#Sansa Smiles

[ladystoneboobs]

the younger starklings about robb (robb the strong and brave big brother, the perfect heir, the fierce and unbeatable young wolf):

arya

bran

sansa

meanwhile, actual robb (robb the lord and then robb the kitn):

before arya ever promised to be strong by using robb as her benchmark, the definition of stark strength, ned had to remind robb to be strong as the ruling stark in winterfell. (strong for bran and rickon, the brothers he thought he failed by sending their would-be killer away, leading to his great moment of weakness in jeyne westerling's bed.) as his siblings' faith in his ultimate triumph held strong, even after the loss of the north, robb himself was struggling with despair.

as grenn once told sam, maybe everyone is just pretending to be brave, maybe that's how people become brave. robb was faking it to make it too, imitating his father's lordly attitude as bran later tried to imitate robb's. as his younger siblings remembered him as their shining example, robb was trying to live up to his father's example. not the ned who'd been in his circumstances, a teenager unexpectedly turned into a lord and fighting a war to save his family. no, ofc, he never knew that young ned. the ned he knew as his father, the standard to measure himself against, was an adult man in his mid-30s who'd ruled the north for ~15 years. but was that standard for a 15/16yo any more fair and valid an expectation than 8/9yo bran believing he was almost a man grown and holding himself to the standard of 15/16yo robb as robb's heir?

and the only person left close enough to see robb as the boy he still was died with him.

[imjustapoorwayfaringgeek]

i just wanted to draw head accessories but it turned out prettier than i expected lol

[catofoldstones]

Sansa knowing better and defeating Littlefinger foreshadowing, in my agot? More likely than you think

[alicent-targaryen]

SANSA STARK ▸ Game of Thrones, 1.1

[mialander]

a poignant beauty

[deadgirlwalked]

I want a swordfight with whoever wrote Arya & Sansa's reunion in GOT, to not even speak of the boxfight I'd have with them writing Arya & Bran's reunion

[greywoe]

Sansa said, “I knew the Hound would win.”

Littlefinger overheard. “If you know who’s going to win the second match, speak up now before Lord Renly plucks me clean,” he called to her. Ned smiled.

“A pity the Imp is not here with us,” Lord Renly said. “I should have won twice as much.”

#sansamonth2023 day 13: tourneys

[porcelaintoybox23]

Reading A Song of Ice and Fire is just oscillating between feeling bad for each Stark and then Tyrion.

Currently, Sansa. Girl can’t have shit

[yourdailyjormy]

decided I hated the icons I've been working on actually. decided to try a fresh set with a new approach (drawing a base structure and using the same one for all icons). decided i should probably draw someone who isn't from tolkien for a change.

let's pretend that this is the first sansa i drew tonight, and not the third.

actually that's not fair let's pretend it's the second:

[vroomian]

could you speak more about yrz and jaime’s relationship? i’m so curious on what’s going on there

Jamie’s first impression of Yrz: tiny naïve pretty boy

Jamie’s actual impression after kings landing: how are you, a tiny 14yo, the same amount of scary as my father!!!

[fantasywritten]

ship tag drop!

… wow i have a lot of ships lol… and yet i still want more 👀

[doradeluna]

The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood. Cersei smiled to see her, and Sansa thought it was the sweetest and saddest smile she had ever seen.

This was supposed to be another quick one that took me a literal month of work, on and off, and over 20 hours of audiobook listened while doing it. There's something to be said about how nowadays I'm more comfortable with working on pieces for longer and just chipping away at work rather than staying up until 4 am to finish something on a rush but like. Anyway, Sansa's POV! Cersei's revenge dress! Murdered husband! Misogyny will come for us all in the end!

Commissions open!

bonus: pycelle's dumb face

[myladysapphire]

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!

Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.

He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.

But one thing he did not expect was you.

He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.

Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.

He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.

“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.

“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.

You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.

“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.

“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.

He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.

He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“

“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.

“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.

“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.

“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.

You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.

And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.

They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.

Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.

And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.

And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.

And in the  five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.

Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.

Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.

You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.

Jon.

Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.

Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.

In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.

And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.

He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.

Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.

He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.

Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.

“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.

“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”

“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“

“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”

“I didn’t mean too”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”

She nodded in understanding.

You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.

As most of your time was spent with her.

“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.

“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.

“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.

“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.

Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.

You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.

Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.

A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.

Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.

If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it  would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.

“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.

“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.

“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.

You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”

“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.

“yes”

With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.

You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.

With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.

no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.

Now the word love did.

Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.

Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.

Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.

But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.

Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.

A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.

But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.

“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.

“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.

“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.

He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.

You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.

But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.

Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.

A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.

“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.

“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.

He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.

You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.

It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.

A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.

“we could go back to your rooms…or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.

you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.

He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.

You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.

You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.

And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.

With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.

Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.

“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.

You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.

Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.

“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.

Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.

He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.

You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.

After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.

“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.

“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.

“Inside!” you moaned.

He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.

Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.

Love.

The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.

 Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.

He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.

To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.

He would be the first to admit that part was true.

But he was a good king, that had to account for something?

But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.

He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.

That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.

A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.                                                                      

Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.

But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.

And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.

“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.

He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.

He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.

And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @chimmysoftpaws @arieltwvdtohamflash @moodyblueberrytree @aaliyah @delaynew @12thatsanumber @haydee5010 @valiendokk @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @arieltwvdtohamflash @pet1t3

to be added to taglist

[axelsagewrites]

Jace Velaryon*Frat Baby

Pairing: Jace x pregnant!f!reader

Word count: 1688

Warnings: rivalry, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

Masterlist Here

Part One Here

Jace had went from being your sworn childhood enemy to fuck buddy to now the most awkward conversation of your life. You had been avoiding completely for the past month as you debated what to do so when Jace got the ‘we need to talk’ text he made sure he was free the next day for lunch. You were sat in a café across from campus, anxiously sipping on the caffeine-free tea Sansa had insisted you switch to instead of your regular coffee.

You wondered if the hole in your stomach was morning sickness or nerves but you just crossed your fingers and hoped for the best as you waited. Jace walked in, dressed like a burst bag of clothes, and anxiously scanned the room before rushing to your table. “You’re late,”

“Class ran over. have you ordered?” he said making you roll your eyes at his lack of apology as he ordered from the very perky waitress you were for some unknown reason suddenly jealous of. after he ordered, even ordering you your favourite sandwich which you were shocked he knew, he turned his attention back to you, “So what’s ‘Defcon one’?” he asked, quoting your text.

You took a deep breath as you debated how to say it before suddenly the words tumbled out, “I’m late,”

“I thought you didn’t have class today?” Jace asked, tilting his head like a confused puppy making you face palm. A few beats of silence passed before Jace said a quiet oh, followed by a louder oh, followed by a “oh fuck,” followed by one more quiet oh.

“You good?”

“I mean sure. Are you?” he asked, sitting up suddenly and leaning over the table and dropping his voice, “Does it like hurt?”

You stared at this frat boy for a solid three seconds before rolling your eyes, “I’m pregnant not dying!”

“I thought it hurt, okay?”

“It hurts later on,”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“Highschool biology!”

“I ditched that week!”

“Yeah, to fuck Sara Snow!” the waitress who brought your food offer gave an awkward smile making you both sigh and drop your voice. “Look I get this isn’t what we planned for but,” you paused for a second before finally saying the words out loud, “I wanna keep it, him, her, them I don’t know. but either way I totally do not expect you do be involved and I wont even tell your mom but I- “

“Eh!” Jace cut you off, his eyes widening as his shoulders tensed, “No! you don’t get to just toss me aside during this,”

“I’m not tossing you aside- “

“Yes, you are! It’s my kid!”

“It’s a clump of cells,”

“My god damn cells. Half of them belong to me,”

“What you want me to stick em on a petri dish?” you spat out, “Look I’m just trying to give you an out,”

“Who said I wanted an out?”

“You wanna raise this baby?”

“Yes, I wanna raise *my* baby,”

“It’s my baby,”

“Our baby!” Jace said before sighing, “Look I’m not going anywhere and don’t for a second think I’m gonna leave my kid behind thinking I’m a dead beat. No this is what’s gonna happen- “

“You are in no position to tell me what to do- “

“Shut up!” Jace snapped, “Honest to god shut up and listen to me okay cause I am freaked the fuck out right now but I am not gonna abandon you,” he said and you weren’t sure if it was the foetus getting to your brain but it was the sweetest way he’d ever told you to shut up which would normally be met with a rude slap, “We are gonna do this together. I’m gonna get a part time job at my family’s firm. We’re gonna save like hell and then by the time our last year rolls around the baby will be like what? 3 months?”

“Two,” you said as you let Jace recover from his spiral.

“Right two. We’re gonna get a flat off campus and we’ll just have to pick our classes at the same time to make sure we can do it, okay?” he said but the way his eyes were strained made you wonder if he was genuinely asking for reassurance.

“We got this,” you said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand, “We’ll figure it out,”

Jace let out a heavy sigh of relief as he sunk into his chair and picked up his sandwich, “Okay good. Now eat up. And we’re getting dessert too. You’re eating for two,”

-

Shockingly Jace had been sweet this whole time. each day he dropped off snacks or random baby things he’d found at your dorm. This ranged from dummies to blankets to a fucking crib catalogue. When summer break came you were pregnant, terrified, and explaining to both your parents and Jace’s about the whole situation.

They were unpredictably happy. That was till you told them you weren’t a couple and your mums both deflated a little but eventually they got back with the programme. You expected Jace to lap up his final child free summer out partying but instead he took day trips with you to the beach, went out baby shopping with you, and would just sit in with you watching movies and eating ice cream. You wondered if he was trying to make you gain 100 sizes by the end of this pregnancy with the amount of junk food, he got you. he’d even drive over at 2am with whatever weird pregnancy craving you had.

The giving birth part was the terrifying bit. But Jace held your hand through every push. “Just one more,” the midwife told you as you began to break Jace’s hand with your grip but finally you heard the cries and let your head fall back into the pillow as you panted, “It’s a girl!”

“We have a daughter,” Jace grinned, a wide dopey smile on his face. His head turned to face you and soon you broke out in your own smile as they cleaned your baby up. You saw his head begin to dip but this kiss was far different from any other.

It was sweet and tender and life altering even if it lasted a second before the woman brought your daughter over and placed her on your chest, “Hi baby,” you cooed at her.

Jace leant over to get a better view, “She’s so pretty,” he whispered, “just like you,” he added as he kissed the top of your head, not even poking fun at the sweaty state of it.

-

Jace moved into the guest room at your house for the first week of your daughter's life but soon he ended up in your room. He said it was for convenience but that didn’t explain why he held you in his arms. As you began to unpack your things in your new flat as your baby slept you turned to Jace, “What are we?” you asked as he unpacked the plates.

He rolled his eyes at you as he put them in the cupboard, “My girlfriend you idiot,”

“You never asked,” you shot back, hand on hip.

He turned to you with his cockiest face possible, “Sorry I thought between the sex, cuddling, and baby we just had you would’ve caught on,”

“Uhuh,” you rolled your eyes as he turned away from you to continue unpacking but you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your cheek against his back, “Ask me,”

You could hear him chuckle before he turned around, taking your face in his hands, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You grinned before putting on your best thinking face, “I suppose I could be,”

“You suppose,” he rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he lent in to kiss you only to be rudely interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. “I’m gonna kill him,” Jace groaned as he ran to the door to stop the noise, so the baby didn’t wake.

“What up bro?” Cregan whisper shouted as he hurled into your flat, “Where’s the baby?”

“She’s in the nursery sleeping,” Jace said, slapping him in the stomach as he mentioned the sleep.

Cregan rolled his eyes as he passed Jace and walked up to you with an overflowing gift bag, “Consider this a baby-welcome home-nice to meet you properly gift,” he said as he handed you the bag.

You laughed as you began to empty the contents onto the bunker to find university baby sized hoodies, t shirts, hats, and even a scarf. Of course, digging further in you found a soccer jersey, baby sized of course, rattles, and then your hand settled on a box. “Condoms?” you asked, holding the box in the air.

“Hey!” Cregan defended, hands in the air, “She’s cute and all but I’m not ready to be a double uncle. They’ll overtake me when I babysit,”

You and Jace turned to each other before looking back at him, eyes narrowing with concern, “Who said you were babysitting?” Jace asked.

Cregan just rolled his eyes as he began to wander and look for the nursery, “Bitch please she needs me. I’m the fun uncle,”

“You’re not her uncle?” you said as he reached the pink painted nursery door.

Cregan span round, hand on heart and hurt in his eyes, “Not cool man. She’s not just your guy’s baby. She’s basically the frat baby,”

You debated arguing more but watching Cregan, a built like a truck manly man, fawn over a baby no bigger than a doll was too cute to interfere with. You weren’t sure how you survived university with a baby and a Jace btu somehow with a lot of help from Cregan and Sansa who had become expert babysitters by now you managed. Some day you would have to explain to your daughter her parents were sworn enemies but not today. No today your daughter was three years old and teaching Jace to do Taylor Swift choreography with her so they could surprise you.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

@aleemendoza2425-blog  @happinessinthebeing @bellstwd

[cdragons]

No Hope - Robb Stark x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Summary: You ended it. It killed you to do so, but you had to do it. Soon, it won't matter anyway - you were set to travel with Lord Stark and Lady Sansa as her lady-in-waiting to King's Landing. It's not as if you two will ever meet again. How wrong you were...

Warning(s): Hard Dom Robb, OC is cold, Robb is dark AND delulu, Canon divergence, hard smut, slight BDSM, KIng's Landing criminal justice system, etc.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPY!!! I know I'm three days late, and I swear I meant to finish this on your actual birthday, but I ended up overwriting, and then I had to be at the DMV for about 7 hours and then had to pack up my house yesterday 🫠. ANYWAY, thank you so much for being such an amazing friend! It really has been such an honor to see how much you, your writing, and your blog have grown! Here's to another year of friendship and great writing!

The siege against King’s Landing was a success, resulting in an overwhelming victory for Stannis’ campaign as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

House Lannister, despite the arrival of reinforcements from House Tyrell, led by Ser Loras, was no more. While it was a clever ruse on House Tyrell’s part, neither house would have expected men from the Riverlands to join Stannis in his fight, resulting in an overwhelming victory. As a result, the futures of two of the ancient Seven Great Houses of Westeros now rest in the hands of a new ruler—King Stannis of House Baratheon, a figure whose emergence will undoubtedly shape the course of Westeros.

Despite being a wheelhouse dozens of miles away from King’s Landing at this point, the shouts and cheers of Stannis’ men rang clear in your ears. Inside were three young women transported to the Westerlands—to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King of the newly independent North.

The thought of seeing him again after the way the two of you left things off made the ride all the more unpleasant.

You remained silent and softly stroked your lady’s head as she rested her head on your lap. Tried as she could to stay lucid and awake, but it seemed that the stress and terror from being trapped as King Joffery’s former betrothed before being sold to his dwarf of an uncle had taken its toll. As she slept, you took in her features and noted the changes from the child you knew in Winterfell to the young woman trapped in King’s Landing. Her gorgeous red Tully hair lost some of its splendorous luster, appearing more matted and unkempt than you had ever seen it after years of being in Lady Sansa’s lady-in-waiting. Despite being in the South for over a year, her ivory skin seemed to pale until it was translucent. While the court believed her pale fairness to result from her Northern birth, only you and Shay knew that it was from Sansa’s inability to stomach more than a few meager bites off her plate during her mealtimes.

“The circles under her eyes have darkened further,” you thought as Sansa gripped your skirt – tightly clenching her fist as if she were a small child still terrified of the dark. “She’s grown too thin – she’s barely improved since I’ve returned by her side.”

It terrified you when Shae, who took your place as her handmaiden, informed you that her mood had improved tremendously since Lord Tyrion’s success in releasing you as a wedding gift to his new wife. Knowing that Sansa, to which your previous liege lord entrusted her care to you, was in such a state for months broke your heart. The bright and cheerful smiles you adored had become so rare since you returned to her side. But you hoped that due to recent events, your red-haired wolf would soon smile as brightly with all the more radiance as she did as a child.

“Do you think Lord Tyrion will be alright?”

You looked up to see Shae sitting across from you on the other side of the carriage. Her expression, while usually impassive and unreadable, was fraught with unease about the uncertainty of the future—hers and her lover’s.

“Stannis Baratheon is not one who shows mercy,” you answered truthfully. “It is likely that he will face the same fate as his nephew, as well as his sister and father.”

Perhaps your tone was too blunt, judging by the slight flinch Shay gave when you referred to Joffery Lannister. But, it would not help anyone, much less her, if you spoke anything less than the truth – that was what Ned Stark taught you since you were a child, and it was by that faith you would remain steadfast no matter what. She deserved nothing less than the truth; it was what you owed her. After all, from what Sansa spoke to you, she helped protect her however she could when you were not by her side.

And for that, you were most grateful.

“However,” you continued, “perhaps Lord Varys will vouch for him. The Master of Whispers holds Lord Tyrion in high regard, and out of all his family, your lover is admittedly the best of them. If nothing else, maybe he’ll pledge loyalty to Stannis and convince Tommen to do the same.”

 She grew flustered, “He is not…we are not–”

“You will not find judgment from me,” you assured her with a bitter chuckle. You looked down at Sansa, her sleeping figure sparking a twinge of guilt in your heart. “Believe me, I am the last one to preach about the sins of an affair between a lord and his servant.”

It was a joyful reunion between mother and child. Before the wheelhouse fully stopped, Sansa flung open the doors and leaped out, racing into her mother's arms. Lady Stark was just as eager to hold her daughter – forgetting all forms of propriety and etiquette when she picked up her skirts to run. Both were a mess of wide smiles and joyful tears, and you don’t believe you’ve ever seen Lady Stark act so young. Seeing the two embrace – one who lost a husband and two sons and the other who lost a father and two brothers –made for such a beautiful scene that it made you weep in relief.

“I did it, my lord,” you silently prayed out, “I’ve kept my promise.”

You swore you felt your liege's gratitude by the gentle breeze that blew through the field. But unfortunately, the joy you felt would only further load the weight of the shackles of your guilt and self-loathing that refused to release you. Even if someone as good and honorable as Ned Stark could find it in his heart to forgive you – you couldn’t help but feel you don’t deserve his forgiveness.

…No…you knew you didn’t deserve it, and knowing that made the shackles heavier than you’ve ever felt.

Sansa was absent since Lady Catelyn insisted that her daughter remain by her side for the night. Shae accompanied her, and you remained alone as you lay on the cot set for you. A squire announced himself before entering the tent the men had set up for you and Shae. He called out your name and informed you that you were expected to wait in His Grace’s tent.

“His Grace requested a moment with you,” he explained, “he wishes to thank you for your service and loyalty to Princess Sansa.”

“Well, you can tell ‘His Grace’ that he can thank me here,” you scoffed. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

You dismissed the young man without a second thought. Seriously? Did he genuinely expect you to come so quickly to him? Honestly, the nerve of that man.

It was not long before the squire returned.

“H-his Grace insists that you meet him,” he stammered.

The poor boy looked terrified, like a little puppy caught by its master for doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Seeing his discomfort was almost adorable – it nearly made you smile.

“And I insist that he let me rest,” you raised your brow and cocked your head to the side. “Or is he, in fact, ordering me to meet him? Ahh, and after such a long journey – honestly, he acts so spoiled sometimes, such a typical highborn born with everything.”

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded.

You impassively stared at the poor fellow briefly. His cheeks were flushed bright red underneath the dirt and grime, and his eyes looked close to crying. Gods, Robb – what in the Seven Hells kind of tongue lashing did you give the poor boy? Surely, he wasn’t so desperate to see you, especially considering how the two of you left things off.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I suppose I could spare him a moment. But it won’t be before I’ve had a bath – I’ve already called for hot water; it won’t be long.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady,” he sighed in relief. “His Grace will be most grateful to see you once he is finished speaking with his council in the war tent.”

Fuckin’ son of a–

You swore you felt a vein on your forehead pop. Did that idiot really summon you to his tent while he was in a council meeting?

The walk from your tent to Robb’s was a battle in itself - your mind dreaded what your heart longed for.

You had just finished your bath and changed into a simple linen dress (plain but clean) when you decided you kept His Majesty waiting long enough (two hours, give or take). You were just about to enter when a particularly irritatingly slow clap stopped you in your tracks. There was only one person who could bring out your ire in such a short amount of time. You turned around to see Theon Greyjoy – standing and smirking like the arrogant bitch you fought and played with since you were just a girl.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he smirked. “Makes you wonder how the men of King’s Landing kept their hands to themselves when they saw you.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you wryly replied, “after all, I spent most of my time there in a dark, damp cell. I barely had enough food and water to survive, let alone to be a vision.”

Although Theon still joked and teased like he always had, you could see the war had taken its toll on him. He grew thinner. His body had lost weight, and his muscles appeared leaner and more taut. His shaggy curls were more closely trimmed and no longer tickled his shoulders. But his eyes—how they looked so haunted and tired—made your heartbreak.

“He’s missed you,” he whispered. There was no need to state a name – you both knew who he was referring to.

“He got married,” you replied while looking away. To a Frey, no less.

“She's dead, and he never loved her.”

“That makes it better?”

“It does when you were the one who broke his heart,” he retorted.

You sharply turned back, “That is not–”

Light poured out of the tent behind you as the front flap opened. You heard your name being called out in that tone that always made your knees buckle—revering and filled with longing with an undertone of authority. It beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, you swore you felt your heart leap into your throat by him.

“You’re late,” he grunted.

Robb Stark, with his crystalline blue eyes not once looking away from you, shifted to the side and let you in. His gaze moved to Theon and narrowed when he noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. Saying nothing, you silently bowed your head before heading inside the warm tent. However, you remained close enough to hear the brief exchange between the Greyjoy and Stark. But after being away from Robb for so long, you couldn’t focus on any words between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, your body tingled as you took the familiar notes of fine leather and freshly burned smoke. You glanced at his bed and longed to lie in its furs without the hindrance of clothes. Your mouth watered at the idea of wrapping yourself in them. The idea of pressing your nose against the furs made your center throb and grow wet, as the idea of the scent of his hot sweat mixed with his musk trapped in those hides was almost too much to bear.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you nearly missed Robb calling out your name. You responded by regaining your composure as quickly as possible so as not to betray any lustful thoughts swimming in your mind.

“What did you and Theon talk about?” he bluntly asked, standing impassively as you remained silent.

“Was the journey smooth?” he tried again. Nothing.

“I hope my men–”

“Idle prattle doesn’t suit you,” you tiredly sighed. “Just tell me whatever you waited so long for, and then I can return to my tent and finally rest.”

Robb clenched his fists and stared at the ground. How cruel, how unfair – one word from you, just hearing your voice, struck every word on his tongue dead. War made him lax. He, of all people, should know how you could drive good men to insanity.

Yes – it felt like he was going mad.

He looked up from the ground and wanted to weep. There you stood – looking as beautiful as a fresh layer of snow and just as cold. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull you close. He wanted to feel your body close to his, to revel in the softness of your hidden warmth. He wanted to go back to Winterfell – to simpler times with his father and brothers alive and laughing, to when Jon was by his side and his brother and best friend, and to when you would look at him like he was your world.

How you used to look at him – how he still looked at you.

Robb tried to start a conversation to loosen the tense atmosphere, but it was clear you weren’t having it. You even cut him off on his third attempt. Your voice was so cold that it burned him like ice. He wasn’t even sure if you were looking at him or just at a corner of the tent so you could maintain that cold, domineering façade you had perfected since childhood. It was obvious to him that you were trying to goad him into losing his temper – giving you the perfect excuse to leave and ignore him again.

Why else had you sent his squire back to him after he requested your presence to wait for him at his tent? Furthermore, why else did you make him wait two hours for your bath?

“I wish to thank you for your loyalty towards my sister during her time as the Lannisters’ hostage,” Robb calmly said, keeping his voice steady but firm. “You acted bravely.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I acted as anyone else would have in my position. My loyalty to your sister and family is not something to be admired or coveted.”

“That’s not true,” Robb argued. “Your loyalty to my family is nothing short of admirable. It’s only right that–”

“Robb.”

It was infuriating how regal you looked, carrying the air of a queen.

“My loyalty will always belong to House Stark, that’s true – but,” you stared deep into his gaze, “all I cared about in that damp, rotting cell, where I was given barely enough water and food to survive, was whether my lady was well.”

Please stop it.

“I didn’t endure because my lady was a Stark,” you continued, “I endured because it was Sansa.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Is it only for Sansa that you’ve suffered?” he rasped in anger.

This wasn’t good; he just got you back. If he doesn’t properly utilize this chance, you’ll be gone from him forever. He knew you’d never leave Sansa’s side. Your loyalty to her, even when she still acted like the spoiled little princess of the North, drew him to you. As the eldest daughter, Sansa was the one closest to their mother. However, as the second eldest child, it also meant that she had to understand she could not always have their parents’ attention. Before Jeyne Poole, before Septa Mordane – you were Sansa’s first and constant companion. You were someone whose loyalty ran deep and remained unwavering in the worst times.

He collected himself enough to apologize for his outburst when your voice returned – regal and imposing, cold and distant.

“Not just Sansa,” you stated. “…I also made a promise to Lord Stark.”

Something in him snapped. Robb considered himself a good man, an honorable man. One whose father instilled lessons of honor and duty in him since he was old enough to walk. A father who he missed, whose absence was painful. But hearing you speak of him, of his father, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over him, and it awoke a bitter memory he had long forgotten.

“Is it true?” Robb demanded unannounced after storming into his father’s private study. His father sat at his desk, appearing as tired and weary as the day of his departure from home to the vicious South treads closer with each passing day. Ned set down his quill and sighed deeply. He knew it would not be long before Robb would come in to demand an explanation. He supposed that, as his boy’s father, he owed his eldest son that much… if for not his own sake, then for the sake of closure. “…What may you be referring to, Robb?” he asked, despite already knowing what this was about. Robb furiously shook his head, “Do not pretend with me, Father. Did you or did you not plant the idea of a future engagement between her and me as treason against you?” “…Before I answer that,” Ned began carefully, not wanting to upset his son further, “am I to understand that when you mean ‘her,’ you are referring to a particular lady-in-waiting favored by your sister?” It frightened Ned how quickly Robb’s anger was snuffed out. He whispered your name with reverence and veneration fit for the Maiden. But just as soon as his heir’s fury went away, it came back at a speed and quantity tenfold. Ned could see it in his eyes. Robb may have inherited his Tully mother’s eyes, but the cold storm raging in them could only belong to one whose blood belongs to the Old Gods of the North. “Sansa requested her to accompany us while she learns to be Prince Joffrey's future queen,” Ned explained. “Robb… your sisters need people they can trust – now more than ever with Bran’s accident.” “And she’s agreed to this?” Robb interrogated. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes,” Ned solemnly nodded, “because it was brought up to me by her…”

Robb didn’t believe it then, and he still didn’t believe it now. He refused to entertain the idea of you, of all people, who would propose to his father that you leave him. You, who Robb loved with a love more fervent and true than any fanciful tale sung by the bards in Southern courts. You, who listened to all of Robb’s deepest fears and worries since you and him were still small children. You, who whispered promises of love and devotion to Robb night after night since he first warmed your bed.

You, who cried tears of joy when he secretly proposed to you underneath the blood-red leaves and snow-painted branches of the weirwood tree, swearing his love to you before the Old Gods and New.

…No…no, no, no—it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be…but what other explanation was left?

“Robb…?” your voice gently called out to him. “If that’s all you wish to say to me… then I must be heading back to my–”

He walked forward and tightly grasped your arms, making you unable to escape. Robb felt your feeble attempts to pry his fingers off with your delicate hands. But it was to no avail.

“Why…?” Robb rasped, letting out all the pain and longing he had been keeping locked inside since you dissolved you and his affair. “Why did you leave? …Why did you leave me?”

“Damn you,” you thought. “Damn you, Robb Stark.”

It was pathetic… how easily this man broke down your walls. One word… one word from him was enough to make you want to surrender everything.  

“I…I-I… only did what I thought was best,” you stammered. “For us…and for you…”

Robb scoffed because why wouldn’t he?

“For me…?” he rhetorically repeated. “Leaving me – no, abandoning me… that was for my benefit? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

You shook your head, “Belief is secondary to truth,” you explained. “And I am telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Right, of course – that’s why you ran off to King’s Landing with my sister,” Robb raged. “Yes, certainly that for my well-being. You, being paraded and courted by knights and nobles with their pretty words and fine silks – what a relief to know that you endured all that for me…”

Oh, this son of a – gods, how could one man be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?!

“Did you ever love me?” he asked, his voice a little rough from choking back tears. “Was it ever real? Any of it? Or was it all a lie?”

“I believe I told you I was expected to wake your sister for her early celebration…” you looked out the window, “…right now…? It would seem…?” It was the morning of Sansa’s eleventh birthday. Lady Stark planned to surprise her daughter with a splendid spread of leek pottage, freshly baked bread, slices of smoked meat, and a cup of sweet Dornish wine. She entrusted the duty of waking the little princess of the day to you, Sansa’s most entrusted companion. It was expected that you would take the role. After all, everyone in the castle knew what an absolute nightmare Lord Stark’s eldest daughter was in the early mornings. …But…it would seem that Lord Stark’s eldest son and heir did not understand the gravity of your role today…considering he remained insistent that you spend your morning with him… in his bed… without any clothes on your person. While usually, you’d be much more cross at his insistence… you couldn’t deny how delicious it felt waking up in his arms after a night of gloriously intense lovemaking. And the way he further convinced you by tracing feather-light kisses down your neck and collarbone was downright sinful. “I believe…” he momentarily nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to softly shriek and giggle. “…I told you never to speak of my sister or any member of my family while in bed with me.” His lips trailed further down to the valley of your breasts. “Stay here…with me…and let’s forget the world this morning.” Gods, it’d be so easy to give in …to remain hidden from the world within the arms of your beloved…but life was hardly so easy. “You know I – can’t…!” you sharply gasped at the feel of his lips around your teat. You pitifully whined his name. “Robb, please…” “Shhh—careful, my love,” he huskily whispered, “unless you want all of Winterfell to know how even one of its coldest women is powerless against her wolf…” You held his chin to press a soft kiss against his lips. Gazing into his deep pools of sapphire, you knew this was the only man you could ever give your heart to. “My wolf…” you corrected, “and only mine…” “Yours…” Robb agreed as the two of you got lost in each other all over again.

Instinct and fury blinded rationality and composure as a sharp crack rang within the tent as your palm made contact with Robb’s cheek. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as the wet trails streamed down your cheeks.

“Fuck you, Robb…” you grit out.

Did he not think you haven’t craved him and his love as much, if not more, since your separation? Was he so obtusely… thick in the skull to think that you hadn’t cursed yourself for plunging you both into the cruel depths of a life without the other? Had he not realized that what saved you from falling into despair… from the moment you were thrown into the Red Keep’s dungeons… was your sweet memories of him?

You angrily swiped away your tears on the back of your hand before shoving him aside so you could make your way out of the tent. You couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not anymore, not when it cut you so deeply.

What was the point? Of being so close to one when they cannot have the other?

But it seemed your king did not agree with your sentiments as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him. Your chest collided against his, and you felt the hard planes of his muscles and wanted to sink to your knees while stripping him of all barriers that blocked his glorious body.

Robb growled as he felt the tremulous rhythm of your beating heart, effectively giving away all your true feelings and desires toward him – the same he felt to you.

“You’re a cruel woman…” he growled as he forced you to look into his deep, blue eyes by holding your chin, “but you’re my woman.”

Without another word, he seized you by the arm and threw you onto his bed. He tore off his tunic before gripping your ankles with both hands and forcing them wide open before he forcefully pulled your body to the end of the bed. Not wasting another moment, he clutched the neckline of your nightdress and tore it open, leaving you exposed and defenseless against him. You felt the peaks of your breasts harden against the cold air and tried to cover them with your arms, but Robb slapped your hands away and pinned your hands above your head.

“And I’ll make sure you learn your place by the time I’m done with you…”

Time meant nothing inside that tent. The only things that mattered were Robb Stark, young King of the North and recently widowed, and you, his precious whore he loved so dearly. It could have been an hour, it could have been five –you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your former lover was currently cementing his claim on you as his bitch-in-heat by making you cum twice with his fingers and thrice more from his cock.

“You *huff* …really…expe- fuck…!” The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, interrupted by the squelch of your juices mixed with his as he moved in and out of you. He loudly groaned when he felt your walls clamp down on his still-hard shaft. “Fuck – how are you still so fucking tight…?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t – at least not with words. Each of Robb’s thrusts hit that spot inside you that made you lose all sense of logic and rational thought. All you could offer was broken garbles and moans of your ecstasy as your insatiable wolf continued to feast on your pleasure. And this only seemed to further incense Robb into driving himself deeper inside you, as if he had not already caused you to peak three times since he first pushed into you. Your vision became blurry as your eyes crossed, but he brought you back by delivering a hard slap against your bottom, the stinging pain quickly shifting to ebbing pleasure.

“Well?” he tauntingly jeered, thoroughly enjoying your sharp tongue could only be quieted by him fucking you dumb. “I expect an answer…!”

“Ah-ah-ah – FUCK…!” you cried out after he delivered another harsh slap on your bottom’s other cheek, making you sharply gasp and continue to slather your drool and tears into his bed’s furs. “I don’t know…!”

Robb cruelly smirked, “Don’t know…?” He grabbed the front of your neck and pulled you until your sensitive back was pressed flush against his hard chest. “Don’t lie to me… you know… don’t pretend that you don’t – but do you want me to tell anyway?”

Fervently nodding, you felt him grin as his hot breath panted against your neck, causing goosebumps to prick across your skin covered in bite marks.

“It’s because…” Robb quickened his pace from rough to erratic as your mind nearly blanks from feeling more and more of him hitting the entrance to your womb, “we both know that cunt belonging to such a cold whore like yourself…could only be thawed with cock like mine and only mine.”

The war changed him. The Robb you knew and loved would never dream of speaking to you in such a filthy and vulgar manner. Before, your Robb always made love to you sweetly with the gentlest touches, and as far as you could tell and feel, he was gone. In his place was a wolf with a voracious appetite who could only seem satisfied with your humiliation from his rough squeezes and unforgiving pace. The evidence was plain to see by how he littered your body with purple love bites down your neck, red bite marks over your breasts and inner thighs, and deep indents of his nails from gripping your hips too hard and too long.

And the worst part of it? You loved it. Every bit of his ministrations was a piece of heaven. If this were torture, then you would only crave pain for the rest of your existence. Everything hurts so good, from the way his thick, throbbing cock stretches your walls to the way his rough, calloused hands manhandle your body with his bruising grip. You weren’t sure if there was anything left of you that Robb didn’t already possess. Your eyes glazed over the veins in his arms bulge as you barely register the rasped grunts and growls leaving his lips. If you looked down, you were sure to see the outline of his cock bulging from inside you as he continued to split you open.

He stilled for a moment and whispered in your ear as you cried out your frustration and begged him not to stop.

“I’m going to cum in you,” he rasped with perverse glee, “and afterward, I’m going to make sure my seed takes root in your womb.” He pushed your face down to the furs and forced your hips to meet his thrusts without mercy. “You tried to… escape your fate by leaving. Well, *huff* let me tell you right now… that’s never going to happen – I’ll lock you… in the tallest tower in Winterfell and chain you to the bed if I have to…”

One of his hands left your hips and went below you as his fingers deftly sought out the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs that was your clit. You tried to protest, not sure if your body could take even more pleasure, but all that came out was a warbled cry as he pressed down and circled your bud. The overstimulation was proving to be too much as your body started shaking. You felt a cord tightening more and more until it just *snapped*, and you screamed out your release as your entire body trembled.

Robb refused to let up his pace, and he continued to thrust in and out of you as you felt him stiffen and – gods, how did he get even bigger? Before he released his seed inside you, he bottomed out – making sure that there was nothing of him that was not inside your sopping cunt. Your vision went white as he let out a loud and powerful groan from his release, and you could feel his hot seed painting your inner walls with his essence.

His peak seemed to drain him of all his energy as he gathered you in his arms without pulling out and resolved himself to finally rest. His sweaty forehead rested against your shoulder as he panted. Between each labored breath, he planted a kiss across your shoulders – your body still twitching from the intensity it endured as you, too, tried to catch your breath.

All was silent until you found yourself speaking, “…There was no hope, was there…?”

Robb lifted his upper body on one arm to hover over you. You repeated your question, to which he gave you a relaxed smile and tucked a stray piece of hair stuck to your temple behind your ear.

“No, love…” he confirmed. “But you must have known that from the beginning…I would have never let you go.”

…How does one respond to that?

You tried to search for the answer in his eyes, but all you saw was love… love, and madness. It was always there inside him; you’ve known that from the beginning… only you were blinded by his beauty and your love for him. But your lord knew the truth; he saw that obsessive love from the start; after all, Robb was his son. He warned you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t until you saw him beat a poor knight bloody and broken on the ice-covered ground – all because you made the mistake of smiling at him.

That’s why you ended your secret engagement. You had hoped that time and distance would ebb away the insanity flowing in his blood, or perhaps he would find someone else and eventually forget you – whichever came first.

But that was a fool’s dream; you knew that now.

Wordlessly, you nodded, to which Robb gently pressed his lips to yours, just as he had back in Winterfell. With each second, you began to respond more and more to the kiss. You wrapped your arms over his neck as his lips trailed down your next again, and you felt your sore body humming for more despite its sensitivity. Your fingers gripped his unruly, dark auburn curls as a tear trailed your cheek.

Forgive me, my lord…I’ve failed.

But you know you were secretly glad of it. After all, how could you not be? Life was growing inside you at that very moment.

Tagging: @dipperscavern, @ethereal-athalia, @axelsagewrites, @rise-my-angel, @anewpersonthatexists, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @lenasdmns, @justmymindandstuff, @aoi-targaryen, @vyctorya, @metalblindbitch, @h34rts-4uu, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @sylasthegrim

[entitled-fangirl]

A change of sigil.

Robb Stark x Baratheon!reader

Summary: After wedding Robb Stark and becoming the Lady of Winterfell, the reader learns about the king's death and the treason of Ned.

Masterlist

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The newly wedded Y/N Stark (once Baratheon) ran through the corridors of Winterfell. 

Her eyes fell upon the Stark's Maester. Her eyes lit up. "A letter from my father? Has he finally written me back?"

The older man's eyes softened with guilt, "I'm afraid not, my lady."

Her face fell but she quickly recovered it, "oh. M… May I still see it?"

"This," He held it back from her, "Is for Lord Stark to read."

Embarrassment flooded her cheeks and she nodded. "Right. How foolish of me."

His lips pulled into a smile and he held his arm out. The North did like the gentle girl, after all, "C'mon, my lady. Walk to me to him so we may discuss the reason for such a letter."

She smiled back and took his arm.

…

"Treason?" Robb's brows furrowed and his teeth grit, "Sansa wrote this?"

"It is your sister's hand, but the queen's words."

Y/N's eyes remained on the table, unsure of what to think. Her mother was a cunning woman, and it did not surprise her of such a thing.

"You are summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new king."

"My father is dead?" She interrupted quietly.

The men's eyes flickered to her.

Robb's anger did not falter, "Joffrey puts my father in chains, now he wants his ass kissed?"

The Maester sighed, "This is a royal command, my lord." His eyes flickered between the lord and lady, "If you should refuse to obey-"

"-I won't refuse," Robb quickly butted in. "His grace summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing. But not alone."

He rolled the letter up and handed it back to the maester. "Call the banners."

"All of them, my lord?"

"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?"

"They have."

"Now, we see what their words are worth."

"Very well." The maester left quickly.

Y/N's eyes remained on the table, not once wavering. Robb noticed it and rounded the table to sit by her. His head tilted to study her further. His hand reached up to gently grab her jaw, moving her head to face him.

Her eyes connected with his, and they were filled with tears, "My father is dead?"

His lips pull into a line as he looks to Theon and back, "I'm afraid so."

She took a shaky breath in to keep the tears from falling. "Murdered?"

Theon stood at her words, angered a bit inside. He quickly bowed his head and left the room in a huff.

Robb shook his head, "No. Animal attack while hunting is all Sansa wrote."

She was quiet a while before she spoke again, "He loved me."

Robb gritted his teeth. "He had a funny way of showing it."

"But he did love me. I am worth nothing now."

"Hey." His voice lowered at his words. His grip on her jaw tightened. "Do not say such things. You are worth everything to me. Winterfell is your home. Its people are your people. They are loyal."

"Loyal to you. To your name."

"No." He pushed. "They will be loyal to you. You are still a princess after all, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"And more importantly," he kissed her forehead gently, "You are my wife."

She nodded again before a thought came to her. "What is keeping those that rule from killing your father and sisters just the same?"

His eyebrows raised and he shook her head, "Nothing, I suppose. I must hope they fear the North enough or I drive my sword through your brother before they can touch the Starks." He tilted his head, "I need your loyalty. I know I have it. But the people need it."

"I am loyal to you, Robb. You are all I have."

He smiles and caresses her face before shaking his head, "I don't want loyalty for fear or power. Your loyalty should be of trust and honor. I ask again, are you loyal to me, my love?"

"Without my father, the Baratheon sigil means nothing to me. I belong to House Stark now."

His smile grows and he kisses her gently, "I will win this. For you. For my family. I promise you."

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A/N: I feel a series coming onnnnn