember the citrus scale.

But I also remember it as being such fun, as being the first fandom that took something I had loved since I was a child and said “hey, you can look at it this other way too”. I remember the delight of actually getting to read what other people thought happened on the Helcaraxë. I remember some of the absolute crackfic LiveJournal RP, too. And the people I met then, and the character songlists we swapped.

I hope you’re doing okay out there, fellow early-mid 2000s fandom people! And never assume you’re out for good - I had an 18-year gap in writing Tolkien fics but the elves have pulled me back in once again :)

#fandom history #stuff about me #I do not miss ff.net but I do miss LJ #whoever did the RP where the feanorians in Beleriand ended up gender-swapped and kids again I salute you and hope you’re having fun #fandom is like hotel california #heyyyyy who remembers doing fic disclaimers ugh thanks

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

Text

Black of Hair (Part 6)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Warnings: On the Citrus Scale, I’d say we’re at a lime. So PG-13. First time mentions (for now). Describing past sexual events. Mentions of murder, animal cruelty, etc. Crude jokes told by Theon, so that deserves a warning.

Word Count: 5,193

Tags: black of hair got

Summary: War is brewing... and your family is behind it.

Series Masterlist: Here

Taglist: @way-too-addicted-to-anime @akaward-potato @fuckoffupstairs @soleil-dor @depressedcuppatea @thegirlwithoutaname87 @taylorsfilms @100kindsofblake @quietlycalum @lustgardn @thebitchinleo @coffeethenink @theminiestofmins @callmefroggie @greinch @icemanhoneybadger @ietss @theminiestofmins @qhbr2013 @savingprivatecass @fossilisedtreeresin @freshfreakoaftrash @sarcasm-n-insomnia @a-lil-bit-nuts @megzdoodle @gruffle1 @burninggracesandbridges @dead-pool-simp @sonnensplitter @flowercrowns3438 @bport76 @apollonshootafar @serenefreakgeek @hybridlamb @kittykylax @johnmurphys-sass @magnitude101999 @pughslov @fall-winter-heart97 @plumes-de-nuit @spid3rgwen @gwyneirastorm

VERY IMPORTANT A/N: Please please PLEASE if you want to be added to the taglist, please pm/ask box me! Some have slipped through the cracks because they comment/ask on individual chapters and it’s hard for me to scroll through those notifications and keep track of them. Thank you, lovelies! Comment, like, and reblog! That'd be appreciated!

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

~~~

The next couple of moons after your wedding were more wonderful than you could have ever imagined.

Your first night as man and wife was awkward, to say the least, but it was informative and full of reassurances for the future of your marriage. Robb was, as you observed before, eager to please behind closed doors as well as in public. He was attentive and eager to learn. And in return, you also tried your damn hardest to learn and be instructional for both of your sakes. While a part of you wasn’t expecting anything out of your first time, it was enjoyable, despite not fully finishing. It still felt nice, despite not feeling the way experienced ladies in your uncle’s company once explained to you when you were younger. Your mother nearly killed Tyrion when she heard about this incident. It wasn’t Tyrion’s fault. You were little and snuck after him when he went into a whore house. He didn’t know you followed him. But those ladies also mentioned that the first time is usually never the greatest time.

So after consummating your marriage the first night, both you and Robb didn’t feel the need to rush anything else from then on. For the first couple of days, the weight of expectation was a weight that no longer dragged your shoulders down. You were content with how your life turned out, despite having to say goodbye to your Uncle Tyrion.

With a heavy heart, he left on the fourth morning after your wedding. Your only family left in the North, gone by the end of the day. He promised to write throughout his journey so that you would know he was safe, and the thought of still being in contact with anyone outside of Winterfell comforted you.

To distract yourself from feeling so alone, you asked Robb to be your husband again that night and he accepted without question. Listening to the voices in your head, you were able to communicate your wishes to Robb even when you had trouble forming words between breathless gasps. Listening to your voice intently, Robb followed your instruction, and this time, with slight adjustments, you felt that climbing anticipation you have only heard of. He gladly undid your fears and inexperience with careful hands and slow ministrations that pushed and pulled you into bliss several times throughout the night. You weren’t sure what caused the walls to crumble, but by the next morning, you felt like you knew more about your husband than your own mother knew about your father. Before he could get up to dress for the day, he bedded you once more and it was just as blissful as the night before, even leaving you comfortably sore throughout the day.

All of a sudden, Robb was able to read you inside and out, or more specifically, your body. Your emotions and inner thoughts are still endeavors he has yet to explore, but now he’s exceeded all expectations you had in a husband and more. As you’ve said before: Robb is full of surprises.

It both excited and terrified you to realize your heart started speeding up every time he looked your way, or when your face felt warm when his lips touched your hand every morning at breakfast. The thought of you falling in love with him did cross your mind, but you pushed that thought down and delayed it to the best of your ability, not yet wanting to acknowledge it.

You busy yourself during the day with your tasks, both personal and political. You read and write letters, now sealing them with your name and your husband’s sigil. You read and take account of the stocks before coming up with a solution to make more before the upcoming winter. Rickon loves to make your duties a challenge, but you welcome the distraction. The little lord is bored beyond measure with the majority of his siblings gone from Winterfell. He busies you with games and stories and often begs you for a ride around with your horse. Fawn was still young and could be trained to deal with children, so you happily taught Rickon how to take care of her.

Today was one of those days as you hand Rickon an apple to gift your noble steed. He was jealous over breakfast because Bran’s special saddle was finally finished per Tyrion’s instruction, and Robb wanted to take the boy out to ride for the first time in months. Theon tagged along, but you were tasked with distracting Rickon.

You were teaching Rickon about how to rig a saddle onto a horse when the gates opened. Looking up, your eyes widen as alarm bells start going off in your head. Bran was no longer on his saddle, instead, Robb was carrying his little brother as one of the boy’s legs continued to bleed. Theon had the horses’ reins in one hand and a rope meant to act like a leash in the other, the woman attached to that leash looked wild, with her hair and eyes unhinged with fear and possible rage.

You rush forward, stepping toward Robb and Bran, “What happened?!”

“We were attacked by wildlings,” Robb explains as he moves to sit Bran down on the nearest bench and allowed you to tend to the boy. You kneel in front of the younger Stark boy while touching the knee that was injured.

“Bran? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” he nods, “I can’t feel it.”

Your heart hurts when you hear the disdain stitched close in his voice. He looked away as you press your handkerchief to his wound while you instruct Rickon to fetch Maester Luwin. Once the little boy returned with the maester, you step away to reach for your husband.

“Are you injured?”

“No, I’m fine,” he smiles gratefully, extending his arm in the direction of Theon and their prisoner, “We killed all but one. She begged for servitude in exchange for her life.”

“You best bow to your knees,” Theon snapped at the wild woman, pushing her forward, “You’re in the presence of a princess.”

“What are wildings doing so far south of the Wall?” You questioned Robb with curiosity.

“I don’t know, but they appeared desperate to take Bran’s horse and head further south of here... like they were running from something.”

The phrase chilled you in a way you couldn’t describe. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good as you watched the wildling woman’s back as Theon dragged her inside.

~~~

A week goes by and she doesn’t say much, at least in your presence. You’ve seen Theon cause her grief -though she appeared to take it in stride- and you’ve scolded him for doing so. It was awful enough to watch her walk around with those chains dragging around her ankles. Robb assured you that the chains were to prevent her from running away, but you countered that the chains just made it easier for men to catch her. Theon laughed and made a horrible comment that you didn’t dare to repeat, but Robb caught sight of how disgusted you looked and snapped at his friend. Theon frowns and doesn’t speak for a while after that, making you wonder if he and Robb were fighting.

You try not to think about mending that conflict while your mind still wandered off to the wildling girl, who was technically a woman, a few years older than yourself. You find her one-morning sorting hay, distributing bits throughout the stables, "... What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't say." She said plainly, not even looking up from her work.

"Can I know what it is then?"

"... Osha."

"Osha,” you smile, despite the other woman never acknowledging your presence, “My name is Y/n."

"So it's not 'Princess' then?" She asked sarcastically.

You laugh under your breath, "I would hope not. That would be a stupid name.”

You catch a glimpse of a smirk under Osha’s wild, matted hair, so you continue, “I apologize on Theon's behalf. He's become a bit... reckless as of late so I hope he didn't hurt you."

"I've had worse men than him try to scare me. He's nothing but a pup."

Her voice was confident enough for you to take the words to heart, "I believe you."

She finally turns to face you, having trouble glaring you down behind the matted hair in her eyes, "... What do you want?"

You tilt your head, feigning innocence, "Why do you assume I want something?"

"No one here talks to me unless they want something."

She was blunt and quite the observer. Osha was well aware of her place among these Stark people and you had to respect that. The stories tell of how wildlings were-- well, wild, but the stories never talk about how smart and cunning they were.

"Well, Osha... I want to see you properly clothed and fed. I want you to be able to actually see where you're going if your hair was properly groomed. I want you to have a warm bath next to a fireplace and a feather bed to sleep on."

You threw her off, you could tell, from the way Osha’s mouth opened and shut while trying to form words. Finally, she settled on a skeptical expression, trying to intimidate your smile, "... Why?"

Your smile only widens, "Because even though my husband says you're a guest here, you're not exactly being treated as one. And as the lady of the keep, it's my duty to host and care for all of the guests of Winterfell."

"Duty. Is that why you want to help me?"

"It's a part of it, but so is the kindness of my heart, believe it or not. You're a clever woman, Osha. You're definitely not stupid,” she almost looked proud, squaring her small shoulders as you continued, “Your eyes are sharper than Theon gives you credit for. But I will be honest, Theon doesn't give most women credit. I believe he entertains me only because I'm his best friend's wife... and because my father wears a crown."

Osha continued to suspect an ulterior motive from you but doesn’t protest when you order a room made up to her liking. The chains remained on her ankles unless she was given a bath and changed out of her clothes, but even when temporarily freed from the chains, you kept a close eye on her. Theon and Robb must have reconnected as friends again when you weren’t looking because they both agreed on how Osha was not to be trusted when you told them what you did, but you waved them off. You assured your husband that even though Osha was alone in her room, you weren’t stupid enough to leave the door unguarded. You left one of your own soldiers in front of Osha’s bedroom door and when Robb questioned the window, you scoffed.

“That window stands high above the ground. No one could survive a fall from that distance.”

You purposely said this when the two of you were alone, not wishing for Bran to hear your comment. Robb considered the matter settled after that. Osha remained a guest in chains but was more comfortable in her surroundings. You even took some time out of your mornings to help braid her hair out of her face. In a strange way, you understood her. You understood what it was like to be trapped in a place you weren’t familiar with, so you tried to make Osha feel comfortable.

Also, it didn’t hurt to gain friends in a strange place.

~~~

Weeks pass and Tyrion has not sent you a letter for some time, so you began to worry. You write to King’s Landing as soon as your paranoia sets in, anxiously waiting for a reply. To no surprise, you get a raven within days, and it's with the Master of Whisperers' sigil. As your eyes scan the words within the scroll, Varys describes how Tyrion Lannister was taken prisoner by Catelyn Stark under the Hand of the King’s orders. The events that followed were the effect of this scandal. Your Uncle Jaime openly attacked Ned Stark out on the streets, killing his men and leaving him injured before Jaime fled the city, likely to rally beside his father at Casterly Rock as they prep for war.

You see red, and before you could think properly, you raced to Robb’s chambers and shook the letter in his face, screaming in a fashion that you could only have inherited from the Queen, “By what right does your mother have to arrest my uncle?!”

“Y/n, I...”

“No! Don’t even try to lie!” You snarl, “I know a liar when I see one. I know the way people look whenever they are hiding secrets from me. I grew up in King’s Landing, boy. I know how people whisper!”

Robb’s face falls from empathy to one of venom, “Do not call me boy!”

“Or what, boy?" You demanded answers, "Is that why your mother left Winterfell? Is that why you were so cold to Tyrion? How dare you and your mother conspire against my family?!”

“Your family?” Robb echoes with an accusatory tone, “Your family were the ones who conspired to kill Jon Arryn and then pushed my brother out of a tower window!”

Silence. The room still felt tense, ready to snap given the word. Your anger froze, your eyebrows scrunching together in denial while trying to search for the lie on your husband’s face. Your chest felt tight, unable to expand for air as the words come out quieter than you intended, “... Wha... What?”

With your confusion comes with Robb’s deflating anger, sighing deeply as he spoke, “I knew you wouldn’t know about it. At first, I thought you wouldn’t know of such things because you were a child but now... now I know that you wouldn’t do something as horrible as trying to kill an innocent boy because you have a good heart. You’re not like your mother or brother. You’re not your uncle.”

You swallow, choking as your throat constricts. You want to scream or demand an explanation, but as of right now, all you can think about is your poor uncle trapped in a cold cell somewhere. The words that spilled out of your mouth were pleas, “... N-No, my uncle is good, too. Tyrion is good. He’s always been good,” the man in front of you scoffs, looking away until you stepped forward, a hand resting on his cheek to keep your gaze locked, “Please, Robb, listen to me. Even when I had nothing, I had my uncles. Now I know that where you’re from, killing a king or being a whore lover is honor-less, but the Kingslayer and the Imp are my family, and believe it or not, I prefer them over my own mother and father. I don’t know what you’ve heard but whatever you believe my uncle has done I can promise you that it wasn’t him. I know him better than my own father. In fact, I consider Tyrion to be what my father could not.”

Robb’s expression softens, but the doubt was still hiding his eyes, as clear as day. You wet your bottom lip, blinking before deciding to confess, “You know... before he left for the Wall, my uncle made me a promise. A deal, a bet, call it what you will. The deal was that if he didn’t make it to our wedding, I wanted him to take me away from here,” Robb’s eyes widen for a fraction before reverting back to normal size. Blink and you would’ve missed it. He let you continue without interruption, “I wanted him to bring me back to King’s Landing. But, if he did make it and I lost the bet, he didn’t want bragging rights or for me to do as I’m told and be your wife. No, if my uncle won, he wanted me to make a choice. He wanted me to do whatever made me happy, and that would make him happy. Everybody wins. He said that if I wanted to go home, then he’d bring me home. And if you remember our wedding at all, my Uncle Tyrion did, in fact, attend the ceremony and even gave me away to you before your gods, might I add. I lost the bet. And when the time came for me to pay my debts... I couldn’t. Not fully. In the end, I realized I didn’t want my uncle to take me home... because this is my home now. And even though I didn’t know you enough then, I knew you and this place could make me happier than King’s Landing ever could. I’m telling you this in confidence because you are my husband and I am begging you to have your mother release my uncle. Have no harm come to the only man who deserves to be my father, please.”

A war was going on in Robb’s eyes, conflict meeting conflict. You had to wonder if all Starks were good at brooding if a distant memory of his bastard brother served you right. Your hand, still resting on his cheek is finally acknowledged when Robb reaches up to take it in his own hand while glancing back at you, “And what if he is guilty?”

“He’s not.”

“And if he is?”

Your worry your lip, your own thoughts brewing a mile a minute before answering, “... I don’t know. If he is... kill me alongside him. I would defend him until the very end.”

He sighs, leaning forward until your foreheads touch, his eyes closing with a wince as if in pain, “That wouldn’t make me happy.”

Your heart skips at the words, your breath was involuntarily stolen from the man in front of you. After a moment, Robb squeezed your hand tightly before releasing you, stepping out of your space, “Y/n... even if it wasn’t your uncle, someone in your family killed Jon Arryn and tried to kill my brother. If not Lord Tyrion, then who?”

“I... I don’t know that either. I just know it’s not Tyrion.”

Robb nods, gaze hardening once again as he kept his gaze locked with yours, “And what happens should we find the Lannister who did these unforgivable crimes?”

He closely watched your expression shift with hawk-like eyes, clearly testing you and your loyalty. Ice settled in your veins, your eyes widening in disgust. You were appalled by his accusations and his suspicion of loyalty, wondering if you would choose between him and your family. With this conclusion, you let your heart harden again as you glared right back at your husband, “Then swing the sword yourself... and look me in the eyes as you do so.”

~~~

Some weeks later, you receive a letter from the Eyrie. Confused as to why anyone from House Arryn would want to speak with you, your hands carefully unravel the scroll. Once your eyes first settled on the handwriting, you breathed a sigh of relief when realizing the letter to be from your uncle.

Y/n,

I am safe. I was mistaken for an assassin and brought to the Eyrie to face judgment. It’s a long story, one of which I do not want you to worry about, but I will now be heading for Casterly Rock. Wish me luck. All that I ask is once you read this letter, have it burned. Do not question it. Just know that it’ll keep our family safe as long as no one else reads this. Stay quiet and stay safe, but most importantly, be brave.

Tyrion

Without hesitation, you walked across your room and threw the letter into the fire, watching the flames until they completely engulfed the parchment to the point of indefinable. That evening, when you entered the Hall for dinner, Robb, Theon, and Maester Luwin were already there, huddled around each other until you approached. Theon and Maester Luwin eyed you with a weary gaze while Robb kept his expression neutral, a scroll unraveled in his hands.

“My mother has set your uncle free. He had won his freedom in a trial by combat.”

“I see,” you dare not react, keeping your head held high as you stared down your husband, “Then the gods must have found him innocent on all charges.”

“There was another letter, Princess,” Maester Luwin decided to break the tension between you and Robb, drawing your eyes to stare at the old man, “Addressed to you. And another to Lord Stark.”

Both you and Robb take your respective letters, opening them up simultaneously. You recognize Varys’ words and read them to yourself. All eyes watch as your jaw visibly tightens and your eyelashes flutter. Your eyes struggle to focus as they slowly lift from the page and you swallow something building up in your throat as you spoke, “King Robert is dead. Killed in a hunting accident.”

The room grows silent. Robb wants to say something but instead watches as you stare at the floor, the letter now hanging loosely in your hands. Robb decides to fill the room with the sound of his letter crinkling as he starts to read the words, recognizing the handwriting to be Sansa’s. At first, he remains stoic until it slowly crumbles away to confusion and betrayal. He stares at the maester then back at the parchment in disbelief, “Treason? Sansa wrote this?”

“It is your sister’s hand, but the Queen’s words,” your head rises at the information, bewildered as Maester Luwin explains the letter, “You are summoned to King’s Landing to swear fealty to the new King.”

“Joffrey put my father in chains, now he wants his ass kissed?”

Spiraling, you don’t think rationally before snatching the letter out of Robb’s hands to read the words yourself. It was true. Robert was dead and now Joffrey has taken the Iron Throne. One of his first decrees was to have Ned Stark arrested and the remainder of his men and loyal servants killed. Sansa, now a hostage, spoke as Luwin described: with your mother’s words. You knew them all too well, to the point your hands began to shake at the thought of it.

Maester Luwin bows his head, “This is a royal command, my lord. If you should refuse to obey--”

“I won’t refuse,” both you and Theon look up at Robb’s words, watching as his eyes harden with determination, “His Grace summons me to King’s Landing, I’ll go to King’s Landing. But not alone.” He takes the letter from you, crumpling it up before handing it back to the maester, “Call the banners.”

Theon smirks while Maester Luwin appeared shocked, “All of them, my lord?”

“They’ve all sworn to defend my father, have they not?”

“They have.”

“Now we see what their words are worth.”

Luwin smiles in approval before walking out of the room. You, now have suddenly lost your appetite, retreat back to your chambers, nearly out of breath by the time you closed the door behind you.

You sit down next to the fireplace when your legs felt too weak to keep you standing. Still in shock, you watch the world move outside your window, swarms of ravens flying past with scrolls attached to their legs. Dozens of those black birds, bearing the call to war for all of House Stark’s bannermen sent an uncomfortable roll of your stomach to flip as you watch them all fly away.

The thoughts kept you from peace and quiet. Your father was dead. He may not have given you much notice, and sometimes he may not have remembered your name day, but he was still your father. A part of you felt disgusted, however, when you barely felt grief over his death. Perhaps a part of you was always prepared for this to happen. Your father was a fat drunk who loved to hunt to avoid his responsibilities... and naturally, those two things don’t mix.

Your brother is king now... that one bit of news involuntarily sent a shiver down your spine. Joffrey wasn’t a good person, and that was only putting it lightly. For most of your lives, Joffrey would try to be cruel to you, but it normally backfired. You were born first and were naturally taller until he finally hit a growth spurt. After that, he was horrible to you. Hitting you, tripping you, pulling your hair, and always when no one else was looking. He even threatened to cut open Fawn once and knowing what happened with one of Tommen’s cats, you couldn’t take that chance. That day, you politely asked your Uncle Jaime to take your horse out on one of his evening stakeouts outside the Red Keep, coming up with the excuse of how guilty you felt not being able to let your dear Fawn stretch her legs as often as you should. Jaime gladly took her, none the wiser. After that, you always strategically sent out the stable boy to tend to Fawn whenever Joffrey’s whereabouts were unknown.

Growing up with Joffrey was like walking on eggshells, so you could only imagine what the weight of the Seven Kingdoms will do on that boy’s shoulders before he snaps. He’s already imprisoned your husband’s father and is currently keeping his sisters captive. Suddenly, your room felt smaller than it was, as though your alliance marriage was about to start wearing thin as a thread. More than ever, you felt like an outsider... a Baratheon and a Lannister daughter... surrounded by wolves.

It wasn’t long before Robb walked in and interrupted your thoughts, silently closing the door behind him. He only makes a few steps in before speaking, “Y/n--”

“I hope you had a letter sent to your mother,” you keep your voice strong while staring into the flames, avoiding whatever tone Robb was pitying you with, “She deserves to know.”

“I had Maester Luwin write one up. She’ll get it by tomorrow morning.”

“Good.”

Silence fell through the room, beside the crackling of the fire. After a moment, careful, slow footsteps draw near to you, “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes shoot up when you felt his presence lingering over you, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed the sympathy in his expression, “For what?”

“For your father.”

A scoff escapes your lips before you could even think about it, your eyes averting back to the fireplace as your husband sits in the seat next to yours, “You should not apologize for something that was bound to happen. I should be apologizing to you. My family has half of yours held hostage in King’s Landing.”

“Not for long,” his voice deepens with determination, “Once the bannermen get here, we’ll leave immediately.”

“But what about your brothers?”

“Maester Luwin will stay and watch out for them... as will you.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and you nearly felt a laugh bubble up in your throat in response to his confidence. You stood your ground, “No. I’m going with you, I’m not staying.”

“Yes, you will,” he meets you head-on as if he believed this was a battlefield he has practiced for, “I--”

“You, what? You command it?” His mouth shuts, and the sneer from before appeared on your face, “You’re not my king, Robb. And I’m not just a lady who knits and sits behind a castle wall waiting for her husband to come home from war! You need me with you in King’s Landing if you intend on rescuing your father from my family’s clutches. My brother sits on the Iron Throne. My mother is Queen Regent. My grandfather and my uncle are raising an army to go to war for her against you. The only way you can safely bring home your father, mother, and sisters are if I go with you and beg my family for forgiveness without too much bloodshed!”

Robb looks away, deciding that the fire was more interesting to brood over. Your posture relaxes, guilt taking over as you slowly reach your hand to touch his arm. You decide to try and win him over by softening your words, “I know you’re no fool, my love... You know I’m right.”

His curls bounce with his nod, his eyes firmly staring at his hands as he closes them together, leaning his elbows against his knees, “It shouldn’t be this way. If none of this was happening, we could stay here.”

“And do what?”

The side eye you receive is playful; mischievous, “I could think of a few things.”

You entertain a small laugh with him, forcing down the heat threatening to rise in your cheeks, “I suppose as Acting Lord of Winterfell, you are due for a couple of heirs.”

Robb’s gaze softens, turning his face fully to you, “There’s no need to have children so soon, Y/n. My father is still alive and even if something were to happen to me tomorrow, he still has two legitimate sons.”

The words fester before your lips turn down. Apparently, a part of you did not like the idea of Robb dying. Even if you despised him, which you didn’t, you wouldn’t wish an early grave for him, “Don’t speak so low of yourself. You are his firstborn son and heir. Now that you are married, it is your duty to ensure your father’s legacy will live on.”

“... His legacy might be in danger... if King Joffrey decides to murder him and we go to war. Do you think your brother is capable of such a thing?”

You wanted to laugh at how silly the question felt when hearing it out loud, but you quickly remember that Ned Stark was at your brother’s mercy, and you decide not to spare Robb the details, answering his question with honesty. Your words were soft and grave, retelling a distant memory with disdain and horror, “When Joffrey was little, he cut open a pregnant cat and proceeded to show our father all the dead kittens, lifeless in his small hands,” Robb’s eyes widen but otherwise said nothing, so you continued, “Robert was disgusted by it, yelling at Joffrey until the boy wet himself... the King summoned me to his chambers that night, and I was scared that somehow Joffrey had pinned this whole horrible incident on me. Of course, Robert was drunk when I arrived, but for some reason, he wanted to spend some quality time in my company.”

You smile unconsciously, starting to feel a small bit of sadness as you clung to one of the few good memories you had of your father, “I don’t think he meant it, but I remember him plainly stating, behind his wine goblet, that I should wear his crown, that Joffrey didn’t deserve it, but unfortunately it had to be this way. Unless he wanted to repeat the Dance of Dragons, he could never name me his heir.”

Robb doesn’t say anything, and since you weren’t looking, you didn’t see the thoughtful blue eyes scanning your face. Your words seeping into his skin, he tried picturing a younger you, sitting beside a fat, old Robert while he drunkenly confessed wanting you on the Iron Throne instead of Joffrey. Robb’s mind was spinning at the picture. A pretty, far-off picture. You, a woman grown, wise and just, sitting on that throne of smelted swords, chin high and eyes fierce, wearing a beautiful gown of your family’s colors and a smaller size of your father’s crown settled onto your head.

The picture in his mind was so clear, part of him wondered if it wasn’t much of a thought, but a vision. Other thoughts began brewing in secret, but they betray the small smile on Robb’s face, fire twinkling in his eyes.

~~~

A/N: I like adding small sentences into certain monologues that sort of remind me of Easter eggs. For example, Y/n Baratheon never considered herself as even half-Lannister and the smallest things she does proves that. When she says that she couldn’t repay her debt to Tyrion, I wanted to further prove that she wasn’t a Lannister, since we all know that ‘Lannisters always pay their debts’.

Again, PLEASE ask/pm me if you want to be added to the taglist! DO NOT comment underneath each chapter! I won't see it right away or I might even miss it. It'll be easier if every ask was sent to me in one place so that I can easily see it.

Also! Feel free to ask questions about this story! Send a raven in the pm, but no questions regarding spoilers 😉

#black of hair got #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark fic #robb stark #richard madden #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones imagine #got imagines #got imagine #tyrion lannister #theon greyjoy

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biowhore · 9 months

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Sweet Things

hi i've been sad so have a comfort fic with my comfort couple

Gale/Tasha (Tav)

Content: hurt/comfort, no sex, bathing, headaches/migraines, brief positive mention of weight gain, short and sweet, post-canon

Word count: 2.3k

She was drifting when she heard his gentle voice in her ear, “You are so beautiful,” quiet and reverent. Grinning she whispered back to him, eyes still closed, “You just like it when I’m under your spell.” “A heady sensation to be sure, but,” she felt two fingers brush either side of her cheeks, tracing along the delicate scales there, “You have no idea how stunning you look right now.” “Naked in the bath with the Hells knocking about in my skull?” “Exactly,” he murmured, the feather-light brush of his soft lips against hers making her crack open an eye.

Fic list, AO3

These times of hell within her own head haunted Tasha. She used to live her life constantly braced for the next episode, the next round of being chained to a bed in a dark room. Healers helped but did not cure, and she felt no long-term relief until she was ironically host to a terminal parasite.

Long after being cured of the mind flayer tadpoles, those episodes started up again. She had hoped they were gone for good, but she supposed that she had to take some bad with overwhelming good that had come her way after everything. She and Gale had made a wonderful life together, her friends were whole and hale, and wrote to her often. What was a little illness now and then?

This morning she woke to the usual citrus and salt fragrance of their rooms bombarding her nose, the lovely cast of the morning sun through their window piercing at her eyes, and the sounds of Gale through the house and the bustle of Waterdeep outside nearly deafening her. Loud and clear that warning had been. So, she darkened the room, crawled back under her thick covers, and cast a sound dampening bubble around the bed. There was sweet relief for a while, but then the pain came full force as she expected.

Heat flashing through her skin, the muscles of her neck and jaw tightening painfully, the sludgy feeling through her mind, and of course the throbbing pain on one side of her skull. Her familiar demon.

As she breathed evenly through the waves, she suddenly felt a blessedly cool hand on her brow, causing her eyes to flutter open.

“Time again?” Gale asked in a whisper.

All she could do was nod. She closed her eyes again, refocusing on her breathing as she felt him leave her side. The quiet sha sha of his clothes shifting with his movements told her where he was in the room. By the chest at the foot of the bed now, and next came the slow deliberate sound of him attempting to open it quietly. He was retrieving some of the potions she kept on hand from healers for these episodes. They helped with the pain, but her body would still feel wrong, sometimes for a few days when these attacks were at their worst, before the tadpole.

Shuffling feet to her right announced Gale’s return to her side. “Here, love. Can you sit up?”

Tasha propped herself up on her pillow, Gale’s arm hovering across her shoulders. He handed her a deep purple glass vial, stopper already removed, for her to bravely choke back. She shot it back like cheap liquor, grimacing and immediately reaching for Gale’s proffered glass of water to dilute the horrid taste in her mouth.

“Really wish I could help them figure out how to make these taste better,” she groaned, sticking out her tongue.

Gale only smiled at her, helping her shuffle back under the blankets. As she became settled again, closing her eyes, his forehead met hers gently. His fingers at either side of her delicately scaled temples provided magical coolness, a balm to the inferno building behind her eyes.

Whispering still, he asked, “Now, before that kicks in, is there anything you need? Anything you’d like to do? What about a bath, or tea, or food?”

She hummed as she took time to sort through her thoughts between waves of throbbing pain, breathing evenly, Gale’s touch grounding her. A bath did sound nice...

“Maybe a bath first, then tea,” she sighed as his fingers began massaging in small circles, then a thought occurred to her. “Don’t you have classes today?”

“Not anymore.”

“You can’t cancel a full day of classes just for me,” she sighed again. He’d been teaching for a while with the Blackstaff and was quite accomplished.

“Of course I can. Besides, I rather think most of my students appreciate the day off.”

She huffed a tiny chuckle at that, causing a spike of pain in her skull. Sucking air through her gritted teeth, she grimaced, “As much as I love the way you make me laugh, better not for now.”

“Of course my love,” he pecked her nose and pulled away, trailing his fingers along her jaw as he went, “I’ll make sure everything is set up in the bath and come back. Stay put.”

No problems there. She sank into her pillow and let her mind wander a while, listening to the gentle splash of the water filling the tub in the bathroom. A tinkle of glass there, a shuffle here as Gale prepared the bath.

Gale took her hands and helped her out of their bed. It was cozy, not overly large and made of dark wood. It had posts that were carved with vines - very useful when she was in better health, but those fantasies would have to wait.

He led her across the carpets into their washroom. At her insistence it had been renovated when she moved in in order to fit a large and deep tub, kept magically warm for hours, of course. She could sit on a shelf that lined the inside wall and still be covered by the water up to her collarbones. This was worthy of a dragon.

Now she sat with her head leaning on the rim, Gale brushing through her thick straight black hair with a bone comb. He had a slow and gentle pace, the teeth of the comb gliding through her untangled strands, softly scraping her scalp in the most wonderful way. She matched her breathing to his pace, grounding herself to his care. He always kept her tethered to earth when she needed it.

“How are you feeling?” He whispered.

“Seems to be working, but my head is still so foggy.”

“Can I do anything else for you?”

She sighed as she thought, eyes closed. “Hmm... talk to me? Tell me a tale, I love listening to you tell stories.”

She couldn’t see Gale’s cheeks flame, but she’d surely set him off with that compliment. He’d have to behave himself. He cleared his throat, “Well, um. Let me think...”

He continued his slow and methodical motions through her hair, pondering which of his many tales he might regale her with, when an idea came to him. He lowered the comb but his fingers still sorted through her silky tresses, until his hand came to the back of her head. His fingers kneaded the space where her skull attached to her neck, coaxing a small moan from her. Smiling broadly to himself, his forehead lowered to hers.

“Have I told you about when we met?”

“I was there, wasn’t I?”

“Hm, yes, but you weren’t in my mind, even with the tadpole.”

“True... did I stun you with my beauty?”

“Exactly that,” he chuckled, speaking softly, “I thought my prayers were answered, that if anyone could save us it would be you.”

Tasha huffed in response, clearly unconvinced. It was then that she felt his other hand slip into the water and trail down her arm, a loving light caress.

“I thought,” Gale continued, watching her closed lashes flutter, “This contradiction of a creature, with her warm brown skin, icy eyes, and tempest disposition... Well, she knows what she’s doing.”

That brought a full laugh out of her. She shook her head and opened her eyes as Gale lifted his head and dragged his hand back up her arm, resting it gently on the side of her neck. Her eyes always mesmerized him; she had a reptilian pupil and black sclera in the left eye, more of her draconic heritage coming through along with her opalescent scales. Both eyes were a stunning green-blue, icy being a truly apt description in most lights, but when one deigned to look closer, they would find a startling blue flame there, a sure sign of her warm-hearted nature that lay buried under her hard exterior.

Her eyes lit up when she laughed, but then quickly collapsed into a grimace as she touched two fingers to her temple.

“Ah, why must mirth be punished so?” she sighed and sunk lower into the tub. A sharp pulse of pain ricocheted through her skull, overcoming the potion she had taken earlier. After a moment it began to subside, but she was left even deeper in malaise.

“Have you thought of seeing Halsin?”

“No,” she blew out a breath, “My family and I went to many healers as a child, none of them Halsin, mind, but they could not fix this. They only help ease the symptoms.”

“Still, I’m curious what Halsin would have to say.”

“I’ve thought about it since these attacks have come back. You and he together might have interesting theories, I’m certain, but I also think fixing it would involve some sort of meddling in my brain that I’ve had enough of for one life.”

Gale chuckled at that, “No arguments there, my love. Rest now, let me take care of you.”

She dipped her head below the water to wet her long hair, staying under for a moment. The warmth relaxed the muscles in her face and scalp, a welcome relief as the earlier pain ebbed away. When she surfaced again Gale was there with soap and nimble fingers, digging into the roots of her hair and massaging her into a limp mess at his mercy. Her head lolled against the rim of the tub, her jaw slack, arms floating limp.

She was drifting when she heard his gentle voice in her ear, “You are so beautiful,” quiet and reverent.

Grinning she whispered back to him, eyes still closed, “You just like it when I’m under your spell.”

“A heady sensation to be sure, but,” she felt two fingers brush either side of her cheeks, tracing along the delicate scales there, “You have no idea how stunning you look right now.”

“Naked in the bath with the Hells knocking about in my skull?”

“Exactly,” he murmured, the feather-light brush of his soft lips against hers making her crack open an eye.

When he pulled back she grinned at him again, “Dry and oil my hair then take me to bed, wizard.”

“Yes my lady,” he did not miss a beat and gave her a quick wink before helping her rinse the soap from her hair. He guided her to lean her head back, letting her hair drip down the side of the tub. With a soft cloth he patted most of the moisture out, then used a simple spell to create an air current between his palms. The air tickled the tips of her ears as he worked and she let her mind wander. Again, the bone comb was meticulously run through her strands as he applied oil to the bottom half, leaving the dark curtain of her hair soft, shiny and smelling of roses.

Finished, he guided her up out of the water with small touches to her shoulders, her hips, her hands. She stood on a woven grass matt as he dried her skin with a linen sheet. His hands never ruffled, never lingered, but continued his methodology over her body. He kneeled before her, eyes upturned, as he moved the cloth over her legs, even between her toes. Tasha was ever moved by his careful handling of her at her weakest, but never making her feel weak. A soft smile stretched her lips, her hand reaching out to trail down his cheek and jaw, following the old path of the magic that once doomed him. Her fingertips passed through the transition from textured skin to neat scruff, ending at his chin and falling away back to her side, their eyes never leaving each other.

She felt his hands glide like wings upward to the space behind her knees. Her left knee had a dusting of scales that he passed quickly on his way over her thighs up to her hips, where more grew in a pattern that painted a V shape over her abdomen. He paused there, roaming over the softness that had widened her hips and rounded her belly since they had saved the world and taken up academics. Gale seemed to love that about her, that his food and their new life together had helped her “bloom” as he liked to say. She simply gained weight, but she wasn’t about to stop him from describing her in such flattering flowery language.

The slight callouses on his palms tickled her soft umber skin as he leaned forward and rose up from his knees. His arms encircled her and lifted her up with him, fulfilling his agreement to take her to bed. Legs wrapped around his waist, arms over his shoulders, and head tucked into his neck, her heart melted to the floor as she was brought back to their bed.

The satin bedclothes were a siren song as her skin brushed against them, and she scuttled further beneath the thick batting-filled blanket. Gale was there beside her as she finally got comfortable, reaching out and taking her fingers in his.

“I’ll likely sleep all day but I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “What will you get up to today?”

“Keep an eye on you.”

“Not much to keep an eye on when I’m asleep.”

“You’ve got to eat, don’t you?” He slipped his fingers from hers and lightly tapped the tip of her nose, “Besides, I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on. No reason I can’t do both.”

Tasha shook her head at him, eyes beginning to flutter.

Gale grinned at her warmly, “Rest, love. Don’t worry about me and let me worry about you.” He reached out again to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be right here.”

She sighed and did as she was bidden, slowly drifting off in the comfortable silence between them. Eventually she felt his weight lift from the bed and his soft steps fade into the background, her mind traveling with him as she sank into pleasant rest.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale/tav #gale/tasha #gale x tav

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restinpeas · 1 month

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Support Families in Northern Gaza through Rooftop & Home Vegetable Gardens

"My name is Laila El-Haddad. I'm an author and advocate for Palestinian rights and food justice. Many of you might know me as the co-author of The Gaza Kitchen: A Palestinian Culinary Journey. I'm also an avid gardener and though I am from Gaza City, I'm a farmer at heart! Farmers represent the deep rootedness Palestinians have to the land. For Palestinians, farming, especially during a time of genocide and ecocide-is an act of deep faith and the very embodiment of Sumood- the Palestinian concept of steadfast perseverance.

Background

Once known for its lush apple orchards, strawberries, and citrus, northern Gaza is now completely cut off from the rest of Gaza.

As part of its policy to make Gaza unlivable, Israel has destroyed 50% of Gaza's trees and farmland, and severely restricted the entry of food and aid, especially to the north. The scale of damage and destruction is catastrophic. Israeli forces have leveled agricultural land, 90% of all greenhouses, olive groves, and poultry farms. The entire population is now facing a forced starvation policy and experiencing extreme hunger.

Your Donation Will Help Change This Reality by Providing Rooftop, Home, and Urban Vegetable Gardens through seedling and seed distribution for Vulnerable and Displaced Families in Northern Gaza who are subsisting on 245 calories a day.

What and Why?

I'm organizing this campaign to help support farmers and families in the areas of northern Gaza most impacted by Israel's ongoing war to start their own rooftop and home gardens-a small step towards self sufficiency and food sovereignty. All international and local aid agencies have had to evacuate from the north, leaving the population especially vulnerable, and whatever limited amounts of fresh produce and aid are available are sold astronomical prices.

How?

I spent months researching and consulting with agricultural experts in Gaza and abroad on the most secure and effective way to give Palestinians sustainable access to fresh produce. Next, I partnered with with the Gaza Palestinian American Association and the Middle East Children's Alliance, both accredited 501(c)(3) who are taking 0% overhead, as well as a team of community based partners in Gaza, who will be sourcing the supplies needed to start the home gardens locally and managing the project.

Our team on the ground has been working hard to source and start growing local seedlings to distribute to families, and other materials needed to provide them with the resources they desperately need to start their own home, rooftop, patio, and community vegetable gardens, depending on the spaces they have access to. We will roll out the project in several phases, which each phase targeting 100 families.

Each family will receive:

* At least 30 assorted seasonal vegetables seedlings (Palestinian summer squash, hot peppers, eggplant, cucumber and tomatoes, depending on availability)

* 80 grams of local seeds (dill, mulukhiya, chard),

* Compost, soil, and amendments

* Plastic planters, irrigation cans, where needed

* Training and follow up by agriculture experts

Your donations will also help fund the purchase of several solar panel systems to power community wells that communities rely on to drink and irrigate their gardens and farms with (currently, municipal access to water is limited to once every ten days, and well motors are inoperable due to an Israeli ban on the entry of fuel).

With your support, we can help Palestinian families sow the seeds of a brighter future, cultivate hope and grow some of their own food again!

Your donation is tax deductible and zakat eligible! 100% of the proceeds will go towards the project in Gaza!

Together, we will help families in the north grow healthy food for themselves, their neighbors and their friends!

#gaza aid #gaza funds #fundraiser #gaza #free palestine #palestine

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accursedkaleeshi · 4 months

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Drugs on Kalee

There are plenty of poisonous & toxic critters on Kalee all in the midst of trying to gain an evolutionary advantage. Kaleesh are incredibly food motivated & will try to eat anything that moves at least once. They have by now gotten a pretty good handle on what is locally edible. This knowledge is passed down through word of mouth & traditional oral records.

Kaleesh use drugs for all sorts of things (as, by their own admission, “there ain’t shit to do on Kalee”). Various Hiil clerics have a few poultices, but they don’t have much in the way of traditional medicines comparative to their civilization. (“If I die, I die” mentality.) They mostly use drugs in their ceremonies & rites. A subset of apothecary kaleesh, called venxt, specialize in making poisons for hunting. Poisoning fellow kaleesh is seen as dishonorable. Herbalists arose from the need to make fresh water potable. And, of course, there are “herbalists” & “venxt” that share Kalee’s more fun bounties.

1.5k words

PLANTS

While the kaleesh use a fair bit of plant material, there is probably a lot more undiscovered. Since kaleesh don’t like the sweet taste or smell of many flowers they rarely experiment with them on purpose. Most of their plant-based discoveries were made watching other animals rooting around in the foliage & following up to find stuff to pair with their meat dishes.

Though most kaleesh prefer stimulants that hype them up until they abruptly crash, that is usually a young man’s game. Bark from the swamp dagger tree evolved to strike its predators with the Cozy Sleepytm. It is quite potent. Kaleesh like to burn it & “drink” the smoke. Hard to get though. Less potent but more fun is to hunt the fen nodadiir, a fucked up stilt deer that eat the bark but are able to store the toxin in the fruiting antlers it grows.

The most common way to chill out on Kalee is to drink. A little bit of bark powder goes a long way in their brews. Kaleeshi drink ranges from citrus-like teas to straight moonshine to alcoholic meat broths. It’s a good way to calm down at the end of a day. Elder warriors often become dependent on the hooch to keep them calm within the community. Hooray, universal language of alcoholism. The long term effects, depending on the drink, are similar to ours.

FUNGI

Kaleesh have a love/hate relationship with fungi & fungi-adjacent growths. It’s like if plants were meat & they all look like you should eat them! Instead of fruit (they can’t handle much fructose), they make a lot of their booze with fungi & it’s bussin. But just as many kinds of mushrooms will kill a brother. Badly. Most of the bioluminescent ones have proven to be deadly so they have opted not to eat anything that grows & glows as a rule of thumb.

INSECTS

Kaleesh have observed that some creatures get their toxicity from their diets of offending insects but they have never had the patience to cultivate them to any meaningful extent. Much easier to hunt, catch, & keep the bigger critters that eat them. Even though kaleesh don’t have to worry about most stinging insects due to their scales, it is still a pain in the dicks to try to keep bugs anywhere. Ask any overeager venxt apprentice & the cricket peddlers.

There is one widely known insect that lives in the Eastern jungles. The gold bead bug is a solitary winged insect that only emerges when the season is just right to find a mate, making it a rarity. Eating one of these bugs is the most potent berserker substance on the planet. The most obvious Kaleeshi thing to do when they find one is to 1: fight for it, 2: head to the arena or middle of town (optional), & 3: have the winner from previous fight eat the bug then fight them again. It’s like giving your biggest friend pcp & then seeing how many of your friends & neighbors it takes to bring them down. For funsies.

OTHER TERRESTRIAL ANIMALS

Their favorite poisonous dudes are the flower frogs. The buflor & other toad dudes in the same family secrete a mucous of various toxicity. The toads combine acids from their diet with their own potent chemicals & will start oozing this at you from glands on the back of their heads if you bother them too much.

The domesticated buflor have been mostly bred for household use. They are slow to anger & their mucous is only very mildly hallucinogenic. Venxt breed lines of a highly toxic buflor sister species. The darts do wonders on medium sized prey animals. They had also done pretty well at stopping bitthævrian in their tracks.

There are several animals (mostly related but with some outliers) that are angry, drug secreting fruitcakes. With the amphibians being so proliferate, however, they are the most accessible. Kaleesh love to lick toads, man. It is a common young adult thing to do with your homies. Go find a toad to lick & trip with RTX shaders on for a while. Some of the toads mess with kaleesh pheromone systems so they be smelling colors for real.

AQUATIC

A disproportionate amount of Kalee’s toxins are derived from her seas. The life in the oceans is not in a calm era. They on that weird shit. As the Yamrii found out, most of the larger organism in there are too bony, too pointy, too specific, or too toxic to industrialize. The seafaring kaleesh have been living off the ocean for thousands of years. They know pretty well by now which things they can eat & which things will kill them. They also know which things will almost kill them in fun & exciting ways.

The “if it glows, don’t eat it” rule only applies on land. The people’s favorite are the miiryu, a branch of shrimp. There are several species of miiryu & the all glow to some extent, usually in polkadot patterns to break up their outlines. The shrimps cook well as you might expect, but if you eat one whole & raw it gives one a burst of restless energy. Its like a 5 Hour Energy with coke(ain) in it. Sailors have been using it to get their work done for centuries. 2 of them would get a guy through the whole rotation & then crash. Their favorite shrimps are native to the bay of Shrupak, so called holy shrimps. They are the perfect size to pop in their mouths.

The shrimps are easy to dry out & grind into a powder called zid (jyid). Zid can then be distributed anyway. Kaleesh, with special exception, don’t like the idea of snorting anything into their sensitive nasal passages & usually take drugs with food. The zid for, example, is baked into a flat bread for a lessened effect, like a shot or 2 of espresso. For the full effect they will put it on food already cooked or just lick it directly out of the container like fun dip if you’re less classy.

The urchins & stinging things of the water are usually paralytic. Kaleesh don’t always notice because, again, their scales are pretty sturdy against the small to medium critters. There are some tidal dudes that absolutely suck to step on, of course. With any creature that is big enough to really do damage to them, they would rather not risk it. There’s a fucked up urchin/sea louse thing that causes numbness so it can munch on things undetected. That little shit makes popular medical poultices & gladiators might take a lot of it. Kaleeshi discourse: is taking the no-feels before a fight cheating?

There is a jaw-slinging bottom feeder called a calm-down crawler that kaleesh like to catch & harass each other with. It has 2 barbs on its lower jaw & throws them like a taser. It can’t get through their scales in open air. Sometimes kaleesh will split the jaw like a wishbone & pierce their tongues with the barb. The venom slows their bodily functions way down. This is incredibly stupid & kills a handful of idiots a year.

Many kaleeshi ceremonies & rites involve imbibing some kind of drug. Ceremonies that pit 2 kaleesh against each other, usually vying for a leadership position, will have the participants crush a dried anemone in their face to inhale the powder inside. It’s a class of drug kaleesh call frenzy that incites berserker mode, which they love. The gold bead bug is the most potent frenzy drug.

Other ceremonies will use depressants for reflection. Hallucinogens, sometimes in conjunction with paralytics, are used to encourage spiritual visions. Rust wine is an alcoholic marrow broth traditional at weddings. ETC!

#kaleesh posting #accursed!grievous #long post

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trash-gobby · 1 year

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Hi, I found out that you take requests about Legend. So my request is this: Darkness x reader NSFW.

The reader (neutral gender or female, you can decide) finds out that its brother was capture by the goblins. So the reader dicides to save its brother but after it enters in the Great Tree and reaches inside, it meets Darkness. Darkness seduces the reader and... Sex time ahahah

For the time of this events... I don't know. I hope this is sufficient and sorry for my English 🙈

Summary: The reader seeks to save her brother from Darkness's clutches, but taken by her beauty, Darkness has other plans for her.

A/N: Bruh, this took me over a year to write and I haven't written porn in a looooong time. Hopefully this isn't to underwhelming.

Word Count: 6.4K

Parings: Darkness X Fem!Reader

Characters: Darkness, Reader

Citrus Scale: 🍋

RATING: R 18+

⚠️This is an 18+ post because of the NSFW!!! That means I DON’T encourage anyone who interacts with NSFW content who is underage. I’ve talked to other people who’ve been long time content creators and users of this website and I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not your parent and can’t control what content you consume.

Detailed warnings under the cut

⚠️Warnings!: fingering, rough sex, table sex, overstimulation, a little bit of cockwarming at the start, some orgasm denial, creampie? (bro I can't think of another term it's 3am), biting, scratching

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Columns towered over you, casting huge patches of shadow which made you feel small and insignificant their wake. The ceiling was so tall that you felt that perhaps there was no end to it, as it melted in to a black abyss the further you looked up. It felt like walking among the world of giants, or a world that used to be inhabited by them, as everything was covered by a couple layers of dust and cobwebs.

You couldn’t help but be slightly afraid as you made your way further in, having to remind yourself why you were here under your breath. That somewhere in this maze of darkness and cruel magic, your brother was waiting for you, or at least you hoped he was.

He was so young, kind, and innocent. Not a little boy who should be trapped in a place like this, taken hostage by a beast that you’d only heard of from the village storyteller who’d tell the tale to all the locals who would gather around the his campfire at night.

As a young children you’d all huddle together as close as humanly possible to the fire, letting the heat slightly burn your skin, the orange glow shadowing the old man's face. The hard lines and liver spots becoming even more prominent in the light. He looked menacing, and you supposed for a story like that, it was just how he wanted to look.

In a low haunting voice he would tell the tale of how Princess Lili and the Unicorn. How she had wanted to touch this sacred animal, and in the process set herself up to plunge into the darkness. To be seduced by it. The story took many turns, and you had found yourself in rapt awe, fear and something strangely more illusive. Something you dare not name aloud, for you found it shameful. Pleasure.

However, the fear was what was most prominent in your mind as you finally made your way up to the gigantic double doors that you hoped lead to a clue to where your brother might be. The stone of it looked cold and heavy, almost like it was made for a giant with strength greatly out-matching yours. However, when you laid your hand against the cool surface of the door, it was like it sensed you physical presence. The air rushed through your hair and over your simple tunic and pants as the door slowly opened.

The sound of crackling and an orange glow met your eyes and ears. Slipping into the room, some more squat columns greeted you again: squat and looking like they were sprouting from metallic leaves which embraced their base. The stone tiles were littered with the remnants of falling passing into the winter, dead leaves and dirt.

As you made your way slowly into the room, you took in more of the atmosphere. Everything was bathed in the soft orange glow of a large and ornate fireplace. It would have been comforting if not for the huge stone carving of a demon, depicted holding what looked to you like a trident, sneering down at you. The light also elongated the furniture, of what little there was, and columns, making it look like anywhere there could be someone or something hiding just out of sight in the darkness.

There was a large amount of open space in front of the fireplace which led up to a long banquet style table, which only features some equally gruesome candelabras. The bodies of them were gothic in style and onyx black, all sharp edges like the teeth of a wolf. By far the most eye catching thing within the room though, was a mirror standing to the left of the fireplace.

Although all the furniture seemed to be made for someone twice your height, the mirror felt like it was at least three times that. It had the similar macabre design to the other furniture, but even more elaborate.

The frame had an elaborate folding curtain carving all down the left side of it, making the mirror seem more like a window then what it appeared to be. The right side had intricate carvings which were mesmerizing in their design. As you walked further into the room, your desire to run your fingers over the whirls and edges.

Finally reaching the center of the open space of the room in front of the fireplace, you felt the warmth of the fire and it's soft crackling and pops from the wood. Every sound echoed throughout this vastness of the room, into every dark corner. You turned around in a circle, letting your eyes scan all the corners of the immediate area for anyone who might be hiding just out of view.

When you came back around to facing the mirror, you could see what was reflected back at you: a frightened young girl playing at hero, hoping that it would pay off. Hoping that if she musters up enough courage to use the dagger at her hip in order to get what she wanted. You almost felt like laughing at the toddrey display of false confidence you had been so earnest in cultivating up until this moment.

Then you noticed something, something out of place in the reflection, behind you in the background of dancing shadow created by the flames playing off the columns.

At first you thought it was a statue, tall and sculpted, but it didn't match the stoney grey and bronze quality of the decor. The arm of the statue was a crimson, leading up to black flowing fabric. Your eyes lingered up this arm to a pair of eyes glowing a greenish-yellow hue in the dark.

What stood just a few meters away from you in the dark was something large and alive. Stepping into the light, you gasped, turning to face the giant man. Could you even call what stood before you a man? More of a man-beast which had come right out of the fairy tales told around that storytellers fire.

You backed up quickly, tripping over yourself and slamming your back heavily into the glass of the mirror. Your eyes hadn't left the figure who was advancing on you.

He was almost as tall as the mirror itself, broad and muscular with skin a bright crimson. His chest was laid bare in order to give the impression of just how capable he was of crushing anyone who would dare try to face him. Legs seemed to be just as strong, though they were mostly covered with black handmade bottoms.

Giant horns protruded upward from either side of his head, and his face was at once both handsome and gruesome in appearance. As he stepped forward heavily on his hoofed feet, Darkness smirked down at you.

"What has this night brought me? A lost little lamb perhaps? Separated from its flock." You tried to square your shoulders and seem more intimidating than your miniscule stature made you seem.

"Trying to be brave? You must be here for a reason instead of just stumbling into my halls." He chuckled softly at this display, sizing you up with his sparkling yellow eyes.

"I...I'm here to get my brother back," your voice sounded so small echoing off the walls of the large room. The voice of a being which could so easily be broken under the hooves of this giant before you.

"I know why you're here," Darkness began to move slowly, and you tracked him with your gaze as he started to circle you. It felt like you were a helpless rabbit being sized up by a hungry wolf before it pounces.

"While you were busy coming to save the child, did you ever stop to ask..." He paused a moment, somewhere behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder in order to see what had made him stop.

"What he did to be taken." As you turned your face to look at Darkness, you're met with his. So close you can feel his breath on your face, count the teeth in his sly grin.

You step back, startled, grasping for the dagger at your hip. As your hand closed around the leather hilt of the blade, drawing it, Darkness moved quickly catching your arm in his powerful grip.

Vice-like, you winced under the pressure of his large hand wrapped around your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat before coming out in a whimper between clenched teeth.

"I wouldn't do something so brash little lamb, you might hurt yourself," you felt paralyzed. His hold on you was solid, immovable. When you tried to pull yourself free, it felt like you were stuck, unable to even move your arm an inch in Darkness's hold.

"Let me go," your words seemed hollow, devoid of any intimidation.

Moving slowly with his free hand, you flinched slightly as he closed his fingers around the blade and yanked the dagger free from your grasp as if it was nothing. only then did he finally let you go, standing to his full height and stabbing the dagger into the side of one of the columns.

It fit perfectly into the stone, which shocked you. Surely the blade should have broken on impact, but it was like the column had parted around it.

"Why don't we sit and discuss this over a meal? No need for these hostilities. They bore me." You followed his hand as he sweeped it over to the table you'd noticed when you'd first come in. Where it had been bare of anything but the candelabras, now it was full of plates of food.

Your stomach ached, making you realize just how much time had passed since you'd first set out on your journey. The last time you'd eaten, it had been an apple and a couple pieces of bread a day away from your final arrival at your destination.

"How do I know you haven't poisoned the food?" You asked, looking back to Darkness as you did.

"If I had wanted you dead, you already would be. And why would I waste such interesting company?" The smirk he gave you as he said this had something else hidden behind it. You could see it in his eyes, raking over your body, meeting your eyes and holding your gaze for a long pause.

You wanted to feel disgusted. Men in your village had looked at you in a similar way. When they were coming home from the local tavern drunk at night and walked by you on your way home from working late in the fields.

They would give you that look, the look so common among men when they'd stare at women they desired. A mix of desire and contempt, like a child who desired to covet the last sweet all for themselves. Although childish, there was a predatory danger behind that look which made you always slip into a dark sidestreet before men like that could even catch sight of you. Hiding from the potentiality of what could happen if they decided to act upon their visible dark desires.

However, in this case, for some reason, Darkness's gaze didn't make you more afraid then you already were. It didn't make you want to turn and run. You felt ashamed that not to deep down, it made your stomach flip in a way which wasn't unpleasurable.

Turning, he walked over to the head of one end of the table, pulling out the large high-backed chair and looking to you again as you stood there.

"Please, dine with me. Let's discuss this without fighting. It's been a while since I've had a guest." What could you do but slowly make your way to the chair he'd pulled out.

As you moved to sit, he pushed in the seat behind you, like a gentleman. The whole display would be rather funny, the devil being a gentleman and inviting you to dinner, if you weren't still a little terrified.

Coming around from behind the chair, Darkness reached out on the table for a large jeweled bottle of wine. Without asking he poured the dark red liquid into the goblet in front of you, before walking over to his own seat and pouring his own glass.

Once you were both seated at either end of the table, you felt a little more relaxed. The distance of being at either head of the table was far enough that it gave you a false sense of security.

"What shall we toast to?" Darkness addressed you raising his glass with a quirked brow.

"What?" You were taken aback by this strange situation. It hadn't really fully dawned on you just how much he'd been trying to distract you from your goal.

"What shall we toast?" He repeated.

"I... I didn't come here to dine with you. I came to get my brother." As you said this, something dark flashed behind the composure of Darkness. Perhaps his patience with you wasn't as limitless as it seemed.

"My dear, we will get to that all in due time," the words were spoken less with his smooth sounding tone he'd been taking with you. This tone was all teeth. You decided not to push it, raising your glass tentatively.

"To making acquaintances?" Your statement came out as more of a question as you spoke. Darkness seemed to pause as you said this, before smiling.

"Yes. To making new acquaintances," You both toasted your glasses unable to touch, instead gesturing in each others direction before taking a sip.

You winced slightly at the rich taste. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was unlike any of the wine you'd ever had before. Only ever having had cheaply made wine in the tavern with friends, you'd been used to the sour poor flavour. This was rich and oaky in taste. Pleasurable to the mouth.

Looking down from your focus on the contents of your goblet, you were shocked to find a silver plate before you. A lamb shank, seasoned with delicious smelling spices, mixed vegetables and potatoes lay before you, making your mouth water. Where it had come from was your guess. There were many things about this strange place which made no sense to you.

Across the table Darkness had also gotten his own food. A large leg of lamb. No vegetables to be seen, which didn't surprise you. A beast such as him, it made sense that he would be exclusively carnivorous.

"So, tell me... Why would you come here all alone? Wouldn't you want to bring some strong warriors with you little lamb?" Darkness asked as he used his utensils to cut a healthy chunk of meat from the leg.

"I.. They're coming. They just got delayed by the swamp," It wasn't a convincing lie. You wanted to smack yourself for how stupid it sounded coming out of your mouth.

"You are not a convincing liar. The truth is written all over your face. Your little village was to afraid to help you." You didn't know what to say to this, looking down at your plate.

"I feel for you little lamb. It is hard to feel abandoned by those who you're supposed to rely on." Looking up from the plate, you met his eyes from across the table. He seemed sincere, with a tinge of sadness.

"They said it would be to dangerous. That I should consider my brother as good as gone-"

"And you weren't willing to give up, not on someone you loved. Not on family." He interrupted you, leaning forward across the table slightly.

"Yes. I-I suppose I should ask what my brother did to be taken," You held Darkness gaze as you said this, reaching for your own utensils and started to cut into the lamb shank in front of you.

"Mmm. Yes. That." Darkness took another long sip from his drink, looking up to the ceiling as if he could find the words for how to tell this story somewhere up there.

"He was in the forest. But I'm sure you knew that already. There he came across something one of my servants had left unattended, the fool." At this, Darkness snarled, almost slamming his own goblet down on the table, making you jump in your seat.

"Sorry. I don't intend to frighten you. I just ask so little of those under my service. Yet they still disappoint me. Your brother took this object of mine, and for that I had him taken in return." You were confused by this. Your brother had always been a gentle soul, someone who wouldn't steal, couldn't. Not without feeling extreme guilt afterwards.

"Please, tell me he's still alive, that you haven't harmed him."

"You think I'm some kind of monster. That I would just murder a child," Darkness said through bites of lamb.

"I've heard the stories about you. Slaughtering armies, eating babies, seducing unsuspecting women," you had begun to wolf down more bits of food as you mentioned this, almost casually.

"Only two of those are really true, and neither is the devouring of infants," he chuckled at your little ravenous display.

"They say all sorts of things about me in the little villages that surround my forest. Rarely are those things ever as true as they appear. I don't seek destruction, only order in a new form. I don't take anything unless something is taken first from me, and I don't give unless it is desired of the recipient," Your eyes met his eyes across the table once again, and as he finished the final sentence you felt yourself flush slightly. Betrayed by your own body.

He was attractive in an animalistic way, that was undeniable. The defined masculine nature of his face, its wicked yet alluring qualities, his strong muscular chest laid bare for you to see. The fact that he didn't care if you saw him in this near naked state, it was enough to be slightly arousing to you.

You wanted to fight this more than anything else. The urge to feel for him, as you had when you'd first heard the story of him and Lili. How he'd seduced her to sin.

"What do you desire, lamb?" You felt like he could read your thoughts, like he knew that your mind had wandered onto the dangerous path of lusting after something that could never be, should never be.

"I want you to let my brother go."

"I will, in due time. I have what he took, I was only curious if anyone cared enough to come for him. He made it seem as if no one would." Darkness admitted taking one last sip of wine.

"But he knows I'd come for him. I'd never just leave him," you felt a little bit of sadness well up. The fact that your brother had thought no one would want to come looking for him was disheartening. And in part he was right.

You were the only one who had come to look for him. No one else had been willing to, they had all considered him a lost cause. Perhaps they even thought you were just as lost, not seeing a point in coming to look for you either.

"He will be happy your here. I will take you to him when we have finished here. He isn't being held in a prison. He's a guest here like you." This was all well and good, but you weren't sure you believe this fully. Was this all to good to be true.

"There must be a catch to this. I can't imagine you would just let us walk out of here," you focused on Darkness as he took in what you were saying.

"I just wish for company. Two nights and two days, then you may both leave. I only ask for someone to talk to, to share my thoughts with," Once again, his eyes seemed to wander, like he wasn't sure how to frame what he was trying to say. It made you feel like he was perhaps struggling to express what he was feeling.

"Your lonely." It wasn't a question as much as a statement, and you hadn't even realized you'd made it until you noticed his eyes had fixed back onto you.

'I-I didn't mean to cause offense," you said quickly.

"No, no you're right," Darkness said raising from the table, pushing back his chair. He took a few steps in the direction of the fireplace, his back to you. The glow of the fire catching the red of his skin, making it glow softly. You could read in his skin, every curve, sharp angle, broad and soft. It stirred something deep in the pit of you.

"I've been alone for a long time. No one to speak with. No one to share my company," He looked over his shoulder, catching your gaze on him, the way you seemed just as hungry for him as you had been for the lamb.

"No one to touch," turning fully, Darkness walked back over to stand in front of you, towering high, looking down into your eyes.

"You never really answered my question little lamb," he said, his voice seemed deeper, more soft as he said this, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I don't know what you mean," you mumbled, still completely focused on the man-beast before you. How he was looking at you, the way his breath seemed more heavy than before.

He reached down with one of his hands, thumb and forefinger resting against your jaw and chin. You felt deep down that you should draw away, not let this monster who had kidnapped your brother touch you. However, his touch was so gentle, rubbing your skin, making you shiver.

"You never did tell me what you desire," his voice was like silk against your skin.

"What I desire?" You sounded punch-drunk to your own ears. His fingers trailed your jaw, down to your neck where they lingered.

"I can see it written in your eyes, you desire more then just to see your brother home safe." As his fingers made their journey lower, they caught on the front ties of your tunic.

You stopped him before he went further by laying your hand over his. Darkness didn't pry, didn't try to push you beyond your means. He simply kept your eye. You could see the desire burning in him. What he wanted.

What did you want though? What were you doing? Why were you allowing him to touch you like this?

Deep down you knew all to well why. All those nights of wondering and dreaming those sinful dreams. Desiring him without thinking it would come to anything. Knowing now that those dreams were within your grasp.

His hand was warm in your grasp, so whole and real. Pulling it to your lips, you kissed his palm gently. You couldn't put into words your desire for him which had laid dormant, but now had been fully ignited. Instead actions felt like the best way to express what was starting to burn deep in your core.

Darkness used his free hand to cup the side of your face, leaning down so that his face was level with yours. You could see every line, every curve of his face, the passion which was evident in his eyes.

You could feel the heat of his breath on your face. It didn't smell unpleasant like you would have expected. Instead it smelled the earthy flavor of the wine you'd been drinking.

As he placed his lips on yours you could taste it. His mouth was softer than you expected, and when he kissed you it made your head spin.

It slower, gentler than you thought it would be. He pulled back from you, allowing you to catch your breath.

Suddenly he grabbed you, causing you to yelp. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. Darkness body was flush with yours. You were able to feel how strong he was, every muscle in his torso.

As your hands traced his arms, you could trace the contours of muscular frame. He was so much stronger than you, so much bigger. You knew if he wanted to, he could break you and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

For some reason the very idea of this, made you feel aroused. There was also the fact that you could feel through the limited clothes which Darkness wore, his massive bulge.

Once again, his lips crashed into yours. His teeth were sharp, but somehow he managed to nip at your bottom lip without drawing any blood. He was gentle, yet the more he persisted, the rougher of he became.

You moaned as he pulled away to start kissing your neck. Those kisses soon turned into love bites, teasing and pulling at your skin. His ministrations were causing blood to rush to your face and the ache in between your legs to grow pronounced.

Supporting you by your thighs, Darkness walked you over to the table and pushed aside the plates and candelabras to make space for what was about to occur. Placing you prone on your back, he leaned close over you, meeting your eyes again.

"Little lamb, are you ready to get what you truly desire?" husky, his voice felt like liquid amber making shiver run down your spine, and between your legs wetter.

"Darkness... Please," you were beyond the point of no return and all you wanted was to be satisfied by this beast of a man. He chuckled, delighting in your small plea.

"What do you desire?" he asked for the third and final time.

"I want you," your words came out in a keening whine, body hot with desire. Darkness smiled. A mixture of smug self-satisfaction at finally getting you to admit what you wanted.

He leaned in and layed kisses on your neck again, making you moan. Licking and nipping at you, and then proceeding to suck on the sensitive pulse point of your neck.

As he continued his ministrations with his mouth, his hands wandered up your body, ghosting over your clothed stomach.

You felt that aching anticipation as his long clawed fingers finally reached the ties on your tunic. Darkness pulled away from your neck, and you knew from the way he'd been sucking and nipping at your tender skin, that there would be at least several bruises left behind.

You held your breath as he slowly pulled the ties free, pulling back the light cotton. Goosebumps pebbled your skin as it was exposed to the air of the room. Your nipples were already hard from him teasing your skin. Darkness took notice of this, using a thumb to tease one of your nipples, sending pleasurable sensations through your body and making you let out a sharp breath.

Dipping down, his mouth meeting your other nipple, tongue flicking it experimentally. The sensation was even more pleasurable than his thumb making languid circles.

Seeing the pleasure written on your face, Darkness latched himself on and sucked gently, savouring your gasps. Using his long tongue, he circled the bud slowly, before nipping with his sharp teeth.

The hand working your other nipple started to wander, as he continued working you with his mouth. Tracing his claws softly down your stomach, before reaching your bottoms. They were light and stretchy enough that you knew he could slide his hand easily down between your legs.

However, he kept teasing your skin just above the waistband. It felt like butterfly kisses, the way Darkness would barely ghost his claws over your skin.

It made you quake inside with anticipation of what he would do next, even though a good portion of your focus was still on him licking and sucking your breast. You were close to begging him to do anything to sate your now aching arousal, desiring to be filled with all he desired to give you.

Slowly he finally began to slip his fingers under the waistband of your bottoms. Instead of dipping lower, he started to pull on your pants, sliding them down. Darkness pulled back from teasing your nipple in order to focus on getting your pants off.

They slipped off easily, making you feel even more exposed than when he'd removed your tunic. All that separated your wetness from the air, was the thin material of your panties.

Slowly, he lowered himself, kissing the center of your chest. Moving downward to your stomach. His hands lightly traced the inside of your thighs, trailing a road leading closer and closer to the last bit of clothing on you.

As Darkness made his way down with his mouth, his fingers finally reached your panties. One of his clawed fingers traced a rhythm on your inner thighs, as he used his clawed forefinger to trace the band of your panties. Quickly he used the sharpness to snap the band, before quickly tearing away the flimsy fabric.

Large rough fingers traced your lips, actively avoiding you clit. Teasing you, he experimentally traced your opening, coating the tips of his thick fingers in your juices.

Whining, you tried shifting your hips, trying to get his fingers to rub against your swollen aroused clit. However, he was tactfully able to evade your attempts. Using his free hand, Darkness pressed down on your stomach to push you down, chuckling.

"Patience. Good things will come at their own time," like honey, his voice poured over you, sweet and smooth. He wanted to make you suffer and to writhe under his control, that much was clear.

From the satisfied little grins he would make whenever his touches made you gasp or groan, to his careful movements across your body. He'd avoid certain spots, leaving them until last, drawing out the anticipation of pleasure.

Coating his fingers in your juices thoroughly enough, Darkness seemed to finally be ready to give you just what you wanted. Trailing his thumb up, he lightly ran it over your sensitive nub.

The sudden sensation made you flinch slightly from the sudden contact before letting out a small whimper. Being teased for so long by him, had made you so aroused you thought you might be brought to release if he touched you again.

He was patient, letting you adjust and taking his time before touching your clit again. Darkness was light and soft, starting in a circular motion, keeping you close, but not quite close to the edge of release.

As he set a comfortable pace, which had you biting your lips and gasping lightly, he inserted his forefinger slowly into you. His hands were large, and so were his fingers. Stretching your walls, Darkness was careful with moving inside you. Even though he had quite sharp clawed nails, he was gentle. You could feel the length, the notch of his knuckle as he adjusted to your tightness.

Working his thumb, building up a steady rhythm. You could feel yourself slowly coming undone, with the intense sensation of him rubbing your clit with that now pleasurable burning feather-light touch. This was coupled with him working his finger inside you, causing that coiling tension to get tighter and tighter every time he hit that one spot.

It felt so wrong but so good. Knowing that he was so big, his presence so dominating. Looking up you met his gaze, piercing and focused on your every subtle expression. Written on his face, you could see the pleasure he was taking in seeing you lose yourself to his ministrations.

Noticing your gaze meeting his he gave you a knowing smile. He could tell how close you were. That you were about to reach your peak. Just him fixing his enticing bright yellow gaze, with all its illicit unsaid implications was enough to bring you right to the edge.

As if he knew the tension built up had reached it's height, Darkness withdrew his hands from you. The sudden absence of the sensations drawing you to your climax, made you groan in a shameful combination of annoyance and desire.

Darkness chuckled, looking over your body, tracing every curve and flushed bit of vulnerable flesh. He then let out another deep chuckle.

"You're really desperate for me. I can see in your face, your body." Reaching out one of his hands, he lightly traced your cheek, slowly. You wanted desperately to lean into his touch, but you felt heavy with the built up pleasure.

His finger inched its way to your lips, moving over them lightly, before slipping between. You let him, sucking at it lightly, tasting your own juices. Locking eyes once again with him, you watched how heavy his breath became, the smile from something mischievous to a look of pure unbridled lust.

The sound of cloth shifting, you looked down in time to see Darkness, undoing his robe with his other hand. A thrill ran up your spine as you saw the outline of his cock against the fabric as he fought with the fabric.

When it finally dropped to the ground, you saw what was in store for you. His dick was big, going from a lighter shade at the base to a little darker near the tip. Some precum leaked coating the top and running dribbling a little down the ways of his length.

Removing his finger from her mouth Darkness brought his hand to hold her hip, as he used his other lined up his cock with your entrance. He rubbed his cockhead, against you, adding again some stimulation to your body once again.

Coating himself in your fluids, mixing with his own, rubbing them over his length. His teasing was almost unbearable, feeling the slight throbbing of desire in your core to be filled.

He must have known what you desired, as he stilled his movements momentarily before pressing his tip to your wet aching opening, sliding slowly in.

Using his hand he had used to tease you, he rested it again the surface of the table to gain balance as he pressed further into you. With every inch you felt filled. It was painful, yet you didn't want it to end.

The sensation of every throb and vein sent a twinge of pleasure through you. Leaning down, Darkness brough his face close to yours, allowing both of your heavy breaths to intermingle.

Letting out a low almost primal growl, the large devilish man bottomed out. Never before had you felt so utterly stretched. Darkness had stilled in order to let you get used to his size, and while it was painful, it was less so then you expected.

Knowing you should feel ashamed, or at least disgusted by what was transpiring had fallen to the back of your mind, all you wanted was for this man, this beast, to fuck you. However, Darkness had other plans, staying still as stone inside of you.

Desperation started to set in and you tried moving in order to create some delicious friction. Instead, being stopped by Darkness hand on your hip tightening, holding you still.

Letting out a frustrated noise, only served to make the man laugh softly and lean in so his mouth met the shell of your ear. "Are you comfortable?" His voice was almost mocking, smug.

You just wanted him to move at this point. Being filled like this was making you so aroused in the most frustrating way.

"Please." In response to this desperate plea, Darkness leaned in further, pressing down on you, lightly nipping the sensitive skin of your neck playfully. Before he finally gave you what you wanted so badly.

Inch by excruciating inch, he pulled himself back until he was nearly fully out of you. The emptiness was only momentary though, before burying himself back into you setting a brutal pace.

Darkness was merciless with his thrusts. At first it was painful, but that was slowly being replaced by the building tension in your core.

The way he gripped you tight, claws digging into your skin, sure to leave marks and his mouth finding your throat only served to heighten your desire.

All the shame and fear had been washed away and replaced with passion brought on through flesh meeting flesh. The lewd sounds which your bodies made as they met serving as a symphony for your conflicting emotions finally being forgotten.

Now all that was on your mind was having this beast of a man ravage you forever, to have this sensation of such pleasure brought on through every roll of his hips causing him to hit that sensitive spot within you.

If you'd known being seduced would include feeling like this, so utterly free. Only letting your mind focus on the sensations of Darkness cock pounding into you, his teeth skimming the skin of your neck, it was all becoming to much.

A pleasurable burning sensation had started to build again, announcing your climax was imminent. Moaning and wrapping your legs around Darkness waist, you tried to match the thrust of his hips.

You could tell he was getting close himself, as his pace picked up, the table creaking slightly as he pounded you into it brutally. There would be bruises to go along with the claw-marks on your hips.

His frantic movement kept pressing girth right into the perfect spot to bring you right to the peak. This time you were going to get to fall of the edge.

You cried out as Darkness allowed his teeth to sink into your neck, bringing pain once again to the overwhelming pleasure sending you over the edge. It felt like a damn breaking as you came, clenching around his length, body twitching.

Darkness pulled his face back from your neck to admire your body as you came, still fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes filled with predatory lust focused onto yours. Bringing one hand to your throat, he squeezed lightly bringing his lips crashing down onto yours.

Pumping himself still at a fast animalistic pace, growling into your mouth. Then he thrust as deeply as he could into you before releasing himself inside your walls.

You could feel the hot spurts of fluid deep in you, painting your insides. So much of it.

Pulling away his face from your own, he looked once again into your eyes. "I suppose we should negotiate your brothers return to your village. You I might find harder to let go of."

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