#i'm saving the other one for a rainy day tho xoxo

[winterreigned]

a kiss that leaves behind lipstick marks. from theon but he's wearing coral blue #5 (jk it's sansa's). // @prodigum

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍, envy coursing through her veins, drowning out the noise of the party. it was as if sansa had tunnel vision, blue eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the sight before them. girls were practically throwing themselves at theon, a nauseating sensation coming over her as she watches. did they always do this? it probably was, but this was the first time sansa cared enough to notice. her hands grip the red solo cup she's holding tightly, the crinkling of the plastic loud enough to interrupt margaery from her talking. it was now obvious, sansa's best friend looking between her and theon confused.

yeah, well, sansa was confused too. ever since that one night, that one drunken mistake of a night, as she tried to convince her mind to call it - she has not been able to shake theon greyjoy. she's tried, desperately so. they were absolutely nothing, yet it was everything to her. frighteningly so, sickeningly so. sansa stark was never the sort to sit idly by, though she finds herself acting bolder than she cares to when it comes to her brother's best friend. impulsively, red solo cup gets slammed to the table, sansa ignoring the beer that pours over onto her. she's far too busy now scouring through her purse, looking for... ah ──── there it is. bright red lipstick.

hastily, she applies a thick layer to lips, stalking over to theon as she does such. she pays no mind that robb lingers in proximity, tunnel vision has had her acting all sorts of irrational. hands come to clasp around his wrist, not even bothering to excuse him from the conversation with a blonde she was sure he had sights on. sansa ignores his protests, ignores his questioning. the red head finds a bathroom, and shoves them in it quickly.

 ❝ ──── you're a real sleaze bag. ❞ sansa insults, words hissed to try to hide the jealousy bubbling beneath the surface. she will act disgusted before she would ever dare admit she was green with envy. hands grab at the fabric of his shirt, shoving him back against the door they just entered. her chest rises and falls heavily, eyes not ripping away from his own.  lips, red as rubies, plant several strategic kisses.

one , on the left side of his neck. one, on the right side of his jaw. one, last one on his lips.

her last kiss is as if she's quenching her thirst after a week in the desert. it's deep, passionate - alarms are blaring in her head all the same. it is with instant regret she pulls away, though she can only allow herself this small taste. if sansa were to continue, she would never be able to stop. instead, the red head separates herself from him. blue eyes admiring the three spots where she has left her personal marks. a smirk instantly glides onto features ; MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

 ❝ no girl will want a marked man, ❞ sansa whispers, fingers coming to hover over the lipstick stain on his jawline.  ❝ i just saved a handful of girls from a night with you. consider it my civic duty. ❞ that's how she'll play it, knowing it's probably transparent as a pane of glass. still, pride will forbid her from ever admitting this was stemmed from her own jealousies.  ❝ now, if you'll excuse me, i can go back to enjoying myself. ❞ she turns to leave, heart fluttering, cheeks flushed, and inner monologue self deprecating.