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starsofjewels · 2 months

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Mama, Papa and Baby Too

Ramsay Snow (Bolton) x Lady Bolton! Reader, Roose Bolton x Lady Bolton! Reader

NSFW!!

Any and all characters depicted in NSFW pieces are of legal age. All characters are also consenting (Unless specificed by piece)

Please read responsibly.

DARK FIC: This piece includes or is focused around a situation some readers may find uncomfortable or disturbing. Know your limits and keep yourself safe.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Incest (Stepmother x stepchild), non-descriptive/ implied incest (father x child), voyeurism, breastfeeding, foreplay (fingering + handjob), riding (Roose), Little(-ish) Ramsay, non-descriptive mention of assault (in regard to Ramsay's conception)

The Boltons are their own warning

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I've never published any smut before, so why not, in true GOT fashion, start off with a weird little incest-ridden oneshot? The gods may smite me, but Ramsay is still my baby boy, so here we are.

I apologise in advance for this characterisation of Ramsay, even though I fear it fits his character exceptionally well.

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Word count: 2.5k

You had known your stepson was unstable since before you had wed his father. A bastard boy conceived out of rape, raised by an insane servant until his mother grew tired of him, and threw him on the steps of the Dreadfort. Anyone in the North could recount the stories surrounding Ramsay Snow, how he tormented the serving girls in his father’s employ, commanding his pack of dogs to tear flesh from the servants’ bones, and naming each new pup after a girl he had slain. How he burned, and destroyed, and caused so much havoc across the Dreadfort and the lands surrounding it.

When you first arrived, to be married to the boy’s father, your maids told you, with varying levels of excitement, what he had done to Roose’s previous wife, and their only surviving son. Supposedly, your new stepson had tortured Lady Bethany to the point of insanity, to a degree that her hair fell from her scalp and her skin flaked. Her only living son, Domeric, had a worse fate still, succumbing to an ‘illness’ commonly believed to be poison in the hands of his jealous half-brother.

You are given a silver dagger to hide in your skirts, and told to not use it sparingly. Ramsay is unpredictable, and cruel, and Roose will not try to stop him.

Roose does not allow you to meet him until after the wedding. The day you finally do, the staff refuse to look at you, or speak with you as they usually would. You are taken care of, of course, fed, and bathed, dressed in Bolton pink. You feel like a sacrifice, being made-up to appease some vicious god.

“Sit, wife.”

It is not a question, but you answer anyway.

“I have no need to sit, lord husband.”

You watch him roll his eyes, fixing himself a little. You stand in silence for a good few moments, until you hear unfamiliar footsteps, which you assume belong to your stepson.

Ramsay stops in the doorway, eyeing you up as you are sure his dogs do their prey. You want so badly to reach out and take Roose’s hand, or run off. But there is no comfort for you, not now. You know your fate here, and it is not to be coddled like a doll.

He steps closer to you, and again, and again, until you can clearly see his cold, blue eyes in the dim light, sizing you up, as though he can tell exactly how to torment you.

Instead of striking you, or grasping at your hair and pulling, Ramsay cautiously wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your shoulder. You gasp in surprise, expecting far worse. Glancing up at Roose, you see his brow furrow in apparent confusion, he goes to speak, Ramsay does first.

“Mama…”

He sounds like a pathetic little boy, a baby, and some part of your heart is filled by it. He takes your hand in his and puts it to his own head, and you stroke his curls as he seems to want you to. The boy preens at this, pushing himself further into the embrace.

“It seems the boy likes you, dear.”

You almost smile at his words, looking down to the boy, still hiding away in your hair.

“Aye, it does seem that way.”

Roose has shown no signs of affection towards you before, much less openly giving you pet names. You try to ignore it, putting it to the side as a one-off, a part of his surprise towards Ramsay’s affection towards you.

Your stepson stays attached to your hip for the rest of the evening. He follows you everywhere, insisting he cannot do anything without you, and although you understand the oddness of the situation, if this is what it takes to prevent yourself having the same fate as Lady Bethany, you are willing to indulge the monster.

He practically squeals in delight when you give him a sip from your wine when his father is not looking, having been barred from partaking after sunset following a particularly violent drunken escapade, the one sliver of actual parenting Roose had enforced.

By the time he is ready to retire, he is squished up beside you in your chambers, practically on your lap. You are distracted from your sewing by him gently butting into you, trying to grasp your attention. Looking out at the dark night outside your window, you glance back at Ramsay, already nearing sleep.

You sigh, setting him up on the unused side of your bed. It takes barely a moment for him to shuffle across the sheets and wrap himself around you, clinging like a baby. There is no point in denying him, part of you knows he would sneak in later, anyway.

Eventually, Roose comes to you, dressed in his nightclothes. He has never spent the night with you before, much less in your own rooms. He slips in beside his bastard, watching the two of you with mild curiosity.

“You’re good with him.”

“Thank you.”

He scoffs slightly, leaning back against the headboard to look down on the sleeping Ramsay.

“I have never seen him like this. He’ll be asking to suckle from you next, dearest.”

There it was again, a small hint of your husband’s affections for you. You are terribly glad the dim night hides the blush on your cheeks.

“He would not!”

You can make out Roose nodding his head.

“Really? He’s a man grown, Roose.”

“As if that could stop him. Keep yourself clothed around him, no matter how much you trust him, He’s a mischievous one, our Ramsay. Give him a chance and he might pounce.”

You feel Ramsay smile against your chest, and you realise he’s not yet fallen asleep. Summoning your best act, you look at your husband with mock surprise,

“My boy? Oh, I find that hard to believe, lord husband. Is he not just an angel?”

Ramsay tucks himself tighter against you, and a smile finds itself upon your lips. You kiss his curls gently, the boy giggles, glad that you consider him to be your own.

- -

The night, though young, is dark. As the Stark words always say, winter is coming. You can feel it in the cold, in the way the trees tilt in the breeze. You rest your head against Roose’s chest. The flames and your furs keep the room almost uncomfortably warm. You are the lady of the Dreadfort, after, you of all people must be shielded from the oncoming trials of winter.

The storm outside is bitter and cruel. The wind is harsh, and you are certain trees will have fallen by the morning. Every so often, if you try particularly hard, you can hear your son’s dogs howling at the weather from the kennels. You turn, your back now to Roose. He reaches his arm around you, holding you closely to him.

And your moment of intimacy, in less than a second, is ruined by the gentle tap of a hand against your bedroom door. Just from the sound of it, you know exactly who it is. You smile softly,

“Come in, darling.”

Ramsay shuffles into your bedchamber, like a child, a pout on his face which you can see from the light of the fire beside him. He is dressed in his nightshirt, his hair messy, and you know that you are in for a long night.

“Want to sleep here, Mama.”

He makes no effort to speak to your husband, not when his precious mother is waiting for him. Though Roose attempts to grasp your arms, you reach out for Ramsay, and he leaps into your bed. Before long, he has wrangled you onto your back, snuggling viciously into your chest. His attachment to you has only grown in the months you have spent as his mother, to a degree many might consider unsettling.

“Oh, love, did the storm scare you?”

The boy nods weakly, just the hint of a smile ghosting his face. His father scoffs,

“He is not a babe, my dear, the boy can manage a bit of wind.”

Ramsay glares at his father, before going back to affectionately nuzzling you. You stroke his cheek gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“It is very late, Ramsay. You should try and get to sleep now.”

He shakes his head,

“Nuh. Can’t.”

Roose sighs, having given up completely, resting his head back against his pillow. Though your hands are preoccupied by the Ramsay in your arms, you lean over to kiss his cheek, something of an apology.

“Why can’t you sleep, darling?”

“I’m hungry, Mama,” He practically pleads, “I can’t sleep if I’m still hungry.”

This is always his excuse. Hunger. You think the boy must have a stomach the size of the Riverlands for how much he complains of it. But, you know his excuse well, and what it always ends with. So you smile, sweetly, and lean closer to his face.

“And what does the master want for his supper, then?”

He practically paws at your breast, begging with his big eyes, almost whimpering.

“Milk, please. Milk, Mama.”

You sigh affectionately, pressing another kiss to his face, and letting him tug down your nightdress.

“Just a little to settle your stomach, and then off to sleep, alright?”

“I promise, Mama.”

Though you are yet to have a babe of your own, Ramsay’s consistent suckling has eventually caused your breasts to swell, your body preparing its hardest for a baby who is, in fact, a grown man. This delights your boy, of course, who could spend the rest of his days living off of nothing but the milk you’ve provided him.

He is enthralled when you help his mouth find your nipple, suckling immediately. His brow furrows, waiting impatiently for his reward. He groans when your milk touches his lips, snuggling you more, mumbling thanks, or praise, or something hidden by his face buried in your breast.

You hear Roose shuffling. He sits up, and roughly pets his son’s hair. Ramsay’s eyes flick open, he glared again at his father, relaxing as you shush him gently,

“You’re alright, sweetling. Mama’s here.”

Ramsay moans again, and you feel him shift against your leg. Roose makes a laughing sound from the back of his throat.

“Someone is in need of a little affection, Mama.” He teases lightly, nipping at your neck. His stubble is rough, adding to your sensitivity. “Perhaps you should take care of our boy, and I’ll look after you.”

“I want to look after Mama!”

The boy has detached from you, pouting once more. You kiss his nose, wiping some of the milk from his mouth,

“You are looking after Mama by being a good, quiet boy. Let Papa have a turn, hm?”

He grumbles, but goes back to your breast, suckling again.

Roose, ever pragmatic, slips his hands quickly between your thighs, delving two fingers at a time into your cunt. He chuckles again at how ready you are, continuing to spread kisses up your neck,

“You get your mother in such a state, Ramsay. Here, taste.”

Your husband puts his finger to your son, you whine at the loss of pleasure, and the boy cleans it off as a starving dog. He looks from his father, to you, and snuggles up against you.

“Milk is tastier.”

And you cannot help but smile, quickly replaced by another gasped moan as Roose goes back to his previous activities. You take his hand, leading him up to your clit with no words spoken. The two of you have an understanding now. In between your groans and little twitches, you notice how Ramsay’s heart rate gets faster, how he grinds just a little against you.

“Ramsay?”

A pause.

“Mama?”

“Do you need help there, sweetling?”

He whimpers, having been caught, but nods anyway. You help him shift his nightshirt up to his hips, and carefully find his cock with your free hand. Your boy moans immediately, his hips buck, and he looks up at you with a sense of pleading. He whimpers,

“Mama… more…”

“Soon, my sweet boy. Enjoy your milk.”

You stroke him in a soft, rhythmic pattern, making sure to pay just enough attention to his weepy head to keep the boy on edge. Roose continues to tease you, you gasp every so often, reaching out for him, groaning his name. You come first, stopping your movements upon Ramsay to grip Roose’s arm, crying out for him. Ramsay takes your hand, trying to help. You kiss your husband softly, and then return your affections upon Ramsay. Roose leans back, watching.

You wrap your hand around Ramsay’s cock just the way he likes, and his nails dig into your arm. The boy nips on your breast as he comes, moaning with a mouth full of milk. Most of his mess is caught by his nightshirt, which makes him much easier to clean off. Once he has calmed down just a little, you slide him off you. He cries out, still complaining even as you shush him.

“Papa deserves a treat, too, don’t you, Papa?”

“I do.”

You sit Ramsay up, tired and comfortable, and the two of you share a private laugh as you straddle him, sinking yourself quickly upon his cock. There is no time for play, not when you have been so worked up by the evening’s activities. He moans, and you remember the man behind his cold demeanour. The one who loves you, who desires you even more than your son does.

“My- Careful, love- We are not a rutting dog, are we?”

“Hm- Your fault for being such a tease, Roose…”

He scoffs, replaced quickly by another groan. It is, indeed, his fault for teasing you. You bury your face in his neck, and bite down upon it. He moans out in surprise, jolting suddenly. The action is enough to send him over the edge, and he finishes inside of you, just as a self-respecting lord should.

Ramsay, naked, bathed and half-asleep, lies on one side of you, Roose on the other. You are the lady of the house, after all, you deserve to be treated as such. Ramsay snuggles into your chest again, full and sated.

“Hm- How is my big boy?”

Instinctually, you reach out to rub his stomach, which seems to settle him,

“Sleepy- Mama…”

“Then sleep, silly boy. Mama will be right here.”

It takes him a little longer to drift off, but you can tell, as you boy goes limp, almost drooling against your shoulder. Roose kisses your hair affectionately.

“He really does love you, dearest.”

“Mh. He’s happy, and so are you. That’s all I care about.”

“Everyone is happy tonight. Mama, Papa and Baby too.”

You give him a tired laugh, and kiss your son’s forehead. Feeling yourself begin to sleep,

“Goodnight, darling.”

“Hm- Love you.”

#got x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader smut #game of thrones x reader smut #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #ramsay snow x reader #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton x reader smut #roose bolton #roose bolton x reader #roose bolton x reader smut #dark fic #dead dove fic #dead dove content #dead dove do not eat

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

Note

Can I request a another Ramsey x Freader we’re the reader is a servant and hates Ramsey and the two of them don’t get along and verbally fight with each other until one day Ramsey comes up with a solution by letting her have a brief moment of control over him or so she thinks and then he suddenly turns the tables on her and takes all the control back ?

and as usual can there be smut? :)

Ramsay Bolton*Servant

Pairing: Ramsay x f!reader

Word count: 3531

Warnings: teasing, Ramsay being Ramsay, f!recieving oral, face sitting/riding, soft dom reader, hard dom ramsay, marking, p in v sex, nipple play, light choking think that’s everything angst smut 18+

Masterlist here

You hated him and who could blame you? Before the Boltons took Winterfell you had met Ramsay on a couple of occasions when his father would bring him. You were a mere baker’s daughter, and he was just a bastard. Ramsay was ignored by most of the true born children and even the starks bastard did not take kindly to his fellow snow. The few times he came to Winterfell he sulked off to the kitchens, swiping food off the counter resulting in you chasing him around the castle, demanding he give the bread back.

While you scawbled at times you never hated the boy. He was only a year older than you and there was even a point you wondered if he could be more than a friend however the last time you saw him you had got in a fight. He had lashed out at you and now you couldn’t even remember why. All you remembered was when you yelled back Roose Boltons hard hand came down across your cheek, accosting your father to train you better. That was the last time you saw Ramsay.

Or so you thought until his father strode in Winterfell on horseback with Lannister soldiers riding behind him. It had already hard enough being a servant under the Greyjoy’s especially since not long before Theon left with Robb you had harshly rejected his drunken advances. However, Rooses presence did not settle you any less than his sons.

When Ramsay finally arrived at Winterfell he barely glanced towards his new squad of servants unless to bully and berate them. Lordship did not suit him well you thought. You resented him and everything he stood for. How could someone who could barely hold a wooden stick last time you saw him be in charge of the house you had called home since before you were born?

While all your fellow servants were just trying to survive you had given up. There was no stark nor snow to protect you or loyalty for anyone anymore. You did your jobs when asked and left when told. Despite Ramsay never greeting you or even using your name he had selected you as one of his main four to tend to his chambers and needs.

“you missed a spot,” Ramsay drawled as you went to pick up the mop bucket to leave. He never even looked up from his book to say it.

“where?” You asked, your expression blank as the idea of dinner was the only one on your mind. Ramsay looked up from his book for only a moment with a surprised look on his face before he pointed to a spot beside the fireplace.

You rolled your eyes, quickly moving to the spot and dumping the mop down on it before bringing it back into the bucket you had to carry down all the stairs before you could even think of eating. “happy my lord?” You asked.

“it’s still wet,” Ramsay said as he sat his book down, a scowl marked on his face.

“the fire is hot my lord,”

“I know the fire is hot,”

“then you know it will dry,”

“I want it dry now,”

“then wait a few minutes,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “goodnight my lord. I shall see you in the morrow,” you said before stalking off to leave his chambers, not bother to mop the splashes from the bucket that spilt in your haste. Ramsay stared after you as the chamber door clunked shut, shaking his head lightly but there was a vague smile on his lips.

You wished this had been a onetime occurrence but as the days and weeks went by Ramsay made it his mission to point out any missed spot, lose thread, untucked sheet that he could find. The longer he continued the harsher your snap backs became.

As you finished drawing his bath your head snapped up at the sound of fabric hitting the ground. You turned to see Ramsay stripping out of his tunic and tossing it to just beside where his dirty sheets were waiting for you to collect. “what do you think you’re doing?” You asked, venom dripping off your tongue.

“getting ready to bathe?” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “unless you would rather assist me,” he said making you roll your eyes as you finished setting his bath.

“not even in your dreams,” you said as you stood up straight, hands on hips. “that’s not my job,”

“your job,” Ramsay said as he stripped off his under shirt, tossing it right at you. You didn’t even attempt to catch it, letting it fall into the hot water. “is whatever I say it is. Whether that be to change my sheets, undress me, or bathe me in that bath you just lovingly drew,” he said with his sweetest smile he could muster. “understood?”

While you were secretly enjoying the view of a shirtless, and surprisingly toned Ramsay, you wanted to punch that pretty face. You looked down at the ground for a moment, praying for strength not to drown this man as you walked out from behind the bath, slowly walking up to him. “if you dare take your breeches off while I am in this room,” you said as you noticed his fingers on his laces, “or try make me bathe you I will cut your cock off,” you said, less than a foot from the new lord, “and make you choke on it. Understood?” You spoke.

Ramsay let you both stew in the silence for a moment but when you saw his eyes glance down at your heavy chest you scoffed and strode off to his chamber door, “I take my leave my lord,”

“I did not dismiss you,” Ramsay called after you, loving the sight of you walking away as your hips swayed.

You ignored the washing you were supposed to collect and ripped open the chamber door, “I did not ask to be dismissed,” you scoffed before slamming the door behind you. Or as much as you could that is. Ramsay chuckled as the door closed. He had plans for you yet.

You were sat in the servants’ quarters eating your morning meal as you gossiped with one of your friends sara when Layla approached the table making your whisper hush, “his lordships sent for you,” Layla said as she dropped in the seat beside you with her own meal.

“no,” you groaned, flinging your head back, “I don’t do him in the mornings remember that’s you and Amy’s time,”

Layla rolled her eyes as she began eating her meal, “be that as it may I showed up and he practically told me to fuck off and fetch you. So, fetch,”

“I’m not a dog,” you said as you shoved the last of your food down before standing.

Sara smirked at you as she took your leftovers, “then don’t act like a bitch,” you hummed in annoyance at her, knowing if she didn’t have the best dirt in the castle you’d never speak to her again.

When you arrived at Ramsay’s chambers you opened the door without knocking, a hand still on the handle as you waited instruction, “what is it my lord?” Ramsay was sitting in a chair by his window overlooking the courtyards. His eyes lazily turned to you as you noticed he’d yet to finish getting ready. If he was going to try make you shave his stubble you wondered if you’d slip and nick his throat, “not a morning person, are we?” He chuckled as he beckoned you to come in, “close the door love, I’m getting a chill,”

“don’t call me that,” you said as you shut the chamber door behind you.

“I can call you whatever I want,” Ramsay said as he stood from his chair, “and there’s nothing you can do about it. You hate that don’t you?” Ramsay smirked as he slowly began to cross the room, “that here I am, just some bastard son who now practically runs this place,”

“you’re not lord of Winterfell,” you scoffed at the Ramsay who still wore that cocky smirk. He hadn’t been so cocky before you remembered.

“yet,” Ramsay said, now only inches from you, “and here you are. Still just some servant girl- “

“im more than just a servant,”

“are you?” He asked, brushing your hair over your shoulder, leaning his head down to have his breath fan across your chest, “I could do anything I want to you right now and no one would even try stop me,”

“I would,” you said, standing as proud as you could as you glared at the man despite the weird lightness in your stomach. Gods what was wrong with you, you wondered. “you shouldn’t underestimate me,”

“underestimate you?” Ramsay laughed, finally stepping back and slowly pacing the room, “no, no love that’s where you’re wrong. I think you’re the bravest person in this castle. You’re the only one left with any fire,” he said, a spark tinkling in his eye.

“there is no fire in my blood. Only ice,” you said, watching as he slowly began circling you like a lion and his prey.

“they tell us northerners are stubborn,” Ramsay said, his eyes raking your body, “I wonder which one of us will win out,” he said before stopping behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you shrugged them off only for him to wrap them around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest as you tried to shove off his arms. His archery had done wonders for his muscles but that was not what you were supposed to be thinking of right now, “I have a proposition for you,”

“you said it yourself,” you said, groaning when you couldn’t shove his arms off, “I have no choice but to serve,”

Ramsay laughed, his chuckle vibrating against your spine, “normally I would agree but this time I will give you a choice. For once I will let you lead the charge, make the decisions,” he said, his nose nuzzling your ear, “in these chambers I will let you do whatever you want to me, to use me how you please,”

“you may not walk out here alive my lord,” you spat despite sudden ideas rushing to your head.

Ramsay chuckled again, wrapping his arms around you tighter, “there is a catch love,” he said, kissing behind your ear gently, “you cannot harm me. Cannot raise a weapon to me. Cannot kill me. But you can use me to satisfy any of your other needs,”

“please,” you scoffed, mocking offence to his suggestion, “you would be so lucky for me to use you,”

You gasped when Ramsay suddenly flipped you around, your chest now pressed into his and his hot breath fanning your face, his lips only an inch away, “don’t you want to feel in control for once? To order me around for once? Maybe this way you won’t be so defiant if you weren’t so tense,”

“you think fucking me will make me listen to you?” You spat your words at him, but Ramsay did not flinch at your venom as he held you close by your wrists, “who says I even want to sleep with you?”

Ramsay leant his head down closer, his lips brushing against yours, “now that I just don’t believe darling,” he said as if scolding a child, “it is wrong to lie to your lord,”

“no wronger for me to sleep with a man I have not wed,” you countered as Ramsay moved one of his hands to the small of your back, “besides I know you won’t listen to what I tell you to do,”

“I will,” he lied, “promise,” he never planned to keep it. You knew it, he knew it, the birds knew it, but that smirk on his face was making you had drunk on the idea.

“get on your knees,” you said, testing out his word. Ramsay dropped to his knees slowly, allowing his face to brush against your breasts before finally sinking to his knees, his hands resting on the backs of your knees.

“now what my lady?” He asked, kissing your knee over the fabric of your dress.

You paused for a moment; your breathing heavy as you considered your options. Ramsay’s hands slipped under your dress, slowly tracing up your calves to your lower thighs when you suddenly reached out, grabbing his hair by your hand. “I didn’t say touch me,” you said, stepping back from him slightly, “lay on the bed,”

“yes, my lady,” Ramsay said, standing as slowly as he had gone down this time his eyes glued to yours. Once he was finally stood, he lingered a moment his lips brushing yours before he turned away and stalked off to the bed. He fell into the middle of it, raising his torso up as he leaned on his elbows to look at you, “now what?”

“take off your breeches,” you said as you slowly approached the bed, leaning against the poster post to watch as he rid himself of fabric, “you listen better than I expected,” you said, a slight smirk on your lips.

“I can be good,” Ramsay said, laying back down after he tossed his last layer away leaving him bare in front of you, “when I want to,” he finished as he looked at you. You took a moment of silence to scan his frame. His stomach was toned, the ghost of abs pocking through. His arms even not flex you could tell were strong. Your eyes grazed down his body, landing on the sight of his cock. It was already hard, waiting for instruction, and red at the tip as if it was waiting for you.

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, running your hand gently down his chest to his abs, down to his pelvis and finally trailing a finger up his manhood. You smiled when you saw him shudder at your touch. You took his cock in your hand, pumping it painfully slowly as you moved to kneel above his legs. Ramsay groaned when your hand fell away but his eyes lit up as he watched you slowly unlace your dress, discarding your own clothing one piece slowly at a time. He couldn’t rush you, not yet at least.

“anything I say?” You asked, leaning down till you could place a soft kiss to his chest.

Ramsay took the moment to appreciate the view of your ass before answering, “anything you say,”

You leant up, placing your hand on his chest as you moved up his body. For a moment Ramsay’s cock twitched, thinking in its excitement he would already receive your cunt, but he was not disappointed when you continued up his body till your already wet cunt was hovering his face. “You gonna be good for me?” You asked, reaching down to stroke his hair.

“yes, my lady,” Ramsay said, the warmth of his breath on your cunt making you shiver, “let me be good,” he said as his hands moved to gently hold your thighs, lowering you closer to his face.

Your hands took a hold of the headboard, lowering your body down the final inch till you felt Ramsay’s tongue gently lick up your folds. Ramsay held your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into flesh, as his tongue began to lap up your juices making you moan above him which only seemed to spear him on. You gasped when you felt his nose begin to nuzzle your clit.

You allowed yourself to be free as Ramsay’s tongue worked its wonders like a hungry dog. Your moans fell freely as you felt your body begin to tighten. Your hands reached up to play with your nipples over your shift, already being heard from the cold air. You could feel Ramsay’s smirk, his chuckle vibrating up your core as your body began to tense but you did not care as the pleasure bubbled and you began to ride his face, his nose perfectly rubbing your clit. You felt your legs turn to water as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue but did your best to remain steady as you dismounted him, moving back down to kneel over him just below his cock.

“someone looks happy,” Ramsay smirked as you caught your breath.

“shut up,” you snapped, taking his cock suddenly in your hand. Even Ramsay did not wish to test you when you held something so dear to him, “or you won’t like the outcome,” you said, slowly pumping his cock.

You shifted your body up, your cunt now above his cock. You slowly rubbed his tip up and down your folds making Ramsay groan, “be patient,” you are scolding with a smirk, “after all this was your idea,” you said, slowly sinking down onto his tip making Ramsay’s eyes screw shut in pleasure, “look at you,” you smirked down at him, “so desperate for me. Bet this is all you’ve been thinking of,” you said as you finally sunk all the way down, his cock now stretching you out to the fullest.

You placed your arms on his chest to steady yourself as you slowly began to grind your hips. Ramsay’s hips began to buck, desperate to speed the pace. You just tutted as your hand moved to hold his hip down, “nuh uh,” you scolded as you began to get lost in the pleasure as your own movements sped up but still not to his liking.

Ramsay growled and before you could stop him, he had grabbed your wrists, flipping you onto your back with your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, his cock still sheathed inside. Your eyes were wide as you stared up at him at a loss for words, “c’mon love,” Ramsay said as he slowly began to pull out, “you couldn’t possibly think you’re in charge,” he said before suddenly thrusting back in making you gasp, “how could you expect me to resist this,” he said, his deep slow thrusts continuing, knocking the wind out of you each time.

“such a pretty girl,” he said as he thrust in again, enjoying watching how your tits bounced, “shame you’ve got such a filthy mouth,” Ramsay said as he grabbed your jaw, sticking his thumb in your mouth to keep it open, “I think I need to teach you a lesson you see,” Ramsay said as his thrusts began to increase, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust, “that im the one in charge. Who’s in charge?” He asked, his lips moving to suck harsh hickeys onto your neck, moving his thumb to allow you to speak.

“you are,” you said but it came out as more of a moan. You hated him, you knew you did, you knew this was wrong, but gods how can something so wrong feel so good? “you are my lord,” you said as you wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to go deeper and making Ramsay groan and curse under his breath.

Ramsay let go of your jaw but only to hold your throat, squeezing the sides gently at first as you began to go lightheaded from a mixture of pleasure and pain as he left bites along your collarbone. This new position also allowed his pelvis to rub against your clit which only made your cunt tighten around his cock even more. “this is what happens when you talk back,” Ramsay grunted, his hand moving from your throat to squeeze at your breasts, pinching your nipples harshly.

“then I shall talk back more often,” you said but it was mixed with gasps and moans. You moaned even louder when your words seemed to speed up Ramsay’s pace. You couldn’t stop yourself from enjoying it even less so when you felt your body tightening, another wave of pleasure rushing over you, but Ramsay was not done yet.

You felt your body twitching, your legs staring to slip from his waist as you came down from your high, “not yet,” Ramsay grunted, shoving your legs back around his waist, “im not done with you yet,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck while his hand slipped between your body to rub sloppy circles on your sensitive clit.

You could feel Ramsay’s cock twitching inside you, but he was determined for one more show out of you and it was not hard for him to get it as he bit down on your skin one last time. Your moan was louder than all the rest as you came for the third time and finally Ramsay could no longer control himself as he grabbed the headboard to steady himself before fucking you full of his seed.

Ramsay was panting as he fell in bed beside you, both of you staring at the ceiling in silence as you caught your breath. You did not know where to go from here, but you knew one thing; you were defiantly a morning person now.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy

#ramsay bolton smut #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton imagine #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay snow #ramsay now smut #game of thrones smut #game of thrones show #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #iwan rheon #iwan rheon smut #requested #asoiaf #asoiaf smut

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arte072 · 6 months

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"Sansa bullied Arya? Oh so you think she's worse than Tywin Lannister, Gregor Clegane and Ramsay Bolton??" is such a hyperbolic, insincere and ultimately non-existent argument. Literally name one person who says this shit with any sort of sincerity, if at all lol

This is up there with "Talking about Arya's importance to the North means you think Jeyne Poole's life doesn't matter!!!" in terms of disningenous talking points.

It's only ever used to shut down any attempts at considering Arya's feelings and well-being when discussing the girls' relationship.

and no offense, but why are 🫵 YOU🫵 equating the acknowledgement of a fictional child's flaws with calling her a war criminal? why are you treating it like that?? 👀👀👀

I mean, this fandom regularly says Arya lacks morality for surviving war zones with violence. They consider her a walking tragedy whose story is about losing her humanity and becoming the ultimate killing machine. Everyday Dany gets called a N@zi Barbie for not abolishing slavery perfectly. But Sansa gets clocked as a mean girl bully in the first book and y'all fall apart at the seams at that?? C'mon now

#arya stark #and when it comes to the whole “the adults enabled it!!!” ok sure! but sansa still participated in it #especially when the adults weren't there!#sansa wasn't taught to compare her sister to a horse or victim blame arya for joffrey's abuse and mycah for his own murder #which adult is to blame for her telling arya that she'll have to bow down to her for speaking the truth about the trident incident?#septa mordane didn't teach her to say any of that shit lol #and if sansa is allowed to own her kindness wit and bravery #then she's also allowed to own her negative traits as well #it's not complicated and she's not a monster for it!

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visenyaism · 1 year

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You think Theon is getting out of everything alive? I am absolutely desperate for a Theon survival even though tbh I don't think it looks very good for him

that’s one of the ones i do not really doubt. all of balon greyjoy’s sons died and he lived. he spent his entire childhood thinking he could be killed at any minute for something that wasn’t his fault and he lived. he turned his cloak and burned winterfell and killed his kin and he lived. he survived ramsay and he wanted to die every day and he jumped off the walls of winterfell with jeyne and he lived. the person he thinks he should have died with is gone. now he has to live.

#it’s just way more narratively interesting if he lives.#what is dead may never die! that’s theon on the brink #asoiaf

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maisiestyle · 1 year

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"Ned Stark's Precious Little Girl"

Arya is a mix of both her parents. But as her story unfolds, with every new chapter and book, Arya has moved beyond her parents and into a far more dynamic character.

Ned was a role model to Arya, she loved him more than almost anyone (she loves Jon most of all). She holds on to Ned's memory now more than any of his children.

Ned is stubborn, quick to anger, loyal to a fault, and deeply devoted to his family to the point where he sacrificed his honor and died for his children.

Both Arya & Ned had a dislike for Southern culture. Which is double odd considering Ned was fostered in the South: That was never truly his place. Whereas Cat and Sansa are very much creatures made for the South.

Treatment of the smallfolk and not judging those lower than their station... That says a lot about their character, something Ned, Lyanna, Arya & Jon have all shown in the books.

Arya & Ned are similar but different as well. Where Ned was lacking, his ability to not see the truth in the lies around him - Arya has developed beyond that point. Ned was too slow and unyielding until it was too late and he died. Cat was to heedless, prideful, and emotional - that cost her life. At the beginning Arya was a mix of both her parents BUT her journey so far has made her grow and develop where her parents had not. By Book 5, Arya is extremely artful and considerate, patient and willing to face the truth in all its ugliness, adaptable and fluid like water - a changeling. That's how she'll survive where her parents did not.

While Sansa is learning how to flirt, organise a glorified party and remain passive and isolated.

Arya lives out in the open, has escaped death and captivity by her own wits, travelled all over Westeros leaving her memory imprinted on the people she met along the way, and her unyielding desire to never be helpless again which brought her to Braavos. The Sealord of Braavos stood up to a King and his dragons and won - all he did was whisper the "faceless men" and King's Landing yielded - that is true power. Arya will return to Westeros having grown in many ways. But like her father and mother, her family will always be her guiding light.

I love how the Northmen constantly connect Arya to Ned and want to fight for them both:

When White Harbour (a place Arya has visited twice with Ned) hears of "Arya Stark" marrying Ramsay.

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity…and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.” - (Davos, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

As "Arya" suffers in Winterfell, they connect her to Ned:

"The bride weeps," Lady Dustin said, as they made their way down, step by careful step. "Our little Lady Arya." ... What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." ...

"Lady Arya's sobs do us more harm than all of Lord Stannis's swords and spears.

~*~

The northmen want to fight for Arya:

“Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya’s home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? […] Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton…but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. - (Reek, A Dance with Dragons)

[…]

Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son’s shoulder for support. “We’ll take [Winterfell] for Ned and for his daughter.” - (The Sacrifice, A Dance with Dragons)

~*~

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." - (Dance with Dragons)

#arya stark #sansa stark #asoiaf #anti sansa stans #house stark #game of thrones #gotaryastark #grrmartin #ned stark #braavos #asoiaf art #jon snow #arya

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yanderes-galore · 1 month

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Yan!Sansa Rom. Headcanons?

I must warn you, I have not seen all of GOT or read the books fully. As a result, Sansa's character may seem off. However, I researched certain events, so I have some ideas I'd like to write down for the poor woman- I might return to this later or rewrite it if I feel my thoughts have changed.

Yandere! Sansa Concept

(Focuses more on Show! Sansa)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Heavy themes of abuse (Sansa's history, Darling is "fine" for the most part), Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Soft yandere, Isolation, Delusional behavior, Dubious relationship.

Sansa, in both books and show from what I've seen, has gone through a lot.

She used to be privileged and seemed to lack empathy due to that.

However... Once she's been treated poorly, she doesn't want anyone else to go through the same.

This makes me think that Sansa, after everything she's been through, would not want to harm her obsession or push them too hard.

Let's think about the trauma she's gone through.

Several forced marriages, misogyny, manipulation, being held captive, family members killed, many other things I'd rather not say.

By the time she'd meet her obsession, she'd hate to put them through Hell.

She's gone through many abusive husbands.

She doesn't want to be an abusive partner to you.

By the time she meets you, she's already gone through the pits.

Sansa, no matter what version or how much power she gains, she may want to be softer to you.

She'd be friends with her obsession, someone who has been an ally where she's had none.

Sansa really does need someone who won't have ulterior motives.

Sansa is a character who is trying to survive.

She needs someone who can aid her through all the abuse, manipulation, and trauma.

You no doubt know what she's gone through due to being her friend.

Not in the same way (Hopefully), but you'd be the one she cries to every night.

Sansa would not want to be like her abusers to you.

Which, I feel, would make her a softer yandere to you.

She wouldn't kill people in front of you, she wouldn't force you into anything, she wouldn't want you to hate or fear her...

She wants you to love her... mutually.

She used to fall for fictional tales of love and romance... ones where love is soft...

She never got that with any betrothals she got.

So... while it may be childish... she wants that soft kind of love with you....

She'd never force you into marriage.

She'd wait for you to be ready... even if she feels jealousy towards other potential suitors.

Sansa, by the time she gains some freedom, wants to love only you.

Even when she becomes Queen of Winterfell (In the show), she doesn't really wish to control you... much.

The most I can see Sansa controlling her obsession is subtle.

She'd say small lies or manipulate a system for your benefit.

She'd never hit you, never make you bleed, never harm you...

She isn't Cersei, Joffery, Ramsay, Littlefinger... none of them.

She's her own person and she'll never harm the one she loves.

She tries not to, anyways.

But... Everyone fights for what they love at some point.

She'd never harm your family or those close to you unless pressed.

Unless you're hurt or they try to hurt her... she won't harm a soul.

Sansa would be very soft with affection.

Her touch is gentle, she often asks how you feel.

She'll stick to hugs or gentle touches if you wish... only ever kissing you if you ask and only trying something further when you're comfortable.

Sansa wants your love, yet she'd never take it.

If you love someone else, it hurts...

Yet Sansa will be patient.

She may not take your love by slaughtering those around you, but she's still capable of lies.

She tells herself this isn't hurting you.

Exposing dirt on those you're close to... won't hurt the bond between you.

As a victim of what she's gone through, she doesn't like the thought of putting you through what she went through.

She doesn't put you through what she went through... but you're still manipulated in some way.

Who isn't in the Game of Thrones?

Sansa knows you trust her.

She's had that trust before.

She cherishes your trust.

Which is why, when she has to do the dirty work, she does it out of sight.

She wants you to view her in a positive light.

She wants you to experience that fantasy type of love with her.

The one with soft kisses and sweet words.

The one where you feed one another and hold each other in your arms.

She's tired of all the hurt... which is why she can't let you go.

Surely you'll enjoy Winterfell with her, right?

It may be cold... but she'll keep you warm.

Sansa no doubt genuinely loves you.

She has no motives to harm you compared to others.

She doesn't own you.

You are your own person, just like her... she just tends to... influence your surroundings.

She gives you an illusion of freedom... unintentionally most of the time.

Those you talk to are those she approves of.

Anyone overly friendly or trying to court you is removed.

This is her fantasy...

No one can interfere.

What I'm trying to depict is Sansa is seemingly a "better" yandere than most, but still has her selfish flaws.

She's still not the best for you due to her jealousy and ambition to create a fantasy love life.

She wants the love life she lost.

While she tries not to force you into anything, she wants marriage.

Even if you are a fellow woman, she will only ever take your hand.

Sansa, due to all her trauma, wants a fantasy life to retreat to.

Anyone who falls by her hand is out of sight from you.

She'll get that fantasy life she's always wanted... and you'll be happy...

You must be happy... she could never hurt you... right...?

#yandere game of thrones #yandere got #yandere sansa #yandere got sansa

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rhaenin-time · 6 months

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No, House Targaryen is not inherently "doomed" by the very same flaws (and themes) that doomed the civilization that they left.

No, they're not fated to succumb to the Doom that they survived specifically because of the foresight that set them apart from everyone else who perished. Not only would it be terrible, simplistic writing, it would also endorse a terrible, simplistic worldview.

People choosing to make House Targaryen a representation of and thematic successor to not just the civilization that they differentiated themselves from, but the power structure that they chose to leave, literally divested from, and actively worked to prevent from rising again in another form... really rubs me the wrong way.

Why isn't this projection and generalization done for any of the families that come from the cultures that are not coded as other? Why is it only the family that's been separated from their cultural context? Why do the other families each get to be unique, complex manifestations not just of different aspects of their cultures, but of their own specific histories?

Why is the foreign degenerate family both a representation of everything wrong with the culture they come from, and a scapegoat for everything wrong with the system they assimilated into? How is it they represent everything bad about what they left behind, and also everything bad about the land they came to? Even though all those flaws are not only shared by the system as a whole, but are flaws that predate their arrival, that they were punished for resisting, and that they are demonstrated to be incompatible with. Why is it always both?

It just rings so familiar to the way so many people view the other in real life. Because the Targaryens are overtly, and intentionally written as the other. It's the reason so many people identify with them, and it's the very same reason that other people vilify them. They're not just the in-universe other to the 'default' culture established in the text, but they're also given characteristics that we, the reader and audience, can recognize as other and even sometimes anathema to Western Christian culture.

Perhaps the old tales were true, and Dragonstone was built with the stones of hell

A Storm of Swords, Chapter 25, Davos III

I want you to ask yourself: Why is the idea of "fire and brimstone" evil?

To paraphrase the annoying people that love to cite Ramsay when they feel like it: If you look at a morally complex family surrounded by other morally complex families in a morally complex world in a story that's famed for seeking to challenge your underlying assumptions, and think that their association with fire and brimstone is meant to signify their singular satanic evilness, rather than say... challenge that very Eurocentric assumption, you haven't been paying attention.

This vilification mindset where the Targaryens are the singular evil of Westeros is so common to people who seem to want to consume ASoIaF without engaging with the criticisms of the Eurocentric worldview of history at the heart of it. And they end up using the convenient “others” to project all the wrongs of that world onto so they don't need to examine it any deeper.

This is the part where I so often get crucified!

This is the take that so often gets me crucified for "trivializing real world bigotry" in an attempt to "moralize interpretations of fiction" by an onslaught of people with troubling ideologies who then ironically steer the onslaught to moralizing their interpretations of fiction in a way that seeks to either mask or justify their troubling ideologies.

The worldbuilding of ASoIaF is an almost unparalleled projection of the Eurocentric worldview. That's what makes the world feel so rich. That's why GRRM and even the readers and audience are able to craft so many details that feel intuitive. But that also means that how you choose to interpret that world is often driven by underlying biases and ideologies that relate to that worldview — especially if you're not willing to challenge them the way George RR Martin does and encourages you to do.

It means that certain potential biases and ideologies people might balk at outwardly expressing in the real world are recontextualized in a way that feels more comfortable to indulge in.

There are countless examples from countless parts of the narrative. Honestly, you could fill books on the matter. But the one I'll point to right now is how the vilification I pointed out earlier is so emblematic of how the Eurocentric worldview often seeks to project their own flaws onto the other or choose scapegoats for systemic issues.

It comes from the same place with how someone pointed out that the baffling bastardphobia that would have medieval peasants giving the side eye is so often people jumping at the chance to “cosplay” as bigots who base their arguments in misogyny and bio-essentialism. Because it's an acceptable channel to indulge in that mindset in a way that they'd often otherwise question, or at least hold back from expressing out of caution.

And there I go again. "Moralizing fandom" for pointing out that fandom is so often used as a 'safe space' to build communities that share and spread troubling ideologies that you're not allowed to criticize because those ideologies have been 'appropriately' decontextualized from their real-world parallels, even though those parallels are still very much there.

But the problem is that it's impossible to simply 'channel' bigotry and leave it in an 'acceptable' space, because bigotry doesn't work like that. It's not a static object you can carry around in your pocket to play with when you think it's safe to do so. It's a blight. A living poison that feeds and grows and spreads. And if you give it a 'safe space' and continue to feed it with 'acceptable' fuel, it will always find its way out.

#oh my god this rant took so many turns #but how poetic would it be to get 'crucified' over this take #this was just supposed to be me slowly working towards my long essay about why people love to call targaryens “nazis”#but god i could fill a book with how fandom is an incubator for bad real-world politics #and then i was like - fuck - i got cancelled on twitter so often for any take like this and it's actually aggravating #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf #hotd #fire and blood #house targaryen #daenerys targeryan #hotd critical #because you KNOW some of those writers have been indulging in this interpretation #don't get me started on the 'eastern decadence' themes that also pop up around the targaryens #and how it relates to their 'eastern aesthetic' that would take all day

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agentrouka-blog · 4 months

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Accidentally stumbled into a Sansa anti (well they call themselves an Arya stan but they apparently think those things go hand in hand)blog and am now baffled and a little disgusted at the amount of vitriol these people have for..a little girl, honestly they had reblogged a post about how Arya being believed to be a hostage to Ramsay galvanised so many people in the North, etc and the difference between that and Sansa being the Lannisters hostage/Tyrions bride, and like..so this little girls life being worthless to these men (whether that's true or not) is somehow validation for you? Honestly it's a little disturbing (there's also a pattern of most of them hating Alicent as well which seems..meaningful)

Ah, yes, the fantasy that they have that the North uniquely loves Arya and somehow instinctively rejects Sansa, and that this would be a good thing rather than screaming misogyny. 😊

There's exactly one group in the North agitating for Ned Stark's daughter herself (the one within reach of them, mind) and that's the mountain clans, for two reason:

Distant family loyalty, alongside Stark loyalty. (A Liddle also aids Bran in the mountains.)

A culture that encourages them to seek death, not survival, at this particular time where Stannis comes knocking.

His father's mother's mother had been a Flint of the mountains. Old Nan once said that it was her blood in him that made Bran such a fool for climbing before his fall. (ASOS, Bran ll)

It was a tale that any northmen knew well. "My father's grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother's side," Jon told her. "The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and wives. It has always been a harsh life up there. When the snows fall and food grows scarce, their young must travel to the winter town or take service at one castle or the other. The old men gather up what strength remains in them and announce that they are going hunting. Some are found come spring. More are never seen again." (ADWD, Jon X)

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." (ADWD, The King's Prize)

Let's not overtly romanticize the North. Manderly's money is on Rickon the son. There's a sizable faction actually supporting the Boltons (Dustin/Ryswell and Karstark). No one lifts a single finger for "Arya" until Jon gives Stannis the advice to gather support in the mountains with his army, and those are the ones with comparatively little to do but die and "bathe in Bolton blood".

The main aspect here is opportunity v. cost.

But more to the point, just as you point out, if it was Sansa that Jeyne was pretending to be, it would be the same. It's not the girls (within their actual reach) they specifically care for, it's Ned and House Stark.

The specific (small) subset of Sansa Anti/Arya stan that pushes these takes is, indeed, less interested in Arya, the actual books and the political dynamics therein, than they are in a distorted Cinderella fantasy where Arya is uniquely chosen and loved over Sansa. The rejection of Sansa is as central to that fantasy as the elevation of Arya, because the Mean Girl needs to be vanquished and punished in order to destroy the very notion in the world that Their Projection Surface was ever not The Prettiest And Bestest, deprived of the admiration she rightfully deserved by the cruel machinations of a middleschool bully.

You know, that's the complex philosophical, political and literary themes and interpersonal dynamics that GRRM is known for. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#anti arya stans #sansa stark #mountain clans #fandom foolery

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aeriondripflame · 11 months

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#asoiaf #guava.txt #illyrio mopatis #criston cole #tyanna of the tower #bloodraven #maegor targaryen #victarion greyjoy #theon greyjoy #ramsay snow #genna lannister #arthur dayne #jaehaerys targaryen #aegor bittersteel #i’m not gonna lie lowkey i think room 4 is the most danger

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jedimaesteryoda · 6 months

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You often miss how similar Jorah Mormont and Petyr Baelish are in some respects.

When it was announced that I was to wed Brandon Stark, Petyr challenged for the right to my hand. It was madness. Brandon was twenty, Petyr scarcely fifteen. I had to beg Brandon to spare Petyr's life. He let him off with a scar. Afterward my father sent him away. I have not seen him since." -AGOT, Catelyn IV Yet with Lynesse's favor knotted round my arm, I was a different man. I won joust after joust. Lord Jason Mallister fell before me, and Bronze Yohn Royce. Ser Ryman Frey, his brother Ser Hosteen, Lord Whent, Strongboar, even Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard, I unhorsed them all. In the last match, I broke nine lances against Jaime Lannister to no result, and King Robert gave me the champion's laurel. I crowned Lynesse queen of love and beauty, and that very night went to her father and asked for her hand. I was drunk, as much on glory as on wine. By rights I should have gotten a contemptuous refusal, but Lord Leyton accepted my offer. We were married there in Lannisport, and for a fortnight I was the happiest man in the wide world." -ACOK, Daenerys I

They pursued beautiful highborn women far above their station who, and both being southron women who married northern lords. Petyr pined for Catelyn Tully, and fought a duel for her hand against her betrothed, Brandon Stark. Jorah won a tourney with the favor of Lynesse Hightower, he crowned her queen of love and beauty and managed to marry her when he asked for her hand.

Their stories have a romantic element to them with Petyr dueling for Cat's hand and Jorah winning a tourney with Lynesse's favor, but they end up being subverted with neither getting a happy ending. Petyr loses the duel and is nearly killed, and then SAed by Lysa and sent from Riverrun. Jorah's marriage didn't work out, exhausting his family's coffers to provide her the luxuries she was used to and after selling poachers to slavers, which forced him into exile. Catelyn ended up marrying Ned Stark and Lynesse ended up leaving Jorah to be a merchant-prince's concubine.

After that, they found themselves in service to women with Lysa Arryn having Jon Arryn raisie up Petyr and him later serving Queen Cersei while Jorah ending up serving Daenerys in exile. They also end up betraying the people they serve with Littlefinger having a hand in the War of Five Kings and being behind Joffrey's murder, killing Lysa and Jorah spying on Daenerys.

"I've told the khal he ought to make for Meereen," Ser Jorah said. "They'll pay a better price than he'd get from a slaving caravan. Illyrio writes that they had a plague last year, so the brothels are paying double for healthy young girls, and triple for boys under ten. If enough children survive the journey, the gold will buy us all the ships we need, and hire men to sail them." -AGOT, Daenerys VII "I'm a good girl," Jeyne whimpered. "They trained me." -ADWD, Theon

Another thing they have in common is their attitude towards children and sex slavery. Petyr took the orphaned Jeyne Poole, forced her into sexual slavery at one of his brothels as shown by the whippings she endured for refusing and mentioning "she was trained." He then sent her to Ramsay Bolton of all people, likely not being ignorant of the things he had heard about him. Jorah had no qualms selling kids into sex slavery en masse, and when Dany tells him to stop Eroeh from being raped, he initially pushes back saying the Dothraki are claiming "their reward."

"You shouldn't kiss me. I might have been your own daughter . . ." "Might have been," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "But you're not, are you? You are Eddard Stark's daughter, and Cat's. But I think you might be even more beautiful than your mother was, when she was your age." -ASOS, Sansa VII "What did she look like, your Lady Lynesse?" Ser Jorah smiled sadly. "Why, she looked a bit like you, Daenerys." -ACOK, Daenerys I

It fits their creepy attitude towards the opposite gender with their fixation on young girls after the loss of their previous interests of affection. Petyr fixates on Cat's daughter Sansa Stark who does bear a noted resemblance to her mother while Jorah fixates on Daenerys who he admits looks like his ex-wife.

For half a heartbeat she yielded to his kiss . . . before she turned her face away and wrenched free. "What are you doing?" Petyr straightened his cloak. "Kissing a snow maid." . . . "You shouldn't kiss me. I might have been your own daughter . . ." -ASOS, Sansa VII It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. "You . . . you should not have . . ." "I should not have waited so long," he finished for her. "I should have kissed you in Qarth, in Vaes Tolorru. I should have kissed you in the red waste, every night and every day. You were made to be kissed, often and well." His eyes were on her breasts. Dany covered them with her hands, before her nipples could betray her. "I . . . that was not fitting. I am your queen." -ASOS, Daenerys I

Their treatment towards these girls can be described as possessive and abusive. While posing to their girls as their protectors, they basically use it to enforce control over them. They force kisses on the girls, and when the girls make it clear they don't want them, simply dismiss them and continue to push. Petyr keeps Sansa in his custody under a false identity, effectively making him her guardian and keeping her completely dependent on him. Jorah tries to isolate Dany from other men in her life from Xaro to Barristan and Daario.

The main difference in Petyr is very vindictive, and works on the downfall of houses Stark and Tully over Cat's rejection and marriage while Jorah stays loyal to Daenerys and tries to seek her favor again. Neither man really takes accountability for the consequences of their actions.

Their fixations will ultimately prove to be their downfalls. Petyr underestimates the danger Sansa potentially poses to him as she is learning from him. Jorah in a desperate act, kidnaps Tyrion, and tries to go to Meereen to regain favor with Daenerys. He likely won't like the Ironborn suitor Victarion, and his actions will likely get himself killed.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #littlefinger #petyr baelish #petyr littlefinger baelish #jorah mormont #jorah #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #queen daenerys

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starkskeep · 2 years

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And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all (r. stark)

And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all r. stark imagine

Pt. 3 of Oh, all I used to do was pray, Right when I felt the moment stop

Pairings - Robb Stark x female!Reader

Summary - You have finally healed but the tension in Winterfell looms higher than ever before. A new arrival to the keep threatens any progress Robb has made with you.

Word Count - 1,203 words

Warnings - Angst, mention of infidelity, Robb being a shitty husband but I swear he is trying

A/N - I'm having way too much funny writing angsty Robb Stark so this has now become a multi-chapter imagine. I'm thinking about having two endings: one hea and one where it's just all angst. Let me know if you would enjoy something like that or if you prefer one ending over the other.

Songs I listened to while writing: Cherry Wine (Hozier), Cinnamon Girl, Carmen (Lana Del Rey), Midnight Rain, All Too Well (Taylor Swift)

It had been a month since the attack and you had finally been allowed to resume your normal duties. It had been dreadfully boring being stuck in bed but no one wanted to take any chances with your health. If there was a positive outcome from your encounter with Ramsay, it was that the Stark family had finally opened their hearts to you. Catelyn and Sansa had taken up much of the charity work that you had been doing in prior. They would bring you embroidery projects and sit beside your bed as they updated you on the progress of your work as you all stitched new designs. Sansa showed you quite a few new embroidery tricks. If you were not joined by Catelyn and Sansa, it was Arya and Rickon in your room. The two looked as if you had hung the moon and the stars since you had sacrificed yourself to save them, unknowing if you would survive facing off against Ramsay or not. Arya had decided that she would teach you sword fighting like Brienne had taught her or maybe archery, whichever one you took to best. She did want you to be left defenseless again. It was Arya’s belief that if you were brave enough to protect them, you had to be smart enough to know how to protect yourself. Rickon was less energetic but still just as attentive. He would use your room as an escape from his lessons by bringing you pictures that he had drawn and books so that you could read to him. Once or twice, he even brought you sweets that he had snuck from the kitchens. Even Bran visited you from time to time. He could sympathize with being stuck in bed and how bored one quickly grew from it. Bran had shown you card games that could be played from bed and you were quickly becoming quite the gambler, even though he often bested you.

The issue arose from the eldest of the Stark boys. Robb and Jon were quite sparse in their visits to your bedside, not that you minded Robb’s elusiveness. It still left you with an uneasy feeling whenever he showed you sympathy for what had happened. You were unsure how to accept his kindness after six months of trying yet still being brushed to the side. What concerned you was the rumor you had heard of Robb and Jon fighting over you. Some maids had been whispering when they thought you were asleep about how Jon wanted to keep Robb from visiting you after he had made you cry when you had first woken up. Jon believed that Robb’s presence would be a reminder of the pain you suffered and would therefore only hinder your recovery. He limited his visits so as not to fuel rumors that you and he were engaged in an affair as revenge for Robb’s infidelity. That, of course, was not true. Jon was your first true friend in Winterfell and he cared and looked out for you the way he would Arya or Sansa. Robb, thankfully, did not have to face Jon again for his visits were also few and far between even though he wanted to be by your side. He had duties as the King in the North to attend to as well as a very pregnant Talisa quickly approaching her due date.

You were sitting at your dressing table after having just bathed that evening. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you gently traced the scar on your neck that had been left by Ramsay. The area is still tender and you hiss at the sensation. Another flaw is to be pointed out.

Unbeknownst to you, Robb had entered your chambers and was watching you from where he leaned against the closed door, watching as you carefully trace the scar. He can’t imagine how much pain you are in. How there are scars both physically and emotionally marring you. He frowns at the thought. He walks over to you. Robb wants to ask you if you are okay but he can’t find the right way to do so. He desperately wants to make things better between the two of you.

You shriek in surprise once you look up into your mirror and notice Robb standing close to you. “My lord husband. What are you doing in my chambers? Is there something you needed from me?” You pull your dressing gown tighter against you as if the fabric could protect your heart.

Robb is startled by your reaction. He doesn’t respond to you for a few moments as he processes your reaction. Why did you scream like that? Are you afraid of him? He can see the vulnerability, the pain, the fear in your eyes and it breaks his heart. Robb reaches out his hand to rub your shoulder in what he hopes you will perceive to be a comforting gesture. “I was worried about you. I know today was your first day returning to your duties. I wanted to make sure that you did not overexert yourself.”

You flinch slightly at the hand on your shoulder and possibly the sentiment behind your husband’s words. Before you can answer him, a servant knocks on the door to your chambers. You call for them to come in. The servant enters and bows to both you and Robb before turning their full attention to him. “Your grace. Talisa Maegyr has given birth successfully. The babe is a girl.”

Robb stares at the servant in disbelief. He knew that Talisa had begun her labours but believed he had more time before the actual birth. His voice grows quiet. “A…a girl?” Robb looked down at his hands, unsure of what to do with himself. He wants to be happy. Robb had loved Talisa once and would make sure she and the babe are cared for but he can’t help but feel resentment towards himself that every moment he tries to make peace with you is ruined by his own actions.

You shrug off the hand on your shoulder and get up, wanting to put distance between you and Robb. A pained smile is on your face as you speak. “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I’m sure you are eager to see her and Talisa. Go.” You turned to walk to the bookshelf of your room. Busying yourself with scanning the titles so that Robb can’t see the tears in your eyes.

Robb stares at the back of your head. His face is pained as he looks at the ground. A stray tear slides down his cheek. He closes his eyes and sighs. What should be a happy moment for him instead feels like his heart has been broken into a thousand pieces. Robb has come to regret the way he treated you. He should have tried to love you the same way his father had tried to love his mother. It had worked out for them. Robb felt like a failure.

When he finally opens his eyes after a few deep breaths, he plasters a fake smile on his face and follows the servant to where Talisa and his new daughter are resting.

Next Part

#robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #robb stark x y/n

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lemonhemlock · 9 months

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strange that people had the thought that sansa was gonna stay in the vale and not go back to winterfell for so long when geographically other than bran(beyond the wall having trippy visions)/jon("dead")/rickon (cannibal island skagos) sansa is way closer to winterfell than a lot of characters and the knights of the vale is pretty much a chekhov's gun especially since like you said they havent joined the war yet and somehow sansa marching to winter fell with them was unbelievable since like 2009-2018 (her story might not follow the show especially because of the diverged storylines and she has the alternative to escape the vale but who knows)

It's no secret that Sansa was a very hated character throughout GoT's run. People ~manifesting she would stay in the Vale was a way of wishful-thinking her out of the narrative. Their dislike made them ignore reason and come up with many silly theories.

Much has been said about Sansa's pawn-to-queen narrative, but the main argument for her surviving the series is that, if GRRM wanted to kill her, he had many, many opportunities to do so in five books and didn't. Sansa is physically and socially vulnerable & her POV focuses on her rich internal world, strength and endurance, yet she remains unscathed and is instead learning court politics. Why is that? It's basic bildungsroman storytelling. Denying that is just being petty at this point.

Sansa also cannot remain in the Vale as Alayne, since that is Littlefinger's plot. Only the most delulu stans will not accept that a shady person such as Littlefinger will face authorial punishment for his sins. And, when he does die, what's stopping Sansa from claiming her identity? Especially as she finds out the feared and detested Ramsay Bolton has married "Arya Stark". She will naturally want to help her sister.

Now, I need to re-read for this, but I believe it is hinted in AFFC that Myranda Royce slyly figured out who Sansa is. If you remember the prologue of AGOT, the fancy, pretentious Night's Watch ranger from the group of three that first encounter the white walkers, is Waymar Royce. He is the third son of Bronze Yohn, head of House Royce. I did a quick search to refresh my memory:

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw . . . he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney." Petyr put a finger under her chin. "That Royce glimpsed this pretty face I do not doubt, but it was one face in a thousand. A man fighting in a tourney has more to concern him than some child in the crowd. And at Winterfell, Sansa was a little girl with auburn hair. My daughter is a maiden tall and fair, and her hair is chestnut. Men see what they expect to see, Alayne." He kissed her nose. "Have Maddy lay a fire in the solar. I shall receive our Lords Declarant there."

(AFFC, Alayne I)

I mean... you can't be more explicit than that. The Royces know who Sansa is, but they'll just keep quiet and play out this charade?

#sansa stark #ask #anon

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

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I don't know of you write for Sansa Stark. But in case you do coul I request something like a friends to lovers set in Modern days? Maybe they go to University together and reader just had her heart broken by some boy and things evolve into another direction while Sansa comforts her. Ending smutty maybe!

(if you don't write for Sansa or you're not comfortable please feel free to ignore!)

Sansa Stark*Roommates

Pairing: Sansa x f!reader, ex podrick x reader

Word count: 3012

Warnings: breakup, make out, light nipple play not full smut

Masterlist Here

Somehow after many sleepless nights, awkward moments, questionable decisions, and dodging the strangest rumours you had did it. You had survived high school relatively unscathed. The only reason you had made it this far was being able to do it side by side with your best friend.

The first day of freshman year you walked in with bushy hair and a nervous bracey smile as you navigated the brutal halls of Northern Hills High. You were surprised you managed to get to your first class without losing a limb but when you did you soon flung yourself into the nearest seat as the class filled up.

You felt yourself shrinking into your seat as the rows filled up and still no one had sat beside you. That was until a red head with a shirt two sizes too big and slick French braids hurled into the class looking equally as sick as you felt. Her eyes scanned the room in a frenzy till she spotted the empty seat next to you, quickly moving to grab it.

You smiled an awkward smile at her and for a second the nauseous look washed away from her face, "I'm Sansa," she with a toothy grin and no sooner had you responded Mrs Tarth walked in to begin your first lesson.

That was years ago and ever since you had been glued at the hip. You would eat lunch together, study together, get ready for parties together. You even would join in on the Starks annual vacation and had practically been adopted by Ned and Cat.

Then came time to apply for college. You had talked about schools sure but when the letters came in and you found out you had both been accepted at Kingslanding university the choice was obvious. If you had to pack up and move halfway across the country better to do it with your best friend.

There was just one issue. You were in love with your best friend. You had realised it at the start of senior year of high school, but Sansa had never mentioned anything about liking girls and the couple boyfriends she had had did not make the odds look promising. When prom was approaching Sansa kept bringing up the topic of dates.

The different cute ways to ask people, matching your outfit with your dates, poses for photos. She even had you practicing slow dances with her so she would know what she was doing. Then one day she dropped the news. She was going with Ramsay Bolton.

You hadn't thought he was exactly her type; you could tell Ned thought that exact same while he grimaced at the boy when they first met, but you didn't want to ruin her mood so let it slide. She suddenly became very insistent on finding you a date and soon you had agreed to go with Podrick Payne.

He was a dorky kid from your bio class but the cute kind of dorky. Even you had to admit he was cute as he stuttered out his promposal. You knew you had to get over your crush one way or another so for the next few months your supposed to be one date with Podrick turned into a summer fling before university started.

You still hung out with Sansa but deliberately tried to pull back a little so that you could get over your feelings. It wasn't that you didn't like Podrick. You did. He was thoughtful and cute and interesting and smart and surprisingly good in the bedroom, but he didn't make you laugh the way Sansa did or take your breath away from just a photo.

You knew it was wrong to lead him on but for a while it seemed to be working. Sansa however did not have a second date with Ramsay, but she was always saying how cute you looked with Pod, and everything felt normal again.

When dorm applications came in it was a no brainer that you would dorm together. As soon as it was confirmed you began shopping for supplies and picking which clothes to take. everything was beginning to shape up to be perfect as the week before college rolled around. it was the day before you were leaving, and you had just finished packing all your things into a box with the help of Podrick.

your high-fives Pod, so relieved to be done packing, before flopping down on the bed. “Thanks for helping babe. don’t think I would’ve done it if you hadn’t shown,” you said, sitting up on your elbows with a laugh as Podrick sat down, sober look etched on his face. “You good?”

“About that uh,” Podrick began to stutter, “Well we’re gonna be ages away from each other. so, like I was thinking because um classes and that we’d only get to see each other maybe every month and it is college and that,” the boy began to ramble before you finally grabbed his hand, shaking him from rant, “maybe we should think about breaking up?” he said with an awkward smile.

you looked up at him, eyes wide but not filled with the sadness you expected, “Oh um well I hadn’t given it a thought- “

“It’s just I was talking to my uncle, well step uncle, but he was saying that it’s better to not be like tied down- “Podrick said before his eyes suddenly widened twice the size of yours, “Not that you’re a burden it’s just like. I think we should break up,” he said with a sorry smile etched on his lips, “I hope we can still be friend,”

you couldn’t face telling anyone, especially not Sansa. that night you, your family, and all of the Starks headed out for a final dinner before you and Sansa would leave for college. even Robb and Jon were there for the dinner since they didn’t leave to go back to the Wall for college for a few days. “Where’s your little boyfriend honey?” Catelyn asked as you all sat around a ridiculously large table.

“Oh, he was busy with packing for college,” you said, a flush tinging your cheeks as you pushed your food around. Sansa flicked your arm under the table making you look at her and her questioning gaze. you gave a half-hearted smile as you tried to play it off, but you knew each buzz on your phone was a text from Sansa sent from under the table.

as dinner was wrapping up Sansa had suggested you sleeping at hers, but you declined, using the excuse you wanted a final night in your own bed. it was as soon as you crashed down onto the pillow that the waves came crashing over you as you began to ugly cry, your makeup smearing around your face. you knew it was a summer fling, but gods why did this sting so much?

part of you wish you had told Sansa since if you had she’d be here right now with four pints of ice cream and more snacks than you could imagine. but she wasn’t here, and neither was Podrick and tomorrow you’d have to explain it all to her anyway. for now, all you could do is blast Taylor swift in your headphones and wait.

the drive up to college your parents could tell something was off, but everyone assumed you were sad about leaving. when you arrived at Kingslanding you recognised the Starks car in the parking lot. you already knew they would be there before you so you weren’t shocked when you arrived at the dorm to see Catelyn sat on Sansas bed holding her face telling her about party safety and Ned stood desperately trying to hang Sansas posters as straight as he could. “Is this right honey?” he asked as he straightened out the poster.

“No dad the harry styles one goes over there- “Sansa said, turning to point before bursting out in a grin, “Hey roomie,” she said as she shoved her way off the bed to fling herself in your arms as if you had been off to war instead of a seeing each other only last night.

the hug however was a welcome invite as you felt the wheel of emotions threaten to bubble, “Sup roomie,” you grinned back as you pulled away and tried to look normal, but Sansa could tell. you knew she could. luckily the attention quickly turned to all the adults trying to agree how to set up the room while you and Sansa sat on your bed and watched.

as Catelyn debated another way to lay out the beds Ned finally sighed his final sighs, “I think the girls will want to finish this one off,” he said, clamping his hands on his wife’s shoulders, “Don’t you girls?”

“Yeah, mum we got this,” Sansa said, confidently standing up as you both hurried to get your families to leave. “See you guys!”

“Bye!” you both hollered down the hall as you waved them off, “Thank god for that,” you laughed as the elevator door finally closed and your families were official gone. “Decoration time,”

“Nu huh,” Sansa said, quickly moving to grab your wrist. you turned to her with a heavy sigh as Sansa practically forced you to sit on the bed, “Spill,” she said as she stood over you cross armed.

you sighed, throwing your head back and hitting the wall with a gentle thud, “Pod broke up with me,” you finally mumbled as Sansa gasped. “He said we could still be friends, “

“That bitch dumps you- “

“He didn’t dump me,” you tried to defend and stand but Sansa shoved you back onto the bed. “Hey!”

“And then pulls the line?” she said as she began to angrily pace the room, her face almost as red as her hair, “Does he not know what he’s missing out on? is he blind?”

“He doesn’t wanna be tied down,” you said, sighing as you stood while Sansa’s jaw dropped, “Cmon San he has a point,”

“No he has a penis and that is apparently what he thinks with,” she snorts and finally you start to laugh, “Is this why you were being all weird last night?” when you nodded Sansa sighed as if she had seen a kicked puppy before wrapping her arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug, “Fuck him,” she mumbled as she held you tight, “You’re too good for him anyway. so you’ve got two options,” Sansa said as she pulled out the hug which you already missed and held you by the shoulders, “We either get made up hot as fuck and go out and post us so he knows he fucked up,” she said making you laugh at how crazy she could get, “Or we scour the nearby takeaways and go to a mall and get all the snacks you can think of and pig out,”

“The second,” you said, knowing right now the idea of going out would make you feel worse.

Sansa nodded as she grabbed her keys and purse, “Perfect then tomorrow we get hot as fuck and go out,” she said as she flung your hoodie at you to put on as you tried to argue, “and no buts. im not having my best friend being all sad and down on our first week. you’re too cool for that,”

you ended up hitting up the local mall and getting bags of snacks before walking to three different takeaways and getting a selection from each. now you were sat on Sansas bed with Chinese food, Indian food, Korean food, and more snacks than in willy Wonka’s factory sitting on her bedside table.

“This was way too much,” you said as you opened up your kung pow.

“We need supplies anyway plus the leftovers can be lunch and dinner tomorrow,” Sansa said as she dug into her fried rice with the single spoon you had thought to bring. “Besides you can’t go through a breakup without chocolate,”

“Touche,” you said as you clinked your takeaway containers. you had to admit it felt nice to let it all out as you sat beside Sansa, shoulder to shoulder as you devoured your food. She listened as you vented about your breakup backed up all your points, “Like I knew it wasn’t gonna be forever, but it hurts. is that weird?”

“Nah,” Sansa said as she opened another bottle of diet coke for you to share, “Besides it kinda felt like that’s what was happening,” she said with a distant look making you question her further, “Its just like,” she sighed, “I didn’t wanna say anything because he was your first proper boyfriend, but I missed you. it was like you were always busy or he crashed half our plans so it just kinda sucked. I missed my best friend,”

“Aw Sansa,” you gushed, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, “I didn’t mean to neglect you. you’ll always be my best friend,” you said making her smile and relax into your hug before you pulled away, “Boyfriends come and go but we are forever,” you said with a grin as you swiped the coke bottle out her hand, but you couldn’t help noticing her smile falter, “You good?” you asked as you sipped the diet coke.

“Yeah, it’s just,” Sansa sighed as she looked up to the ceiling, “I wonder what it’d be like if it was always just us,”

a weird feeling began to grow in the pit of your stomach, but you couldn’t tell why. Sansa wasn’t suggesting something…was she? “You want me to be alone forever?” you half joked half wondered if your best friend was maybe more than that. you knew better than to be hopeful and wait around for a straight girl.

“Not alone,” she said finally looking back at you, “With me,” she said, her cheeks tinging pink like she would do in school when her crush would talk to her. you wondered if yours had done the same when she spoke to you.

“Like with you?” you asked as you noticed how close your faces were, “or together?” you finally asked, the words scrapping out your dry throat.

Sansa blushed as she glanced away for a moment, “I probably shouldn’t have said anything, you’ve just ended it with Pod and- “

“Don’t,” you said cutting her off and making her look at you suddenly, “I mean you should say it. whatever you’re thinking. you can tell me,”

Sansa didn’t listen however and before you realised what was happening you felt her soft lips crash on to yours. they tasted like strawberry and candy and were far softer than you’d ever imagined. the kiss made you breathless as your hand moved to rest on her hip while Sansas clutched at your shirt. “Together? she asked, breaking the kiss with hopeful eyes.

“Together,” you said, a soft smile grazing both your lips as you leaned back in for another kiss.

it was slow and tender, and you could feel Sansas hand gently move down your body till it settled on your waist. but it was almost as if you could feel the kiss get needier as Sansa began to paw at your skin, “Is it bad I used to be jealous of Podrick?” she asked, breaking the kiss breathless.

“Why were you jealous of him?” you laughed as you tried to swop back in for another kiss.

Sansa dodged it with a slight smirk, “Because he got to do this,” she said as she kissed you suddenly, her hands moving to your hair as the kiss depend. but this was nothing like how it was with Podrick.

wordlessly and without breaking the kiss you both shoved the remaining snack packets off the bed as Sansa began to pull you down till you were laying over her, your legs between her legs which she soon wrapped around your waist. your hands moved to gently squeeze her thighs, grateful for the tennis skirts she loved to wear that let you feel her soft skin. Sansa moaned into the kiss as your hands moved to gently grab her hips.

her hands moved down from your hair to running down your chest, squeezing your tits lightly over your shirt. now you were thankful you had ditched the bra under your baggy tee as your nipples began to perk under Sansas touch.

you could feel her smirk into the kiss as she gently squeezed your tits before moving to pinch your nipples gently making you moan in her mouth. “You are amazing,” she murmured against your lips as your fingers squeezed her hips in agreement as your lips moved to kiss down her jaw and neck.

just as your lips grazed her collarbone a knock made your head snap up followed by a scramble off of your new girlfriend as someone barged through the door, “Hey some of us-oh my god!” a girl the same age roughly as you gasped as she turned around covering her eyes, “Im so sorry I didn’t even think I- “

“Its okay,” You said as Sansa straightened her skirt and sat up, face beat red now.

the girl turned back around with a sorry smile, “I just came to see if you wanted to come to our floor mixer tomorrow, but I am legit so sorry there was no tie, my mum said there be a tie on the door- I’ll buy you guys a tie,”

“It’s alright,” Sansa grimaced as her face got redder, “We will make sure for next time,” she said as you silently celebrated a next time.

“Okay well I’ll be going um I’m Baela by the way. and again, totally my bad,” she said as you finally managed to get the stranger out the door and back to what you had been waiting for for years. everything was perfectly until Sansas parents visited a few weeks later unannounced and you had to explain why your beds were pushed together.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy

#sansa stark #sansa stark imagine #sansa stark x reader #sansa stark x f reader #sansa stark smut #sansa imagine #sansa x reader #sansa smut #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #modern sansa #modern sansa stark #modern sansa stark x reader #modern sansa stark smut

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