#he wouldn't be able to do what he needs to do within the game without it

[thelemoncoffee]

Hello, I have rotated Juno in my microwave of a brain and come up with a theory for his ultimate that he forgor: I theorize he's the ultimate street racer or something along those lines.

This is based on mostly design, because the holes in his jacket remind me of those arrows in racing games that point to where you're supposed to go. Also the gloves he wears are associated with driving. Street racing would also easily get you a scar like the one he has and could be a way to make money. Also at least when comparing what I know of Juno, nothing outright contradicted this theory (I'm ignoring the fact that you're not supposed to drive in sandals) so. Yeeting this to your askbox, do with this what you will :)

ooooooo interesting theory! i can't confirm or deny it obviously but it's a very nice theory. i am glad you're having fun rotating him in your brain tho!

[simpjaes]

enha is desperate horny losers 🔛🔝

i know you probably didn't ask for this but idc

hyung line being desperate and horny

warnings: one mention of piss, virginity loss, mdni

★ heeseung:

sure, he can be desperate. an utter mess, really. eyes empty, cock so fucking hard just looking at you anytime you're around him. as if you don't know he wants you, him knowing you fucking do.

you tease him so aggressively and it pisses him off knowing he can't have you. he's not allowed, or some shit. fuck bro code. he could give less of a fuck that you belong to sunghoon right now, by next week it'll probably be some loser like jake or something.

never him though, for some reason.

he's so tired of going home all alone, fucking his fist right up against his apartment door because he can't manage to make it to his own bedroom before needing the touch. so desperate for you. so goddamn horny out of his mind that he genuinely thinks he might just fucking kill himself if you don't spread your legs for him for real within the next three minutes.

always trying to lure you, always always always wanting you to break before he does. after all, anyone can see you want him too. you just like to play games and he's sick of it. perhaps he's willing to lose this time, if just to get your legs spread around him.

it wouldn't really be a surprise to you by the time you make your way to his place yet again, in that same outfit that you know drives him up a wall. you know you're walking into a lion's den when you step inside. he's already hard, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

"you know exactly what you're doing walking through my door dressed like that." he'd comment. "you think i won't do it, don't you?"

you'd laugh. you'd brush him off. you'd ignore every passing comment thinking you can still tease him, thinking you can still walk away like you're doing nothing to him at all.

it's not a game to him at this point though, because he made himself very clear throughout the day with little comments. little aggressive touches. little degrading remarks. and by the time you think you're safe to leave? oh, no no.

"where do you think you're going?" you'd hear him rush up behind you. "i told you."

he did tell you, and you still stayed.

"Sunghoon's going to kick your ass for acting like this, you know."

"Still trying to make fucking jokes?" He'd rumble the words in a tight voice, slipping his hand straight between your legs from behind and feeling the mess you hide from him time and time again.

"You always this soaked for me or did you just piss yourself in my kitchen?"

"Sunghoon-"

"Fuck Sunghoon." He'd say as if it's the last words you'll ever hear. "This-" he grabs your cunt, his fingers pressing your panties into your hole. "is for me, isn't it?"

☆ jay:

it's not even embarrassing anymore. with the way you know jay wants you and you still pretend like he doesn't. like this friendship is normal and not at all filled with an immense amount of sexual tension.

like you didn't makeout with him at jake's party last weekend, whispering drunken words over what you'd let him do to you.

honestly, it wasn't anything more than a simple friendship before that happened. he isn't sure whether to curse the strong drink or thank it.

you've acted like it never happened since that night but he, oh, he can't stop fucking thinking about those filthy words you whispered up against his ear. "come on, jay, all those study sessions? i keep my legs spread just enough for you to slip your fingers down-" and "could take me to the bathroom right now and do whatever you want."

he's pissed that he didn't do it. then again, you were drunk and so was he. he probably wouldn't have been able to make his way to the bathroom that night without crashing his head through a wall, in all honesty.

oh, but now. as he sits during another study session with you plus two other people who could give less of a shit. you were right in saying you always keep your legs spread for him. he never noticed it too often before, but considering he can feel your thigh pressing against him? maybe you really do want him to slip his hand down. maybe you really do want his fingers.

goddamn.

he hasn't gotten his dick wet in months.

still, you act like what you said at that party never happened at any other time. still, you sit like you hope he remembers it. and, well, he's desperate enough at this point to at least try. right there in front of the group.

his hand slips to your thigh, and his brain is no longer focused on formulas. instead, he's entirely in his head about the little shocked jolt your body does in response. he almost pulls his hand back but he can fucking feel your skin prickle under his palm. it's enough to keep his hand there, petting up, up, up.

his hands are shaking when he looks at you, cock twitching and weak in his pants just like his brain every time you make eye contact with him. you spread your legs a little more as he looks at you, urging him to keep going. unfortunately, the poor guy looks like he's holding back due to the, uh, situation regarding the two other friends in the room.

you're quick to jump up on your feet. fucking finally he's picked up the hints.

"i'm going to the bathroom." you say as you lay a hand on his shoulder, only directing the words towards him at first before looking up to your unsuspecting study group.

jay isn't going crazy right? that's an invitation, right?

and, well, he doesn't fucking care at this point to make himself look a fool. he stands up before you even close the bathroom door and dead-pans at the poor souls about to hear him lose his goddamn mind on you.

"I'm gonna, uh, you know-" he starts, pointing his thumb to the bathroom and watching the curious onlookers swap their faces to something that is...knowing.

"yeah." he admits now, standing with a proud hard-on and rushing his way straight the bathroom and opening the door.

There you are, already up on the counter with your pants fucking gone. He's so fast to slot himself between your legs, not thinking twice before attaching his lips to you in a desperate attempt to quiet his thoughts.

"took you long enough," you'd chuckle into his lips, feeling his desperate hands fucking tear your panties off of you before sliding in without so much as a moment of foreplay.

you both were anticipating this though. and god, did the wait make it feel so much better.

★sunghoon:

sunghoon will never defeat the allegations of being "too polite". which fucking sucks because no girl will come for him unless they're looking to get married within the next six months.

god, it's such a fucking issue. his scene isn't exactly to go out and hunt for girls to fuck but at this point he might just have to. fuck all those people who talk so highly of him. (literally, if he could at this point.)

"oh! sunghoon is such a good guy! he'd be the perfect boyfriend!"

"don't even waste your time trying to sleep with sunghoon, he's too serious to play around like that."

"he's too nice to fuck you the way you want, really, go for someone like heeseung."

because of all that praise towards him, he hasn't gotten laid in close to a year. no party he's attended has yielded results, no study sessions with pretty girls even when he tries to make a move, no pussy is willing to spread for a man who seemingly would treat it right.

fucking rude.

"jay, please."

the roommate rolls his eyes, grimacing at the very idea.

"why her?" jay shoots back, holding his phone so tightly, all while sunghoon grips his wrist as if he's gonna rip it clean off his body.

he needs that fucking phone.

"you said she was a real slut, i need this. please. I won't even clean her up after."

jay can see the desperation in his eyes, though he didn't entirely need to considering his roommate has been parading around with a desperate boner for the better part of six months.

"she's my ex girlfriend." jay scolds, ripping himself from sunghoon's grasp.

"exactly!" he shouts back, trying to plead his case. "she had like, what? six dicks not including yours when she was with you? why can't I just-"

"what makes you think i'd help you now after saying that?" jay rolls his eyes again, but he knows well enough how it feels to have heavy balls and no girl to empty them into. "anyone but her."

sunghoon's eyes light up when he looks at his friend, and it's not even a full ten minutes later before he's got a list of potential fucks recommended by jay himself. sunghoong does have to ignore the hateful looks after the fact, but decides he'll just apologize later for...you know, trying to go for jay's ex.

why he didn't do this sooner though? well, he really thought he'd be able to get some girls to come to bed with him on his own by now, unfortunately, he's grown far too pathetic to keep trying on his own.

jay's truly a great friend. just yesterday sunghoon was jerking off a solid eight times just to satiate the need and now he's got four of the six girls texting him back.

god, he was so gross about it too. barely even introduced himself, just sent a selfie and a small line of "been looking for a pretty girl to hang out with, jay say you might be interested."

going from 0 choices to 4 choices felt insane, honestly. sunghoon nearly cums in his pants at getting a "yes" from the prettiest one. and it only took an hour for him to hear jay greet you awkwardly. like he didn't have his dick in you just last week.

and goddamn is it great for him. he barely lets you into his room before his hands are just fucking....going. straight up your shirt, his lips go straight to your neck, cock immediately on your thigh and pulsing.

you're not too upset about it, really. you both knew what this was gonna be, and there was a reason you didn't wear panties. then again, who would? you saw his selfie, that alone was enough to get you to meet him pretty much anywhere.

and that desperation in him really showed. it bubbled up in the form of frantic, hard, fast thrusts. he chased and chased the pleasure, not at all giving you much love through it. not that you needed it, the guy gives good dick. It's all you can really ask for during a hookup.

and he keeps going, and going. so much cum to give, so much stamina. to the point that after the second session of sex, he starts to feel more like himself.

the sex gets better, less frantic, and he's more careful about how he's already made you sore. his hands are softer, he starts talking, he starts playing with you, appreciating you for letting him use you previously.

and by the next morning, not getting a single second of sleep, you're shocked when he asks for your number. you're even more shocked when he texts you later that day with more appreciation, asking to go to fucking lunch.

and that's when sunghoon realizes all those nice rumors about him are fucking true. because why the fuck does he want to make you his girlfriend without so much as learning your favorite color?

☆ jake:

jake loves you. he loves you so, so much. your virginity was never an issue, truly it wasn't.

emphasis on wasn't.

when he asked you to be his some two years ago, it wasn't an issue. a year into the relationship, it got a little difficult but he communicated that to you well enough. to the point that you were more than happy to compromise and offer a little bit of something to him. you got plenty out of it too, of course.

so, for a year now he's been surviving off of dry humping. that's it. just...grinding, humping, and messy jeans. time and time again, he knows it's all he's gonna get but fucking hell you're so...

god, you make him so horny. and perhaps you being just out of reach sexually only amplifies that but he can't help it at this point. sure, he cums every time you guys start grinding and kissing but more often than not you'll find him secretly in your bathroom shortly after with wet palms trying to stimulate himself in a way that he really needs.

in a way where he isn't rubbed raw and in pain the next morning.

he doesn't want to push. he won't push you. after all, you said you'd tell him when you're ready.

at this point, as he sits in his room sliding his palm up and down his sore length, he's unsure if you'll ever be ready and he's faced with the fact that he isn't sure if he can spend his life with someone who would never want him to-

his eyes roll back at the thought of all the things he'd like to do with you. for you. fuck, you'd look so pretty getting off. and it's the fact that even as he lays here thinking of you like this, he can't imagine what your tits would look like because he hasn't fucking seen them. he can't imagine what your pussy would feel like because he's only ever felt it over a thick layer of pants.

have you ever even gotten wet? if you had, he's sure you would've wanted it by now.

and so, he cums like that. very very upset. a very bad orgasm. one that didn't satisfy him in the slightest and one that definitely won't help him last through this fucking sleepover he has with you tonight.

he's unfortunately right about it too. because not even an hour passes before his cock is leaking against his pants and he's having to keep from moaning just from a simple shift of his leg as he walks around your apartment.

you note his difficulty in being around you today, and you're very aware of his hard on.

"jake, do you want me to sit on y-"

he groans before you can even finish asking. the sound is more frustrated than he's ever sounded towards you and it kinda...makes you feel bad. mostly because it's not like you don't think about it. you very much want to experience your first time with him. unfortunately, you've kind of had it hammered into your head that sex=bad. so, you've been a little afraid of it. though, after all the dry humping and stuff, orgasms aren't....so bad.

they're great, actually.

"no." jake answers you shortly, avoiding eye contact with you probably to keep his own sanity as he flops down on your couch. "i just need to cool down."

you walk over to him, unaware of how literally anything you do makes him want to push you to the floor and just fucking........take it.

"jake, you know you can ask. just let me sit on it." you offer, trying to straddle his lap for another session of not-enough.

"no, no." he pushes you away from him, moaning at the small pressure you did manage to press against him. "i think i just need, like, more than that right now. i'm gonna go to the bathroom."

and he does. he doesn't even kiss you before he stands up and makes his way in there. his tone sounds so focused on something that isn't you that it actually kind of hurts.

and this whole time you know he masturbates but you're never aware that he does it when you're here. he blatantly admitted to needing to go do it himself instead of letting you??? what the fuck??

and it kinda clicks in your head that like.....why is it that the fear of all that sex suddenly disappears when you think about the jake is probably going fucking insane right now? he's possibly losing interest in you, even. oh my god, what if he's going to go find someone else that'll ....

you rush to the bathroom, finding the door locked. you press your ear against it, feeling a pang of jealousy over nothing more than his own hand.

you hear the slapping of it, his palm hitting the base at a frantic and desperate pace.

you knock once. "jake?"

you hear him moan, the slapping only intensifying.

"jake, open the door. please?"

and he doesnt. he finishes before he even considers looking at you again, more for your own safety at that point rather than his own sanity. after all, had you of walked in and looked at him in the midst of a lust-stupor...well...

anyway, he opens the door and looks at you out of breath. instantly that softness is back in his eyes and you're already aware that it's time for a fucking talk. a make it or break it talk.

and hours pass as you talk. you explain, he explains, and you come to realize that jake truly is a person willing to do just about anything for you. he'd suffer for you, he'd lock himself in the bathroom just to cum so he doesn't have to ask you over and over again, just so he doesn't have to beg you or guilt you.

that's all it took really, to want to give him everything he needs too. two years of close to nothing and you never once realized how badly he needed it until now?

and the fear isn't there when it's with him. you see him struggle with his control when he finally sees your naked skin for the first time. you know he wants to go fucking insane on you but he knows he can't.

and he doesn't. he shows you that all those fears were useless. nothing hurts. his fingers are soft on you, in you. his tongue is warm and loving when he uses it all over you. and even when he slides into you for the first time, he contains himself. shushing you, letting you adjust, and then not needing to lose his mind because you do it for him.

working him about as quickly as he would have for you, never once did you realize how much you needed to feel full while enveloped in his arms. he just let you too, sliding back and forth, wiggling around on his cock with no rhyme or reason to how you move.

it feels so fucking good for him. to see you, feel you, watch you, fuck you. god, if he knew just this morning that this is what he was missing?? on god he would have had to tie himself up to just keep you safe from the lust that would've poured from his soul.

thankfully, he doesn't need to be tied down now. not with your legs practically doing it already, moaning for him, asking him for more.

he loves the words he truly thought he'd never be able to hear you say. honestly, all he can do is let you go insane, as if you've been the one needing this for the past two years. after all, now that it's happening, he's sure he'll have you like this again if the way you move your body on him is anything to go by.

[wpdarlingpan]

Could we get something with Yandere ouat Peter? Preferably gender-neutral or nb reader.

An idea I had is maybe Hook has a kid, so the character would have grown up in Neverland. I think maybe a platonic Yandere Peter would be v interesting, where he maybe tries to interact with reader as a ‘cool older brother’ sort of figure, despite the fact that reader very much knows exactly who he is and that he’s dangerous. Romantic would be fine too though!

Thank you so much for the request! I apologize it took so long and I have not written in a while so I hope it's okay!

I loved this idea so I had to see how it'll play out. I did the platonic version and although I did use Y/N and made them gender-neutral, I wrote they were 17 for the story's sake. I often have Peter refer to them as a child because in his mind he feels the need to take care of and protect them.

I am considering a part two if people like this idea enough, maybe taking place when the Storybrooke residents arrive.

Warning: Yandere Behavior

Word Count: 2886

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

The Love Of A Brother

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

The day Killian Jones, otherwise known by his more colorful moniker Hook, came to Neverland was a day he would never forget.

He had many men aboard, each desiring to never grow old until they wished. They all had been warned about the dangers that lurk within the water and upon the soil of Neverland but the idea of dying from old age was a more terrifying feat to them.

However, one person had little choice in the matter, as they were still somewhat forced to come to Neverland.

Captain Hook's kid, Y/N.

After the day Mila died it was up to him to become a single parent. Overall he was rather good at it. Always telling stories so that they would be able to sleep at night or sitting by their bedside when they had gotten a cold. But, no matter how much love they held for each other, Killian could not stop going after the man who killed his wife and the mother of his child.

Y/N was 17 the day they had arrived in Neverland and would remain so until the day they left.

This was not a decision Hook made lightly. Bringing the person he cared for more than anyone into the hellish landscape wasn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy (other than Rumpelstiltskin) but the idea of leaving them with no idea when he would return hurt even more.

So he created the rules.

Do not leave the boat without permission.

Do not ever interact with Peter Pan or his shadow.

Avoid the Lost Boys.

"Who is Peter Pan?" They asked their father as the Jolly Roger settled after coming through the portal to Neverland.

"A bloody demon." He responded looking at the dark island as it neared.

Hook began telling the stories that he knew. Even sharing how he had met Peter Pan in the first place. Albeit leaving out what happened to his brother as he blamed himself as well as Pan for the tragedy.

Pan knew he was arriving on the island. Hook riskily contacted him through his shadow to come to a truce before being allowed to arrive on the island.

But there was a little thing Hook had forgotten to mention.

His child.

He had hoped that if none of the inhabitants of the island knew their relation, with Peter assuming they were deckhands or something, they wouldn't be targeted if Peter got bored or wanted to play a game.

But the resemblance was noticeable from the first meeting.

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

As the boat docked onto shore to make an initial supply run, Hook kept Y/N close. Half of the crew, including the two of them, walked carefully through the jungle, avoiding every thorn they came across.

But the real danger was just up ahead. After all, Peter Pan wouldn't be a polite host if he didn't welcome his guests.

The second the pirates entered a clearing they were surrounded by the sound of rustles as the leaves moved around the edge of the clearing and a figure appeared about 20 feet ahead on the other end.

Hook froze, he knew he should have expected him to show himself this early, but a part of him had hoped he wouldn't, not yet at least.

Y/N held onto their bow and arrows tightly as they observed the boy up ahead who looked just a little older than them. Judging by the way he held the spotlight, they had to assume this was Peter Pan.

"Look what we have here, I didn't expect to see you on the island this quickly. I mean after what had happened last time you were here, the idea of returning so willingly was unexpected, Captain." Peter spoke as he neared the group, the Lost Boys forming a circle around them to prevent anyone from running.

Peter inspected the group as they each held some form of weapon. Be it a dagger, sword, or even one with a bow and arrow.

He neared the one with the bow and arrow, the idea of figuring out what else made them so different lingered in his mind. Peter stood closely in front of them, studying their appearance and the subtle yet noticeable looks towards the direction of Hook.

This is when something had clicked.

His brain was no longer assessing the group as a whole or messing with the Captain. His thoughts were reserved for only them. The way they were trying to hide their shaking hands and the way they held onto the bow tighter the closer he got. The shine of their eyes as they looked at him almost like a frightened deer.

He could recognize a scared child anywhere and this time he didn't want it to be his fault. It was like an instinct of protection filled his black heart. Their fearful yet innocent gaze was embedded into his soul. Someone like this simply couldn't live with harsh pirates.

He reached a hand out towards them but Hook stepped in the way. His gaze was harsh yet Peter could easily detect the fear hidden in them. For himself or the child, he wasn't sure.

Peter smirked at Captain Hook as he realized why they had looked so familiar now seeing the similarities in their features and hair color. He had been to distracted by the odd feeling of protection and familiarity to even acknowledge the finding.

"You have a child? My you got busy after leaving last time." He teased as he glanced around the man to see them standing there, their gaze locked onto the ground.

"Stay away from them or so help me you will have wished-" Hook began to say before Peter cut him off.

"You'll do what? Let me remind you, you're here because I allow it. You eat the island's food only because I allow it. You only live because I have use for you yet." He threatened motioning his hand for the Lost Boys to run away.

Y/N took a sigh of relief as the group dispersed but their worry would still remain until Peter was out of their sight. The ideas of the horrors they were told, all of which could happen to them just by being in his presence, filled their anxious mind.

Peter stared at Hook seriously before sending a look and a playful wink toward Y/N, hoping to make them less afraid.

"I'll see you soon." He commented staring directly into their eyes before disappearing.

—————————

Apparently soon meant a few days.

It first began when Y/N was laying on deck, watching the stars when someone appeared next to them and laid down on the spare part of the blanket.

“The stars are beautiful aren’t they?” He spoke as if lying on the ground next to them wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

Y/N was silent, trying to hide the fact they were afraid. The unknowing was terrible, the idea that their father was fast asleep, probably passed out from exhaustion at that, was nerve-wracking as they could not call for help.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me.” Pan said genuinely, staring at the side of their face as he admired their courage to hide their fear.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You have a reputation you know. I’m sure you could get rid of me in a heartbeat.” Y/N was nervous now, it audibly showed through the small stutter that sounded in their sentence.

“That doesn’t mean I want to… Do you know why I’ve brought all these boys to the island?”

“Because they’re lost?”

“Because no one deserves to feel alone.”

Peter Pan believed that because Y/N was an only child who spent their whole life traveling the seas, that they had to be lonely. They are constantly moving and never staying in one place, let alone with people their age.

Then their father, he’s a pirate with a drinking problem who is so obsessed with revenge that even though he is protective and loves his child, Peter couldn’t tell you which the man valued more.

Revenge or love?

If Peter were to take her right now, he could be their older brother. Someone who takes care of their little sibling in the face of everything like heartbreak, anxiety, everything that would make them feel anything other than happiness.

Y/N would be his sibling. He’d be their only brother.

Being an older brother to Y/N sounded perfect to him.

—————————

Their next encounter was when they had been sitting on the edge of the beach as the Jolly Roger was anchored nearby.

Y/N's father had allowed them to hang out along the shore alone.

The captain and crewmates were planning on staying on the edge of the jungle that was Neverland. He had figured they would be okay for a couple hours and that he could hear if they needed anything.

He knew the dangers that posed leaving them there alone but he thought they would be cornered again the second they entered the tree line so there really wasn’t anywhere ‘safe’ at the moment.

That’s how he rationalized it at least.

But when Peter saw them sitting alone on the shore, the mermaids moving closer by the second, he saw Hook as irresponsible and unfit to care for Y/N.

He quickly approached them, the sight of him causing the mermaids to swim away quickly, realizing that was not someone they wanted to lure in.

“Y/N.” Peter said as he approached, sitting in the sand next to them.

“What are you doing?” They spoke questioningly “I thought you would be bothering my father and his crew.”

“Is that what he counted on. Me leaving you alone as they frolicked or whatever they are doing in the jungle? Is that why he left you here defenseless?” He replied getting more confident that Killian wasn’t fit to take care of Y/N.

“I don’t like what you’re accusing him of.” Y/N replied, glaring at Pan in front of them but if anything it was adorable.

He raised his hands jokingly as if he actually felt threatened by them.

“I’m just saying, he knows the dangers of this island. If it’s not me, it’s the lost boys, then the Dreamshade, and as you almost realized, the mermaids.” Peter counted off making Y/N realize what the subtle splashing noise they heard was. “He shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I’m 17. I can take care of myself for a few hours.” They argued, much like if they were telling their older sibling they didn’t need to be babysat.

“Sure you can. But you don’t need to when I’m here.”

———————-

From then on he would appear randomly whenever he knew Y/N was alone.

When they weren’t, he was silently protecting them from the shadows.

If we’re sketching in their room? He’d sit next to them silently, allowing them to focus. Meanwhile he was busy admiring their skills even if it was a simple picture of the sky.

They volunteered to go look for some more supplies on the island?

They mysteriously got separated from the group for a few hours.

He took them saying ‘I can take care of myself for a few hours’ rather literally. In those few hours, they got an entire tour of the main points of the island.

Even the camp.

Peter had them sit on his designated chair, introducing Y/N as their little sibling. Each of the boys came up to them and introducing themselves enthusiastically as the proposed all the fun games they could play if they were to stay.

Even when Y/N emphasized greatly that they couldn’t.

Each and every time.

When their birthday came around Peter gifted them a necklace, his initials were on the inside, to protect them from anyone who finds their way to the island.

Although he made sure to use his magic to conceal the necklace from the eyes of Hook.

Not that he cared about what the man thought, after all nothing would keep him from his little sibling.

Nothing.

-----------

The day Peter had been preparing for came sooner than expected.

Hook had discovered a way to kill the dark one and his need for the island was gone. Meaning it was time to return back to the enchanted forest.

The crew had begun preparing to return back to the forest. Packing up their supplies and strapping down anything they had on deck to prepare for traveling through the portal.

Y/N was packing up anything loose in their room. They had mostly finished other than having to pack the rest of their art supplies.

“So you were just going to leave and not tell your older brother? I'm offended” Peter spoke appearing in their room and sitting on their bed.

In their deal, he had allowed Hook to leave once he had found a way to accomplish his goal.

That was before he had met Y/N.

“I was never going to say in Neverland. I was always going to leave. I don’t know what you were expecting.” Y/N spoke harshly trying to push him away.

They had to admit, after all this time spent with Peter, that it was hard to view him as some irredeemable demon. He comforted them when they had nightmares of their mother’s death, protected them from the mermaids, did their favorite activities with them (even if he was not really invited), and seemed to love them.

Peter knew they were just trying to protect themself from the pain of leaving so they lashed out. He could tell they were saddened at the thought of leaving him. This made him feel warm inside.

Y/N assumed they’d be fine once leaving Neverland, they would have to forget about Peter Pan and their life would go back to normal, well as normal as it gets.

Suddenly they heard approaching footsteps.

“Y/N? Are you ready to go? We are about to enter the portal now.” Killian called through the closed door, his eagerness to leave the island covering the fact that there was a muffled sound as he spoke. Hook was ecstatic, his time for revenge had come. His head was in the clouds as he ran over his plan over and over again. Causing him to not even think to just poke his head in to check on his child, just of the idea that the portal was closing any minute

The muffled noise was Peter whispering that he would not let Hook leave if they said anything other than that they were ready.

Y/N knew if they weren’t allowed to leave, their father would be devastated.

“Yes father, I’m ready!” They called back and the two listened as the man’s footsteps grew farther and farther away.

“You can’t leave Y/N. You’re my little sibling, I have to take care of you.” He spoke manipulatively the second Hook was out of distance.

“I have to. If it’s up to me, I’ll never leave my father. He raised me, he loves me! He will take care of me better than you ever can.” Y/N retorted, frustrated at the situation. Why wouldn't Peter just go away? They knew they cared for him, even just a little bit. But their father was very important to them. Even if he had been a little distracted while searching for revenge, they didn't feel his love any less.

A loving father or a over protective, self-proclaimed brother.

They knew which had meant more. They had made their choice, one they couldn't vocalize as Peter softly blew poppy dust into their face, causing them to pass out instantly.

“Then it isn’t up to you.” as he spoke “This is for your own good. I love you Y/N and I know you love me. You are better off at my side.”

He picked them up bridal style as he and Y/N disappeared off the boat and reappeared in the camp. All of their stuff appears on the ground off to the side of them.

"Welcome to your new home, Y/N"

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

Hook had gone to Y/N’s cabin to check on them, the portal closing behind him as they could see the Enchanted Forest off in the distance.

He was eager to see his child, wanting to celebrate the idea of finally being able to avenge his wife and their mother. Hook knocked and didn’t hear an answer assuming they had been disoriented or hurt by the portal, he opened the door quickly.

But, he was met with an empty room and no Y/N.

He looked around for any signs frantically before he spotted a letter on the bed.

Hook,

You were always too focused on the idea of revenge that you neglected what was in front of you. You never deserved Y/N and you never will. Each time you left them alone, I was there. I comforted them, I protected them, and I loved them. Each thing is something you couldn't do while you searched for something you did not even know existed. Y/N will be better off without you.

I always wondered if you'd choose revenge over love.

I guess I have my answer.

Their brother,

Peter Pan

[httpsleclerc]

so i'll take the nightshift

sebastian and his ex wife have a chat after the last weeks events

part one here

wc: 1.3k words

cw: absent father? again not intentional

It had been a week since you had admitted to both yourself and your daughter that you missed Sebastian. In that week, he had been at your apartment first thing on Monday morning to pick her up so that he could spend his week with her, since he had already missed her birthday - which was truly no fault of his own - he had vowed he would treat her like the princess you both knew she was for the whole week he was able to spend with her. You knew that Sebastian was a great father, in your daughter's eyes? The best - even if her mommy and daddy didn't live together, she knew that they both loved her with everything that they had. Your week without her had been peaceful enough, managing to get all the housework that needed done did before her arrival - But the silence that came with the lack of her had you deep in your thoughts, as you remembered your admittance of missing your ex-husband: You were hoping that she wouldn't relay what you had said to Sebastian.

You were sat on the couch, Sebastians throw blanket tucked around you - You couldn't bare to get rid of it after you had separated, everything else was fair game, but part of you didn't want Sebastian out of your life entirely, you still loved him and missed him dearly. Hearing the door knock, you paused the movie playing on the TV, your daughter had already walked in on you watching a horror movie before, and you would rather not want to go through that again. Keeping Sebastians blanket wrapped around you, you heaved yourself up off of the couch and shuffled to the front door, opening it and seeing your daughter asleep in her father's arms.

"Oh, hey," You greeted him, your heart stopping as you realised that this was really the first time you had come face to face with your ex since you had admitted missing him, the Monday past where he had picked her up, you had been too busy getting her ready to really have a minute to process your feelings.

"Hi, I don't know if she's pretending to be asleep or not but she's not waking up," He smiled at her and then you, and you returned the smile, remembering the days where she would be pretending to be asleep to get you or Sebastian to carry her into the house. "Can I come in?" Sebastian asked you, you nodded in response, stepping aside to let him come into your apartment.

"How was she?" You asked him, brushing her blonde curls out of her face as she slept peacefully in her father's arms. Sebastian smiled, he held so much love for the daughter that you and him had created and loved nothing more than getting to spend time with her - well, he loved one thing maybe a bit more.

"She was great, I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she wakes up, she's really talkative now, huh?" You chuckled at Sebastians words and nodded, you knew all too well how chatty your daughter could be, especially when she was excited or had something fun to tell you.  You sighed as you realised that you couldn't deal with the conflict that you felt within you anymore, you needed to talk to Sebastian about how you were feeling, about how your daughter was feeling.

"Seb, can we talk?" You asked him, placing a hand on your daughter's small back and then looking up at Sebastian, who nodded in response to your question. "You can put her to bed if you want, her room is down the hall and to the left." He smiled and nodded, internally fighting the urge to place a small kiss on your lips like he would always do. You paced your living room as you thought of how to vocalise your feelings without bursting into tears.

"Is everything okay, Y/N?" Sebastian asked you, as he settled down on your couch and watched as you sat down beside him, playing with the bracelet that your daughter had made you. You sighed, knowing that if you didn't do this now, then you never would. 

"(Name) missed you last week, she was devastated when you didn't make it to her party," You started telling him, your heart breaking as you remembered the heart break of your daughter as she told you of her upset at the absence of her father at her party. "And I had to tell her the same thing that I used to tell myself, that it was because this was your job and that you couldn't help it and then she said that she missed you and then I said-"

"That you miss me too," Sebastian cut you off, frowning as he looked at you. "She told me, I was putting her to bed and she told me that you were upset because you missed me." Your heart stopped as you sighed, rubbing your face.

"The worst part is that I mean it, Sebastian," You told him. "I miss you, but I don't miss you being gone all of the time, not hearing your voice for days because of the time differences, but now I have to make the same excuses I made for myself for you being gone to our daughter, Sebastian." Your voice was wavering and you knew that at any point, you would burst into tears and his next words would determine the possibility of that. He reached forward to hold your hand as he always did when he could tell that you were getting worked up, even separated, he still knew you so well.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm going to be retiring at the end of this season," He dropped the biggest bomb you had possibly ever heard. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him, you didn't understand - Sebastian loved his career, so why is he giving it up.

"What? Sebastian, you love racing," You voiced. Sebastian chuckled as he shook his head, still holding your hand in his.

"I do, but I love you and (Name) more, and I don't want to miss out on any more of our girl growing up," He told you, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you gained some sort of inkling where this was going - were you ready for this again? Was he being genuine? Of course he was. Again, even separated, you knew your ex well. "And I'm not expecting you to take me back straight away, I know me being gone so often really hurt you in ways that I could never imagine, but I would really like for us to try again. I still love you, Y/N. I think I always will love you." 

You didn't even think over his offer of trying again before you threw yourself into his arms, craving the feelings of his touch after being starved of it for so long. You were getting your Sebastian back. 

"I don't think I ever stopped loving you, Seb," You cried, looking into his eyes which mirrored your daughters perfectly. He laughed as he looked into yours, finding nothing but the woman he had loved since their first meeting, the woman who was the mother of his beautiful daughter, the woman he loved.

"Me neither, my love."

Maybe this time, things wouldn't be the same, but better. 

note: idk whether I love or hate this pls give me some feedback to work with

[marauder-misprint]

Glass

Sirius Black x Keeper!gn!reader

Microfic - 980 words

cw: injury, semi-fluff

After getting hit on the shoulder with a bludger and somehow managing to not fall off your broom, the Quidditch match both dragged on and went by in a blur. Streaks of red and yellow passed in front of you, standing out yet blending in with the bright blue sky behind them. You were glad that you weren’t Gryffindor’s seeker. With how much pain you were in, you wouldn't have been able to catch the snitch, let alone spot it. The tears that involuntarily fell down your face blurred your vision as you hovered in front of the goal posts. You try to focus on the game going on around you, but it’s no use. You instead focus on staying on your broom until one of the seekers ends it, hoping your team is able to defend enough where you won’t need to block a Hufflepuff’s shot.

One the seekers is finally successful. As soon as you hear the whistle blow and cheers erupt from the stands, you’re essentially in a nosedive. You hurry to the locker room to put away your broom, not bothering to celebrate with the rest of Gryffindor on the pitch. You repeatedly mutter “ow” with every movement of your left arm. You have one thing on your mind once your broom is safely in your locker: Getting to Madam Pomfrey so she can put you out of your misery.

Sirius spots you as you exit the locker room and within a moment, he’s sprinting to be at your side. Not that he had intentionally been looking for you, but your absence among the rest of the team still on the pitch seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.

“You alright?” he asks slightly out of breath once he catches up to you.

“I will be,” you answer through gritted teeth.

You knew he saw you get hit; everyone in the stands had. There was also about a 50% chance he heard the crack of the bone that accompanied the hit, based on where he had been sitting. The pain in your shoulder is a dull, throbbing ache that stings sharply whenever your arm moves. You lengthen your steps as you weave through the throng of students headed back to the castle. Sirius has no trouble keeping up. But rather than simply follow you to the hospital wing, he decides he has a better plan.

“Wait,” he says with a reached out hand, at which you slow down but don’t stop.

He quickens his pace briefly so he’s right next to you. Then he attempts to pick you up bridal style while you are mid-step. You let out a yelp of pain as your bad arm is wrapped around his neck while the rest of your body falls in ragdoll style.

“What are you doing?” you hiss through the pain coursing through your shoulder.

“Going to carry you…” he replies, still trying to pick you up.

 The students around you start to give the two of you a bubble of space and sideways glances. Murmurs of confusion and annoyance can barely be heard over the rumbling of hundreds of footsteps.

“I got hit in the shoulder. I can walk,” you snap, pulling yourself out of Sirius’ grip and righting yourself. 

You flex the muscles in your face to relax your expression. You walk quicker than you had been in the direction of the hospital wing; Sirius follows, not one to be left behind. And if you’re being honest, you’re not sure why he’s coming with. You are perfectly capable of making it to the wing yourself, and if you were alone, you’d be swearing under your breath at the pain. You don’t, since he’s right there. You don’t want to encourage another attempt to carry you.

A quick examination by Madam Pomfrey tells you that you’ve broken a bone and have major bruising. It’s nothing some magic and an overnight stay in the hospital wing can’t fix. She informs you to pick a bed and she’ll over shortly with some potions and skelegrow. 

Your footsteps, along with Sirius’, echo through the room. It’s without a doubt the cleanest room in all of Hogwarts and you can smell it. The tall windowed walls are lined with cots, uncomfortably thin mattresses covered with equally thin, scratchy sheets. You pick one in the middle. Sirius puts his hands on your waist and your eyes go wide at the sudden contact. 

“Dear Merlin, what are you doing, Black?” you ask, agitation dripping from your voice.

“Helping you up?” he offers meekly.

“I am not made of glass! I can do it myself!”

He backs up, hands raised in front of himself in defense. You wince as you climb gingerly into the bed, having failed at your attempt to avoid putting any pressure at all on your injured arm. 

“I was just…” he starts.

“Trying to help, yeah. I know.” Your voice is tired and your expression is a mix of irritation and pain. You just want the potions from Madam Pomfrey so your arm will stop hurting.

Sirius purses his lips. You’re annoyed, but it’s an annoyance he recognized. It’s the same annoyance that Remus has around every full moon. Remus knows his friends are only trying to be helpful but the pain he’s in causes him to lash out. At least, Sirius thinks, you haven’t said anything hurtful toward him. 

“Do you… do you mind the company?” he asks after a few moments of silence. 

You give him a pitiful glance. Madam Pomfrey still isn’t here with the potions. You sigh.

“Only if you can distract me from this goddamn pain.”

A smile breaks across Sirius’ face as he pulls up a chair to the side of your bed. He is more than willing to recount a prank he pulled on the Slytherins with the help of James. 

[jinxedshapeshifter]

Something I don't see discussed at all is how Team Chaotix runs. Obviously, Vector, Espio, and Charmy are all detectives, but they serve different roles within that.

Vector is the team's lead investigator, and generally has a job more akin to what we view as "detective work."

Espio is the team's spy. His job is similar to Vector's, but he focuses more on undercover investigation, while Vector focuses on investigation in general. Espio is also the team's data retrieval specialist, but in his own words, "data retrieval isn't exactly [his] specialty" (although it is worth noting that Espio doesn't suck at data retrieval in Shadow the Hedgehog and he does some data retrieval in Team Sonic Racing when Team Chaotix is investigating Dodon Pa).

Charmy is, from what I can tell, basically the team's "ideas guy" but also serves a similar purpose to the team that Vector does. Due to how scatterbrained he is, he's not quite as good a detective as Espio or Vector, but I think everyone can agree Team Chaotix is not complete without Charmy, even if at the end of the day he's a mascot that sometimes contributes to a case.

Espio isn't as good at being a detective when he's not undercover, because he can't do much direct investigation when he's not undercover. Espio just isn't great at investigating things unless he can utilize his abilities in an investigation, because his abilities make him an incredibly effective spy and that's where he thrives when it comes to being a detective. Being a spy usually allows him to get information that Charmy and Vector wouldn't be able to, and that's what he specializes in. It means he doesn't have to do as much logical thinking as Vector does, which is very likely why he didn't realize Eggman was their client in Sonic Heroes; he wasn't getting information in the same way he would have if he'd been on a separate mission as a spy, and the information he was getting required doing a lot of thought on what he was hearing, which is what Vector specializes in.

It's not that Espio is a bad detective, it's that when he's sent on solo missions he doesn't have to do the same level of thinking about evidence that Vector does, so when he's presented with information that he needs to think about and doesn't look at it the same way Vector does, they don't get the same information Vector does from the same evidence (same applies to Charmy but Charmy's 6 so it makes sense for him to not be all that good of a detective yet. Charmy also tends to forget what he was told to do if Sonic Colors DS is anything to go by).

Charmy and Espio didn't realize that Eggman was their client in Sonic Heroes because they aren't used to doing the kind of logical/critical thinking about evidence that Vector is. Vector implies he knew who their client was incredibly early in the game, because he's used to thinking about the kind of evidence he got from the walkie talkie the Chaotix were using to keep in touch with their client. In fact, Espio's implied to mostly do things based on his gut feeling, based on him saying he has a bad feeling about their case in Sonic Heroes and him trusting Silver with almost no hesitation, likely for the same reason he had for not trusting their client in Sonic Heroes.

In Sonic Heroes he knew the Chaotix's client was untrustworthy based on what we can safely assume was a gut feeling, and in Sonic Rivals 2 he immediately trusts Silver likely for much the same reason (as he himself says "For some reason I trust you" which indicates he doesn't know exactly why he's decided to trust Silver).

TL;DR: Espio isn't a bad detective, he just has his own way of investigating things that don't work when Team Chaotix is investigating something as a group on the same case like they did in Sonic Heroes. Charmy is 6, so it makes sense for him to not have great investigative skills yet.

[moonydustx]

Crocodile x F!Reader

warnings: a little smut at the end.

The first time you caught him looking at you it was just curious irises on top of the scar that adorned his face. Despite how little time you had been working at the casino, it wasn't uncommon to notice Crocodile's curious gaze roaming over all the employees, except this day was different.

"Good evening sir." you simply responded as he approached the bar counter. "What do you want to drink?"

"If I remember, this isn't your place." he said. Even with a long counter separating you, the shine of his hook almost stole all your attention.

"Yeah, today I traded with Sirah."

In your response, it was possible to perceive the fearful tone. He was your boss and as much as you hated being there at that moment, you still needed a job.

"Are your red eyes related to this?" he asked, the hook resting on the counter as he seemed to analyze your every expression. "Are we having any problems with guests?"

"No, it was just bullshit." You tried to put on your best smile and put the topic out of Crocodile's mind, from the way he was looking at you that wouldn't be enough. "I caught my ex cheating on me with someone else this week, they both work here and today they seemed more concerned about throwing shade at me than anything else."

Only an indecipherable growl left the lips of the infamous man in front of you. He turned his back to you and began to observe the rest of the casino.

"I'm sorry I bothered you with that." Your voice was lower than expected, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Bring me something to drink, please. Something strong." he ordered and within minutes the glass was next to him on the counter.

In the first sip he could smell whiskey along with some citrus notes and something else that he couldn't immediately decipher. Strong but tasty.

"Make yourself a drink too. I recommend the same as mine." he said and left, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.

The second time you saw him look differently was shortly after you had spoken at the casino bar. It was the second time you had consciously realized this. Other people had already told you that the most feared look in the casino seemed to follow you for a while.

That night Crocodile had some of his business partners around a betting table along with some members of Baroque Works. You didn't expect that and you also didn't expect Miss All Sunday to come find you and tell you that according to Mr. 0's orders he wanted you to command his VIP gaming table.

"Let's see..." you waited for everyone to turn over their cards, analyzing the deck. "Looks like Mr.0 won, again." Crocodile's laugh echoed through the room as you dragged the chips towards him.

"This is unfair." one of the men complained, amidst a disbelieving laugh.

"I bet that little girl over there is helping him." one of the others grumbled, frustrated at losing all his money. Before he could continue, Crocodile interrupted him.

"Be careful with the next words you say." your body shivered completely when you felt his hand touch your waist. "Don't blame the lady for my streak of luck. It's not her fault she's my good luck charm tonight."

His eyes searched yours, a mischievous smile on his lips brought a slight laugh from yours even though you felt your body burn - and weren't so sure why.

The third time you could barely meet his eyes. Every time I opened your eyes the image was too intense to be able to stand firm.

His eyes remained fixed on your body in front of the mirror. His hook holding your legs open as you squirm on top of his lap. His hand fingered your intimacy, tracing circles on your clit while he admired the scene against the mirror. In addition to your moans in the background, you could hear your ex knocking on your door and calling you without the slightest idea of ​​what was happening.

"I bet that bastard didn't make you feel like that, did he?" Crocodile slid his fingers to your entrance, just teasing you. "I'm proud that you're mine now, my good girl." he slowly licked your neck making you squirm even more

"Please Sir." You asked, turning your face and finding his lips. Crocodile was intense in everything he did and taking your lips to him was no different.

Before you could recover from the lost air he slowly penetrated you with a finger, the cold touch of his rings against your sensitive intimacy made you scream.

"Keep it up my dear." he increased the speed soon giving space to one more digit. "Be loud let him know who you belong to now."

. . .

a/n: just an idea that popped into my head this weekend and I wanted to write it quickly. Perhaps, among the many lost wip, I will write the complete story.

[sharklovingaquarist]

Again and again and again, the best leftist man can not compare to a woman. I watched a video of a man saying that if he was a woman, he wouldn't want to have a child either. Ok, cool. Address why that is. But then he goes on to say how he wouldn't want to pretend to love being a mother. No shit. Having a child isn't some overwhelming feeling like you're told. But you have to address that. You can't act like there's two radicals of women. The subject of children (for women) shouldn't either being all mommy mama or being repulsed by children. It isn't "my goal is to be fully about my child" or "I am fully myself but refrain from children". Wanting a child is a human characteristic, but you still separate the sexes within it. When women have kids, they have to be loving and provide service. A father is a title of pride, existing is your service. You can't act like being a mother is innately this depressing label without addressing the lack of male involvement. You can't do that without addressing the culture around it. Think about what men have done to make a relationship between a woman and offspring something negative. I dont care to elaborate further than this simple phrase I've created: women ARE mothers, men HAVE children. And thats the thing with these debates on women having children. They ALWAYS seem to lack acknowledgment in the department of calling out men.

And again he relates the pronatalist insistence on birth to money. Ok sure, maybe money has a bit to do with this. Im not one to disregard that. But when you can't see the culture we have created around reproduction, the way we percieve it, you aren't going to get to the main issue of this topic. If this was mainly about "creating slaves" there would be outcry about school shootings. You know what its really about? Male ego. The fact that you live in a male fantasy. Men love our pain, and they love situations where they can connect their dick to our pain. The obsession with pregnancy and birth comes from a male fantasy of devaluing a woman and causing her pain. Reducing her to a ball of weeping maternal emotions (of which they condition her to perform). In fact, they try to increase our pain during the process. But no, again and again, leftist men can only ever think this is an issue of money. Because if its money, they can pretend it's still about them. They need to look deep within themselves and think about how they view the very BASIS of male and female differences. "Women have children while men toil away" men have never worked as hard as women in the eyes of the patriarchy. Sorry, not sorry.

I should be able to live life like a man. If I want a child, it's a neutral thing. It doesn't give me a definition. I shouldn't have to be one of two simplistic extremes. I want to be me, I want the options that men do. When you have an animal with a reproductive method such as the ones humans do, a male accounts for a female. The problem is, somewhere males twisted the truth to take weight of themselves and place it on us. Our part is physical, so it can not be moved on or off easily. Theirs is mental, so they can manipulate their way out. And somehow, it worked. Men can act like this is a game rooted in monetary issues, but I wouldn't play it as the richest woman in the world. Women aren't innately production, they've tailored it to be that way. The issue isn't population and labor, it's the male ego needing a collection of humans under him. The poorest man on earth will still force his wife into a litter of children

[its-leethee]

My thoughts are running around in circles about incantation-less and ingredient-less magic right now, thanks to this panel from Puzzle House:

I had speculated that Claudia's hand-flashlight spell and Viren's candle-lighting spell were perhaps a sort of dark magic cantrip that they'd prepped ahead of time and stored up charges for.

But in this Puzzle House scene, Claudia doesn't categorize the candle-lighting trick as dark magic. She explains that Kpp'ar coined the term "snap magic" and that it was powered by "a 'spark of fun' instead of primal sources or..." or what remains a mystery, because Claudia interrupts herself there and doesn't finish her explanation.

There's an intriguing passage in ToX explaining that experienced* dark mages can cast some "simple" spells, specifically like lighting a candle, without dice rolls (bypassing the pass/fail mechanic of the game); however, it's not clear if that means they wouldn't still have to use a reagent to perform the spell.

--Tales of Xadia, page 147

*"Experienced" dark mages as in, possessing dark magic trauma from the accumulated and untreated stress brought about casting dark magic spells.... Do you really consider that a "spark of fun," Kpp'ar?

The other time I've heard mention of magical sparks is from Lujanne's lecture about arcanums in 2x01 (emphasis mine):

"Wait, what's an arcanum?" "It's like... the secret of the Primal, or its meaning." "The secret of the Primal?" "Yes. That secret becomes a spark. The tiniest possible flicker of a Primal Source inside you. But enough to ignite the world with its magic."

There are two other examples within the show where mages cast spells without voicing a spell or incantation. Every instance where Aaravos casts a spell, he is silent, and Callum is able to cast spells underwater in 5x09 without breathing a word. They both still do need to trace out runes/do some kind of hand-waving for their spellcasting.

So, we have sparks, we have secrets, we have silent mages... and I wish I had more of the pieces to this puzzle, because I can't put together a conclusion.

[aphroditelovesu]

A Son for a Son

— summary: Lucerys Velaryon's death left you devastated and you knew you would do anything for Rhaenyra and to avenge him. Even at your family's expense.

❝warnings: mention of death, threat, revenge and angst.

❝ 🐉 — lady l: just a little drabble with angst, it takes place after Luke's death. After seeing the season 2 trailer, I felt like doing something and I hope you like it!

❝word count: 700.

You were there when Rhaenyra, your best friend and your sister, received the news of her son's death.

Of the death of Lucerys Velaryon.

You saw all the emotions flash across her face. Disbelief, sadness, anger and mourning. You witnessed it all, your heart heavy at the death of sweet Luke. You loved that boy as if he were your own son, so sweet and so pure.

He didn't deserve to have an end like that.

Your heart was heavy with the pain of loss, while anger boiled over not having been able to stop it. You felt suffocated by sadness, but a cold fury pulsed in your chest, an unbearable mix of emotions that slowly consumed you.

You couldn't stand staying in the Dragonstone hall, you needed to leave that place. Walking through the rain, each drop confused with your tears, and each thunder echoed the storm that was your state of mind. Dark clouds swallowed the sky, reflecting the internal storm that raged within you.

It should have been me instead, you thought. You should have gone to Storm's End and tried to gain the Baratheon's support.

You couldn't believe that Aemond would have been able to murder Lucerys. Although you were always aware of the conflict between the two, especially after Luke took out Aemond's eye, you never thought he could take revenge like that.

You had known Aemond since he was a baby, always taking care of him when Alicent asked and now he had murdered your nephew in cold blood. You knew it wouldn't end there, that there would be revenge.

Rhaenyra would never accept her son's death without taking revenge. Your heart ached and felt even heavier when you realized the consequences that would come from this.

You shuddered as you remembered Daemon's cruel words, "An eye for an eye and a son for a son."

The echo of Daemon's words reverberated endlessly in your mind, like sharp shrapnel piercing your soul. The "eye for an eye, son for son" echoed like a distorted mantra, a merciless promise of revenge that tore at your heart, already dilapidated by sadness. Each syllable carried the weight of an imminent threat, an unsustainable burden that consumed you.

There was nothing you could do to stop it, though. Viserys' death left the Seven Kingdoms fragile and the dragons danced. Anguish enveloped you like a dense fog, leaving you aimless, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Fear mingled with you distress, knowing that seeking justice would only fuel the cycle of pain and destruction.

The feeling of helplessness enveloped you like a dark veil. You relived the moment countless times, desperately trying to find a way out, an action that could have prevented the tragedy. But Viserys's death seemed an inevitable fate, a cruel twist of fate that threw the Seven Kingdoms to the brink.

You felt like a powerless spectator in the face of greater forces, trapped in a power game in which you were just a fragile and insignificant piece.

When you closed your eyes, you could hear the screams of pain that Rhaenyra let out upon hearing her son's death. And Daemon's promise of revenge.

You were powerless against it. You couldn't help her or Aemond. You couldn't do anything, not when you were just a pawn in the middle of a war to come.

But you when you thought you would never see Lucerys' sweet smile again... You knew you would support Rhaenyra through anything.

Memories of Lucerys' enchanting smile echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of what was at stake. Supporting Rhaenyra meant choosing a side, a loyalty that required personal sacrifices. That required you to sacrifice a side of your family that you remembered so fondly.

You would always be there for her. Even if it meant that innocent people would have to suffer. After all, you were at war.

At war against your own family.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to cry, knowing that your choice was made. They would pay for what they did to Luke. You would be sure of that.

You smiled pitifully. Indeed, an eye for an eye and a son for a son.

[sunflower-author]

I Win (Yandere Todoroki)

Basically yandere Todoroki after the fact that he had kidnapped you, and one day you guys have a fight, and then the aftermath...

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~~^~^~^~^

"Listen, Y/N, I am getting sick, of you always being so ungrateful, towards me," Todoroki almost yelled out. Stepping back a little, this was the first time he had ever come this close to yelling at me, feeling all the panic and anxiety rise up in me.

I am really starting to regret almost hitting him, I mean I had my hand up until I realized what I was about to do I stopped, but Todoroki was more mainly focused on what I was about to do rather than what I really did. So right now he is mad at me because I almost hit him.

"Do you know how lucky you are for me to care about you so-......" Todoroki said almost yelling again, but this time stopping in the middle of his sentence, it was weird, it was like he was about to say something but got distracted by something.

Pausing a second for myself, I wonder what is Todoroki thinking right now, all I know is that it can't be good. Seeing him and the paused expression on his face, he starts to smirk a little. I already don't like where this is going.

"Let's play a game actually, a game where if you win then you are free to leave, and call the police on me, I bet you would love that wouldn't you," Todoroki says walking closer to me, with that smirk of his starting to fade. Stepping back, listening carefully to what he is saying.

"What will you get if you win?" I ask him, getting backed up by the wall. "Does that really matter, I mean you'll get what you've always wanted," He said, pinning me against the wall. Only inches are separating us, and even with all the tension between us I still, manage to do some kind of glare at him.

"But if you'd really like to know, if I win, then you'd have to do what I want you to do for a whole day without any of your complaining, but if you do complain... well, I guess, you'll have to say goodbye to one of your dear friends," he said, with a small smile on him now, grabbing the top of my shoulder...weird.

"What even is the 'little game' you want me to play?" I ask him, with a little irritation in my voice. "Well since you really want to escape so bad, I'll let you," He says stepping back. "What do you mean? What is this game?" I ask, puzzled.

"If you can escape from me, and not get caught, in the time span of 6 hours, I let you free, but however, if I am able to catch you within that time, I win, it's as simple as that," He says, plainly.

"If you do accept, I'll give you a 15 min head start," He says. "How will I know if the 6 hours pass, and you say you win," I say. "Here," He says, holding up a yellow watch. "This watch has a timer on it, so you'll know just how much time you have left," He says, putting it on my wrist.

"So is that yes, to this game?" He asks me. "...Yes," I respond, hesitantly. "Once I start this timer run, okay," He says, finishing up putting the watch on my wrist.

"3....... 2......... 1, "He says, starting the timer. Just like that, I start running to the nearest exit outside. Fortunately, for the last time, I tried to escape, I know exactly know where to go from here.

Seeing the door, I look at the watch, it has already been 9 minutes, and I need to hurry up. Opening the door, it is cold, I see snow on the ground, and the sun is up, Winter must have just passed. Todoroki definitely has the upper hand now.

I just start running off in any direction that is away from this house. I just need to stay away from him for 6 hours, which is going to be hard, considering that whenever I tried to escape, he always found me within 5 hours.

5 hours Later:

I have been running away from Todorki for a straight 5 hours, I just feel so exhausted, considering I never really ran in like forever, being kept up in that house for so long, it feels nice, but draining at the same time. Plus it is not really helping, that it is freezing cold and I am only wearing long sleeves and sweatpants.

Right now I am currently in some kind of forest, the ground is mostly made out of small rocks, and dirt, some big rocks around everywhere. The pine trees are small with some cut-down weird. Suddenly I make a stop, as I see there are 2 different paths in front of me.

The first is like the one, I am walking right now, but with more dirt than rocks, with a little bit more trees, that are bigger than the one behind me. The second one goes uphill, I think, and from what I can tell has a little snow...

If I go the first way I will be able to run faster and get away, but Todoroki will expect me to go this way. But if I go the other way then Todoroki won't be expecting it, so will hopefully go the other way.

Plus the snow is in patches right now, so I can take some time to avoid it, by running on the rocks and dirt, but it is safer going the first way because he does follow me to the second path he will definitely have the upper hand...

Fuck it, I turn to run the way with the patches of snow, running far enough from the two-way path, I step on one of the patches, it is icey, like shaved ice. Continuing my path, I see that now it is all filled with 'snow' and ice.

Todoroki Pov:

Following Y/N's path is really easy, I mean, when they left the house they left the door open, and judging by their sense of character it's pretty obvious that they would go straight. But following the path, I am stuck, there are 2 different paths.

Knowing Y/N, they'll probably play it safe, and take the path with no ice, but before I make my move, I check the tracking device, to see if they actually went the other way... strange, normally they would have more self-doubt, and take the safe path. They must really be desperate.

Anyway walking in a straight path, now knowing I will probably catch up to them now that they will be avoiding all the snow, taking up time, even though I have less than an hour, I know for a fact I will catch up to them. Plus I just can't let my little snowflake go that easily.

Y/N Pov:

Only 10 mins left, I think that I might actually be able to escape from him, even though I am still slowly going up this hill of ice and snow, I am still making progress.

"Snowflake~" Shit, I don't even need to turn back to know who it is. Trying to rush as much as possible, is hard, without slipping.

"Did you really think that you'd be able to escape me?" Looking back at my watch, only 1 minute left. He might not make it.

Suddenly, I feel the ice starting to move... Shit. It's starting to become a slope, trying to stay up for as long as possible, but it doesn't last long. Slipping and sliding down, seeing Todoroki at the bottom, I already know I lost.

Closing my eyes, preparing myself for whatever impact might come to me. Surprisingly it wasn't too bad but still had an impact. Opening my eyes, seeing that I landed in a pile of snow, with Todoroki right in front of me.

Feeling him grab my arm. "I win," He says, pulling me out of the pile of snow, and right on cue, I hear the timer go off.....

.

.

.

.

.

.

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[smokescreenimusprime]

On the trend of using EPIC The Musical for the ask game (thanks anon), here's a good one:

Choose. You, or your crew. (Song source: Thunder Bringer)

"Choose. You, or your crew." the stranger growled, shoving the muzzle of his blaster into the side of Smokescreen's helm.

Smokescreen bit back a sigh, knowing full well that it would not help the situation.

The situation was fairly unusual. Most days were pretty quiet in the Archives with the most exciting thing being a new datapad being added to their stores, or on rarer occasions a bot starting drama over some novel or other they didn't have and needing to be escorted out.

An armed robbery was definitely a new occurrence. Usually when bots wanted to steal the relics, they opted for more covert methods.

But not these ones apparently. They showed up, quite literally guns blazing, and held the staff and visitors who hadn't managed to flee in the initial chaos hostage. The enforcers had of course been called, but they couldn't get in yet without risking the attackers doing something dangerous.

That led to right now, him, his employees, and a couple others all gathered in the back of one of the bigger rooms as one of the attackers tried to threaten Smokescreen into telling them the vault passcodes by dragging him forward and pressing a gun to his helm.

Primus he was going to have to fill out so much paperwork after this. Maybe he could convince Ultra Magnus to pull some strings so he wouldn't have to.

"I said choose," the mech growled again, jabbing Smokescreen's helm with the blaster again, this time hard enough to scratch the paint which made Smokescreen tense.

Not in fear like the mech seemed to think, no, but growing frustration. He just got buffed the other day! Knockout was going to peel his paint when he found out he ruined his work so soon.

Yeah, okay, waiting for the enforcers to do something clearly wasn't working out.

Guess he had to handle this himself.

This time he actually let himself sigh, not caring about keeping his attacker docile.

"Yeaaaaaah, gonna have to say no to that one, chief."

And then he grabbed the gun's barrel.

His attacker's optics went wide but he didn't even have time before he was swiftly disarmed (he wasn't even using servo modifications! talk about amateur hour, as Miko would say). It only took a second to pistol whip him across the temple, then whip around and shoot the three other bots in the room just as they began to realize things were not going to plan.

Nonlethally of course. Sure it would count as self defense and he'd be let off without much trouble, but that would just make even MORE paperwork.

Once he was confident the other three were down for the count and that his employees and even a few of the other hostages were able to disarm and take care of them, he turned back to the first mech.

"First mistake," Smokescreen began, flipping him onto his front and forcing his servos behind his back in a submission hold. "Getting within grabbing distance."

"Second mistake," he patted down his frame to grab the key for the handcuffs. "Cuffing me too loose and then not being able to see what I was doing with my servos."

"Third and most damning of all," he threw the key over to a very shell shocked looking Coil, who fumbled the catch with his cuffed servos but managed to not drop it.

He liked Coil. He was a new hire, but Smokescreen could already tell he'd be sticking around. He was a hard worker, a bit sarcastic at times, and cared a lot about keeping things organized.

His now ex-attacker looked up at him with wide optics, confused and afraid, and Smokescreen just met his gaze with a bored expression.

"Not doing your fragging research."

-------

OR, a lot of bots aren't aware of the fact their local librarian is ex-military, and every once in a while there arises circumstances for him to show them :D

[thetrashthatsmilesback]

So building off the "Sora is now fictional" idea, Roxas is more of a person than Sora is.

Lower your pitchforks and hear me out. This isn't a "Roxas is just Sora but actually interesting" post. I find those fucking annoying as well, and I prefer Roxas to Sora (though you wouldn't be able to tell based on my posts - sue me, the concept of hearts living inside each other and how that would effect the og person is too fascinating to ignore... which actually leads me into the main point of this post)

Roxas fought tooth and nail to be seen as an individual. He carved his identity out of rock while everyone around him acted like a demolition team trying to destroy it at every moment.

Sora willingly gives up his identity. While Roxas is firm in who he is, even in the moments where he doubts his humanity, Sora is a chameleon. From the obvious things such as hiding his darkness to the more subtle way his actual design changes across even individual games. Im going to actually split this up into two parts - Sora loaing his identity to those he interacts with and Sora losing his identity to those within his own heart.

- Sora when it comes to those outside of Sora's heart, Sora is whatever the person at that moment needs. He's the light for Riku, he's a confidante for various Disney characters, he's the unchanging (stable, steady) knight in armor for Kairi, he's the joyful companion to Goofy and Donald, but simultaneously the avenging angel of the side of light towards the nobodies. Sora is what he needs to be at any given moment because his driving force is his loyalty to his friends. Sora doesn't have an identity he clings to outside of his loyalty. It's his strongest unchanging trait. "Sora is light!" Except for when he admits to Riku he struggles with darkness and agrees to be the darkness. Except for when overuse of his drive forms (overuse of reliance on his friends) turns him into a pseudoheartless. Except for when rage over takes him and he transforms infront of everybody into a dark form to attack Xehanort after Kairi dies. Sora is a light for those who need him to be, but Sora himself is not pure light. Which actually brings me to my next section.

People have talked at length about Sora being less intelligent in later games than he was in kh1 and kh2, with the worst being in 3D, but I think to an extent this is also Sora molding himself (on top of flanderization by the writers). Sora is goofy and silly to those who need it. Think about who he acts "dumb" around. Its the newly reformed scientists, or those who need a confidence boost (he allows people to overexplain to him). We see in re:mind that kh3 Sora never once lost his intelligence from the previous games, but he allows others to call him forgetful/silly/behind (which he literally is, his memories are objectively fucked why are they mocking him for memories they never worked to help him restore agh *rips hair out). Sora knows they need someone to lighten things, or to explain to in order to think things through, and so there he is. "I don't computer, so you do that," he says while piloting a ship. He's talking to the newly reformed scientists, he knows that this is their chance to solidify themselves on the side of light, and so he sends them off to do their work without his help.

- for those inside his heart, there's a ton to talk about but I'm going to begin with the bridge I used from the first part. Every light has a balancing darkness. The closer you are to the light, the greater your darkness grows. Darkness is a shadow (which is why Sora losing his shadow when in anti form is not only a cool as fuck animation detail but important in terms of lore) so what does that mean for Sora who housed Ventus's heart of pure light within his own? People have commented that sora's darkness has grown since the first game, and others have pointed out that the hollow in the space of the heart in the Darkseid is obviously related to Sora's capacity to hide others within his own heart, and the fact that Sora's name doesn't only translate to "sky" but can be translated as "void"... thats all relevant but im at work so I'm not going to get too much into that at this moment. instead I'm going to point out that if his heart was holding a heart of pure light (two at one point with kairi), and all hearts except for those which either belong to princesses of light OR which are artificially split from their darkness must have darkness inside of their hearts. Riku shows that this darkness is about balance for light (I'm not getting into the "Riku actually has more light in his heart than Sora" meta arguments, though I do agree that the text is open to that interpretation and I enjoy the theory). If Sora had a heart of pure light within him, then he would have to artificially darken his own heart to keep balance.

It's also further than taking on the pain of Roxas and Xion. We see the way he gives himself up for those in his heart with his actual actions and looks. Sora (and Roxas, God i wish they'd explore more what it means to be the nobody of two hearts rather than one or if roxas is actually Ven's nobody instead of Sora's but Roxas's arc is over sadly) walks with his arms behind his head the way Ventus does. Many people have pointed out that Sora's hair is decidedly a lighter color after the KH2 prologue than at any other point in series (including in official art and posters), leading many to theorize that he actually changed appearance in response to Roxas's blond hair.

Even at the times when Roxas gives into the idea that he himself is not an individual, or implies that he and sora truly are one ("I know he'll do it, because he's me,") there's still the fight within him that he *is* a person with a distinct personality and way of being.

Sora doesnt have a distinct way of existing. Sora is what others require at that moment. This almost ties into the whole "Sora went to the realm of fiction" thing. "Sora the Concept" has become an ideal of whatever those around him invision him being at that moment while "Sora the Person" has slowly dissipated behind layers of acting.

So yeah, Roxas is more of a person than Sora is. Sora has become a concept, the idealized version of himself that others came up with, and which he molded himself to fit, losing his personhood in the process.

Sorry if this is incomprehensible. I'm at work and didn't take my meds 🤙

[u-f-e]

One Last Glance

Pairing: astarion x fem!reader, 

WC:3.4k

Content: no y/n mentioned, revival scrolls don’t exist here we live for the angst, minor durge reader, not quite canon to game

Warnings: angst, major character death, self sacrificing, hurt no comfort, some gore, 

Summary: As much as Astarion loves to be nosey, he also knows when best to turn tail and run. You on the other hand have always been stubborn to no end. When one of your nosey adventures doesn't go as planned it’s time the ultimate sacrifice is paid. Curiosity killed the cat and no satisfaction could bring this back.

A/N: hi, this is like my first ever one-shot fic that I've done. and also my first time using tumblr. It's rough its angst and something that I accidentally did in my own game and took inspiration from to pop out this guy. I'm really slow with writing altho I do love it so I'll eventually slowly be adding more stuff. But yeah, hope you like tha angst <3ufe

*** Curse your curiosity. When you had agreed to help Grey with avenging her fallen sister you never thought that it would lead to an underground hidden submersible. You certainly never thought that it would lead to one of Gortash’s underwater prisons. But really you should’ve known better by now. You also should’ve known that jackass Gortash wouldn't believe you when you said you had just been curious. Now you’re here, docked at a prison waiting to explode and your damn saviour complex can’t leave without rescuing everyone. The only problem is you don’t know how long you have till the place goes sky high. You’re stuck in your head, you want to save them, you need to. But this is probably one of the most nerve wracking adventures yet. You don’t know what awaits you beyond the hatch or how long the ticking clock has. You have a feeling it’s not long though. You also don’t want to force your friends and lover into yet another dangerous situation because of your damn curiosity. Your rag-tag group has always managed to get out with just a few scrapes and bruises, but this time you’ve got a bad feeling about it. There’s too many uncalculated variables.

Through the time you’ve been together Astarion has gotten good at being able to tell when you’re stuck in your head. When you’re stuck between two different moral paths. Usually he’s one to take the path of least resistance, usually the one involving retreating. He knows you too well now, he knows you won’t listen, he knows that above all else you feel it’s your duty to save the people within these watery prison walls. Something to do with a way to atone for all that you’ve wronged in your dark past. Knowing this he approached you, a gentle hand finding its place on the small of your back, “we’re not leaving without the prisoners, are we, darling?” 

It was less a question and more a statement. He was giving you the push to make the decision you knew you couldn’t walk away from. “I can’t leave them Star. I can’t leave knowing I’ve just doomed them to a fiery watery death. Yet I can’t guarantee your safety this time. There’s so many things I can’t control. So many unknowns-”

“When have we ever walked away from a challenge, away from you?”

You looked back towards him and then at the rest of the group, they all had small reassuring smiles on their faces. Karlach stood in the back, holding up two thumbs ups, her smile the biggest of all. You smiled back at the group and looked up once more to Astarion. After a beat you gave a nod and turned back to the hatch.

“Okay. We got this”

You don’t got this. As soon as you all descended into the prison the place gave a not so reassuring shake. There were lights flashing everywhere, alarms blaring, water leaking already and the place had a nauseating fishy smell that you feared would be glued to your nostrils for weeks following this. If you made it out of this, that is. Not only all that but you could see guards down almost every hallway.

“Sahuagins, ‘sea devils’, vicious and merciless. Watch yourselves around them” Gale warned from the back of the group. You gave a huff and nod as you ran over plans through your head.

“Okay. We don’t know how long we have in here. We need to be in and out as fast as possible. Get as many people out before the place blows. Preferably everyone. We won’t have the time to kill the sea devils so just try to hold them off as much as possible. Keep them away from the prisoners as I doubt they have the ability to defend themselves. Since we don’t know how long we have I’d suggest we split up. Shadowheart, Karlach, you go left, east. Gale, Lae’zel you go south, straight. That seems to be where a big portion of the fishy guards are, from what I can see. I need you both to find a way to keep them at bay while we get everyone out. Got it?”

Those I named gave curt nods before splitting off. 

“You and I to the right then?” Astarion smiled, reaching a hand towards you.

“Forever and always, remember?” You took his hand as he gave you a grin. His devilish teeth shining beautifully in the dim damp light. With your hands intertwined tightly you both ran off down the right corridor.

Since the moment Astarion first held a knife to your throat you both have worked so well together. You worked like a well oiled machine, being able to immediately tell what the other was planning and work with and off of their actions. It’s what made it so easy for the both of you to connect. Through battle, through messing around, or trauma bonding. The only parts you’ve ever had difficulties is where your stubbornness lies. You always wanted to help people, despite all the complaints Astarion would throw your way. You always ignored him on that front, sticking to your morals. You’d appease him later by the two of you messing with Gale anyways. Knowing this and having him willingly running down the hall with you, opening prison doors as you go, with not a groan or whine in complaint to be heard. It was greatly appreciated. It was just another reason why you knew you’d never be able to leave him after this whole tadpole situation was over. Once the netherbrain was destroyed, Baulder’s Gate restored and Astarion free from any past torturer. It’s one complaint that you knew you’d never back down from if presented with. He was stuck with you now. And you stuck with him.

Finding a lover through all this crazed nonsense was not something he had ever planned. If you had told him before that he’d have a tadpole put in his brain, be free of Cazador, and fall in love with the women he’d threaten in first meeting. He’d tell you you’d gone absolutely mad. Yet here he was, following you down corridors, your lives dangling on a thin wire ready to snap at any moment, as you opted to care for others instead of yourself. As annoying as your stubbornness can be, he wouldn’t say it’s something he hates about  you. In fact it was one of the many reasons that made him love you. Your innate ability to stare down the barrel of danger and smile while saying no to backing down. It was probably the hottest and sexiest thing he’s seen someone do. No, he didn’t hate it. What he did hate was the blatant disregard for your own safety that followed that stubbornness. He’s not one to miss how every adventure the group has gone on you’ve always come out with the brunt of the injuries. Always the one to jump in front of your friends, keep them from getting hurt. 

He’s tried to bring it up in the past but you’ve always brushed it off. A coincidence, you’d say. Yet it’d happen every time. It worried him. You were as much a ticking time bomb in his eyes as much as this prison was. Just one wrong move, one move too late and he'll never get to see that smile again, never hear that laugh. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. This adventure he was determined to get you out of here with the least amount of injuries as possible. 

Usually between the two of you it would be you that would hold off any enemies while Astarion was the one to sneak around completing tasks. This time however Astarion had managed to convince you to allow him to hold off the Sahuagins while you went around and unlocked the cells. Let me tell you, these things were ruthless. You felt bad for the amount of groans you could hear coming from Astarion, despite how hard he’d try to keep them as quiet as possible. Thankfully there weren’t too many cells needing to be opened. Once you’d gathered everyone you rejoined with Astarion and helped him knock the last Sahuagin out for now. 

“Go, get them to the submersible. I’ll follow behind and make sure they stay down and that we don’t lose anyone.”

He paused and looked between you and the knocked creatures, he went to protest but you stopped him with a look. He knew the look. It was the look you gave him when you were being stubborn and would refuse to have your mind changed.

“Fine…. But don’t stray too far behind you hear me?” He gave you his own stern look that you could never say no to. You gave a curt nod then motioned for him to go. He gave you one last glance before turning and motioning for the prisoners to follow him. You stayed back and ushered the group ahead, keeping an eye on the Sahuagins on the ground. Once the last prisoner passed you followed. 

Up ahead you could see Astarion helping the prisoners to get up the ladder. Karlach and Shadowheart having joined them as well. Amongst the prisoners you could even see Wyll’s dad. Good. You owed it to him to get his dad back. You felt bad about Wyll. You had been so focused on some of the other group members and their troubles that you hadn’t even noticed Wyll not acting the same. And now he’s been taken, all because of you. Well at least that’s what you believe. Anyone else, even Wyll, would say that it’s not your fault. You would insist otherwise. You could just start to hear the other’s conversation as you grew near, Gale and Lae’zel joining the centre as well.

“We got everyone from the east. A few entanglements with nets but otherwise everyone is fine and out,” Karlach reported.

“We managed to hold back the large group of Sahuagins for the most part. There were quite a few of them. The hallways have heat sensors we discovered. So the south airlock doors have been sealed. It doesn’t seem like they actually know too much about the mechanisms so the doors should hold them back for now.” Gale huffed out, panting from exhaustion. Lae’zel looked hardly affected by the matter.

“We managed to get everyone from our end!” You informed, as you joined the group.

“Another mission successful it would seem!” Shadowheart smiled.

“Yes, now all that’s left is us. If you would be so kind, I wouldn't mind leaving now. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think water and fire would go too well in our situation right now.” Sarcastic as ever Astarion was. 

Everyone gave a small chuckle and nod in agreement and started heading up the ladder. Maybe you do got this. It was just the two of you left to climb the ladder when Astarion reached over and pulled you to him into a crushing kiss, overcome by a great sense of need. His kisses always took your breath away. He always threw everything into his kisses. All his passion, his love, his adoration. He never left anything to the imagination. You could read every thought, every intention, all his love for you in every single one of his kisses. It was intoxicating and addicting and you could never get enough of it. Through this kiss you could tell every worry he’s had during this whole debacle, every stress, every panic. You could sense his need for this, for the accomplishment, for the kiss itself, and for what would be sure to come later tonight when it’s just the two of you laid in his tent. Not only all that but your lips always just fit so right against his. Your lips, your body, your everything. It was like you were made for him and he was made for you. It felt like an eternity and yet like it wasn’t long enough before the both of you pulled away, breaths heavy with desire and passion. 

“I love you,” he affirmed against your lips.

“And I you,” you pecked his lips once more before motioning to the ladder with your head. 

“Now we must leave, Star. Who knows how much time we have left.”

He gave his one last peck to your lips before pulling away to start his ascension to the submersible. It felt almost too good to be true to Astarion. We were leaving here and he had actually managed to keep you out of trouble. He was quite proud of himself really. He thought it would be almost an impossible task. Yet here it seems to have been done. Now all that's left was to close the hatch and pull away from this gods awful place.

You grinned up at Astarion’s retreating behind as you began to follow him up. Lost in the thrill of possibly getting away from this one unscathed you didn’t hear the gurgling near. Not until you felt yourself get enveloped in a hefty net, trapping you against the ladder. 

“Shit,” you grunted, the weight of the blow winding you slightly. Glancing over you noticed one of the Sahuagins the two of you had knocked out was slowly crawling their way out of the corridor you’d come from. 

“Shit, shit-” you should’ve known things had been going too well. You struggled as you attempted to untangle yourself from the net, feeling like every movement only made the situation worse. You glanced back over to the corridor noticing them getting closer. You couldn’t allow them to get past that door. After a decent amount of struggling you had managed to get one hand free enough to throw a fire bolt down the corridor. The fish watched it fly past before looking back at you. A gurgling sound emanating from its gills, as if it was laughing at you before the corridor erupted in flames and the door sealed shut in its fishy face. You grinned at your accomplishments and proceeded to burn the rest of the net away in annoyance with it. As you began to make your ascent once more you glanced down the east corridor at the worst possible moment. What you saw made you freeze. The bolts holding this place together were beginning to pop from their homes. The constant tremors having caused them to start to come loose. In the seconds it took to realize what was happening you watched as the first explosion began down the far corridor, the place immediately beginning to flood with water. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Panicked, you started to try to climb faster only to discover a part of your foot still entangled in net that hadn’t burnt away. You looked back towards the explosions and rushing water and you knew. It was all too good to be true. Seconds felt like minutes and those minutes felt like hours as you took one last glance up at Astarion. He had made it up into the submersible and was just turning around to greet you, help you up, when he made eye contact with you and he knew. He knew things were wrong immediately by the look in your eyes. His stomach dropped, his breath and heart stopped. He felt a cold chill run through him as he watched in slow motion as you shot a crossbow arrow at the hinge in the hatch, forcing it to close with you behind. With the hatch closed the submersible went into auto-pilot, pulling itself away from the docking station and starting to make its way home.

“No…” it felt like the world was caught in his throat as he rushed from the hatch to the giant window only in time to see the prison explode, the shockwaves pushing them farther away. Away from you, away from his life, his heart, his everything.

“NO!” He’d barely spoken, barley cried, yet his voice already felt like sandpaper when he screamed for you, screamed your name. It felt like he’d already spent an eternity crying for you, crying your name into the loneliness of the dark night. Yet he still had an eternity to live. An eternity to miss your kiss, your breath, your warmth your touch your heart your loveyourkindenessyourbodyyour…everything.

He could’ve done better, should’ve done better. He should have known something would happen. It never goes this smoothly, this well. He should’ve made you climb up the ladder first. Gods, why didn’t he do that??! Everything felt numb, empty. It was all passing in a blur. It was quiet and cold and then it was loud and musty. He could barely register the arguments around him. Something about betraying a sister? Who’s sister? He doesn't remember anyone having a sister. It was cold, damp, musty,and then it was bright, breezy and still smelt like gods awful fish. He could feel himself being led, by who or what, he’s not sure. He wished they were your hands. He loved your hands. They were so small and soft and yet harsh and strong. They were dainty yet they also showed the years of experience you’ve had, the troubles you’ve been through in life with the many scars that adorned them. They were beautiful. He loved the feel of your touch, whether innocent or sinful, he could never get enough. Were….were. Here he was already thinking in past tense. You’d barely been gone an hour, has it been an hour? Less? More? Yet, he was already changing the way he thought of you. It wasn’t right. None of this was right. Where were you? You should be here. Something’s wrong. Why weren’t you here? Why’s everything so cold? So numb? There was a constant buzzing that he just couldn’t seem to get to go away. What was wrong with him? Where was he? He doesn’t remember how he got here. One moment he was underground the next he was walking the streets of Baulder’s Gate alone searching for you. Where were you? It’s not like you to disappear like this. Surely you’d have told him if you were going any-

He froze. His whole brain and world collapsed when he saw you. You, lying on the beach face down. Where one would be after being washed up on shore. He made a mad scramble down. He could vaguely feel his hands and legs being scraped and and scratch during his descent to the sands but he could hardly care. Not when he could see you, or what was left of you really. He skidded to a kneel beside you, hands immediately going to touch you, turn you over. You were so cold. You’ve never been this cold before, you hated being cold. You were always warm, you were his favourite heater to snuggle. You shouldn’t be this cold, especially to him. He could hardly recognize you. Not an inch of your precious skin could he see that wasn't marred in deep wounds, gashes and blood. Your bones shattered to pieces, broken like fragile porcelain. This wasn’t his love, not as you should be. Yet this is what you were now. This was what was made of you. What your last adventure had done. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until he saw the tears falling from his face onto your’s. It was upon the realization that he was crying that turned it from silent sniffles to violent sobs. Sobs that racked his body. Sobs that echoed for miles on end. Sobs that would haunt anyone who heard, who listened for days to come. They were the cries of a broken man. A shattered man. He’d lost his love, his heart. It was something he’d never be able to get back. Something that would take years, if not an eternity, to overcome. He was to face the hardest challenge of them all. Because you were gone. This was real, this was true. He’d never get to see you again. Never get to experience your touch, your kiss, your laugh, your love, your heart. 

 You got to share one last adventure, one last kiss, one last laugh, one last ‘i love yous’, one last glance before this was your end. 

[persnicketypomelo]

I haven't gotten through all the Metal Gear games, but I thought I would drop this just for funsies

obsession, stalking, spoilers for Metal Gear

Yandere Solid Snake Headcanons

(This scene amuses me too much not to use)

I feel like Solid Snake would be a very interesting concept, and I haven't really seen much of Metal Gear writing online

A real relationship where you grow old together and share your life isn't really possible due to his aging condition

As he grows older, I think he would realize that nothing would end happily for him or any other party involved

Snake's a charming, playboy type that flirts with every woman he meets

There's many ways you could meet him: both as a civilian he rescues, or involved in governmental work

I think his dynamic may shift though depending on who you are, but I will focus more on his relationship with a civilian

If he rescues you as a civilian, he would flirt with you constantly, whenever the opportunity arises

You can't blame him: your wide eyes, your blushing scowl when he drops suggestive complements, the way you so dutifully follow his directions--it would be hard not too fall for you honestly

It tickles his ego when you cower behind him or unintentionally grip onto his uniform

He likes feeling strong and capable, and the way you trail behind him makes him feel like your protector

It's a feeling Snake wouldn't mind getting used to with you...

And the more time he spends with you as he transports you to safety, the more his heart yearns for this to be something long-term

His mind and heart war with each other

He knows it isn't good for you to be involved with him; he's made enemies of dangerous people

People an innocent like you shouldn't ever be noticed by

Yet, some twisted, lonely part of him tells him to lock you up, and keep you all to himself, safe from the outside world

Once your safely out of harm's way, he reels his mind back in with a cigarette

He knows he should leave you to live a normal life without him

But maybe he wants to be able to indulge his heart, just this once

He's done so much for the stability of the world, after all

Luckily, Snake is nothing if not well-tempered, and that would show despite his obsession with you

It's unlikely he would do anything too drastic or extreme, as he is able to reign in his more volatile and darker impulses

That doesn't mean that he won't indulge them

At least a little bit

Maybe he attaches a tracker, or monitors your GPS location, or finds what cell towers your mobile phone pings to see where you go...

After a hard mission, he needs to see where you are and imagine what you're doing while he draws from a cigarette

It calms his nerves and stress to see your location or a picture of you, to know you're safe and living your life

Building off of this, I feel like he definitely has a collection of pictures of you, either digital or physical

Maybe not on his person during missions, as he wouldn't want to give any of the dangerous people he's tasked with neutralizing leverage on either you or him

For you, it's unlikely you would even know the level of surveillance he has on you

He's discreet like that

But once in a while, the pain of everything he's been through gets too much too bear, and even the photos of you aren't cutting it

On occasions like this, he tails you as you go about your life, oblivious to your shadow

Alternatively he may stand outside your house or apartment at night when you're asleep

Snake takes comfort in knowing you're right within his grasp, that there's so little separating you...

However his darker, more possessive impulses sometimes flare up in more nefarious ways, especially if you start to become interested in other people

There's no way he'd ever physically harm his rivals, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't...gently discourage them from dating you

You may wonder why your dating life is so terribly unlucky, why anyone you form any sort of relationship with ends up ghosting or blocking you

Sooner or later you may notice the shadow that trails your life, for better or worse

Maybe your attention can calm his growing desire and possessiveness for you

Because as stable as he is, sooner or later Snake may snap

For both his and your sake, I hope you can bring him peace of mind

Otherwise the consequences could be far worse than a few failed relationships

Dividers by saradika-graphics

[bonkbobl]

make a deal or play a game

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

a/n: guys im gonna be so fr with yall i legitimately dont know where this energy came from but here you go. this contains possibly the longest sex scene i've ever written in my entire history of fic writing and i did get a little carried away. like a little more than carried away. the keys just dont stop click clacking

summary: You find out Roose has been plotting against your King but you know the Northern cause cannot survive with the North divided between the King's loyalists and a Bolton-Karstark army backing their martyred liege lords. You and Lord Bolton need each other more than either of you would care to admit, grasping for power over each other.

warning: DUBCON!!!! as in the dubbiest of cons, power dynamics, forced marriage, roose bolton is secretly a perverted old man, EDGING like a LOT OF EDGING, wet humping??/thigh fucking, dacyrphilia, wait girl he's literally like obsessed with you eeeeeeeee

You were always Robb Starks most trusted advisor, and who was to question why. A ward, offered by one of the Starks most loyal vassal houses for the honor of have you join their family as a ward. Your father practically begged them to raise you when your Lady Mother succumbed to the failed birthing of your baby brother. He hoped one day you may reach a higher station that you'd have been afforded, and how better to reach that than through the Starks. Your father shared a great great, a few times over, great grand parent with Ned, and ever honorable, the Lord Stark agreed to take you in.

But its difficult for a woman to rise up in the world, even harder still, in the midst of a war. Men did not like to make room for women at war but Robb was like your brother. He trusted you. And he trusted your opinion on people. It's because while the Starks held that honor must be of paramount importance, you understood not everyone held that same principle. You make sure Robb doesn't trust everyone as he trusts you.

Trust is a funny thing because you could trust someone with your life but you may not trust them to cook a chicken correctly. You may trust someone to lead a garrison of ten thousand for you and not trust them with a knife in close quarters without a guard behind you. Trust was what you dealt in — advising Robb on deals that he was to make with other Lords, even so far as traveling on his behalf.

Deals, and diplomacy — charms, and words. That was your strength.

Robb Stark insisted that Catelyn take you to the twins to aid in negotiations with Walder Frey, he deferred to you to send letters to Renly and Stannis Baratheon, you were even the one who had sent out the rallying cry at the very beginning of his great war to all his Bannermen. Everyone knew it. He was the brain, you were the mouth. The pretty, cunning, biting mouth of the young wolf.

—————

One issue you were never able to resolve was Roose Bolton. He was cold, calculating, and distant. Though he seemed to care deeply for the Northern cause, you had little to believe he was truly as passionate about Robb as King.

It began with certain issues in which you would honestly take Roose's side instead of Robb's and since you saw Roose as an ideological ally, you would shoot glances at him after Robb declared he'd have his way after all. In those moments, a bitter gaze that lingered a few seconds too long on the King in the North roused suspicion in you.

It wasn't serious. You're sure its the frustration than anyone would feel being brushed aside so many times. But as the social tension within Robbs camp rose, you felt that you must do something about it.

You don't trust Walder Frey. He wouldn't so easily brush aside a slight as heavy as the King in the North refusing his daughter's hand in marriage. He wouldn't trade it so carelessly, not even for a claim in the Riverlands. The fact was that a young boy had made him a promise and quickly threw it all away the moment he got what he needed.

Frey's resentment of all the Paramount liege lords in Westeros already made any alliance between you fragile. Compound it with more insult and well, you just didn't know what you expected from this.

So when you saw a rave flying even in the general direction of the twins, you shot it down.

The Bolton seal, you noted, as you inspected the short scroll.

Tomorrow the white sun will illuminate the darkness clouding your castle. We will dine on fishes and the hour of the wolf will drown out in history. Ensure final preparations are made.

R.B.

As you read it, you could feel blood draining from your face and you really should have gone to Robb immediately but the need to find out what plot was brewing overtook reason. When the men were drinking and dining, you snuck into Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

"Letters, letters..." You muttered. You had already checked his desk but of course the man isn't dense enough to store proof of treachery in the drawer of a desk where any young squire may stumble upon them. So you were rifling through everything, casting aside bulks of chainmail, furs, coats, anything.

As you did, your mind ran endlessly about what might happen. So the Boltons and the Freys. Eliminate them and you're forced to then castrate your own army. We were already outnumbered greatly. Losing the Boltons is a blow we may not survive even if we survive this bloody wedding.

And the reference to the white sun illuminating the darkness was not so easily lost on you. You weren't sure, but coupled with the rising tensions with the Karstark men who currently stood one third of Robb's entire army, you could take a gander to why the white sun of their sigil was mentioned in Roose Bolton's death letter.

"Looking for something?"

Roose's voice cut clear through the room, it even felt like it sliced right through your heart. Well die tonight or die tomorrow night it makes no difference to you. But it makes all the difference to the North.

You should have gone to Robb first. Your foolishness.

You straightened up and flattened the blankets on his cot down. "Just tidying up. Waiting for you, my lord," And you took a deep breath, braving a sultry look on your face before turning around.

"Me?" Roose asked, pure amusement in his voice. You'd have to work to really get him to believe you.

"All this talk of weddings, it's all I hear now. Everyone, everywhere," You hoped your hesitation wasn't visible as you draped your arms around Roose's neck and stared into his eyes.

"And why are you here, my lady, waiting for me."

You sighed, careful not to drop the ruse. Of all men why did it have to be Roose Bolton. Any other man, after not touching a woman for years, wouldn't have questioned the logic of your seduction and you'd at least have a chance to hit him over the head with a lantern, maybe a knife if you're lucky. But Roose hed his gaze with you evenly. Challenging you.

How to get him to trust you...

"Isn't it obvious?" You tilted your head, staring with the biggest pleading eyes you could muster. And you looked at his lips, just a moment of hesitation overtaking you before you leaned in and slowly molded your mouth to his.

Your heart went wild as he kissed you back, a mix of emotions forming. You were still scared for your life but you were also happy that your trick seemed to be working. And under the two dominant emotions, there was a slight hint of something else at play. You chalked up to the scandalousness of it all. It wasn't your main worry, but as a proper lady you were raised to not be caught in close quarters with another unmarried man, especially if you were doing salacious things — or if it looked like you were about to. It was also the first time you'd ever kissed a man.

Not the greatest conditions, but alas, you could care less about a tender kiss or even a few. You just need a distraction and its working. Roose kissed you back so fiercly it made you dizzy. So dizzying that you hadn't realized he reached into your pockets.

When the kiss broke, you stared up at him, his face composed and hard as stone, almost as if it hadn't affected him at all. But his lips were swollen and he stared at you, eyes betraying him to look down at your equally puffy lips and you smirked.

You made sure to hold his gaze and you let your hand trail down his front, teasing just above his crotch. "Celebrate the happy betrothal with me?"

Roose cracked a smile and nodded, a sarcastic hum rumbling from him, "Your nerves give you away, my lady." Your heart sank. "You quiver like a virgin playing at being a whore. It was almost convincing, but..." He held up the letter that you had stolen from the raven.

You let the dread overtake your face and you ran.

But you couldn't even make two steps before Roose pulled you by your wrist, back into his chest.

You struggled for a few seconds but stilled as soon as you felt cool metal under your chin.

"A deal," You spoke quickly, equally as quickly deciding you really didn't like the feeling of a cold blade pressing against the neck, that you very much did like.

"A deal?" Roose breathed the question into your ear. He was so obviously not scared or even wary of you. And you scrambled to keep the upper hand.

"I could always scream instead. You could kill me, make some excuse to cover yourself up, but that excuse wont pass, not for our King's childhood friend. You could run. You'd be dead within the fortnight if they caught you." You hoped that you weren't just spewing bullshit, "The camp is so dense. How likely are you to make it to Frey before one of Robbs catches you first? And your plan would fail. Robb would know something's wrong."

He was permitting you to continue, so you did. He wasn't so much as urging you to continue but rather, watching, knowing you would.

"I could offer your head to our king. But I imagine you wouldn't enjoy that very much. So many options but I propose the best one — you could turn on Frey, tell Robb. Warn him about Karstark, too. Wouldn't you much rather become the new Lord of the Twins than deal with a petty mess?"

Roose considered it for a couple seconds before releasing you. You're right that making you disappear would be a little more annoying that simply a petty mess. He knows he can't just let you go either. He doesn't trust you.

Whats to stop you from running to tell Robb as soon as he let you go anyway? Then he remembers that his soldiers make up the largest portion of Robb Starks army aside from the Karstarks. And that there was his leverage. That's why you were trying to reason with him. Which really means, despite everything, he could even go as far to say that he's the one with the upper hand in this situation.

You, apparently unwilling to inform Robb of his treachery, asking him to warn your King and continue to fight by his side, all you had was a secret that only the two people in this room know. Not a very good hand. You don't even have proof anymore. Roose walked over to his bed, pulling a stack of letters out from a slit in the mattress.

You sighed, kicking yourself. You were so close. And you watched him, walking to the fire at the foot of his bed with his eyes trained on you. You watched helplessly hope was scorched in the flames.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and only now had you permitted yourself to notice it. Sitting at the edge of his bed, You wiped your forehead.

Roose chuckled. Clever girl, weighing logic and strategy, no trouble following the shifting power between you two. You knew you needed him. You knew Robb needed him. You knew the odds of winning this war was slim already now that the Tyrells had joined the fray. You knew if you gave him a reason, he might slit your little throat tonight. And sure that meant Robb might get the hint not to attend the wedding, but the Northern army would still be crushed within half a year.

And perhaps you valued that pretty little head of yours above all else.

Now, Roose took interest, evaluating you with a new eye, "What is your proposal?"

"You go, tell Robb of the plans but tell him you intended on being a turncoat this entire time."

"And what do I receive in exchange for this act of mercy."

You chuckled, "My many thanks, redemption in the eyes of the Gods," you offered sardonically, knowing the answer would come as too dismissive. You could tell Roose wasn't impresssed, "I can still tell the King, my lord, if it pleases you.

Roose, ever perplexed by your mind, drew closer but stowed his knife back in his holster, behind him. He made it so that you had to tilt your head up to look at him. "Do not think for a second that you might have the upper hand in this position, my lady. I say that, not as a threat, but as advice. Know when you do not have the upper hand. Know when to serve."

You glared up at him, scanning his eyes, baffled by his audacity. You are— "I am a—"

"Stark Ward. But not a Stark. If you go to Robb, you have no proof. I might have my own story. You and Greyjoy, bitter that you'd never truly be accepted into the Stark family plotted the demise of the King in the North, who I so faithfully served up until now. There is no reason for Robb to view me with less trust than you... The King may grow weary with paranoia. First his brother... then he doesn't know to trust his closest advisor or his sister. "

"But you---"

"I am guilty. And you have no evidence. You are asking for a favor. Tell me, what difference does it make if the King dies tomorrow or three months later on the Battlefield without my men to back him." he questioned, enunciating each word clearly, staring down at you.

You cursed yourself for sitting. The scare was not over, you should have realized. Even if the cold blade was no longer physically at your neck, Roose Bolton still had a knife to you.

"What do you want?"

He chuckled, "One day I will have a need for you. And that day, you will obey. You owe me your life, my lady. And the King's life."

You glared at the ground, wishing you could say something of his arrogance, "And Robb?"

"I will tell him of the plans. And you will not tell him the truth. Any time you think you want to tell the young wolf what we discussed in these chambers remember that it is your pretty neck and your reputation that may be in my hands." Roose gave you one last look, then whispered, "Go on now. Back to your tent."

You stood, meeting him with one last glare.

He smiled sweetly at you, nodding, "I thoroughly enjoyed the display."

—————

Your promise to Roose Bolton loomed over you every day for a month. You spent your days watching his actions closely to know when he was plotting anything, but he's yet to step blatantly out of turn.

He was showered with honors for being savior at the Red Wedding, not only becoming the official Lord presiding over the Twins, but he was given a large portion of the remaining Karstark forces, which thankfully very few deserted the King in the North after the victory at the Twins. Roose sent his Bastard to serve in his stead at Karhold, which was now under close surveillance for their treachery.

You paled to hear these developments. Because in truth you still failed to trust Roose Bolton though you hoped these gifts from the King in the North sweetened the pot enough for him to follow through with his promise to you. You simply shivered at the obscene amount of power that was showered to him.

So long as he retained the upper hand you would continue to be unsettled. You wish he would just tell you what he wants from you quickly so that you may get it over with. Really, something you think he just enjoys watching you squirm.

"Milk of the Poppy," Talisa said calmly.

And you moved to argue with your queen but hearing the screams of agony of the man being tended you, you decided there was a time and place.

The queen finished up with him quickly and turned back to you. That's when you started, "My Queen, I'm sure you're tired of hearing. And I, more than anyone else here understand your concern for the wellbeing of unnamed Lannister boy-soldiers."

Talisa, laughed, ducking her head in preparation for your words.

"But truly... Milk of the Poppy?" You pleaded, "I know it may seem cruel but it's really more of a luxury in wartime than anything. Perhaps that can be saved for the men fighting for our King."

Your queen met your eyes again but then at something behind you. Turning, you saw Roose speaking with Robb. Robb glanced at you, spoke something back to the Dreadlord and patted his arm before making his way to you. Roose spared you a glance before walking in the other direction, toward his tent.

"I'll take your words into consideration, my lady," Talisa reassured, "I understand. Thank you for stating your opinion calmly and without judgement."

You smiled in sympathy, knowing the men in the army could be quite rough around the edges with their opinions.

Talisa started again, taking some time to gather her tools "My husband is coming. I think he wants to speak with you."

Robb came up to the two of you, placing a hand on the small of Talisa's back, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering something short in her ear.

"I'll leave you to it then," Talisa said sweetly and left to find more sick to tend to.

As soon as she did, Robb's features were cast with a stern seriousness. You evaluated it, wondering if it had anything to do with Roose Bolton's conversation with him just moments before.

"What is it?" You asked.

Robb sighed, "You don't have to agree. You can think on it for a while. I know it can be daunting seeing as I'm almost sure he's older than father."

"What is it?" You pressed urgently.

"Roose Bolton asked for my blessing to take your hand in marriage."

Your heart sank, the full weight of the deal you made with Roose falling on your shoulders.

"I gave him my blessing as I have no reason not to. But I warned him that I cannot force you to be amenable." With a laugh, Robb tried to cheer you up but to no avail, "I even warned him you shared Arya's disdain for marriage from a young age."

You simply nodded, expressionless and quickly muttered something to dismiss yourself and you ran straight for Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

The route to Roose's tent felt quick, like you had stormed off from Robb and landed right at his door. Your anger bubbled at your throat and you could hardly wait before storming in and yelling at the man sat at his desk.

"So that's it?" You asked, bewildered, "That's how you aim to make me repay my debt?"

Roose didn't even look up at you as he continued to write on a small strip of parchment. "It seems with my sudden acquisition of the Twins, even if I legitimize my bastard, it will not be enough to sustain my achievements. I'm in dire need of heirs. You owe me a favor."

You were speechless for a second and you felt a laugh be punch out of your chest, the mere ridiculousness — the scale of this favor. "A favor, my lord, usually doesn't include a lifelong bind. A favor, I would imagine is a one and done type of deal." Marching to the side of his table, you attempted to command his attention, "Was the twins not enough? Was having your bastard installed as acting Lord of Karhold not enough?"

Roose looked up at you, calmly speaking. "I'd like to remind you, my lady, that had I not warned the King in the North of the Freys and Karstarks treachery, I'd have been named Warden of the North by the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Closing your mouth, you huffed, amazed by this mans blatant selfishness. Titles.

"The Twins, and temporary reign over the Karstark maneuvers pales in comparison to what I had abandoned."

"Well you our deal wasn't for me to make that loss up to you, it was so you could keep your head and remain loyal to King Robb." You shook your head, "I wont do it. If you're the pragmatic, power hungry man you claim to be, why don't you plot your way into some other lady's bed — someone who could give you another stronghold to place your seed upon? I'd just be a cow to breed, nothing else to gain from there"

"A pretty cow to breed with a respectful name and no brothers to take your family home. I'd say you're as good a match as any."

You gasped at his blatant disrespect, blood rising to your head, and you landed a firm slap to his face. You even went for seconds but he grabbed your wrist firmly. You tried to pull it away but he wouldn't let you.

"Of course, we'll have to do something about that temper of yours once we are wed," He warned, pulling you a little harshly — not too rough but enough to make you fall forward and catch yourself on his table. He stood, circling around the table, as casually as he could managed but he did adjust his jaw from the slap you landed on him. "Your spirit and smart mouth have done you well in the past but only when they are in company with your wits. Don't go losing those wits and getting yourself in trouble. As I'm sure you are aware, there are dangerous men lurking in times of war."

"Dangerous men like you," You pushed yourself off the table and faced him again, crossing your arms, "I owe you my life. What happens if I decide I'd rather die than marry you?"

"Then what will be protecting your King, if not your life?"

That took any retort out of your mouth, as this was not an avenue you'd expected him to take. You stuttered dumbly for a moment. "M-my King? What of him? They—... House Frey and the Karstarks have been dealt with. You—"

"I can still betray him. He trusts me now more than ever. If I write to Tywin Lannister detailing how the plan had been spoiled and I explain that I'd counted our losses and regained the trust of the King so that we may try again well, that'd be easy enough," He stared down at you and said the next part clearly, "You are the only thing stopping me from doing so. If you'd rather die..."

You shook your head at him, scowling. The entire North, dependent on what you say to this man. "I don't want to marry you," you stood your ground as well as you could, "Anything else, I'll do."

Roose looked to the ground next to you, "Well then," He sighed.

Then he glanced back at you, giving you a lazy once over.

He sighed again, this time more sure, straightening his back and that's when you knew he'd had an idea.

You didn't like him getting ideas. You don't like his mind and the thoughts he spins.

"Another deal. A game, more like."

You didn't trust the slight tinge of a smile. Really you just didn't trust or like this man. Every moment you're in his tent feels like a gamble. "What game?" You especially hate the idea of playing his games. Right into the bear trap, it felt like.

Where you excelled in proposing deals that suited the interests of both sides perfectly, the Boltons were infamous for creatively constructing games that were rigged from the start, in their favor.

"Part of it is that you have to figure out the rules," He smiled.

You should have known the odds were against you. They always were when it came to Roose Bolton. How does one negotiate with a man like him?

Your attention was drawn back to him when his hand came up to the pin that secured your cloak to your shoulders. He undid the on on the right, then the one on your left. And you could do nothing but watch it fall to the floor, heart racing, because suddenly you understood.

Why did you have to say "Anything"?

Of course... You watched him, his clenched jaw, barely holding back from just ripping your clothes off, and you realized: Roose Bolton is just like any other man. He only wants one thing. Married to you or not.

One and done, you wondered, Is that better?

He pulled the laces securing your dress in the front, watching his eyes greedily take in your chest as more of it was exposed. Soon, your dress hugged your waist and shoulders, barely covering your top half.

You smacked his hand away as it reached under the fabric draping at your shoulders.

The silent question in your eyes was What the fuck do you think you're doing?

Roose simply chuckled softly, “Letting me see your tits is not as bad as marrying me, is it, my lady?” Dark intentions coated his syrupy smooth voice and it made you shiver.

Breathing a long, angry sigh, you looked up at him, “I could just kill you.”

“Even if you managed, your king desperately needs Bolton men. They'll only follow a Bolton,” He spoke matter of factly, tugging your sleeves so they fell off your shoulders.

He's right. The Starks and the Boltons had no love for each other. Centuries of hate. Many Karstarks remained loyal to Robb because of the history of love between the houses. There was no such history between the Starks and Boltons.

The cool air hit your exposed skin. “Trust me,” Roose smiled satisfied with the sight before him, taking a firm handful of your breast, caressing over it and pinching the nipple as he let go, “You’d rather handle me than deal with my bastard.”

You shivered and took several steps back from him and his touch, and moved to cover your breasts with your hands as well as you could.

You’d definitely heard about his bastard. From what you knew, he was a more unhinged, less predictable version of Roose, more willing to get his hands dirty, more eager to act. You stood and let Roose’s eyes rake over your body, disgust bubbling at your throat.

“So conveniently, my best option is to either marry you or let you fuck me and ruin any marriage prospects in my future?”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Roose raised his brow, playing innocent, “I just want to see you, touch you... feel you touch me. I wont put anything inside your cunt unless you ask me to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, you dont trust his mercy, especially the last clause. Unless you ask him to. Why in seven hells would you ask him to? “What do you want me to do?”

Roose smirked widely and the look should have terrified you — you’ve never seen such twisted joy on a persons face before, especially not stoic Roose Bolton.

He stepped closer to you once more, hands coming to cradle your face and neck gently. Your hands instinctively followed, grabbing his wrists cautiously. Though a hint of that devious smirk lingered, he looked at you with gentleness between his eyes, “Lets start with another kiss,” He said, condescension lacing his voice, “seeing as my lady was so eager the last time we saw each other.”

You couldnt help but fall a little under his spell, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to figure out why you felt dizzy with him so close to you, cold eyes darting all over your face. Why your mind whirred with the memory of how hungrily he responded to you last time you were in his tent. You wondered if perhaps you had sparked something in him. If that was why he was so insistent.

You nodded softly, so soft that upon thinking on it, you wondered if it was even noticable. But Roose had been watching you closely for any sign of submission and he closed the gap between you before you could move to do anything else.

He noted how you tensed just as his lips met yours and he carefully took your hands, guiding them to wrap around his neck. You tried to relax into it as much as possible and kiss him back, but it proved difficult until his arms came around and pulled you closer to him.

His bare hand on your back made you jolt and he chuckled deeply, the rumble of it making you shy away. "Roose," You started, unsure of what you would say. That you already need a break?

Roose ignored you, hands coming back up to cup your breasts, "Fucking gorgeous. And you've been right in front of me this entire time," He spoke so lowly you almost thought he was muttering to himself. But his eyes trained on you told you different.

He leaned down the few extra centimeters to meet your lips again, this time toying with your hardened buds as he did. Your hand shot up to grab his wrist but he just pinched in response. You squealed, lips parting from his but he kept you held close.

"Behave."

You whined, glaring at him, your dignity clinging to any sliver of hope it had of remaining intact.

Roose glared right back and took your hand, leading you toward his cot. He sat you on his lap and again, turned his attention toward your chest after kissing you a few times. This time, his lips wrapped around the bud on your right while his hand toyed with the other.

You tensed as a moan threatened to escape you, especially with his tongue circling around the way it did. When he sucked and continued that technique at the same time it was difficult not to enjoy. To be honest, you didn't even know a man could enjoy a woman's body like this — so shamelessly lewd. But he promised no penetration. You assume that means he deigns to make use of your body in any other way.

It was quickly proving to be too much. You grunted a few times when moans caught in your throat, gutteral noises and sighs to keep the really embarrassing noises down. But even that was wearing thin. Your hand shot up to his head and tugged at his hair. Your back arched into him, body twitching when he'd trigger a sensitive nerve.

And before you could stop it, you sighed something a little too audible, too close to a full moan. You began trying to push his head away.

Roose grabbed your hands firmly, pushing them away and gave you a small nip as a warning. You yelped, staring at him incredulously. Then he switched to your more neglected nipple.

This same torture continued for far too long, but the result was worse than the torture itself, because you couldn't deny the pool forming in your small cloths. The pleasure of him toying with your sensitive buds just goes straight down there. You can't help it.

"My lord, h-how much more."

"I'll play with you until I'm satisfied, darling," He answered cooly, "Don't ask again."

You nodded, looking at his intense, watchful eyes. And he crashed his lips on yours again. This time, he reached beneath all the heavy layers of your skirts and pulled your breeches down. You helped him kick them off.

When the pads of his finger met your cunt, they circled around in search but he cut his search off, chuckling at what he found. You pulled away from his lips, hiding in his shoulder because you already knew what he was laughing at.

"Look at my little whore. Never been touched like this, have you? You're going to let me ruin you for your King?"

You groaned, feeling his fingers gather your slick, then he found a bundle of nerves. It felt like when he was licking your nipples— the way it tingled down there— but he was touching the exact source of it. Sometimes you'd cross your legs or gyrate your hips against a pillow and feel the same way but Wow you always thought that sensation was coming from something deeper inside you. Turns out its right there. Right at the front of your vulva.

And Roose knew. You gripped his knee and spread your legs for him as he toyed with you in ways you hadn't even known to toy with yourself. Your lips fell open but you wouldn't allow a single sound to come out, though you knew this would be far more difficult to bear than what he was doing previously.

Your body would twitch and tense up under his ministrations. Something was building within you. You'd felt this kind of feeling, grinding against soft pillows, but then the feeling would die after a little while. You'd walk away satisfied with the morsel of pleasure.

But with Roose, it wasn't going anywhere. It kept building and building.

Eventually, you thought that perhaps an end to the build was near but he diverted his fingers, playing with your opening instead, gathering more slick.

You calmed yourself, taking a few breaths to calm yourself. You looked down to see Roose staring at you, eyes hooded with a dark cloud of lust, lips parted, just taking you in like you were the most interesting, captivating thing he's ever seen.

His finger teased your entrance, pushing slightly and you ripped your gaze away from his intense eyes, studying you. Gods... Oh gods. You rolled your hips but he pulled his hand away finally.

Roose wiped his hand on your skirt. "Do you like being touched by me?"

You refused to answer, turning your head and looking anywhere else. Weakly, you shook your head no.

"Don't lie," he scolded.

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, brows furrowed, confusion behind your eyes, wondering how your body could betray you like this. But its just biology. Simple as that.

"You came close."

"Close to what?"

That made Roose smirk wider, a twinge of surprise and excitement, "Close to a release that some women can achieve while fucking." Roose took a second to compose himself before continuing, "A release that you won't experience tonight, unless it's around my cock."

Fear filled you, "You said you wouldn't."

"No, I wont," Roose cooed, a false comfort, "Not until you ask."

"I wont."

"We'll see, darling," He moved his arms from you and nudged your behind a little, "Up. Take off your dress."

You stood and obeyed, albeit hesitantly. He also took to stripping himself, but left on his small clothes. You, having already rid yourself of your breeches, were bare as the day you were born once you took off your dress.

Roose, with a hand to your waist, pulled you into him, standing in between his legs and he pressed a kiss to your stomach, trailing down to your dripping cunt. You shuddered at the thought of his tongue circling around that spot the way it circled your nipple. You don't think you could bear that.

Unfortunately for you, that was exactly what Roose had in mind. He lifted your leg so that your foot rested on the edge of his bed, which sat low on the ground. It's height provided the perfect angle for him to duck under and lick a flat stripe over your clit.

Your cunt convulsed and you were embarrassed for it because unlike your moans, you could not hide the reactions of your cunt as easily. His tongue dipped a little further, barely dipping into your hole to taste you and collect your essence on his tongue.

He groaned into you, the vibration making you bite your lip. He feasted on you like a starved man, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and gently shaking his head as he sucked. Each time he flicked his tongue sent shocks through your body and you'd buck your hips against his face.

Even just the image that you were met with when you looked down— Roose Bolton burying his face into those parts...

If him licking your nipples was considered lewd, you didn't know how to describe this correctly. You hadn't even realized that men did this in the first place. Frankly it felt like something a man like Roose would normally consider to be too debasing and submissive.

There was nothing submissive about the way Roose licked up your juices. This was a man who was confident he held all the power and you'd be stupid to underestimate him.

Whines, real wanton whines pushed through your throat, filling the open air of his tent and that only seemed to spur him on. You submitted to it, feeling his hand come under your buttock and his other wrap around your waist. He then hoisted you up in the air and gently laid you down on the bed.

Roose not so gently spread your legs and settled between them, continuing his treatment on you.

Again the coil in your core tightened impossibly tight and just as you thought you'd reach some higher pleasure. He pulled away, peppering kisses to your thigh to calm you. You breathed heavily, staring at the ceiling.

This time, having him stop was frustrating. You cant lie. And you had a feeling you were in for a rather long night. Your hand twitched, almost wanting to give yourself the pleasure that he refused but you knew Roose would not let you. This was his game.

The game where you win if you steel through and manage to out last him.

You whimpered, legs quaking softly when he carefully bent and flicked his tongue against your clit again. Even, at this point, the feeling of his stubbled cheeks brushing your inner thigh was almost too sensitive to bear. Your body was responding to everything.

Soon you were bucking against his face, cursing the gods, and repeating the process again and again.

He learned what you liked quickly and tried everything under the sun. Dipping his tongue into you, he brought you just to the precipice of something amazing by fucking you with nothing but his mouth.

Once you had settled from the near high a fourth time, Roose pulled your body closer to him and through his lustblown eyes. He whispered to you as his fingers came to tease your entrance again, "May I?"

You looked down at him, biting your lip and you wanted to say yes. Your entire being begged for it. But your pride told you to say, "Do I have a choice?"

He merely chuckled at the loss of any desire to argue within you, and he plunged two thick fingers into your cunt. You cried out, the stretch somewhat shocking to you. But you were so wet that it really just felt nice, despite being foreign.

The noise you made was something you didn't even think could be produced within you. You moved to cover your face, laughing into them neverously because holy shit you need to get a hold of yourself. You need to. You've never felt this weak in the hands of someone else.

His fingers filled you nicely but you dreaded to admit it wasn't enough. And you didn't like how stiff they felt inside you. Something softer might feel more like it belongs. something longer and thicker... Something like—

Roose growled and that noise brought you out of your trance. You stared at him for a second, his eyebrows knit together frustratedly. His fingers did their work inside your cunt while his mouth continued to torture your clit.

"Fuck! Ahhh... fuck fuck—" You groaned, gritting your teeth together as you tried to keep yourself up to watch him.

You breathlessly but sort of victoriously took note of his clear frustration. You were proving to be more stubborn than he bargained for, you assume. But he was persistent too. There was no mistaking who had the power here.

He groaned, pumping his fingers into you. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel when you finally gave in to him. So he let you know, "Your cunt loves me, my lady. You feel it clenching around me. You're so desperate for more. All you have to do is ask."

"Eat shit," you choked out. You meant to say it more confidently, less weak and shuddery but it created the same effect within Roose as it would have either way.

His lips returned, doing only what garnered the strongest reactions from you. And you were tumbling back down the hill again.

Of course he stopped, again.

You needed more than a second to recover from that one. What was it? Five rounds of the same torture. Your body was sure to be feeling the effects of it. Your cunt continued to twitch around nothing after his fingers were unceremoniously pulled out.

You lay there, unable to do anything but watch him clean off his fingers with his mouth. And it was hot because he didn't necessarily make a show of it. Ever the practical man, he probably only used his mouth because it was the easiest, cleanest solution. But you'd never seen anything so salacious and wrong.

Well, you concede, perhaps its not wrong, just something you, again, wouldn't thought of doing. It made your hips wriggle involuntarily and your cunt clench around nothing again, missing his fingers stretching and making you feel a little closer to whole.

Roose made quick work, ridding himself of his breeches and shirt.

You barely had enough time to appreciate the defined lines of his body, toned, even at his age because he stayed active.

He's undeniably handsome. If he wasn't so evil you'd have jumped at the chance of marrying him. Even now, staring at him, the man in control of your pleasure, you wondered if being married to him would even be so bad.

And his cock... You glanced at it, then trained your eyes back on his icy gaze. He cant see you staring down there, he'll get the wrong idea like he's winning or something. But the image was burnt into your mind. You could end your suffering now and beg him to put it inside you. You could.

But then your pride jumped in and told you to stop acting a fool.

He climbed up the bed, staying to one side of you, then wrapped his arm under you, kissing you briefly. Very briefly. So briefly that when he pulled away, you felt trained to chase after his lips, expecting more. The very accidental admittance of submission was not lost on either of you, an approving chuckle leaving him as he flipped your body on its tummy.

He crawled over you, snaking a hand under your stomach to pull you up and your entire backside felt his bare skin upon it. You bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at that feeling alone, again your cunt whined and begged you to just give in. Its right there, hard and pressing against your ass.

It was dizzying, the entire experience. You'd been denied so many times.

"Remember the rules," he murmured in your ear before taking a small bite and kissing down it. "Keep your thighs tight. Until you're ready to spread them like the good little slut you are." And with that, he used his free hand to slip his cock between your damp thighs.

You'd been so stripped of any and all resistance that the dominant emotion filling you was pride at his praise, calling you a good little slut. Something so debasing shouldn't stir you this much.

You were shocked at the warmth, initially scared that he was trying to slip it inside your cunt without you noticing, but Roose stayed true to his word. He wasn't going to put it in unless you asked, unless got to the point of wanting to beg him to. That didn't mean he couldn't put it right next to the entrance to tempt you.

It took him all but two seconds to begin slowly thrusting into the crack of your thighs and you wondered if it was supposed to feel like anything for you because it felt really amazing.

It wasn't as intense as his lips on your cunt but it was more tempting. The head of his cock, when his hips would slap against your ass, would grind deliciously over your clit. You whimpered each time it happened. It was all so wet and warm down there, his cock doing nothing but spreading the mess between your thighs.

His hand came around you to grab your neck, pulling you up so that he could fuck your thighs, using you as leverage. Your cunt pulsed with desire again, wishing he'd angle his hips incorrectly on accident and it'd just slip inside.

Please just slip inside. Please, please. Please slip in.

"Fuck, Roose, It... Its so... please," You said without even thinking

A dark chuckle vibrated right next to your ear. He chewed your lobe and kissed the top of your jaw. "Tell me."

"I... mmm nothing, nothing. I..." You growled frustratedly, burrying your face in the pillow.

Tears pricked your eyes.

The frustration was really getting to you.

Five times denied.

Your hips met him, rolling back to make his thrusts easier and he growled, landing a firm smack to your buttock. You cried out into the pillow.

Having had enough of your muffled cries, Roose pulled you up, situating your neck in the crook of his arm and he hoisted you up to your knees, cock still pumping drenched between your thighs.

It was pure debauchery. Unadulterated debauchery. You felt dirty and you couldn't even bother to be embarrassed by it. You just wanted him to have an accident and slip in. But you knew Roose. You knew he was too careful.

You had to give in first.

Your heart sank, realizing this could go on for so much longer. If he really wanted to, he could release right now, between your thighs and toy with your body mercilessly until he's ready to try with his cock again. He could go on for much much longer than you could ever dream of.

Especially in this position, it was difficult not to imagine him spearing you, your walls clenching and welcoming him instead of your thighs.

Gods, the way he was just using your body. Any part of your body. You were dizzy with pleasure and longing.

“Roose just do it, you win. Fuck me, please,” You spoke through sobs. Frustrated tears trickled down your cheeks.

Roose slowed his movements but that only made your wanting worse. Your thighs literally quivered for him. He took one look at the tear streaks on your face, not having noticed the fact that you were fucking crying for his cock, since your face had just been buried in the pillows a second ago. Roose's heart nearly had a tender little lapse, but it instead, swelled his pride to see you so desperate.

He wiped your tears away with his free hand and kissed your cheek. He wasn't completely done toying with you. He had to make sure you understood what it meant to be fucked by him. Truly understood. “And take my lady’s maidenhead? Will any respectable man take you to be his bride then?”

Your heart sank deeper than it ever had, real dread filling you. You finally understood his play here.

“Of course, as an honorable man, It’d be my duty to inform them of your compromised purity. Tell them this little whore's been tainted.”

He'd riled you up this far. You thought naively that he simply wanted you to admit defeat that you desired him as much as he desired you before taking you passionately.

In reality he wasn't going to let you go even after you gave in. The second another lord comes along for your hand in marriage, Bolton will reveal this little tryst you've had.

This was his goal since the beginning.

Marriage to you has been his goal since the very beginning of this little parlay.

You whined, stomach twisting because your dignity has become a whispered scream within you, telling you not to give in. But your psychology, your biology, everything else was screaming for him. He wanted not just to fuck you but to own you.

Your thighs tightened and you grinded against his long shaft. Still in the weakest attempt to remain stubborn, you stuttered, “Just… only a little, my lord. Only the top part. If you must. But please dont put it all in. Not far enough to break the… m-my maidenhead.”

That was the moment both of you knew you lost. You'd say it was stubbornness. Maybe that's what it was. Maybe you just liked feeling helpless under him, knowing what was inevitable.

Roose reached down, the strain that his smirk had on his cheeks being felt against yours. You're happy he's happy. Truly, you are. It twists your stomach again. You think if your stomach twists again you'll just melt into Roose Bolton. Completely at his mercy.

You whimpered as he used his hand to guide his cock to your entrance and pushed in, only far enough for the tip. Breathy moans tumbled out of you, all effort to hide them completely foregone. You threw your head back against his chest, eyes closed, enjoying the teasing feeling of just his cockhead stretching you.

He alternated between faster pumps and slow ones where you could feel his tip just barely broaching your entrance before pulling away again. He liked to feel your cunt try to suck him into you. Could you get any wetter? Any more ready to take him?

You tried to cheat, you'll admit it. Bucking your hips back, but he always managed to follow your movements, not giving you a single bit more than what you asked for. Tears pricked your eyes again but your heart soared from it. You're at his mercy completely.

“Whats wrong, my lady, you seem distressed.” He wiped a tear away from the corner of your eye, threatening to fall. And the way you whined at that moment, so frustratedly, almost like you hated him, like you might kill him if you had the chance... it actually managed to crack Roose’s composure and he laughed a good hearty laugh from the bottom of his chest.

Still smiling, he tilted his head, giving a condescending hum of mock sympathy.

Roose took your chin in his hand so he can get a good look at you as he continued to tease the tip of his cock in and out of you. Your big eyes looking up at him and begging, begging. He would love to give in but you have to say it.

“I am but your loyal and humble servant. I only do what is bid of me.”

“Fuck me,” You crack, the words coming out not as intelligible words but as part of your moans.

He hummed a deep and clear “Hm?” Pretending he didnt hear but he did. You know he did.

“Please, fuck me.”

“And...”

“Please fuck me and marry me," You forced out, you cringed at the way your voice sounded, so whiny you would have thought it to be annoying and too high pitched. But it deepend the clouds of lust behind your lord's eyes. It made you keep going "Please, my lord, take me as your bride. Fuck me and then save my honor from ruin.”

Your eyes fluttered close, shutting tightly. You expected more taunting from him, anything, but you forced your eyes back to him when you felt his hot breath on your cheek, then his nose ghosting over as well. He pushed his cock in a little past the tip and you whimpered, grateful, melting into him. Your stomach twisted again. Your legs were so so so weak.

Roose tilted his head, leaning in closer and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. When he parted, you blinked, looking up into his striking blue eyes and you whimpered again because he thrusted back in, deeper, only slightly, but he met the little barrier within you and you braced yourself for the striking blow.

He captured your lips more roughly this time as he pushed through, claiming you as his. Your soft squeaks of pain and pleasure getting lost in his mouth. Roose pumped his cock in and out, slowly, waiting for you to stop tensing.

When your ass twitched upward against him, he took that as the permission. Your lips disconnected from each other, both of you left gasping. You stopped trying to hide your pleasure long ago.

Your husband to be let go of you, letting you fall down back to the bed and you caught yourself on your elbows. He grabbed your hips, using your body mercilessly as you damn near sobbed from pleasure.

The view of you bent over for him, the side of your face pressed into the sheet and submissively crying out for him was almost too much. Roose braced himself to last longer but it seemed you were also tumbling embarrassingly quickly to your release after having been denied the pleasure five times over.

"Perhaps tonight," Roose paused to grunt and in his deep, baritone, it was just too good, you whined in response, "Tonight, I will put our first baby in you. A bastard, but no one else but you and I will be privy to that technicality."

"Yes," You shook beneath him, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. And as your cunt tightened around him, Roose knew you were close.

"Beg," was the one worded command, and having learned your lesson, you obeyed nearly immediately.

"Please, let me release. Please, let me carry a son for you, husband. Whatever you need from me, please."

Roose could not deny such sweet words, he came inside you with a few purposeful jerks of his hips and you shuddered for it, the pleasure feeling as if it could blind you if you were even the slightest bit more wound up than you were in this moment. You were unaware of the fact that your pussy, having a mind of its own, continued to pulse, milking Roose Bolton for everything he had to offer.

The sizable load immediately spilled out onto the sheets after your intended slipped out of you. You laid there afterward, with your ass up, desperately attempting to recollect yourself as quick as possible.

You moved to get up but Roose landed a firm but not too painful smack on your ass. It wasn't too hard but in your state, it succeeded in knocking you back down to your hands with how weak your legs were.

"That's for striking me earlier," He said, icily, then he handed you a cup of water, waiting for you to take it before he started to wipe away at the mess he'd left between your legs with a spare rag of his.

The act was more tender than you'd have expected from Roose, especially when he pressed a small, short kiss to your buttock and gave it another playful smack.

"Stubborn little wife."

That brought a pleasant little heat to your cheeks.