#sansa x reader smut

[fantasydreamland]

Queen in the North

sansa stark x fem reader

Summary: Sansa is titled queen in the North. After too much wine during the celebrations you discover no man has ever treated her properly in the bed chambers so you do your best to serve and worship your new queen.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! wlw, smutttt, fluff, alcohol consumption, fingering, oral (f&f), some spoilers

word count: 2171

masterlist

“Congratulations, my queen.” You curtsy and smile wide to Sansa as people continue to gather for the celebration.

“Thank you, (y/n).” She gives a soft smile back.

“You look radiant tonight, the crown becomes you.”

“Thank you, you as well.” She replies. “I meant- the crown doesn’t become you- I meant you look radiant as well… Not that a crown wouldn’t become you! I believe you would look quite good in one.” She flusters.

“Thank you, my queen.” You giggle at her stuttering.

She gestures you to sit beside her. You chat and drink at the table with her and the others enjoying the feast. You couldn’t help but admire Sansa’s features from the side. She had the most beautiful face, her eyes, her pale face, her prominent nose, the way she smiled when she laughed, and her lips…

Sansa’s leg brushes yours and you can’t decide if that was causing the heat in your cheeks or if it was all the wine you had consumed, perhaps both.

As the hour becomes late most people head to bed. You say goodnight to the gentlemen leaving your table. Soon you and Sansa are left alone at the table while a few other drunks still hang about on the other side of the room.

“So…” You turn to Sansa. “Now that you’re queen I assume you will be looking to marry soon?”

“I am in no rush.” She chuckles. “I’ve not had the best luck with husbands.”

“So I’ve heard…” you place your hand gently on hers. “I’m sorry for everything that has happened.”

“So am I…” she says quietly and puts her other hand over yours. “However, I’m not sure if I would be the woman I am today had those things not happened.”

You nod and she gives your hand a gentle squeeze before removing it. You reluctantly let go of her other hand and place it back in your lap.

“And you?” Sansa asks.

“What about me?”

“Will you be searching for a husband soon? I am sure you are eager to start a family.”

You let out a laugh that causes a snort.

“Pardon me, your grace…” you say a little embarrassed by your laugh. “No… I have not found a man suitable enough for me.”

“It appears we have that in common.” She says lowly with a slight smirk.

“Forgive me for being forward…” You begin. “But were you able get any sort of pleasure from them?”

“Lord Tyrion and I never consummated, he was respectful. Which oddly enough, he likely would have been the only one to give me true… pleasure.” She becomes shy with the last word.

“As for Ramsay… well. What he lacked in pleasure he provided in pain.” She continued, looking down as her mind drifted.

“I’m sorry…” You say quietly.

She shakes away the awful memories and meets your eyes.

“No matter, it is all in the past.” She says reassuringly.

“Cheers to that.” You say holding out your goblet.

She smirks and clinks her cup with yours and you both take a drink. Theres a calm moment of silence just enjoying each other’s presence. You both hold your smiles and make shy glances at each other. You’d meet her eyes making her blush and look away. Then you’d look away and notice her glance back at you until you’d met her eyes again which caused you to then blush and look away. Sansa looks away again with a smirk and takes a sip of wine.

“I should slow down.” She puts her goblet on the table, breaking the silence. “Otherwise I may not be able to get up from this table.” She laughs.

“I would be happy to assist you my queen.” You smile as you stand up and hold your hand out to her.

“Why thank you, my lady.” She says in a jokingly polite voice.

She takes your hand and pulls herself to a stand before nearly toppling over. You catch her arm and she steadies her balance again.

“I appear to be more intoxicated than I had thought.” She jokes. “I think you may need to help me back to my chambers.”

“I am at your command, my queen.” You smirk and give a small bow before holding your arm out for her to take.

She takes ahold of your arm and you walk down the halls to her chambers. You’re not sure why the air feels tense. Maybe it was the way her hand gently held onto your arm or how ethereal she looked in the dark candlelight. You wondered if she felt it too. You look to Sansa and she simply smiles at you. You give a soft smile back, then turn away hiding your blush.

Once you arrive at the door to her chambers she lets go of your arm and turns to you with her hands folded together in front of her.

“Well, thank you my lady for escorting me.” She gives a polite smile.

“Of course, my queen.” You curtsy.

“And thank you for being the best drinking companion. I’ve not been this happy and content in a long time.” She reaches out and lightly takes your fingers into hers causing your breath to catch.

“You deserve nothing but happiness my queen…” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

She gives you a soft smile and takes a step closer to you, still holding your fingers. You notice her glance to your lips before meeting your gaze again with an intense look in her eyes. She hesitantly leans in at an excruciatingly slow pace as her eyes search yours for any sign you don’t want this. Once her lips are merely a breath away and your noses brush you close the gap and press your lips to hers, assuring her you definitely want this, you definitely want her.

Her hesitation instantly fades and she kisses you back passionately as your fingers intertwine. You sigh as you taste the sweet wine on her tongue. She moves her other hand to your waist to pull you closer against her. Your other hand caresses along her cheek and jawline. Your tongues continue to slowly and softly dance together. The kiss is gentle and fierce at the same time. She eventually pulls away and you see a soft smirk lingering on her lips.

“Would you like to come in?” She says lowly.

You nod your head a little too quickly, making her chuckle. She keeps her hand in yours as she leads you into her chambers. You look around at the room as she closes and bolts the door shut behind you. She walks over to a small table and gently places down the crown from her head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and feel your palms sweat from the nerves.

Sansa comes back over to you and you awkwardly look at each other, neither of you sure what to do next. You gather all of your courage and take her face in your hands and pull her into another passionate kiss. This kiss is hungrier and more heated than the last. You shiver as her fingers lightly brush down your neck to your collarbone, before they make their way to pull the strings of your dress. You follow her lead shoving the cloak off her shoulders before beginning to pull at her dress. Your lips never part as you both fumble with the strings of each other’s dresses.

After a frustrating minute of jumbled fingers you break the kiss and giggle to each other as you both unlace your own strings. Once they’re loose enough Sansa reaches out and slowly pushes your dress off your shoulders. Her gentle fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. You blush as her eyes look up and down your exposed body. Nervously you move your hands to her shoulders, pushing her gown to the floor. You gulp hard as your eyes scan her beautiful figure. Your eyes fill with lust as you look at her like an animal ready to pounce.

You lean into one another, lips meeting again. You hold each other close as your naked bodies press together. You feel sparks shoot throughout your body when your sensitive nipples brush against hers. Sansa keeps your body pressed to hers as you move towards the bed.

Once you’re both laying in the bed something in you snaps. You kiss her again hard before moving your lips along her jaw, down her neck and collarbone. You’re both surprised by your sudden boldness. Your hand moves to massage her breast as you lean down and take the other in your mouth causing her to gasp. You graze your teeth on her nipple before soothing the tender spot with your tongue. You continue to kiss down her body, lower and lower.

“What are you doing?” Sansa says in a breathy whisper.

“Worshipping you the way you deserve, my queen.” You mumble, continuing to kiss down her skin.

You move further down to kiss the inside of her thigh making her jump. You lift your head to look at her.

“Unless you want me to stop…?” You say with a hint of disappointment in your voice.

“No.” She quickly says staring down into your eyes with a heated look.

You smirk and lean back down kissing and nipping slowly up her inner thigh. You hear her breath quicken as you get closer to where she needs you most. She gasps loudly when you give a tentative lick up her wet core. You smirk again before latching your lips to her clit causing her hands to reach into your hair. The taste of her makes you dizzy. You have never done anything like this before but you do your best to work your tongue on her. The sounds of her soft cries and desperate moans are like the sweetest song you’ve ever heard. You continue testing what pleases her. When your tongue dips into her hole she groans loudly. You do it again and she moans again grabbing harder onto your hair.

With her encouraging moans you begin to tease your finger around her hole before pushing it slowly inside, your gaze fixed on her as you watch her face contort in pleasure. Her moans become less contained as you slowly move your finger in and out as you continue to work your tongue on her clit. You add a second finger and her hands move from your hair to tightly grasp the pillow under her head as she pants harder between moans. Her legs begin to shake and you pump your fingers faster knowing she must be close. She gasps your name. You moan against her in response, the vibrations finally pushes her over the edge. Her thighs squeeze tightly around your head but you still clearly hear her long loud final moan ring in your ears.

Her body and legs relax and you crawl back up the bed to lay beside her. She pants heavily for a moment before turning her face to you. She smiles before leaning forward and capturing you in a quick kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

“You are…” She holds your face in her hands and looks deep into your eyes as she struggles to find the right word. “…extraordinary.” She breathes.

You can’t help but smile as you hold her intense gaze.

“Thank you… my queen.” You whisper the last part.

“I would like to try...” She says sitting up and placing a soft kiss to your stomach.

You smirk and nod as she copies your previous actions kissing all the way down your body and then slowly up your thigh. With much less hesitation than you had, she dives right in. She spends no time working you up and slipping her fingers in. Her other hand reaches up to grab at your breasts. You hit your own peak much faster as she devours you like it’s her last meal. Her fingers curl inside you and that causes your sight to go black. Stars begin to fill your vision as you cry out from the intensity washing over you.

You feel her come to lay back beside you as you regain consciousness and steady your breathing. When you turn your head to her she’s smirking shyly at you.

“Well?” She asks.

“Extraordinary.” You breathe out.

She smiles and leans in to give you a chaste kiss but you put your hand around her neck to pull her closer and dip your tongue into her mouth. Her mouth tastes sweet and tangy from the wine mixed with your essence. You reluctantly pull away to breathe and lay back on the pillow. Your eyes meet again and you both laugh softly. You lightly brush her red hair from her face. She leans into your touch and sighs.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” She says hopefully.

“Of course, my queen.” Your soft smile turns into a mischievous smirk. “I plan to worship you again in the morning.”

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[myladysapphire]

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

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

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

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

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

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

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

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

But one thing he did not expect was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

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

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

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

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

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

Jon.

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

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

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

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

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why shouldn’t i?”

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

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

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

“I didn’t mean too”

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

She nodded in understanding.

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

As most of your time was spent with her.

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

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

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes”

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

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

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

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

Now the word love did.

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

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

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

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

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

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

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

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

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

Your peak fast approaching.

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

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

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

“Inside!” you moaned.

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

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

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

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

Love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist

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

to be added to taglist

[axelsagewrites]

Main Masterlist Here

House of the Dragon Masterlist Here

Warnings/Guides

【P】Platonic【P】 🆇Smut 18+🆇

Request Line Up and Request Rules

♡ Jon Snow ♡

🆇What he's like in bed🆇

Blind date

🆇Milady🆇

🆇Home Alone🆇

🆇Price of My Secrecy 🆇

Relationship Moodboard

🆇Couldn't Resist🆇

♡ Robb Stark ♡

Best Friend

Marriage night

🆇Dream🆇 🆇part two🆇

Frey Girl 🆇part two🆇

🆇I miss you🆇

Cloak

Honey Cakes (cloak part two or standalone)

Comfort

Sweet Girl

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇Good girl🆇

Yearbook

Don't Die For Me

🆇Little Secret🆇

🆇Can't Catch a Break🆇

Goodnight Dear Husband

♡ Sandor Clegane ♡

Most People Say Goodbye Part One - Part Two

🆇Brat🆇

♡ Beric Dondarrian ♡

Home

♡ Thoros of Myr ♡

Favourite Friend

♡ Brienne of Tarth ♡

【P】Queen in the North and South【P】

♡Ned Stark♡

🆇MiLord🆇

🆇Wife🆇

♡Ramsay Bolton♡

🆇My Father Would Kill Me🆇

🆇Catch You🆇

🆇How Far Would You Go🆇

🆇Appreciate You🆇

🆇Bath🆇

🆇Little Mouse🆇

♡Roose Bolton♡

Perhaps

Not Yet

♡Edmure Tully♡

【P】Who We Call Family【P】

My Queen My Love

♡Theon Greyjoy♡

Dream of Sweet Memories

🆇Give it back🆇

♡Sansa Stark♡

Roommates

🆇NSFW Alphabet🆇

🆇What's This?🆇

Surprise Visit

♡Podrick Payne♡

🆇Praise🆇

♡Daenereys Targaryen♡

🆇My Queen🆇

♡Jamie Lannister♡

🆇Extra Credit🆇

♡Oberyn Martell♡

🆇Duty🆇

♡Margaery Tyrell♡

🆇Ropes🆇

♡Cersei♡

🆇Morning🆇

♡Tormund♡

🆇Real Man🆇

🆇Use your words🆇

♡ Yara Greyjoy ♡

Flirting

Preferences/Multicharacter

🆇Company🆇 - Yara and Ellaria threesome

🆇What they're like in bed🆇 – Robb, Jon, Sandor, Podrick

How they react to teasing – all

🆇What They're Like in Bed🆇 – Margaery, Sansa, Danny, Yara

Share pt1 🆇Competition pt2🆇 🆇Wait p3🆇 - Robb and Jon

🆇Hook ups🆇 - Theon and Jon

Love Languages - Jon, Robb, Bran, Tormund, Podrick, Oberyn

Thanks for any support I appreciate it all xoxo Sage

Dividers from here and here from @saradika

Post topper made on Canva

[daniellewritesfr]

𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲

Paring: Jon Snow x f!Reader

Summary: You arrive in Winterfell lending aid to House Stark but seeing Jon brings back lost feelings you both share.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, kissing, fluff.

Word count: 1.4k

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rode through the gates of Winterfell the familiarity of the high stone walls and the sight of Stark banners bringing back the memories of your childhood. You had, in the past, spent many years in Winterfell growing up with the Stark children. Your father became a good friend of Ned Stark; while fighting alongside each other during Robert's rebellion. Leading to many years spent in the castle. 

You arrived in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cloak you’re wearing doing surprisingly little to suppress the cold winds of the North. You had been called as a bannerman of house Stark to lend aid and fight the white walkers beyond the wall. You look around, all the people of Winterfell seem to have solemn faces ‘it’s quieter than I remember’ you think to yourself while dismounting your horse stirrups rattling, the stable boy rushes over to take the reins from your gloved hands leading your horse away. Your men follow you, dismounting their horses, gathering their things and moving supplies, all of a sudden the yard is buzzing with movement.  

“Y/n!” you turn at the sound of your name to see Sansa walking towards you, “lady Stark” you bow slightly she lets out a small laugh as she embraces you, “you mustn't call me that y/n” she smiles “well you are lady of the North are you not” you ask “that I am yes, but to you it will always be just Sansa” she states “very well than Sansa” you smile “take me to Lord Snow.” 

The castle is darker than you remember, as Sansa leads you through the doors of the great hall, you catch sight of Jon, the young man you once remembered as a solemn and brooding child.  

Walking past the large tables in the middle of the hall you pull off your gloves, you look up to see Jon sitting at the high table reading a letter “Jon” Sansa says he looks up, his face breaking into a warm smile when his eyes land on you. You can’t help but smile back. You haven’t seen Jon in a long time, not since before he left to join the Night’s Watch. “My lord,” you take a slight bow, he stands and begins to walk towards you not saying a word, his gaze lingering.  

Finally he speaks “My lady”. He lets out a small laugh before wrapping his arms around you, you can feel the warmth radiating off of him even with the layers of fur between you, he lets go resting his hands on your shoulders before they move to cup your face.

 “Look at you” he mutters, eyes raking across you he pulls away “I didn’t think you’d come.” 

“I’m sworn to House Stark my lord” you reply “it is an honor to fight for your family.” 

 “My lord” Jon repeated “since when were you one to be so formal”? He teased.  

You can’t help but smirk, while walking past him with your hands clasped behind your back making your way to the table running your fingers along the edge,the teasing tone in Jon’s voice luring out your own wit. “And here I thought that being declared King of the North automatically earned you the title of ‘my lord’.” 

Jon chucked, a low rumble escaping his throat, “yes it does except, we grew up together there is no need for formality between us.” 

“I suppose you're right” you agree, your voice lightening. “However don’t let that get to your head, a little formality never hurt anyone.” 

Jon raises an eyebrow playfully. “Is that so? Then perhaps I should start using ‘my lady’ whenever I address you.” 

You laugh “you can certainly try but, I can’t promise I won’t retaliate” 

Jon shakes his head, a smile dancing on his lips. 

A fortnight had passed since you'd first arrived back in Winterfell, and tonight you were dining with the Starks and their men in the great hall, enjoying the loud conversations and laughter ringing throughout the room. It had been a long while since you’d allowed yourself a good time. You spent the night laughing and socializing with the others. Not noticing the way Jon was looking at you. 

As the talking and laughter slowly began to die, people began to retire to their chambers, you being one of them as the fatigue from the day's ride was finally wearing on you. Standing up making your way out to a long hallway lined with sconces providing a small amount of light as you pass various chambers while walking to your own.   

Opening the door you’re greeted with warmth radiating from the fireplace, you walk to a small table in the corner of the room picking up a few letters that you had yet to open, before dropping them back down rubbing your temples knowing that the night would be full of endless reading.  

Jon hadn’t put much thought into what he was about to do, maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just pure ignorance he thought to himself, as he was making his way through the dimly lit corridors. When he arrived at the door, his heart was pounding in his chest taking a deep breath before he raised his fist to leave a soft knock. 

While on your 3rd letter of the night you hear a light knock at your door, getting up from your seat at the table curious as to who it could be. Unlatching the door expecting it to be Sansa you were startled to see Jon standing on the other side.

“Jon” you said surprised “it’s late” 

For a moment he didn’t say anything, his gaze lingering on your face. 

 “Evening” he said “I hope I haven’t disturbed you”   

“No, it’s alright” your eyes scanning his face for any indicator of what he was there for. Tilting your head slightly to one side. “Has something happened?” you asked 

“No, no, may I come in?” 

“Yes of course. Please come in.” 

Moving aside Jon steps through, making his way to stand in front of the fireplace. He looks nervous, still thinking something had happened you ask once again. 

“Jon” you pause, he looks up, his eyes finally meeting yours. The look on his face starting to worry you. 

The silence hung like smoke in the air as you awaited his response. 

 He mumbles, moving one of his hands to run through his hair, turning back to face the fire watching the flames dance. You cautiously walk up behind him reaching to put a hand on his shoulder, he turns to face you leaning into your touch.

 Long forgotten feelings wash over you.   

“Jon, please tell me” you insist, your hand now resting at his jaw he leans further into your touch before covering your hand with his. You stayed like this for a short time relishing in the moment, the unspoken understanding filling the space between you. Removing his hand from yours to cup your jaw as he draws himself closer, his eyes searching yours for permission.

You quickly nod, before he closes the gap between you, lips brushing together. Your lips part slightly, letting his tongue slip inside. His hand glides to the nape of your neck, then moving to your waist, pressing your bodies together. You moan into the kiss, hands running through his hair while he trails gentle kisses leading from your jaw to your collarbone, small breaths escaping your lips. 

Pulling away, his gaze meeting your own.  

“You have no idea what you do to me” he whispers. 

The look in his eyes was evidence enough revealing what he felt without uttering a word. Yet he continues to speak. Hands coming back to hold your face.

“I-” he pauses for a brief moment gathering his thoughts. “You are my every thought” He breathes. “The only person able to ground me, make me feel whole. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. How I wasted all those years believing I had no chance, only to be standing here right now. With you.” 

Tears begin to swell in your eyes threatening to fall. 

“You consume every part of me, body and soul.” He gently wipes away the tears that begin to fall. “You are everything to me.” 

You smile at him, leaning into his touch. 

“I love you.” 

The words feel heavy. 

He starts to speak afraid of your rejection, you cut him off colliding your lips together for a brief kiss before pulling away resting your forehead against his, shallow breathing filling the room. 

“And I you.” 

The words so lightly spoken, Jon wasn’t sure he heard them. 

Leaning in to kiss you softly once more, running a hand through your hair, his eyes full of nothing but affection. “My lady.” 

[paulyenvol6]

Byka Atroksia (Chapter 4)

Contains: just a little angst and Rhaenyra being bipolar

Wordcount: ~2.40k

Masterlist of this story

Just when you were about to fall asleep you could feel Daemon roll off you.

It made you open your eyes again and you were back in the present moment. He exhaled loudly and stared at the ceiling while you felt weird at the loss of his weight on you. You felt exposed and cold suddenly.

Now that you were fully awake again more thoughts were floating through your head and a lot of emotions were washing over you. Slowly, you left the beautiful haze you had remained in after the intercourse and were pulled back into reality. You had just lost your virtue, your honor. Gods be good, what had you done? You weren’t married and yet you had just lost your maidenhood to your uncle. It wasn’t uncommen in your family to marry relatives but the point was that your father had no intentions marrying you to Daemon.

You felt your hands starting to shake. That was a catastrophe. A big, fatal mistake you had made. Maybe it was a dream, you thought. Maybe you would wake up in a couple of seconds and find yourself alone in your bed, right where you were supposed to be at this hour.

But then you turned your head and saw your uncle next to you, still breathing heavily and you felt yourself panick. If anyone would find out about this it would have terrible consequences. Your father would be furious, probably disinherit you and not call him his daughter anymore. Rhaenyra would look at you with disgust and suddenly you felt so dirty and filthy.

"Daemon.", you said with tears in your eyes. He slowly opened his eyes. "Mhmm…?", his voice sounded tired and annoyed by your disturbance.

"W-We shouldn’t have done this.", you whispered desperately and sat up on your uncle’s bed. "It was wrong, I-I was supposed to – How could we have – " Tears ran down your face and you pressed your hands over your mouth shocked by your action.

Daemon sighed deeply and slowly sat down on the bed as well. He reached out to you, grabbed both your upper arms, pulled you towards him and held you against his chest. He would have prefered to get some sleep now and wasn’t delighted by your outburst but did what he had to do. So he caressed your hair as he felt his skin getting wettened by your tears

"It’s alright…" "No it’s not, I – They’re gonna put my head on a spike for this." Daemon shook his head even though you couldn’t see it.

"They’re not, Vhaela."

"But w-when I'll be married some day my husband is gonna notice that I have lost my maidenhood already." Daemon exhaled. "Every woman is different. Some are tighter, some not. Some bleed, some don't. Perhaps he will be too much of an idiot to notice."

"But he COULD notice. And that would be… a disaster!" Suddenly you pulled away from him and looked at him with a serious look on your face.

"Please don’t tell anyone, uncle. They can’t know." He reassuringly nodded. "Yes. I will not."

You took a deep breath and tried to collect yourself. "We – That was so stupid, Daemon." He rolled his eyes and took your hand. "I think it was rather nice.", he whispered slowly as he pressed little kisses on the back of it.

"I didn’t know you were such a filthy, wicked beast." You blushed and there was the hint of a smile on your face.

"But now you need to rest, gevie riña (beautiful girl). You’re exhausted." You nodded in response and Daemon reached to the end of the bed to grab the blanket. He pulled at it to cover you both with it but you uncertainly watched him and played with your fingers.

"But, won’t they see us together in the morrow if I stay here in your chambers?" Daemon didn’t answer you immediately but put his hands on your waist and moved you so you laid next to him.

"No, they won’t. The servants don’t come in here in the morrow. I’ve told them not to countless times." He moved the hair out of your face.

"You don’t need to worry so much, little owl. I’ll protect you." You looked up to him with big eyes and it felt good to hear him say these words. They gave you comfort and made you think that actually everything would be fine.

"Such a sweet, little, innocent thing.", he whispered and kissed you on your forehead. "Sleep now."

~~~~~~~~~~

You were woken by the daylight in the morrow and needed a moment to remember what had happened the night before. You felt a little tension in your belly and you weren’t certain if it was caused by the memory of Daemon’s hot touch on your body or the fear what might happen if someone was to find out about your sins.

Daemon was still asleep next to you but only a few minutes after you had woken up he opened his eyes as well.

"Mhmmm.", he grunted and yawned. "Good morrow, uncle." He stretched his arms and turned to his other side. "Good morrow."

Did he really want to go back to sleep now?

"Daemon, I have to go now. The risk is too high that someone is gonna see me here." You looked at him with big eyes and Daemon slowly sat up. "Then go. There is the door." You frowned and he chuckled sleepy. "Sorry."

"I didn’t know you were so grumpy in the morrow."

He didn’t answer to that but got off the bed to grab his clothes which you did in the meantime as well. Then he turned to you.

"You should go through the secret tunnel from my room into the city and then back to the keep." You were confused and looked at him questioning. "What?"

"My sweet Vhaela, you’re the one who’s so concerned so this is me trying to come up with a plan that will make sure no one will suspect anything." You still didn’t know what he was talking about.

"We left the feast yesterday and there were probably enough people to tell my father that we left together. If you want to avoid rumours we have to give them an explanation for what we were doing. If you leave the keep through the tunnel that leads from my chambers right into the city and you enter the Keep now in the early morrow they will think that you have spent the night out. Which is exactly what you’re gonna tell them. And as nobody has seen either you or the two of us together they will believe it. You and I left the feast together and I shortly after went up to my chambers. You, on the other hand went out to… I don’t know, come up with something. It wouldn’t make sense to assume that we were together in the city if you return alone and I myself remain in my bed until noon."

You slowly nodded. Everything he had said made sense and you admired him for how quickly he had thought of a clever plan. So you let him lead you to the wall behind his bed but when your gaze fell on the bed you stopped.

"Daemon.", you said. He turned to look at you and then his eyes followed yours. There was a red stain on the sheets and of course you knew where it came from. You had bleeded when you had lost your maidenhood and now there was proof on the bedsheets. Daemon understood and shrugged his shoulders as if he thought it was nothing.

"I can get rid of it. I can burn it if necessary."

"Really?" He kept walking to the wall and left you looking at the blood stain.

"Yeah, of course." You gulped but then followed your uncle. Then everything happened very quickly. He opened the door to the secret passage and you stepped out of the chambers and into the tunnel.

"Be careful, little owl. Promise me that." You nervously looked at him. "Is it gonna be…. I haven’t been to the city a lot. Is it dangerous?" Daemon caressed your cheek. "If you keep your head down and your Targaryen hair hidden…", he adjusted the scarf he had just wrapped around your head. "Then you’ll be fine."

You nodded. "Alright. I… I’ll see you soon." Your uncle nodded and couldn’t hide a smirk looking at his not so innocent niece.

~~~~~~~~~~

You felt a stitch in your side as you walked up the many stairs. You were out of breath and the sun was already burning down at you which you had appreciated once you had arrived in the city but now it was too hot. Everything had worked so far and you hoped that your father would believe the story you had come up with during your walk.

You had fought with your sister (which wasn’t a lie), then talked to your uncle who had noticed your bad mood. He had suggested you needed some fresh air and escorted you out of the hall and into the gardens. There, you had said that you needed some time alone and Daemon had gone to his chambers while you, who had felt out of character and risky last night, had decided to go down into the city to just be in a different environment for once. You had strolled through the streets, watched all the attractions one could find and then fell asleep on a hay ball in a shed after drinking a little too much. You knew that you father would be angry nevertheless. His daughter, the Princess drunkily spending her time in bars and sheds? You gulped. But it was better than telling him the truth.

The guards at the red keep let you pass once they recognised you without asking what you had done in the city at that early hour. You felt miserable when you entered the hall. Not only did you fear the upcoming conversation with your father but thinking about you activities last night put you through hell as well. You had sinned, had committed an unspeakable crime. And you hated how much you had enjoyed the time with your uncle. You should feel disgusted now, thinking about his touch, but you didn’t. Because you hated that you did that, that you had lost your honor and virtue and that you had such a lack of will strength but at the same time it made your breath go faster thinking about Daemon’s hands on your body.

"Vhaela!" You quickly turned around with widened eyes and saw your sister walking towards you.

"Vhaela, where have you been?" Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around you and held you tightly. "We were so worried, has something happened to you?" You gulped loudly and felt tears in your eyes.

She and your father had been scared for you while you had done such a terrible action. And why did Rhaenyra had to be so caring and kind to you right now? It only made you feel worse than you already did.

"No, I’m fine, sister." Rhaenyra ended the hug and observed you intensely. "But where were you? I saw you leaving the feast with uncle, what did you do?"

You tried to look as honest as possible and started speaking. "After our fight… I didn’t feel very well and uncle saw that. We went out to get some fresh air and then he left me alone and I… I went to the city." Rhaenyra looked at you with an open mouth.

"What? Vhaela, you… Why? How could you do that?" You looked to the ground. "I’m sorry, I-I felt so odd yesterday. After everything I just felt like I needed a change in my environment. See something else than the keep."

Rhaenyra let out something that sounded like a cry and took your hand. "Vhaela. I’m sorry."

"What? What are YOU apologising for?" Your sister shook her head and looked sad. "Our fight… I was nasty yesterday. I don’t know what it was, but I’m sorry. Gods, and you brought yourself into such danger because of me…"

"No. No. I acted with full responsibility. I promise you this, Rhaenyra, it’s not your fault. And nothing happened to me anyway." Rhaenyra sighed deeply.

"What exactly did you do, Vhae?" You gulped and just wished you could tell your sister the truth. You didn’t always get along but right now she was kind and genuinely cared about you.

"I aimlessly walked through the streets and watched all the street artists. And then I… I drank some wine in a tavern and fell asleep on a hay ball."

Rhaenyra looked to your interlocked hands and desperately shook her head. "The things that could have happened… Gods be good, Vhaela, you could have get hurt. Someone could have used your drunk state and rape you." You intensely looked at her, trying everything to make her calm down and not making her feel responsible for what she believed to had happened.

"But nothing did happen, Rhae. I swear this to you, I’m perfectly fine. And I will not do this again. Ever."

Rhaenyra once again pulled you into a hug. "You will not. Oh Vhae, I can’t believe you’re 16 already.", she then whispered. "You’re my little sister after all. My little sister that needs to be protected."

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. "I don’t need to be protected." Rhaenyra looked stern and bit her lip.

"Just promise me. Promise me you won't act so stupidly again." You nodded a few times and tightly held your sister’s hand. "I promise you, Rhaenyra. On our mother’s memory." Rhaenyra exhaled loudly.

"Now you will have to listen to father’s outburst but I guess you deserve it a second time. And I also have a few things to say to uncle." Your head rapidly turned to your sister. "I simply can’t believe him, I can’t believe he’d leave you alone in the gardens at such a late hour."

As you didn’t know what to answer to that you just silently followed your sister who brought you straight to your father’s chambers. You both knew that you couldn’t avoid this conversation and like your sister you thought it was best to get over with it as quickly as possible.

[m9yaa]

── .✦INNOCENCE; PETYR BAELISH ⟡˖ ࣪

part 1, part 2, part 3

⟡˖ ࣪ pairing: petyr baelish x fem!stark reader

⤷cw: mature content, innocence/corruption kink?, unprotected sex, age gap, power dynamic?, aged up characters, groping (non con kinda), sexual tension, sexual innuendo,

⤷summary: in which, petyr baelish seems to take an interest in you, catelyn’s and ned’s eldest daughter after the hand of the king’s arrival at king’s landing.

REQ! also not proof read!

⋮

with the help of serene, you finished getting ready.

your hair was kept simple, a half up half down style.

the dress choice of today was a pink gown with floral stitching and embroidery etched into the shoulders, neckline and mid way down your arm sleeve. it was a simple choice but a very classy and elegant one at that.

heading downstairs, the soft clinking of silverware and murmurs of conversation greeted you as you entered the dining hall. Your family was already gathered, seated at the long wooden table. They barely noticed your arrival, busy with their morning meal.

“Good morning, milady,” a servant greeted, giving you a small bow. You nodded in acknowledgment, trying to keep your composure, though inside you couldn’t shake the unease from the night before.

As you made your way to your seat, your gaze flickered over to where Lord Baelish was seated at the far end of the table. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, and the intense, knowing look he gave you made your stomach flip. You quickly averted your gaze, feeling the warmth of your face spreading.

“You seem quiet this morning,” your father remarked, raising an eyebrow as you sat down. “Something on your mind?”

You forced a smile, trying to push down the swirling thoughts in your head. “No, nothing at all,” you replied, your voice softer than you intended.

Breakfast passed in a blur of conversation, but you were distracted by the strange tension in the air, and the way Lord Baelish occasionally turned his gaze toward you. You couldn’t help but notice how his attention seemed to linger longer than it should, and the air around you seemed to grow thicker.

Finally, as breakfast came to a close, your father rose from his seat, signaling that it was time to leave. The javelin match was about to begin, and you would be accompanying the family to watch the contest. It was an event that promised excitement, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your mind was elsewhere.

You pushed open the door, stepping outside into the crisp morning air, hoping the fresh air would clear your head. Your thoughts remained jumbled, swirling in confusion. Had it just been the proximity? The heat of the moment? You didn’t know. All you knew was that you felt unsettled, and it was a feeling you couldn’t ignore.

As you joined the others, Lord Baelish’s gaze once again met yours. This time, it was even more intense than before, as if he knew exactly what you were feeling. But how could he? You didn’t even know what was happening to you.

As you approached the horses, your thoughts still swirling, you heard the soft scrape of boots behind you. Before you could turn, a firm hand wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly. Your breath caught in your throat as Lord Baelish gently but assertively placed you atop your horse. The unexpectedness of his touch sent a sudden wave of warmth through your body, and you instinctively pressed your thighs together, feeling an unfamiliar tension between them.

His hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary at your hips, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your dress before sliding down your thighs, giving them a pat.

You could feel the heat of his touch even through the layers, and it made you feel strangely... exposed. His eyes met yours, dark and knowing, but you couldn't read the expression in them. He said nothing, just stepped back, giving you space to adjust yourself in the saddle.

You swallowed, unsure of what to say.

The action, though simple, had shaken you in a way you couldn't explain. You had never been touched like that before even as innocent it may be, at least not so deliberately, and it left you feeling vulnerable yet... something else.

There was a fluttering in your chest, a confusing stir that you couldn't place.

You quickly looked away, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Are you well?" His voice was soft.

this being the first thing he’s said since yesterday.

You nodded, the words escaping you.

You weren't sure what was happening to you, and the last thing you wanted was for him to notice the way your heart raced or the flush creeping over your skin. You gripped the reins tightly, desperately trying to focus on the horses and the path ahead, but all you could feel was his presence lingering too close.

As the rest of the group mounted their horses and began to move, you followed, trying to ignore the burning heat that had settled in your chest. Lord Baelish rode alongside you, his horse moving at a steady pace, his gaze occasionally flicking to you from the corner of his eye.

The ride to the match seemed longer than it should have been. You couldn't shake the feeling of his touch, the way his hands had held you with such confidence and ease. And the strange, confusing fluttering that still hadn't subsided.

As you rode alongside Lord Baelish, the sounds of hooves striking the earth were the only things that seemed to fill the silence. The javelin match was drawing near, but your mind was elsewhere, preoccupied by the strange sensations still lingering in your body. Every time your horse’s stride shifted, you felt a light pressure between your legs, an awareness you had never experienced before. The thought of it made you flush, and you quickly looked away, hoping no one could see the heat spreading across your cheeks.

Lord Baelish, always so calm and composed, rode just a few paces ahead, his dark eyes occasionally drifting to you. You could feel his gaze even when he wasn’t looking directly at you. It made you restless, as though his very presence was pulling at something inside you that you couldn’t understand.

A sharp tug on the reins brought you out of your daze. You looked up to find the match grounds ahead, the field bustling with activity as crowds gathered in anticipation. The momentary distraction helped ground you, but the feeling of his touch from earlier still hung heavily in your chest. Your mind kept drifting back to it, and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hands had gripped you with such assurance.

‘one little interaction with a man and this is how i’m reacting!’ you think to yourself.

As you dismounted, Lord Baelish was once again there to assist, his hands warm on your waist as he gently guided you to the ground. His touch was gentle, yet possessive, and you felt that strange ache stir again deep inside. “thank you,” you smile politely. before stepping away from him quickly, trying to focus on the spectacle unfolding before you—the shouts, the cheers, the clash of weapons. Anything to distract yourself from the disorienting feelings inside.

You stood next to your family, but your gaze kept flitting to Lord Baelish, who was speaking with a few others nearby. His eyes met yours once again, and that familiar look passed between you. It was almost as if he could see through you, as though he knew what was stirring within you, though you had no words for it yourself.

A voice beside you broke your focus. Your sister, sansa, noticing your distraction, asked, “What’s on your mind today? You’re not yourself.”

You forced a smile and turned to her, trying to push away the fog of confusion. “I’m just… thinking,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking about. Your mind and body were still reacting to Lord Baelish in ways you couldn’t explain.

you opt on moving a little further back in the crowd, away from your family as you don’t want them to keep continuously asking you series of questions.

And so, you stood there, the javelin match playing out before you, but your attention was split—part of you focused on the competition, the other part still uncertain, still trying to understand why that one, small interaction between you and Lord Baelish is consuming you with thoughts of him.. ‘and his attractive face.. toned body.. an-’

Then, a collective gasp rose from the crowd. "Oooof!" The sound echoed through the air, followed by an eerie silence. You glanced up just in time to see one of the men crumple to the ground, the wooden pole of the javelin buried deep in his throat. Blood poured from the wound in thick streams, staining the sand beneath him.

You winced, the brutal image searing into your mind, but it was the reaction of the crowd that truly unsettled you. They seemed almost thrilled by the violence. It was as if they took pleasure in the life being extinguished right before their eyes. The man's body was quickly dragged away by a few servants, but the roar of excitement from the spectators didn't falter.

You shook your head, a mixture of disgust and disbelief creeping into you.

"I'll never understand how people enjoy watching this," you muttered, mostly to yourself, but loud enough that anyone nearby might hear.

To your surprise, a smooth voice replied almost immediately. "Some enjoy the thrill of it. Others simply enjoy the.. spectacle."

You turned to see Lord Baelish standing beside you, his face unreadable, though his eyes held that familiar, knowing gleam. He wasn't looking at the man being dragged away, his attention was focused entirely on you.

"You seem disturbed," he continued, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But tell me, have you never considered that there's something rather... exciting about watching someone fight for their life?" His tone was casual, almost teasing, as though the death of the man meant little to him.

He didn't even glance at the scene unfolding before you. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on you, studying your reactions.

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his stare. "I don't think excitement is the right word," you replied, your voice tight. "It's... unsettling."

He tilted his head slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Perhaps. But there's something exhilarating about power, isn't there? Watching someone take control, even at the expense of another." His words were smooth, almost suggestive, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You glanced away, but his presence seemed to loom over you, his voice still echoing in your ears. There was something in his tone, something that made your stomach twist in a way you didn't quite understand. It was as though he was subtly pushing at the edges of your innocence, drawing out feelings you had never had to confront before.

"You're far too innocent, my lady," he murmured, as if he could sense the conflict churning within you. "But don't worry... some things are better learned firsthand."

You quickly swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken. You didn't know what to say to that-didn't even know what to think. His words were like a puzzle, each one more cryptic than the last, but they had a way of making your heart race.

Trying to shake off the confusion, you glanced back to the field, hoping the match would provide some distraction and that the now beet face red of yours would somehow cool down in the short space of time you have.

The thought of the dead man being dragged away still made your stomach turn, but Baelish's proximity only heightened the strange sensations that bubbled beneath the surface. You wished you could focus, wished you could ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest.

But his gaze remained on you, sharp, hungry, and ever-watchful.

The match continued, but the tension in the air felt thicker now. You could hardly concentrate on the javelin throwers, each of them aiming their spears with practiced precision. Instead, your attention was pulled back to Baelish, who was still standing just a step too close, casually observing the scene. His presence was almost suffocating, yet you couldn’t look away. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks again, a flush that had nothing to do with the warm sun overhead.

“You know,” Baelish said after a long pause, his voice low, just barely audible over the noise of the crowd, “you shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss… what excites others. It’s not always what it seems on the surface.” His voice held a certain smoothness to it, as if each word was carefully crafted to provoke a reaction. And it was working. You felt a strange twinge of discomfort mixed with something else, something you couldn’t quite identify.

You tried to pull yourself together, to push the confused feelings back down. “I never said I dismissed it,” you replied stiffly, your voice quieter than usual. “I just… don’t see the appeal.”

He leaned in slightly, his mouth pressed lightly against your ear, his presence suddenly overwhelming, and for the briefest moment, you felt as though you were the only two people in the crowd. “Ah, but you’re not saying that you don’t feel something. That would be a lie.” His words sent a ripple through you, leaving you breathless for a second. He was watching you so intently now, his gaze softening, like he was examining you in a way you didn’t quite understand.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. His words had cut through your defenses with unsettling accuracy. Was it possible that he knew something about you that you didn’t? The way he looked at you—it made you feel like an open book, your every secret laid bare for him to see.

“Does it… bother you?” you finally whispered, your voice shaking slightly. You hadn’t meant to ask, but the question was out before you could stop it.

His smirk deepened, and he straightened, his tone shifting to something more playful. “Not at all,” he said smoothly. “But it does make things interesting when you find someone who isn’t quite so… aware of what’s stirring inside them.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the familiar heat spreading across your body once more. The way he spoke, the way his words seemed to caress the air between you, made your chest tighten. It was almost as if he was inviting you to acknowledge something you weren’t ready to face, something that terrified you and thrilled you all at once.

The noise of the match returned with a thundering cheer as one of the competitors scored a direct hit, but it was distant to you, muffled in comparison to the pounding in your own chest. You barely even noticed the people surrounding you, the way the world seemed to continue moving around you while you stood still, caught in the weight of Lord Baelish’s gaze.

he moved himself closer behind yourself. “You really don’t understand it yet, do you?” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, as though sharing some dark secret.

his body was pressed up against yours, you instinctively stiffened, but he didn’t pull away, his fingers lightly pressing against you, as though marking his territory in the most subtle way.

he’d rock his hips slowly against yours, so subtle you might think you’re imagining it. his fingers danced on the small of your back, away from the sight of any bystander.

You shook your head slightly, trying to regain control, but his presence only seemed to heighten the confusion, the disorientation you were feeling. Was this just a game to him? Or was he playing with you, testing your limits? You weren’t sure, but what you did know was that his words, his touch, they were unraveling something deep inside you, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

“I—” You stopped yourself, biting your lip, unable to finish the sentence. What could you possibly say to him?

Before you could gather your thoughts, the final javelin was hurled with a sharp, whistle-like sound, its force sending a man crashing to the ground, an unfortunate casualty of the match. The crowd’s reaction was a mixture of gasps and excited shouts as the fallen competitor was dragged off the field, lifeless, with the javelin still lodged in his throat.

You stood at the edge of the arena, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene.

“Quite the display, don’t you think?” His voice came low, just behind your ear. There was no sign of discomfort in his tone—only a quiet satisfaction, as if the death of the man meant nothing at all to him.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on his words instead of the way his touch was making you feel, the way your pulse quickened at the proximity. “It’s… terrible,” you managed, your voice more fragile than you wanted it to be.

Baelish’s hands didn’t move, but his fingers tightened just slightly, as if he knew exactly what your discomfort was. “People enjoy it because it’s a reminder of power,” he said, his words soft, his tone deceptively casual. “A reminder that at any moment, your life could be taken from you. It makes them feel alive, even as they watch someone else die.”

You turned your head, your eyes wide as you met his gaze. You hadn’t expected him to speak with such indifference, to make such a chilling comment with no hint of empathy. But then again, Baelish had always been a man of cold calculation, never one for sentimentality.

“It’s… disturbing,” you whispered, your thoughts scattered as your chest tightened. His touch still lingered on your back, his presence too close, too overwhelming. It felt like an invisible thread was pulling you toward him, one you didn’t know how to resist.

Baelish’s lips brushed your ear as he spoke again, his voice now a tantalizing whisper. “You don’t like it. But you can’t deny it has a certain… pull.” His breath was warm against your skin, his tone taking on an almost teasing quality. “You feel something, don’t you? Even if you don’t want to.”

You stiffened, has he found you out..?

“I don’t…” You started to protest, but the words faltered as his touch remained firm, the pressure of his hands against your back both soothing and intrusive. “I don’t know what you mean.” you play coy and stupid.

His smile was faint, but it was enough to make your stomach flip. He didn’t respond right away, instead allowing a beat of silence to hang between you, before he spoke again, his voice now soft, coaxing.

“you know what i mean, just don’t be too quick to dismiss your own feelings.” His hand shifted just slightly on your back, fingers brushing against the curve of your waist. “what you’re feeling is natural, don’t push it away.” petyr says as his hands now move further down south, running his hands over your ass, groping the flesh subtly.

You felt a flush creep up your neck as you let out a soft yelp at the sudden attack, not only that but the words hitting you like a splash of cold water.

Before you could find your voice, Baelish lightly guided you away from the arena, his hand never leaving your behind. The sound of the crowd, the cheers, the dying echoes of the match, seemed to fade into the background as you followed him, still reeling from the strange combination of emotions swirling inside you.

⋮

hellooo! i was planning on making the smut part in this part but i felt like i rambled on too much and it’d be too long to add the smut part in now so it shall be in the next chapter, sorryy :(

anyways, thank you for reading and if you enjoyed it, don’t hesitate to like, share or reblog this post. thank you!

- maya 🪼

[fantasydreamland]

Handmaiden

margaery tyrell x fem reader

Summary: Margaery is currently engaged to Renly Baratheon. You are Margaerys new hand maiden. You figure Margaery just has a flirty personality until one night it becomes more.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! wlw, smuttt, lots of tension, fingering, oral (f), fluff, possible spoilers

word count: 2496

Sequel - Gossip

masterlist

“Ah you must be my new hand maiden!” Margaery greets you with a warm smile as you walk into her chambers.

“Yes my lady. My name is (y/n). Whatever you need I’m here.” You give a shy curtsy.

“I was just getting ready to leave for tea with my grandmother. Come along then.” She waves to you as she walks out the door.

You follow along behind her to the gardens. She stops for a moment so she can walk beside you.

“So tell me about yourself.” She smiles.

“Uh… yes of course. What do you want to know my lady?”

“Everything! For starters tell me about where you are from.”

As you two walk side by side you tell her about the small city in the North you grew up in and the lady you served until her very recent death.

“How awful…” She frowns and shakes her head.

“Yes, her death was a bit unexpected. I didn’t have many options, so I ended up here.”

“Well I’m very glad for that.” She smiles.

You chuckle and look down awkwardly.

“Ah grandmother!” Margaery rushes ahead to greet her grandmother with a quick hug. They sit down to tea and the servants bring out trays of pastries and fruit.

“Lady Olenna” You curtsy before walking past her at the table. She gives you a small smile and a nod.

You stand quietly off to the side listening to them chat away. Margaery would make occasional eye contact and you give a small smile before shyly looking away each time.

You helped tidy up as the evening ended, feeling her eyes on you the entire time.

Both of you walk back to the castle in an oddly comfortable silence as the sun starts to set.

“Will you please draw me a bath?” She says once you reach the castle. She lightly touches your arm and your face gets hot. “I have some affairs to attend to.”

“Of course my lady.” You nod before heading to her chambers and drawing a hot bath.

Shortly after the bath is drawn she reappears.

“Oh lovely, is it ready?” She asks as she starts to undress.

You try to hide your surprise when she takes off all her clothing, tossing her dress onto a chair.

She walks right past you and gets into the tub. She sighs with her eyes closed and sinks into the water before looking at you.

She smirks. “Help me with my hair?” She lifts her hair to hang over the back of the tub.

You nod, unable to get words out. You pull a chair behind the tub and grab the jug next to it before putting it in the tub to get some water. The jug lightly brushes Margaerys stomach and she gives a small chuckle and smirk. Surely she saw your flushed cheeks. You didn’t understand the heat in your face or why your heart was racing. You’ve helped with plenty of baths with the last lady you served. But this felt different.

You pour the water onto her hair as it drips into the bucket below. You softly work your fingers through her hair to wash it. Trying your best not to stare at her perfect body you take another careful scoop of water. Then you slowly rinse her hair as she lets out a content sigh.

“You have no idea the stress I have had lately.” She suddenly speaks.

“I’m sorry to hear that my lady.”

“You would think I would be looking forward to my wedding but…” She trails off.

“You do not love Lord Renly?” The question slips out. “Forgive me, my lady. I don’t mean to pry.”

“There is nothing to forgive (y/n).” She smirks up at you. “But no…” Her expression softens. “We certainly are not in love.”

“You don’t think he loves you?” You ask.

She chuckles softly and shakes her head. “I am not his type.”

You scoff. “That’s not possible. You’re so beautiful.” Your face quickly turns more red, embarrassed.

She sits up in the tub and slightly turns around to face you.

“I’m glad you think so.” She smirks. “I know Renly agrees, only… He seems to be more interested in my brother, if you understand my meaning.” She tilts her head.

“Oh.”

She says nothing else just continues looking at you. You hold eye contact for a long moment until she suddenly shakes her head like she was lost in thought.

“Right. Well, I best get ready for bed.”

She stands up from the tub and steps out, water dripping on the floor. You grab a robe for her and find it nearly impossible to keep your eyes off her wet naked body. The air feels heavier and you find it difficult to breathe. She smiles warmly at you as you wrap her in the robe.

“Goodnight then.” She says sweetly.

“Goodnight my lady.” You curtsy before leaving her chambers.

Once you step into the hallway and close the door you let out a very deep breath. That night you toss and turn finding it hard to remove Margaery from your thoughts.

**********

The next day is slow and normal. You do your chores and follow Margaery while she goes about her day. She would start small chats with you while you were walking, seeming very happy to talk to you. She asked about your love life which you found amusing because it’s very dull. You’ve only been with one man in your life and you didn’t find it enjoyable.

Later you help her prepare for supper as she changes her dress to a lovely but simple gold gown. She slips off her dress standing in only her under garments. She holds your hand and smiles at you as you help her step into the gown and pull it up. You lightly move her hair from the back and your fingers brush against her soft skin causing some electricity. Your hands shake a bit as you pull the corset strings in the back of her gown. There is a silent tension in the air.

“Thank you.” She says as she moves her hair back into place giving a shy smile. “Well I don’t want to be late for supper, I’ll see you later on.” She hurries out the door before you have a chance to respond.

**********

You enjoy your own small supper before returning to your tasks. As you finish tidying up her chambers she appears. She doesn’t even look at you, just storms over to her bad and sits down.

“Are you alright my lady?” You asked, concerned.

She looks up at you as if she didn’t realize you were there. “Yes, I’m alright. It’s fine.” She huffs, clearly not alright.

“It’s just-“ she continues before you respond. “Renly and Loras can be so thick headed.”

You walk closer as you listen to her vent.

“I understand they’re in love. And I’m completely fine with that. Happy for them even!” She shakes her head. “But we are engaged to be wed. You’d think he would at least TRY to be discreet when they’re running around with one another.”

She looks at you listening to her and pats the space beside her on the bed to gesture you to sit down, so you sit next to her keeping an appropriate distance.

“I’m still to be his wife. There should just be a certain level of respect, you know?” She continues ranting, moving closer to you as she does. You nod.

“I’ve been more than respectful to his wishes, wanting to be with Loras. I do not blame him for that. We do not really get to choose who we love.” She looks up at you, her blue eyes piercing through you.

“I completely agree with you my lady. They should be acting discreetly. I think it’s very noble that you allow him to even pursue that.” You reply warmly. “But as you said, we cannot choose who we love.”

“Thank you (y/n).” She says softly and places her hand on yours.

Her touch makes your heart race and cheeks flush. “Of course my lady.”

She leaves her hand there for a long moment as she studies your face to try to figure out what you’re thinking. You sit there quietly looking back at her, wondering about her thoughts too.

The seemingly long moment ends when she moves her hand from yours and reaches up to brush your hair from your face. You continue staring in eachothers eyes. The whole moment making you feel light headed. Her eyes slowly flicker from your lips back to your eyes. You couldn’t help but do the same.

She leans towards you agonizingly slow until your lips finally touch.

“Oh gods, I am so sorry.” She suddenly pulls away and gets off the bed.

“No, no. It’s alright.” You also stand. “I didn’t- You just-“ you stutter unable to get words out.

She looks back at you clearly embarrassed. She looks like she’s waiting for you to speak but your brain is fogging all your thoughts and words. Instead you walk closer before taking her hand in yours and looking back up at her.

Suddenly her lips are back on yours as she pulls you into a deep passionate kiss, moving her other hand to your cheek. You push your bodies against eachother as the kiss continues. Your body feels like it was set on fire as your skin burns from the excitement.

For a moment she pulls away, keeping your hand in hers she leads you to her bed. She lets go of your hand and unties the top of her dress, exposing her breasts. You can’t tell if you’re even breathing at this point. The whole world feels still. She smirks at you and turns around.

“Help me with the back?” She asks.

You nod and start untying her gown and corset as your mind races thinking of what’s to come.

Once everything is loose enough she lifts all her clothing over her head. You try to swallow but there’s a knot in your throat as she stands naked in front of you. She pushes your hair back and lightly touches your shoulder, gesturing you to take off your dress. You follow her silent instructions and pull your sleeves downs off your arms, exposing your chest. She looks at you for a moment before leaning into another kiss. The kiss is slow and gentle, your chests pressed against one another. She brushes your arm before moving her hand between your bodies and grabbing your breast. She helps you pull the rest of your dress off before the kiss breaks and you both get into the bed.

Once you’ve slipped under the sheets you look into eachothers eyes for a silent moment, taking in eachothers beauty.

She places her hand on your cheek. “Are you sure?” Her face full of worry that you may change your mind in wanting her.

You quickly nod, having no doubts this is what you want. She smirks before crashing her mouth onto yours. The kiss is strong and heated, full of pent up lust. You pull eachother closer, legs intertwined. Both your hands wander all over, exploring every inch eachothers bodies. She moans once your fingers find her most intimate place. The beautiful sounds coming out of her light a fire in your stomach. Her hand quickly reaches the same place on your body. You whimper into eachothers mouths as the tension below your stomach builds and builds. Nearly in unison you hit the peak. The kiss breaks as you both cry out loudly, foreheads pressed together.

You both lay back and pant as you catch your breath. You try to bring your mind back to earth as it continues to race at what just happened. She turns her head and smiles at you. You give a shy smile back.

“Well…” She huffs, still breathless. “That was…”

“Wonderful?” You smirk.

She nods and giggles. “Yes, very wonderful.”

“I’ve never…” You hesitate. “Been with… a woman.”

“Neither have I.” She admits and you both giggle.

You look out to the now dark night sky. Margaery notices.

“Would you like to stay?” She asks. “There’s plenty of room to sleep.”

“I would but… I’m not sure it would be proper.”

“What we just did would also not seem proper.” She teases.

“Alright then.” You give a soft smile.

You lightly place your hand on her cheek and she leans into your touch.

“Goodnight my lady.”

“Goodnight (y/n).” She sighs.

She snuggles up closer to you. She gives your shoulder a soft kiss before resting her head. You smile and fall into a peaceful sleep.

**********

The next morning you let out a soft moan to Margaery kissing your neck. Her eyes meet yours when she sees you’re awake. She has a firey look in her blue eyes as she gives you a longing stare before moving her lips back to your neck. She kisses an agonizingly slow trail as she moves down and down your stomach. She begins kissing on your inner thigh. You whine in frustration. Suddenly her mouth is on you and you gasp. Your hands reach for her hair as she teases you with her tongue. You let out little gasps and small moans as she holds your hips still. Your sweet sounds make her moan onto you only sending more electricity through your body. You start to lose control when she enters two of her fingers, keeping in rhythm with her tongue. Your pants eventually turn into a silent scream and you arch your hips against her face and see stars.

You let out a final moan before a heavy sigh as your body relaxes. Margaery wipes her face and moves back up the bed to lay beside you. You pull her in for a strong kiss tasting yourself on her mouth.

“Good morning (y/n).” She smirks.

“Good morning.” You give a shy laugh.

Before you can lean over to kiss her again she gets out of bed and begins to get dressed. You sit up holding the covers and watch her.

She notices you looking at her. “My apologies love, I have many things I must attend to today.”

You try to hide your disappointment, badly wanting to return the favour and to taste her on your tongue. She walks back over to you and asks you to help with her dress. You shuffle to the end of the bed and tie the laces. She turns to you noticing your mood. She leans down and brushes your hair aside.

“But I will return later. We will be together again very soon.” She kisses you with her soft lips.

Once she’s gone you get out of bed and begin to dress. You spend your entire day in a daze, all the memories of her clouding your mind. You count down the hours until you have her alone again.

masterlist

[myladysapphire]

Duty

Robb Stark had kept his oath to house Frey and married you as a result allowing him to win the north’s independence however he now has to live with the sacrifices of duty and must find out if duty is truly the death of love.

word count: 3,992

CW: MDI 18+, slight smut, p in v, angst, arranged marriage, infidelity, childbirth, unhealthy dynamic, toxic relationship? open ending, pregancy, not proofread!

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader

Masterlist | part two

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Duty.

The word rang in your head as you stared at your husband.

He was yours; you were his but as his eyes wandered across the hall you knew he was not entirely yours.

A mere hour into your marriage and you already felt the strain of an unfaithful husband.

The longing looks he gave her form across the room were the looks you had wished to feel.

You were the youngest daughter of Walder Frey and his sixth wife, Bethany Rosby, and though your older sister Roslin was often called beautiful, you were considered beautiful. It was the one-word Robb stark had said when he saw you, the only word he had said to you beside your wedding vows.

He hadn’t even spared you a glance since the ceremony, most of your conversations had been with his mother, Catelyn. She had been kind, having been the one that choose you as his bride. But you knew it was not your beauty that she chose you for, it helped of course, pleasing Robb if only by a little. You were neither smart, cunning or wise. You were simple normal, with no special skills to sway the eyes of suitors or to persuade your husband. She choose you, the often forgotten daughter, with no influence or means to gain any, for that reason alone.

It was clear to anyone the marriage and alliance was an unwanted one. Especially to your husband and the woman he loved.

He did not dance with you once, offering no words beside the necessary pleasantries, the kindest act he seemed to do was forbade the bedding ceremony. Though there was little bedding done that night, though the act was done, he neither spoke a word to her or stayed the night. And from the whispers she heard the next day it seemed he had gone to her swiftly after.

He had left after that, though he did not say goodbye, or offer to write to you. You were simply left with his mother, set to journey to the Winterfell.

The journey as not long, taking less than two weeks before you saw the peak of Winterfell’s towers. It was a wonderful sight, having never left the twins, and rarely being allowed outside. Seeing the castle of Winterfell was a freeing experience. There seemed to be endless halls, some bare and empty allowing the privacy you had never once had in the twins. The god’s woods was even more magnificent than you had expected, it expanded for acres, with endless trees and countless springs waring both the gods woods and the castle. You felt some peace here, but you had also never felt more alone.

You were looked at as an outsider, talked to as one, and it was clear you were unwanted.

As the moons passed, you felt even more alone, you only heard about Robbs victory through his mother, the one person who didn’t talk to you with resentment.

Then you realised you had yet to bleed since your wedding.

And the word duty once again rang in your head.

You were pregnant, a fact that made you seemed more welcome, people were kinder to you. And yet you felt more alone, suddenly surrounded by people who only cared for you know you cared the heir.

The heir to a man you did not know, the heir to a man who scorned you on the day of your wedding for another woman. He didn’t even have the respect to at least act like a loyal husband.

You had done your duty, but he had not.

For it seemed she was also pregnant.

You were far along in your pregnancy, near eight moons when you heard the news. The news that was accompanied by your husband’s victory. And the norths independence. Yet you felt little joy only envy at the news of her pregnancy. Envy that she gets to know him and he never once tried to let you know him, even in the fleeting hours they did have together.

The next month was lively, the keep full of servants and lords from all over the north preparing for their kings arrival. The planning of feasts and several other northern events to be held. And you did not know what to think, you had long craved to know your husband, but he seemed to want to forget you even existed, and even more so when he arrived, with her on his arm and a babe in hers.

You bowed your head, clutching your belly protectively as if their presence would harm the babe somehow, and greeted him “husband.” You spoke plainly, not in joy, nor as a move of possessiveness towards her.

He nodded his head, going to greet you in the same fashion but stopping himself at the sight of your belly. “wife” he said in shock, as if the very idea of you being pregnant or here for that matter was shocking.

You smiled, a forced smile and spoke softly, “come, husband we have much to discuss”

She had stayed put, looking lost among the faces of Winterfell.

Though you had started out a stranger those first few months, after your pregnancy was announced, though you had at first received false pleasantries to win your favour, a time that made you feel even more alone. Now you felt rather comforted by the halls and the people with in it.

You took your time to win over the people inside the walls, though you never felt that you could truly be yourself ,as you did not know entirely who you were anymore, but none the less, you no longer felt like a stranger, even Catelin had even started to heavily involve you into the running of Winterfell, and her kindness became truer to you, even more so when news of your husbands bastard spread.

Your basic and natural kind behaviour had one the loyalty of many of the people of the north as they sneered at her, shunning her away as they welcomed the victors back from war.

And from the kind smiles you received as you walked the halls to your chambers, chambers the lord and lady of Winterfell had traditionally shared. It had not crossed your mind about were you would know sleep. Never having shared the bed with another, not knowing what it is to share a bed, let alone with a man. It was also your belongings that filled the room, your tapestries and art, your nicknacks and clothes. His had either gone with him or remained in his old chambers, but know she supposed he was fully with in his rights to move in and perhaps even throw her out.

She did not know if he weas cruel enough to do so, or kind enough to let her stay. You only knew of him through the view of others, mainly his mother. An opinion you held   with restraint, seeing as what mother would not love her son.

He stared at you awkwardly once you entered the room, the realisation of never once talking alone coming to light for you both.

“your with child?” he asked after a moment.

You snorted “of course” you said “though I doubt you care much, seeing as you already have a babe”

“i…” he looked down ashamed, “I do care, though….though we barley know one another… I am your husband”

You snorted again, “really? And where exactly has my husband been? Not once have you acted like one, the only husbandly act you had done was to take my maidenhead!” you were mad, for so long you had been nice and kind, acting as if you cared not for his actions and now months of anger was finally spilling out of you.

He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting you to say something like that, especially as one of the first things you had said to him.

“i…I you are right?” he said, clearly unsure of what exactly to say, “I should have said something to you, told you of Talisa”

Talisa.

So that was her name.

“or at least have waited until after we were- “

“until it wasn’t our wedding day?

“yes” he looked down, “though I… I will admit I do not regret loving her”

Loving her.

Hearing it hurt, though you supposed you had to right to feel hurt.

You huffed, your eyes downcast, “must you admit it so freely? I understand we do not know each other, that you did not want this marriage, but it is our duty, and I…” you took a deep breath, looking up at him “I want respect, I want to be treated like a wife, and not” you couldn’t bring her self to say it, you were a woman scorned, scorned by your husband and yet he was a stranger, and in his eyes you hadn’t earns the respect you deserved. “…not like-“ you didn’t say it, he did.

“Like a duty?” He looked at you, “because that’s all that you are, a duty” he seemed to sneer “I once desired a marriage of love and then I was told I would have to marry a Frey” he hissed the name, ‘at first I hoped to find love with my wife, a wife I would not little say in, then I met her” you knew he didn’t mean you, how could he? “Talisa” he whispered “I love her more than I thought possible, and then I met you.” He shook his head “ you are beautiful, more so than she I will admit that, but I do not love you, and I very much doubt I ever will.”

“Why?” You asked, stopping him before he could saying anything more.

He swallowed “how can i? I do not know you-“

“Then get to know me!” You interrupted, moving closer to him, “we are to have a child of our own soon, do you not want to know its mother?”

He shook his head, “let me finish.” He spoke sternly, causing you to step back again.”I do not know if I want to know you, I have her and she for months was all I needed…” he stopped talking then, looking at you, as if hoping you would interrupt despite his words.

“And now i… she had a babe, our babe, a girl. And perhaps some part of me feels And perhaps some part of me the guilt of loving her, despite my duty to you.”

You shook your head, “I am your wife, you should feel more-“ you clutched your belly in pain, as a contraction hit.

 “are you alright?” He asked moving to you.

“I have been having them all day, it is nothing to worry about” you said as you shook it off only to be hit with another contraction.

“Are they meant to come that close together?” He asked worry clear in his voice.

You sneered “I don’t know you’re the one with a bastard, weren’t you there went she gave birth?”

“I… no we haven’t been together since the wedding”

You laughed “oh Im so sorry our marriage was such a inconvenience for your mistress”

He said nothing at that, leading you to believe that perhaps he wanted to continue his relationship with her and she was the one to stop it.

“I’ll fetch the midwives” he spoke suddenly, leaving before you could say anything.

Soon you were on your bed, a midwife between your legs telling you to push.

It was just you and them, woman you had never met, wishing you had met your mother so that she could be here for you and not strangers.

And it seemed the gods were cruel as they sent her in, she walked in saying she was a healer and was simply there to help, and by the worried looks the midwives gave her it seemed you needed it.

She went to touch you, and you flinched back.

“No” you whispered.

“The babe is breached” she said hoping to sway you, but the constant shaking of your head caused her to bite her lip a concerned look filling her face “I have experienced with breached briths, I can help you” she insisted.

“No” you simply said again, but this time she ignored your pleas, moving to sit on the bed and take your hand in hers.

You tried to pull your hand back but she only held on tighter, and leaned in.

“Please let me help you” she begged “neither of us want to be in this situation and I am only trying to help you”

“What so the gods aren’t cruel on you as they have been on me?”

She laughed “sort of I suppose, but also because I have caused you enough pain and wish to mend it.”

You looked at her, she was sincere, it seemed she too hated the situation they were both in, trapped feeling like the other woman, “fine” you gritted out.

She nodded “I need to move the babe” she said placing her hand on your belly and started to turn the babe.

The pain was terrible, the want to push and being unable to and the feeling of you babe moving inside of you, and then finally she said you could push, after that is was swift, and before you knew it cries filled the room, and your baby was placed in your arms, a boy, an heir.

“Congratulations” Talisa breathed, “he looks just like you” she said softly, you smiled nodding you head. He did, he lacked all the Tully features Robb ware, though it was clear the stark genes that skipped him wen to the babe, as he had a tuft of Black hair, and a part of you hoped for the grey eyes most Starks bore. But other than that he was every bit yours, your eyes and nose, he was all you.

“Should we fetch the king?” A midwife asked, and you shook you head,

“no, he knows I am here, let him come to me.” You said, as Talisa went to stand, “thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled “just because we are tied in the same way does not mean we must hate one another” she said, looking at you kindly, and you hoped she was right, because you hated the envy you felt towards her.

“We shall speak on this soon, but for now I shall rest” you said, focusing your attention back on your son.

“Of course,” she nodded. Leaving the room.

Robb did not visit you for ten days. No one did really.

It was just you and your son, Cregan. A stark name, though not a common one, you may know little history but the little you did know was about the dance of the dragons, and about Cregan stark. He was your honourable and loyal, traits you would raise your son with.

“Hello” you heard suddenly, as you Cregan was placed in your arms.

It was robb.

“Finally come to meet your child?” You sneered.

“I apologise” he whispered, coming towards you and looking down at your child. “I had matters to deal with”

“of course” you nodded not that you could see how he had not once found the time to visit you and your child.

“I here you named him Cregan” he spoke, softly smiling down at your son.

“yes, I thought it to be a good stark name.”

He nodded, caressing the babes head. “I had hoped to name him Eddard, or Ned…. After my father” he said softly.

“Was that what you were going to name your daughter had she been a boy?” You asked, though your tone was neither dripped with envy or anger, you had said it so nonchalantly, as if you cared not for the answer.

Both the question and your behaviour confused him, he did not know what to make of you, your personality, or how to even start a marriage with you. Or even if he wanted to have one with you. “Yes” he mumbled, “though we ended up naming her Minisa, after my mothers mother” he spoke with such a tenderness, and you realised you could never compete with her, no matter how kind she was, you hated her.

Hated that she was the only reason you could never know your husband, who he was and what he liked. How he looked when you woke up beside him or how it felt for him to hold you lovingly. Your heart broke at the future you would never have.

“Leave” you demanded, pulling Cregan away from Robb. As if Robb being close to him would hurt him the same way Robb being apart from you, had hurt you.

“What?” He asked in alarm.

“I can’t do this” you said, “I can’t, every moment of our marriage has been shadowed by here, I am your wife, not her”

“gods, I know that, and I hate it” he angry spoke back, “we both know neither of us had a choice in who we marry!”

“but you have a choice in who you love, why not try and love me!”

“Because you’ll never be her” He pulled back completely, “I do not want to know you, I only ever wanted her and I will only ever choose her.”

“then leave!” you spoke as tears fell down your face, “I will move out and into one of your over holdings as soon as I am able, and we will not have to put up with this farce any longer”

“good.”

And just like that any hope for a marriage was lost, your son would only know your face and not his fathers for years to come.

As the years passed your rarely saw your husband. With Cregan now five, all hopes of giving him another sibling had disappeared, as you and Robb could scarcely spend longer than a few minutes in a room together.

And though Cregan got along well enough with his siter, Minisa, a part of you resented her. Resented how she was Robbs whole world and Cregan wasn’t.

perhaps it was because you had pushed him away so thoroughly.

That your relation to his heir caused him to resent your son in turn.

And perhaps he hated you more now that Talisa had passed.

The birth of their second child had killed both mother and babe.

Robb had raged.

For months he seemed to only act in anger.

And then it all stopped.

He seemed to return to normal, expect he know insisted he do his duty to you.

Duty.

You hated the word.

Especially as you lay now on the bed, his cock thrusting in and out of you and your moans filling the room.

There was no emotion but hate in the way he fucked you. As if you were the very reason for her death.

As if you were the guilty one in the marriage, when all you had ever done was your duty. As if you existing had caused her death, as if you had killed her and not the winter sickness.

He seemed to fuck you as if you had killed her, pounding into you at a relentless pace.

There was no part about it that could make it seem like he was making love to you.

Not as he bent you over a desk, or pushed you to the floor and hicked up your dress.

Or as he barged into your room as your maids were preparing you for bed, dismissed them and instantly started fucking you.

You hated it. But you also loved it.

Hated how gave you every opportunity to top him, and not once had you.

You happily let him fuck you.

Enjoying the touch of your husband.

The pleasure of sex.                     

“fuck” he groaned as he came, releasing you from his vice like grip.

He rested his head against yours, catching his breath.

It was rare he fucked you on your back, often choosing you to face away from him as he fucked you.

You pulled back from him awkwardly, waiting for what always happened next.

Him leaving.

But this time he didn’t leave.

Perhaps it was because it had been over a year since her death, over a year since her name was mentioned.

Perhaps he had somehow forgiven you for whatever crime you had committed against him in his head.

He had been more…pleasant?

He had been able to spend time in your company without shouting or yelling at you for no reason.

He had had spent more time with his son, though perhaps that had been because you had taken his daughter under your care.

It hurt almost to care for her but apart of you loved her. Having always wanted a daughter for yourself, and for so long believing you would only ever have your son, Cregan. She was the image of her father, with little trace or her mother on her features. She was quite and shy though she liked you. Perhaps it was because Talisa had always been kind to you, at least to your face.

“the maester tells me you are pregnant” he spoke, as he moved to lie beside you.

“what?” you asked in shock. You had only just found out for yourself this morning.

He sighed, turning to look at you, “he said you were pregnant, about three moons” he said as he moved to make himself comfortable in your bed. “i..yes I am…I only just found out this morning”

“as did I”

It was awkward, neither of you knew how to talk to the other. Neither of you had cared to try until now.

you too moved to make yourself comfortable, tucking your self into bed, and turning your back to him. He sighed before moving towards you, blowing out the candle and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“sleeping with my wife” he said as if it was obvious. You had never shared a bed with a man, and feeling him pressed against you felt strange. It wasn’t comforting, nor was it uncomfortable.

“oh”

“oh?” he mimicked.

“why?”

“well…we are husband and wife it is time we started acting as such”

You huffed, “ we have been husband and wife for nearly six years now and not once have you slept in my bed.

“well that’s going to change” he said, and before you knew it you were both fast asleep.

The next few months had been so different from the previous years.

Though you had not stopped your previous duties as lady of Winterfell. It seemed now with Robb instant on being a dotting husband you had more duties.

He had moved into your chambers, though you supposed they were rightfully his.

He insisted on taking all your meals together, walking in the gods woods every day together.

He had become kind, and for those few moons you thought perhaps you could grow to tolerate his misgivings and be husband and wife.

Then he called you, “Talisa”

He had said it in passing, not even noticing it at first. And then he saw how your froze and realised his mistake.

He had sighed your name in apology.

But you had ignored him. And realised that perhaps it would be better, not to have hope that you were more than a duty to Robb.

That to him you would never be her. Never be the wife he wanted, only his duty.

It didn’t matter how much he liked to play pretend. Giving you flowers and sweet kisses on your cheek. Deep down you knew you could never forgive him, never find the love and happiness you had long craved, that you deserved.

That you would be a wife of duty, and love was always the death of duty, and duty is the death of love.

And he would never stop loving her.

authors note: this took me 3 weeks to write because i couldn’t figure out to make it have a happy ending. it was far to angsty and i couldn’t justify her forgiving him.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld RAYNETARGARYEN2 @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos

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[fantasydreamland]

Gossip

margaery tyrell x fem reader

Sequel to Handmaiden

(tho can be read separately)

Summary: Margaery is now married to Renly Baratheon. There are whispers about him and another man but what happens when people begin to notice how close Margaery seems to be with her handmaiden.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!!, wlw, smut, public x, fingering, oral (f), fluff, possible spoilers

x Based on a request x

word count: 1656

masterlist

“You look enchanting, my lovely rose.” You say as you help with the final touches of Margaerys wedding gown.

It was the day of her wedding to Renly Baratheon. Although they cared for and respected eachother, neither Margaery or Renly felt romantic feelings towards one another. They both had an unspoken understanding that they would allow eachother to privately explore wherever their hearts did lead. You knew about Renly and Loras, Margaerys brother. They attempt to conceal their affections for eachother but it was quite obvious to most and there were whispers about them among the court.

You had become that with Margaery. Your heart soared from the way she returned your affections, just as in love with you as you were her.

“Thank you, (y/n).” She gives a partially fake smile through the mirror.

“Dare I ask what’s wrong?” You say softly.

She sighs as she smooths her dress out in the mirror. “I think we both know the answer, love.” She says in her deep sarcastic tone, giving you a smirk afterward.

You let out a big sigh and nod as you continue to smooth out the fabric of her dress.

“It could be worse,” you say as her eyes meet yours in the mirror. “You are at least blessed enough to have a husband who would allow…” you give a shy smirk as you roll your eyes.

“My personal interests…” she finishes for you as she smirks and turns around so you’re face to face, so close her breath fanned over yours.

She gives you an all knowing look making your breath get caught in your throat. Her hand brushes your cheek as yours find home gently on her hips. “That is true. But I don’t believe any husband could contain me from you, my love.”

Before you could respond her lips are on yours, giving a long soft kiss. You part and gaze at eachother with a lustful look.

She gently pulls away and smooths her dress and hair. “Well… I suppose I should go get married now.”

She gives you a faint smile and you give a small curtesy in return before following her out of the room. The ceremony was quick and the feast was actually very enjoyable. Margaery and Renly sat together but they hardly looked at one another as Renly chatted the night away with Loras sitting beside him, and Margaery had her full attention on you standing off to the side by her. The lack of affection between the newly wedded couple did not go unnoticed.

At the end of the night you walk Margaery to her wedding chambers. As you turn the last corner through the empty hallways Margaery quickly pushes you against the wall and pulls you into an all consuming kiss. Your tongues vigorously clash together and you cup her cheeks as she holds you firmly by the waist, pushing her body against yours on the wall. The overly passionate kiss ends within a few seconds and you look at her with a surprised and heated look.

“I suppose I needed to get into the mood…” she says lowly with a smirk. She gives you a small nod goodbye before she enters her chambers alone.

**********

A few days had passed and things returned to some form of normal. Margaery and Renly slept in their own chambers again. Margaery gave you a small room close enough to her you could easily sneak away into her chambers most nights.

Although you shared most of your love secretly at night, Margaery loved to tease you with affection in semi public settings. It was also just hard to keep your hands off eachother through an entire day. You were completely enamoured with her so it just made it all the more thrilling for you both.

You knew there were whispers about Margaery and her handmaiden. That she is far more friendly with you than most usually are with their handmaidens. At first the idea of this bothered and embarrassed you but the more time spent with Margaery the less you cared what others thought. You were still both cautious enough to make sure these would remain rumours. However, the bashful smiles and light touches did not go unnoticed by others.

**********

Margaery had a late afternoon tea with her grandmother in the gardens. Most people had retired back inside. By the time they finished the only people who remained in the gardens was Margaery, her grandmother, and their handmaidens. She and her grandmother say goodnight with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Lady Olenna,” you curtsy as she gives you a nod and returns to the castle leaving you and completely Margaery alone.

“Apologies, my love. I didn’t expect her to arrive so late for afternoon tea.” She apologies once her grandmother is completely out of sight.

“Do not worry, my lovely rose.” You take her hand in yours. “Any time spent with you is worth it.”

She smiles and lightly squeezes your hand. “Thank you, love.”

She looks around at the empty gardens and quiet courtyard as everyone on the grounds had gone inside while the sun was setting.

“It seems we have time alone right now…” she smirks and gives you an all knowing look.

Before you can object she pulls your body against hers and your noses brush as she hovers her lips over yours teasingly. You want to be logical in such a public place and pull away, but the way she clouds your mind makes you lean in. The kiss is gentle at first and quickly becomes heated and passionate.

She pulls away and leads you over to the stone bench just behind some flowers and nudges you down to sit. She gently positions herself on her knees in front of you and takes your face into her hand before kissing you again. As the kiss continues she starts to hike up your skirts.

“My love, please, not here…” you pull away and begin to protest.

She ignores your pleas as her lips move to your neck and she finishes hiking up your skirt enough that she could slip underneath. Before you even have time to comprehend what she is doing, her mouth is on you and you bite your lip hard trying to contain your moans.

Margaery continues to unravel you with her tongue as your cheeks burn up and you look around with in a panic, your vision blurred from pleasure. There was no one in sight, everyone had returned inside for the night but you still tried to stay alert as anyone who walked by this part of the garden would surely catch you. As you get closer to your peak you find it harder and harder to contain your screams.

“Oh gods… my rose, please. I cannot- I cannot stay quiet.” You pant.

Margaery ignores you and continues to relentlessly work her tongue on your most sensitive spot. She slowly inserts her fingers and that triggers you to see stars. You quickly cover your mouth as a final scream escapes you, even through your hand you were sure someone could have heard if they were in the area.

She comes out from under your dress and looks up at you with a huge smirk as you look down at her with flushed cheeks.

“That was far too dangerous, love.” You say, panting out of breath.

“What is life without a little risk?” She teases as she carefully stands up and dusts off her dress.

She reaches her hands out to help you stand as she pulls you up into a passionate kiss. Your hands move into her hair as she cups one of your cheeks, holding your waist tightly with the other hand. She moves her lips down to your neck harshly kissing your pale skin, no doubt leaving small marks. Before things can go any further you lightly push her away.

“The hour is getting late, my lovely rose.” You say with your fingers twisting a strand of her hair.

“You’re right, my love. Let’s head off to bed then.” She gives you her classic devilish smirk hinting that you were not finished with eachother yet. You spend the rest of the night tangled in the sheets together.

**********

The next morning Margaery went to enjoy breakfast with her grandmother in their favourite spot, the gardens. There were a few other ladies of the court at the table chatting away as you helped pour Margaery’s tea.

“I swear to you someone was getting intimate right here in the gardens last night!” One of the women suddenly said, causing you to overfill and spill the tea.

“I’m so sorry, my lady.” You say as you quickly gather cloths to clean up the small mess, cheeks burning red.

“That’s quite alright.” Margaery smiles at you and gently touches your arm for a moment.

The brief show of affection between you had the attention of all the women at the table. They passed questioning glances between eachother as you left the table to stand back over to the side.

“How would you even know such a thing? No one would be out here that late.” Another woman asks, resuming their conversation.

“Believe me, I know. By the sounds and moaning I could hear… it was obvious!” The first woman replied.

Your eyes meet Margaery’s as you both blush and quickly look away. Lady Olenna looks between the two of you and smirks to herself, knowing full well what’s transpired. She knew her granddaughter well, if the clear affections she has for you wasn’t already obvious, the small red marks on your neck were.

“Did you see who it was?” The other woman asks.

“No, but whoever they were they have quite the man to make them scream like that.” She smirks.

All the women start giggling at the joke and you and Margaery make guilty eye contact, laughing along.

masterlist



[axelsagewrites]

What They're Like in Bed

Includes: Margery, Sansa, Daenerys, and Yara (Asha in the books but more ppl kno her as Yara I think)

Warnings: mentions of (but not descriptions) of various kinks, subs, doms, degradation, praise kinks, thigh riding, and oral (that kinda thing) 18+

Word count: 905

Men's part here

Masterlist Here

Margaery

Margaery comes off as very in charge at first, which she is amazing at, but she can have a subby side as well. When she’s dominant she is a soft dom though. She loves to ride your face, telling you to behave or she’ll stop. She’ll sit you on her knees or over her lap, slowly staring to pleasure you and trail kisses on your neck. This girl loves neck kisses. Like obsessed.

She doesn’t do harsh punishments and instead will ban you from touching yourself, or worse her. She’ll make you watch her pleasure herself when you haven’t listened enough to earn it. When you do behave though she will shower you with praise. The praise can also be condescending in nature, saying ‘how good you are for a stupid slut’ or telling you ‘good job’ with a condescending tone. She wants to make you work for her praise.

When Margaery does allow her submissive side to show she loves to be overstimulated and if she trusts you then fully tied up. She could spend all day being tied up and edged just for the satisfaction of her release at the end. She loves when you grab her jaw or throat, even some light chocking, but she doesn’t tolerate degrading or spanking. At least not on her. You are a different story.

Sansa

Sansa was hesitant about having sex to start with, her trust always haven been broken in the past, so when you do start having sex you have to be very gentle. However, once she becomes comfortable things get amazing.

She’s defiantly a very shy sub who blushes when you make eye contact with her. She blushes like crazy when you praise her which is often because of her massive praise kink. She loves to be told how good she is, how sweet she tastes, and how perfect she is. The praise also helps her get out her shell. When she does is when she wants to experiment with things like temperature play with you dripping hot wax over her chest.

Her favourite thing is when you run her a bath, rubbing her shoulders, and kissing her neck, before joining her in it to truly help her relax. She defiantly loves more casual sex vibes. I’m talking laughing and giggling mixing through her moans, sleepy morning sex, lazy casual sex, making out on the bed as her hands wander your body.  Her absolute favourite thing though is when you go down on her. Sansa can be a bit of a pillow princess in this regard but she’s also a very caring partner so if you point it out, she will turn her attention on you.

Daenerys

Daenerys feels a need to be dominant with her partner due to her history and never feeling like she is treated seriously. She does love being dominant though and loves a partner who will sit at her feet, praising her and begging to touch her. She loves to deny you of her touch or your finish until she has heard sweet praise and begs fall from your lips.

Her favourite positions are definitely to do with riding though. She loves to ride your face or have you ride her. Sometimes she’ll have you ride her thigh, teasing how easy it was to turn you on. She loves when you worship her body and the trails of kisses you leave across it. She realises her subby side one time when you began to suck her nipples and she wanted nothing more than for you to keep going and to please you. Oh also she loves nipple play.

When she is submissive, she loves to please and be praised, being told how good she is and how she can earn her next reward and asking permission to touch you or to cum. While she’ll ask first, she will never beg. She doesn’t handle degradation or punishment well but she never brats enough to deserve it. She just wants to be taken care of and make sure that you reach your own peak in the process.

Yara

Yara is a dom who loves to tease. This girl will tease you from the moment the sun rises till it sets regardless of whether you’re in the bedroom or not. She loves to flirt with you in front of others. She loves watching you blush and stutter at her words however she also gets a kick out of the days that you flirt as boldly back. This causes her to step up her game, sometimes dragging you off to the nearest surface or wall to remind you that she was in charge.

If her partner were comfortable with her, she would love to try a bit of exhibitionism. Maybe not go all the way but the idea of someone watching her turn you into a moaning mess riled her up to no end. She also wouldn’t be against watching you with someone else, however only if and when she allowed it and she was very particular on who she would share you with. This was also the reason she loves threesomes.

She loves to have her partner ride her thigh, choking them as she does. She’s down to try a lot of different thing but she will tease you incessantly while doing so if not straight up degrade you if you allowed her. She’s very experimental.

A/N: I love the girls but why can't they have easier names lmao I keep auto correcting to Margery not Margaery.

[freakassfemme]

(Smut/Drabble) Is It Casual Now? CisF! Reader x Yara Greyjoy

Summary: Y/N, a member of Yara's crew and longtime fling, finds herself struggling to face the reality of the Ironborn serving a Targaryen tyrant, especially after Yara's confession.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST! It's horny but it's sad. Oral sex, f/f, lesbianism (but that's a blessing), angsty sex, sad sex, crying

A/N: YES the title is based off of Casual by Chappell Roan. Every time I listen to it I can't help but imagine something angsty with Yara.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The boat crashing against the rage of the sea only slammed your hips farther onto Yara's fingers as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Her hips worked some to hold you in place on top of the crate you sat upon, but still you tethered yourself on a rope hanging from the ceiling of the steerage.

Your moans were partially washed out by the creaking of the boat and partially by the way she smothered your lips in her own, and when she groaned back into you, your hand dropped and wrapped around her neck, deepening the kiss in a clash of teeth and tongue.

This wasn't unusual for the two of you. You'd been the only female member of her crew for quite some time, and like any of the men on board, you two preferred to find solace in the arms of a woman. It had never been anything serious, and it had always been something kept mostly private. Yara loved good company, but with a member of her crew could put her authority in jeopardy.

However, there was something unusual about the way Yara's mouth wandered to your neck. There was something entirely unusual about the way that she, rather than a simple bite on the shoulder to stifle her own noises, worked a deliberate mark right at the base of your jaw. In all three years of your little secret, Yara had never made such intentions present.

This new sensation pulled little gasps from you that floated right to Yara's spine, sending a shiver down it, so she continued placing her claim at the base of your throat, in the dip of your neck, under your ear, creating bruises that eventually washed to the other side of your throat as well.

Her fingers pumped ferociously inside of you, carelessly bruising every sweet spot like it was her last moments on this earth. When you cried out against her, she cooed into your ear so sweetly that you couldn't even form the words to tell her to stop (not that you would want to).

"Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart?" She whispered into your ear, and you shuddered, letting out a breathy laugh.

"N-no," you said, knowing it was the complete opposite of the truth. It was impossible for you to not to, especially when you knew she could feel the way you pulsed around her fingers, the way you gushed into her palm with every push, and the twitch of your thighs with every gentle curl.

"I don't think so," you murmured, letting a teasing smile slip.

Yara shook her head, chuckling and digging her fingers into a particular spot that had you almost jumping out of your seat. She watched, lips parted as your head fell back against the wall of the ship and your eyes fought not to squeeze shut.

"Your cunt is telling me a different story," she growled. She pressed her hand into your lower stomach, building another toe-curling pressure inside you as she held you in place. She kissed you sweetly after you let out a small cry, then sank to her knees.

You watched as Yara turned her focus to mouth at your clit, the vulnerability in her kneeling not slipping past you. The admiration in her eyes, the intensity of her passion - these things did not go unnoticed, and you felt your eyes begin to water. Tingles worked their way up your shoulder, and your ears rang as she pulled moan after moan from you. Your fingers dug into the crate, and you looked down at her with flushed cheeks.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but every other beat pulled a painful chord in your chest, and Yara could feel the way you began to choke up. Her hand slipped down to rub your thigh affectionately, but you instinctively grabbed it, interlacing your fingers.

Your eyes began to burn and blur as salty tears slipped down your rosy cheeks, and Yara squeezed your hand, watching the way you rested your other hand over your forehead, too mixed up between the climaxing pleasure and your longing heart to stay still.

"Yara," you whimpered out, "I'm, I'm-" But you couldn't get it out. It was all too much, the banging in your chest, the way Yara's fingers opened you up as easily as two flower petals, the way she made out with your sex like it was the love of her life, the way she had made it obvious to anyone who looked at you for the next week what had happened, and how they would know exactly who did it--

-- if you made it to the end of the week.

Tensions were high in all parts of the world, and the recent alliance between the Iron Islands and Daenerys Stormborn had completed changed the basis of the Ironborn way of life, and every member of the fleet in particular was feeling the effects of it.

Being pulled so far away from home, losing friends and family members too far from the sea to even retrieve them, and now you were following the trail of the dead with Yara to meet the queen who had started all of this, who had threatened and reconstructed an ancient way of life.

"What do you mean you don't want to go?" Yara stuttered, looking at you in disbelief. "That's not your decision to make, Y/N."

You stood on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair. Your fight had echoed through the halls of Pyke until Yara had had enough and pulled you into a private room, but even now, passerby stopped to listen in.

It wasn't that you were a particularly disobedient soldier. You had always trusted Yara with your life, obeyed every command, even if that meant returning to her drenched in blood and void of emotion. She was your Captain, your Queen, and you had promised your life to her.

"Why are you serving her?" You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. "She's not even Ironborn, and you've known her for all but a few weeks, and now you've bent the knee?"

"Y/N," Yara stepped forward cautiously, but you waved her off, stepping back. She could feel the heat radiating off of you, feel the anger ripping at the air, threatening the foundation of this offhand non-commitment commitment you had to each other.

"No, Yara!" You exclaimed, "I won't go off to die in the middle of some fucking sea-less dessert for some woman I've never met!"

"She is the Dragon Queen!" Yara argued back, slowly letting her own temper slip from her. "She is the breaker of chains! She will bring no harm to the islands - you know I would not allow that."

You turned to her, eyes burning with rage, and met her face.

"Oh, but you have so willingly sacrificed everything the Ironborn stand for and everything we are for her!" You screamed. Yara stared fiercely down at you, though she did not respond. "And for what? What do we receive in return?"

Still, Yara said nothing. This irritated you even further, so you went further, going so far as to push Yara back. She let you, still quiet.

"You cannot kill another Ironborn, so what, you've taken to dragging us far away and drowning us all in her name?" You hissed. "What has she promised you? Or are you truly just so wound up in some foreign woman's cunt you would erase everything we have worked for?"

You went to push her again, but Yara grabbed on to your wrists. She dragged you forward, bringing you until you were so close you thought she might kiss you if it weren't for the circumstances.

For a long moment, you stared at each other, rage stirring and boiling at the very sight of each other, at the implications you had grown to believe about each other during this fight.

Then, Yara opened her mouth.

Nothing came out at first, simply a few stuttered breaths, then a glance away. And though you had quite a few times before worked Yara up to the point of chosen silence, never had you rendered Yara speechless.

Then, she looked back down at you, and swallowed thickly. Her expression had changed, twisted into a much more somber one.

"If I die out there," she whispered, "I cannot die without you."

[vsnyarbll]

the crown

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader x Aegon II Targaryen

words: 4.566

summary: Y/N's lovers stole Aegon the Conqueror's crown for her. And they have plans for the night.

warnings: incest, 18+, SMUT (dom!aemond, threesome, sub!reader, fingering, cum play, penetration, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial)

a/n: Sorry for any mistakes. English is not my native language. / This one is the first smut I've ever written. You have been warned. MDNI

"I can't believe what you said to Lady Lannister!" said Baela, unable to contain her laughter.

"Keep your voice down, Baela." Y/N said, laughing.

"What was funny was Lord Lannister's expression. Did you see that, love? I think he wasn't facing you," said Jace, shaking Baela's arm.

"I didn’t see it! How could I miss it?!"

“When we get to our chambers, I'll make an impression of him for you.”

"Shut up, both of you." She was afraid that her mother or one of her aides would overhear them. Her known disagreement with the Lords had always been a problem for her.

Their walk down the hallway was a little shaky. They were all almost drunk except Y/N. It had been a long, tiring day. They had gotten up early in the morning and gone dragon riding, and the afternoon had been all about celebrating the king's name day.

Y/N usually liked to get drunk. She enjoyed forgetting all her duties and responsibilities for a moment. But she didn't want to deal with a morning headache on top of a busy day.

Everyone had a great time at the celebration. But at the end of the evening, the lady said some unpleasant things about Prince Aemond. First, she criticized the desserts served at the celebration. Then how the traditions of the Targaryens don't fit in Westeros. Y/N didn't remember much of what she said next. But she remembered that Lady Lannister told her that Aemond was a monster who needed to be in the dungeons and said she felt very sorry for Y/N. What she'd said about Aemond had been enough to make her blood boil. She didn't need to remember how she had humiliated her family to lash out at her.

"Jace! I promised Grandma I'd stop by her room," said Baela.

"Where was her chambers?" he asked and held out his arm for her to take. "I don't know,” she said, taking his arm.

Y/N wanted to bang her head against the walls. They were standing in front of their grandmother's chambers. She was never this fool like them when she was drunk.

Right?

"We're in front of her chambers," Y/N said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, Jace! My love! Look, there's her chambers." She left Jace and walked towards the door.

"Do you have to go?" Jace said with tears in his eyes. Y/N held herself back from rolling her eyes again.

"I promise I'll be in our room in five minutes."

Jace grabbed Baela tightly around the waist and pulled her to him. "You promised, my beautiful wife."

"Yes, but I need to know what I promised,” she said in a flirtatious voice.

"I'd be happy to give you a little rundown," Jace said and pressed his lips to hers. As they kissed, Jace's hand slid down to her lower back.

Y/N saw things escalating and grabbed her brother's arm and pulled. "We're leaving, Jace. Come on."

"I'm going to tell my mother!"

"Tell her what?! That Y/N stopped us from having sex in the hallway?"

Jace took a deep breath and turned to his wife. "My love. I'll be ready when you get back to our room."

"Jace!"

Baela ignored Y/N's protests and pulled Jace to her, bringing her lips to his. "Come on, leave Y/N in her chambers, darling, and I'll keep my conversation with my grandmother as brief as I can. i will be in our chambers in five minutes.”

Jace nodded reluctantly and offered his arm to Y/N, who took it. Just as they were about to continue on their way, Rhaena came up from behind, panting. "I still haven't gotten over tonight's perfection. Someone had to put that woman in her place."

"Can you shut up about this subject? All of you. If my mother finds out, it'll be the last time you see me."

"Y/N, I can't believe you're still tense. When was the last time you and Aemond made love?"

"Don't wake the dragon Rhaena," she said, mocking the sentence.

"Oh, I'm sure the dragon in you is awake. The question is, is Aemond's dragon awake?"

"Rhaena, you are supposed to be the good one among us!" They all laughed.

Y/N and Aemond's chambers were the closest ones to them in the hallway.

Rhaena, Jace, and Y/N continued walking down the hall arm in arm. "Good night, Y/N," he said as they came to the door of her chambers. "Good night Jace." they hugged each other briefly.

"I'm sure Jace will have a good night," said Rhaena. Y/N laughed to her respond and went into her chambers.

Y/N was surprised at the state of mind that alcohol had put Rhaena. She usually had a shy nature. Rhaena would never start a conversation unless someone spoke to her. Y/N liked that alcohol made her so outspoken.

xxx

It had been a long day, and she finally had the peace of being alone. She couldn't wait to get into bed and snuggle up to her husband. The last time she saw her husband was in the middle of the day. Then Prince Daemon called all the men and told them they had something important to do.

Since then, no one had seen any of the men in the family except Jace, who insisted on staying by Baela's side.

She felt her insides fill with longing for Aemond.

She moved further into the room, eager to get rid of her heavy jewelry and dress as soon as possible.

She had just taken a few steps away from the door when someone knocked. "Princess, I have come to prepare you for sleep," the maid said from behind the door.

"I will prepare myself tonight, Lola. You may go."

"As you wish, Princess."

"Good night, Lola. Dream of me," said Y/N with a smile.

"Good night, Princess."

Y/N walked to the vanity table. She reached up to her right ear and slowly removed the earring.

"Hello, wife."

She was startled by the unexpected sound but did not show it.

As she placed the earring in one of the boxes on the table, she replied. "Hello, husband." Her back was to Aemond.

She hadn't seen him when she entered the room. In her head, she briefly weighed where he might be when she entered the room. "Where were you when I entered the room?"

"I was on the couch, but I think you were too distracted to notice."

She nodded her head. Lord Lannister wasn't the only thought that troubled him. He was the least of her worries.

"Good evening, Y/N."

She sighed deeply at the second voice. Y/N could barely manage one of her lovers. And now they were both in the room.

"Aegon, I am too tired to do anything."

"I didn't say anything!"

"I could tell by your tone."

Aegon and Aemond looked at each other shortly.

Y/N put her other earring in the box. Then she reached for the necklace that matched her earrings. She put it next to the earrings and closed the box.

"We have a surprise for you. And I'm sure it will change your mind," Aegon said.

Y/N could hear the grin in his voice. "You finally convinced Cregan Stark to join us?

Aegon gave a fake laugh. "It wasn't funny the first time you said it. It's still not funny. "

"I think it's hilarious.”

"We will make you regret this whole Cregan Stark thing tonight. Maybe then you'll realize it's not funny."

"There will be no such thing as tonight, Aegon."

"I guess we will make you chew your own words too."

Y/N could hear her lovers whispering amongst themselves as she pulled the hairpins out of her hair. Her silver-gold, wavy hair fell over her shoulders.

Aemond kept his eyes on her as he spoke to Aegon, not wanting to miss any of her movements.

"Y/N, we stole something for you."

"You stole? What could you have stolen?" she said as she turned around. Why would a prince need to steal something?

Aegon grinned and raised the item in his hand a little higher. Y/N froze at the sight of Aegon holding a crown.

"You steal a crown?"

"It's not just any crown, Y/N. It's King Aegon's crown," said Aegon.

“I know. I'm the one who told you this crown was Aegon's.”

Aegon narrowed his eyes and looked at her with mock anger. “We had to pass a lot of guards to get into the crown room. Please, let's make this night worth it.”

Y/N walked towards her lover. She ran her fingers over the crown. The steel was cold, but it felt like it was burning her fingers.

The crown was more than just an object. It symbolized the most critical power in the world. Both Y/N and Aemond were aware of it.

Aemond had never seen Y/N with a crown on her head.

His greatest wish was to see her with a crown sitting on The Iron Throne.

Together they were the perfect couple. They both wanted power and each other more than anything else in the whole world.

On the other side, Aegon balanced them. He didn't want power or the throne. He just wanted to live out his days in Y/N's arms.

Aemond took the crown from Aegon's hand and carefully placed it on Y/N's head.

"It's going to be a great night," Aemond said. He reached up and kissed her forehead. "But if you drop the crown, we will end the night, and you will sleep like that, all needy."

Y/N wanted to squeeze her legs at that very moment. Aemond's words, especially the way he said them, had already made her ears burn with need.

Aemond took Y/N by the arm and brought her in front of the mirror. "Look at yourself, Y/N." He came close behind her until there was no distance between them.

Aemond pulled her hair aside, exposing her neck, and began to kiss the pale skin.

Y/N gasped when she felt Aemond's lips on her neck. "You look so powerful," he said and continued to place wet kisses on her neck. "Yet you need my permission to do the slightest thing.” He started running his hands along her arms. "Imagine a queen ordering people around,” This time, his hands went to the neckline of her dress, tugging at it as much as possible. Her shoulders and the tops of her breasts were exposed. "ruling a kingdom," He leaned close to her ear, making sure his breath touched her ear as he spoke. "subduing all the impudent lords." He put a sly smile on his lips. "But she can't even cum without her husband's permission.”

She gasped at his words.

Aegon was bored with the lack of attention he was getting.

And also, there had been an uncomfortable hardness in his trousers ever since they stole the crown.

He, like Aemond, longed to see Y/N with a crown on her head. He didn't care about the concept of power, but the thought that his lover had that power was exciting for him.

Her ascension to the throne was a big dream of his. Returning to their chambers, he imagined her on the Iron Throne and almost came in his pants.

Aegon took her by the arm and pulled her to the center of the room again. "I missed you so much," he said as he buried his nose in her neck. He inhaled her scent as if he wanted to fill his lungs with the scent.

Aegon's breaths tickled her neck. She giggled and said, "You only saw me this morning."

"We did more than seeing each other." Aegon's voice muffled in her neck.

Aemond snorted and turned her toward him. "It's my turn now, then."

Aegon moved dangerously close to her from behind and protested against Aemond. "You left her to go to sword training. Someone had to take care of your wife's needs."

"Unlike you, with all the sword training, I'll be able to protect her."

"Against what exactly? Dragons?” He said, referring to the nonsense fairy tales they grew up listening to sleep. They never understood why a knight had to protect a princess from a dragon. Y/N had always thought the princess could defend herself with her dragon. On the other hand, Aemond argued that an insignificant knight could not kill a dragon. He was right. He knew he was right. But he couldn't defend his idea too much because his brother Aegon had said he had no right to comment on such a thing. After all, he didn't have a dragon. At the end of that day, Y/N punched Aegon. She said he would stop all this nonsense, or she would cut out his tongue.

Surprisingly, the two brothers were on good terms after that day.

"That's why nobody loves you, Aegon."

“Did I say something wrong?”

Y/N turned around again. She held Aegon's face tightly. She knew how sensitive this was for Aegon.

He hadn't been loved or respected by his family. In everyone's eyes, he was a drunk, useless person.

Y/N didn't understand how people hated Aegon. He was a sensitive and gentle soul. But the people around him had forced him to be someone else. "I don't hate you, my love."

Aegon averted his eyes, and she tilted her head, trying to catch his gaze. "Neither does Aemond.”

Aemond reached out to either side of Y/N and took hold of Aegon's arms. "I don't hate you, Aegon.”

Aegon spoke, trying to hide his smile. “We'd better get to work before someone notices the absence of the crown.”

Y/N lifted her head and tried to reach Aegon's lips.

Aegon immediately granted her request. His kisses were calm and loving at first. But neither Aegon's soft kisses nor Aemond's hands on her waist were enough for her.

Y/N brought her hand to the front of his pants and pressed her hand against the hardness. Aegon was relieved to get some reaction, finally.

He put his hands on her cheeks and pressed his lips to her even harder.

Aemond started untying the strings at the back of her dress.

After loosening the last line of the dress's back, he ran his fingers up her spine without removing the dress. She shivered at the sudden sensation.

Aegon moved his lips to her neck, and Aemond pulled the sleeves of the dress away from her.

She was holding the front of her dress so it wouldn't fall. Aemond began planting kisses on her back and shoulders. The lips and tongues of her lovers running along her body made her feel so tense.

Aegon broke their kiss. He took her hands and interlocked their fingers.

The silk dress that hugged her soft skin slid down her body. Aegon studied her body with interest and hungry eyes as if seeing her for the first time.

Aemond pressed his hardness against her now naked arse.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. He turned her to him and began to kiss her, attacking her lips.

Wasting no time, he rolled his tongue into her mouth. He squeezed her breast with his right hand as he swirled his tongue around hers.

He put his other hand on her waist to support her. Y/N wrapped her hands around Aemond's neck and tangled her fingers in his long hair.

He brought his hand on her breast to her nipple.

At first, he started to draw small circles on the nipple. Then, when he didn't get a response, he pinched it hard. Y/N moaned into his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, he looked at Aegon, whose presence in the room he had briefly forgotten. He had taken off his jacket and thrown it on the couch and was struggling to unbutton his shirt.

Aemond immediately parted his lips from hers. "Keep your clothes on. Tonight only she will be naked."

Y/N couldn't stop her body from trembling with desire. She pressed herself against Aemond's erection.

She was excited because of the idea that she was the only one of them naked. Aemond and Aegon smirked simultaneously.

"Y/N, sometimes I think you're a whore worthy of a brothel," he said and started buttoning his shirt. "And most of the time, you confirm it.”

Y/N snuggled up to Aemond. He started stroking her back and lowered his hand slowly.

"Lay down on the bed, Aegon."

Aegon did what he said.

Aemond walked towards him, still holding Y/N tightly. "Pull down your pants."

The other two watched as Aegon unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants. When he pulled his pants down to mid-thigh, Aemond stopped him again. "Just pull it down enough."

"What do you want from me, Aemond?! I will die of frustration."

Without saying anything, Aemond began to run his hand over Y/N's stomach.

Then he gradually lowered his hand.

He ran his hand over her folds, but he still wasn't giving her the touch she wanted.

Y/N held on to his arm tightly.

"Do you think my brother deserves your cunt, Y/N?"

"Yes, yes! Please."

"Hmm, I think he was going well until just now."

He slid his long fingers between her folds. He slid his fingers up and down a few times. Finally, he pressed two fingers against her clit. She moaned softly and clung even tighter to his arm. "I'll let you fuck her if you don't touch yourself until I say so."

Aegon sighed at the sight in front of him. It was an almost impossible task, but he wanted to fuck her more than anything.

He nodded his head.

"Please do something, Aemond," she begged desperately.

He started circling her clit.

At first, he didn't apply too much pressure. When she got used to the stimulation, he increased the pressure.

Y/N could no longer hold back her moans. She felt herself getting closer and closer to cumming.

She felt like every part of her body was on fire.

"Are you close, my love?"

"Yes, I am so close. Don't stop." Her voice trembled with the need to reach her climax.

Then suddenly, Aemond stopped the movement of his fingers. Y/N made a strangled noise. "Why did you stop?!"

”It's Aegon's turn now, my dear. Get on top of him”

She did not want to leave Aemond's warm arms, but she also wanted to be with Aegon.

Y/N climbed on top of Aegon and sat on his legs. She ran her fingers over Aegon's cock.

She started drawing circles on the tip with her thumb. Aegon's cock throbbed with need. He lifted his hips, thrust himself into her hand, and moaned, wanting more.

“Don't tease him, wife.”

Aemond didn't need to say it twice. Y/N was already eager to fulfill his wishes.

She stroked Aegon's cock a few times. Then put her knees on either side of his legs and straightened up on her knees.

She placed his cock at her entrance and slowly began to sit on it.

They both moaned with relief.

Aegon's breathing quickened as she took all of him inside her.

Y/N felt his cock touch that spot inside her that almost made her lose her mind. No one but the two of them could have been so in tune with her and fucked her as well as they did.

Aemond pressed his body against Y/N's from her left side. The rough fabric of his suit almost stung her sensitive skin.

“Fuck yourself with his cock.”

Aemond's tone of voice was different in such moments. His voice would become more dominant with the feelings of desire. It was one of Y/N's favorite things to hear on nights like this, and another was Aegon's whimpers and moans.

She started bouncing on Aegon’s length. But even though she tried to speed up as she could, she was still too slow.

Aemond tsked from her side. “I know you can do better. Look at poor Aegon. You torment him.”

Y/N tried to pick up the pace, driven by the instinct not to disappoint Aemond. But all three knew Y/N wouldn’t make herself or Aegon cum without help.

“When you take one of our cocks inside, you lose all your functions.”

Y/N moaned in response to Aemond's words.

Aegon placed his hands on her thighs and squeezed hard. Her skin was already red, and she was sure that if he kept holding her thighs so hard, there would be bruises in the shape of Aegon's fingers.

She was already close to her climax. Aegon was no different from her. Aegon would have lasted much longer on a casual day, but seeing Y/N with a crown pushed him to his limits.

He could no longer resist her bouncing breasts. Aegon reached out and squeezed them. Y/N moaned loudly in response, and her walls tightened around him.

He knew she was on the edge of her climax. Whenever she was close, her walls became, in Aegon's words, 'delicious'.

Aegon looked at Aemond. He understood what he meant. "Are you close, my little dragon?"

"Yes, Aemond. Please!”

“Beg properly.”

“Please-“ Her words caught in her throat as Aegon lifted his hips and started pounding. “Please let me cum.”

“Good girl. You can cum after Aegon does.”

Aegon let go of her breasts and pinched her nipples.

Y/N threw her head back under the weight of the pleasure she felt.

And then the last thing she wanted to happen to her that night happened.

The crown slipped from her and fell on Aegon's legs.

Aemond stopped her movement completely. He pressed her hips against Aegon to prevent even the slightest movement.

Y/N slowly opened her eyes.

Aegon was frustrated that everything had stopped a few moves before he cum.

Aemond was looking at her with his usual expression. No one could ever tell from his facial expressions what he was thinking.

He lifted her off Aegon and sat her on the bed next to him. Her legs were aching with every movement.

“I told you if you dropped the crown, you'd go to bed needy.”

Y/N felt helpless under the weight of having her orgasm taken away for the second time that night.

Her eyes filled with tears.

But at the same time, it felt so good to feel Aemond's power over her. He was the one who decided when she would or would not have an orgasm.

“I'm sorry."

“You're lucky you're so pretty. Maybe I'll change my mind by the end of the night.”

“Thank you, Aemond."

“Good girl. You know when to say thank you.”

She nodded. Aemond felt weak at her submissiveness.

It was a perfect fit. Y/N was a perfect match for him.

“And what about me?” asked Aegon.

Aemond thought for a while, planning the rest of the night. “Get on your knees, Y/N.”

Y/N immediately got out of bed. She moved in front of Aemond and got on her knees.

“You know what to do.”

Y/N pulled Aemond's cock out. The tip was dark pink with need and dripping precum. She almost drooled at that sight.

She pumped his cock several times with her right hand. Then she brought her lips close to the tip. Y/N knew Aemond was an impatient man, and she didn't want to keep him waiting.

He moaned as she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock. The slightly salty taste of precum made her squeeze her thighs.

Slowly she began to take more and more of him into her mouth.

When his tip touched the back of her throat, she stopped and began to move back and forth along its length. She used her hand for the part she couldn't put in her mouth.

Aemond was not pleased that Y/N refrained from gagging. He tangled his fingers in her hair and began to push his cock slowly down her throat. She rested her hands on his thighs for support.

Aemond moaned again as she gagged around him. His cock brushed the back of her throat a few more times, and her eyes watered.

Aegon stood up and came over to them. He wrapped his right hand around his cock, trying to reach his orgasm. "You're perfect for us," said Aegon.

Aemond pulled his cock out of her mouth, stepped back, and began to try to empty himself with his hand.

Y/N sat on her knees at their feet, looking at them through her eyelashes. Her cheeks were wet with tears, drool running down her lips to her chin.

The sight alone was enough to make them both come on the spot.

Aegon was the first to cum on her breasts, and it was not long before Aemond followed.

Aemond walked to the bathroom as Aegon leaned over her. He took as much of the seed from her breast as he could with two fingers and brought it to her lips.

She immediately parted her lips and began to suck her lovers's seed from Aegon's fingers. She began to bob her head as she ran her tongue around his fingers.

Aemond came back from the bathroom with a towel.

Aegon removed his fingers from her mouth and let Aemond take his place. He wiped over her breasts, then took her arm and pulled her to her feet.

Y/N sat on the bed and waited for her lovers to change.

They both changed into their night clothes and sat on either side of her.

"I was good. I've done everything you asked me to do."

"What do you want, little dragon?"

"Please make me cum."

"Lay down on the bed."

Y/N did as Aemond told her and lay down on the bed. Aemond settled on her right side and Aegon on her left.

Aemond put his hand to her folds. He growled when he felt how wet she was. "You are so wet for us."

"Of course she is. You know how much she likes to suck our cocks."

Aemond slipped his two fingers inside her and played with her sweet spot. Y/N, still aroused from before, instantly turned into a moaning mess.

Aegon pressed his lips to hers and began to kiss her. With his left hand, he began to knead her breast. "Our whore," he said against her lips.

Y/N arched her back as Aemond began to play with her clit.

She reached the edge of her orgasm when Aegon lightly bit her where her neck met her shoulder.

"Aemond, I'm close," she said breathlessly.

Aemond drew a few more circles on her clit and withdrew his fingers. Aegon saw Aemond's hand stop moving, and he moved his lips and his hand away from her body.

Y/N looked at Aemond with red cheeks and tears in her eyes. "But you said I will cum."

“No, I said maybe I could change my mind. But when you dropped the crown and disobeyed me, you should have known the night would end this way.”

“Aemond, I'll do anything. Please.”

"All your orgasms belong to me. When you cum, you cum for us, not for yourself."

Y/N swallowed.

"Let's go to sleep now," Aemond said.

She turned to her other side and looked at Aegon.

"I'm sorry. You heard Aemond."

A tear fell from Y/N's left eye.

Aemond reached for the bedspread and covered the three of them.

Aegon took Y/N in his arms. Aemond hugged her from behind.

"Stop squirming and go to sleep, Y/N," said Aemond.

Y/N buried her head in Aegon's neck.

She fell asleep, trying to ignore the ache between her legs.

[m9yaa]

── .✦INNOCENCE; PETYR BAELISH ⟡˖ ࣪

part 1, part 2, part 3

⟡˖ ࣪ pairing: petyr baelish x fem!stark reader

⤷cw: mature content, innocence/corruption kink?, unprotected sex, age gap, power dynamic?, aged up characters, groping (non con kinda), sexual tension, sexual innuendo

⤷summary: in which, petyr baelish seems to take an interest in you, catelyn’s and ned’s eldest daughter after the hand of the king’s arrival at king’s landing.

REQ! also not proof read!

⋮

you’ve freshly turned 18, which already means your considerably lagging behind other girls your age, which by now, would of most definitely mean marriage and pregnancy, maybe a child or two.

it’s not that you don’t want to be married or anything, it’s just that any possible suitors or men that have came and asked your father for your hand in marriage, just aren’t what you’re interested or want in a man or boy your age.

so when it came for dear sansa to be married off to joffrey baratheon, your mother and father thought it’d be a great opportunity for you to come with, as you might meet someone of equal status, who does catch your interest.

you let out groans and protests in defence as you simply had no interests in doing that at this moment, it’s too time consuming and too much effort for a man who barely knows how to wipe his own arse without his mother there to guide him. but alas, you had no choice.

the morning of the day came. you, your sisters and father were leaving winterfell for king’s landing.

you were unsure of how you’d like it there as you only recall going when you were a mere child, too young to properly remember.

“hopefully king’s landing will be good to us.” you say to the lady in waiting, serene, as she finishes the last touches on your dress and hair.

serene is a girl similar to your age, not bad looking, brown hair, brown eyes, fair complexion, nothing to special appearance wise, but she’s someone you’d consider a friend.

no matter how many times you’ve told her to stop referring to you as ‘milady’, she always comes back to it, so you’ve just begun to accept it.

“i’m sure it will my lady.” she responds before moving backwards, allowing you to have a look in the mirror.

“you look beautiful my lady.”

“thank you, serene.” you smile into the reflection as you look back at her.

you take one last glance in the mirror before grabbing some light belongings yourself and your warm, fur cloak. you clip it around your neck as you begin walking out of your cozy room and into the harsh, much colder, hallway. your lady in waiting following closely behind with the rest of your belongings.

the journey there wasn’t unbearable. it took around a week/ week and a half to get there. at first the days started out wet, harsh and terribly cold, as you’d have to make camp up in the north.

the tents only kept in so much warmth and no matter how much padding was put on the ground of the tent, the frozen solid ground and mud was protruding through the fabric and into your back, making it difficult to get sleep and uncomfortable to relax, but ‘this was only temporary’ you kept saying to yourself, ‘soon i’ll be in king’s landing’.

the only warmth you managed to get was from the fire, before it went out and the fur cloak you had on, when it wasn’t too wet to the point it got uncomfortable.

as the days passed, the further down south everyone went and luckily, the warmer it became.

you got rid of the cloak a few days back, showcasing your beautiful, smooth skin and figure in the light, sage green dress you’re wearing.

it has golden accents and embroidery stitched into the more sheer, flowy fabric of the sleeves. the bodice is intricately structured, with a corset-like fit that compliments your figure nicely.

the neckline is a little bit more low than you’d wish for it to be, but there was no time for any other fittings before you had to leave winterfell, so it’ll make due for now.

the golden embroidery decorates the neckline.

the skirt is made of layers of soft, flowing chiffon or similar fabric in a muted sage green. The fabric gathers gracefully, creating a voluminous and flowing effect.

you had some gorgeous jewellery to go with it, resting nicely on your chest, lays a golden necklace, with an incredibly rare jewel embedded in it, jadeite.

it’s a similar colour as your dress, suiting well to the rest of your outfit.

in short, you have very elegant and beautiful attire on.

the next day is when you all finally made it to king’s landing.

it was beginning to get late as you stepped through the gates on the back of your horse, the sun was beginning to set, torches and such were being lit all around the capital.

the whole family was given a warm welcome by robert and cersei, along with the everyone else in capital.

you exchanged pleasantries and formalities with the family and whoever else you needed to do so with, which included the infamous petyr baelish.

“ser baelish, it’s great to meet you.” you smile politely before proceeding with a slight bow to show your respect. as you lift your upper body back up, you notice his eyes are no longer on your face, but lingering on your chest instead.

‘it must be the necklace catching his eyes, it’s so pretty after all.’ is all you think of it, not an impure thought in mind.

“ms stark, how wonderful it is to meet you.” he grins as he unexpectedly takes your hand and lifts it up to his face, taking his time kissing your knuckles.

you feel your face heat up a little at the prolonged physical contact, as well as the eye contact.

assuming it’s just a common way to greet people, you push the strange feeling in your stomach aside as you clear your throat and pull back your hand.

he lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction, “you look more ravishing than ever.” he says with a grin.

“o-oh, thank you,” the slight heat you felt in your skin before, now felt ablaze as you receive the compliment from petyr.

he observes the way you react to his words and actions, internally praising himself for managing to make you react so flustered, noting to himself your age, meaning you’re more impressionable and inexperienced than women his age.

something he likes.

baelish opens his mouth, about to say something more but not before your father, ned, appears beside you.

they both greet each other, keeping it short.

“i see you’ve met my daughter.” ned says, “and you, petyr.” you nod in response. “great.” he responds before turning to speak to you. “i want you to return to your chambers for the night and rest for now.” your father instructs, commenting on how the last week/ week and a half of travelling has been exhausting and tiring on everyone.

“one of the servants will show you up to your chambers.”

you comply, “of course father,” you nod, “goodnight, goodnight lord baelish.” you say as you begin to retreat.

you call over your lady in waiting, serene, as she follows behind you.

“just this way, my lady.” the servant boy says as he leads you and serene out of the throne room.

he leads you to your room, your lady in waiting has retired to her own chambers so it’s just you in your room now.

shutting the door, you let out a sigh before scanning the room, taking it all in.

‘goodness, i could do with a bathe.” you think to yourself. all this travelling hasn’t exactly kept you the freshest.

you walk over to where your belongings have been placed and proceed to take out your sleepwear.

since it’s considerably warmer in king’s landing than winterfell, you opted for something a lot more lightweight and flowy.

you picked out one of your favourite pieces, a somewhat sheer yet gorgeous slip on dress.

you normally wouldn’t wear something so sheer, but the fabric is one of the most comfortable fabrics there are, perfect for sleeping in.

plus, nobody would see you anyway.

after choosing your sleepwear, you walk over to the tub, you see the servants have kindly prepared a bath, the water still looking warm and inviting.

you quickly strip out of your sage green dress that has been on for too long in your opinion, to the best of your ability, and gently enter the bathtub.

you sigh in relaxation as you soak your entire body in the enveloping warmth. you haven’t felt anything like this for almost 2 weeks, and how glad you are to feel it now.

you sit like this for a few minutes, savouring moments like these as much as you can, but not before it sadly gets cut short by an abrupt knocking on the door.

knock, knock, knock

you hear against the wooden door.

you get startled at the abrupt interruption.

as you jump out of the bathtub, you can’t seem to find anything to wipe yourself with.

it’s rude to keep whoever it is on the other side waiting, so you just go straight for the clothing you picked out that’s laying on your bed, which you’ve seemed to forgotten what it was.

you throw it on and cover your wet, nude body up as you head on over to the door.

you pull it open, at first only spotting the guards that are presumably going to be out there 24/7, before seeing…

petyr baelish..?

“my lady, i apologise f-” he stops talking abruptly, his eyes take in your appearance, travelling along your body.

“lord baelish?” you question in a confused tone, “what are yo-..” you quieten as you watch his strange mannerisms. following his eyes, you look down at yourself, connecting the missing dot.

Petyr’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his sharp eyes lingering on the sheer fabric clinging to your form. You could feel his gaze tracing every line of your body, and heat rose to your cheeks when you realized your mistake. Hugging the robe tighter around yourself, you cleared your throat, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t going to let this moment pass so easily.

“Well,” he drawled, stepping into the room uninvited, his voice low and teasing. “This is quite the reception. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting… such generosity tonight.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as you took a step back, the sheer intensity of his presence making it impossible to look away. “It’s not… I didn’t realize,” you stammered, trying to explain yourself while his gaze flicked to your trembling hands attempting to secure the robe.

Petyr chuckled softly, closing the door behind him with an almost casual ease, though his eyes never left you. “Oh, come now,” he said smoothly, his tone as silken as the fabric clinging to your skin. “Surely you don’t think of me so naive. Accidents like this don’t happen without… intent.”

“It was an accident,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the quickening of your pulse. “And whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

He took another step closer, his presence overwhelming as the air grew thick with unspoken tension. His hand lifted, as though he might brush his fingers against your cheek—or lower—but he hesitated, studying your reaction. “Am I?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, torn between the urge to stand your ground and the temptation to let the charged silence stretch. The room felt smaller with each passing second, his closeness a magnet pulling you in despite your better judgment.

“i-i barely know you, my lord, we cannot do this, it was all a mistunderstanding!”

Petyr’s smirk softened into something almost indulgent, though the glint in his eyes remained calculating. He stepped back slightly, as if granting you space, though the tension in the room hardly eased. “A misunderstanding?” he echoed, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “Forgive me, my dear, but it seems I may have misread the situation entirely.”

You nodded quickly, relief flooding your chest at his words. “Yes, exactly! It’s nothing but a mistake. I wasn’t thinking—I forgot what I was wearing, truly. Please don’t think I would ever…” You trailed off, your face heating under his unyielding gaze.

Petyr raised a brow, his expression unreadable. “Of course,” he said smoothly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of amusement. “I suppose such… innocence isn’t something I encounter often. Refreshing, really.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, though you couldn’t place why. There was something unsettling about the way he spoke, as though he found your embarrassment entertaining. You took a small step back, tightening the robe around yourself like a shield. “I’m serious, my lord,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He inclined his head, the picture of politeness, though his eyes continued to study you, as if committing every flicker of emotion to memory. “Oh, I believe you,” he replied, his voice gentler now. “You’re far too honest to be lying to me, aren’t you?” He took another step back, this time with exaggerated slowness, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “But you must forgive me for being… taken aback by such an unexpected sight. A man is only human, after all.”

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. There was an almost teasing quality to his words, but his demeanor had shifted just enough to make you question if you’d overreacted. Maybe he really had misunderstood and wasn’t trying to suggest anything untoward.

“I didn’t mean to…” you started, faltering when his smirk returned, softer this time, but still undeniably Petyr Baelish.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, his tone low and disarming. “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. That would be the last thing I’d ever wish for.” His eyes lingered just a moment longer than they should have before he turned away, his movements deliberate and unhurried. “Shall we speak of what I originally came here for, then?”

You nodded quickly, eager to shift the focus away from your mistake. “Y-yes, of course. What is it you need, my lord?”

He glanced over his shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Oh, just a small favor,” he said lightly. “But we can discuss it another time. I wouldn’t want to distract you further tonight.”

You frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant. Before you could muster a response, he reached for the door, pausing only briefly.

“Goodnight, my dear,” he said, his tone tinged with something you couldn’t quite name. “And… do be careful about what you wear in the future. You never know who might come calling.”

The first rays of morning light crept into the room, warm and golden, nudging you awake. You blinked slowly, your mind groggy as the events of the night before resurfaced. The memory hit you like a wave—the robe, the way Petyr had looked at you, the way his voice had wrapped around you like silk.

You let out a soft gasp, clutching the sheets closer to your chest as your heart fluttered with something strange, something unfamiliar. Your body felt warm, an odd, restless heat pooling low in your stomach. You shifted under the covers, trying to ignore it, but the feeling only deepened as your mind replayed the way he’d stepped so close, his voice low and knowing, his eyes…

Your face burned. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you shake this feeling? It wasn’t like he’d done anything inappropriate—not really. But the way he’d spoken, the way he’d looked at you… it had made you feel something you didn’t understand.

You pressed your palms to your flushed cheeks, trying to calm yourself. It’s just nerves, you told yourself. That’s all it is. It was an embarrassing situation, and now you’re overthinking it.

But the warmth in your body told a different story, one you weren’t ready to face. You’d never felt this way before—not about anyone, let alone someone like Petyr Baelish. He was so… confident, so sure of himself. The way he’d smirked at you, like he knew exactly what you were feeling, made your stomach twist in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. he was nothing like boys your age.

You shook your head fiercely, trying to banish the thought. “Stop it,” you muttered under your breath, clutching the sheets tightly. “This is ridiculous. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

But a quiet voice in the back of your mind whispered otherwise. The way he’d looked at you was the way a man looked at a woman, not a girl. it was deeper, sharper, as though he saw more than you were willing to show. And worse, some part of you couldn’t forget it, couldn’t push away the strange, tingling warmth that memory brought.

You buried your face in your hands, your innocence warring with the strange, inexplicable desire curling in your chest. What was this feeling? Why couldn’t you make it go away?

No one can know about this, you thought, your cheeks blazing as you forced yourself to rise from bed. Especially not him.

Yet as you dressed for the day, the memory of his voice, his gaze, lingered like a shadow, refusing to let you go.

⋮

hellooo! this shall be a three parter as i don’t want this one to drag on forever and the second one i also dragged out by accident, the smut will be here soon don’t worry 😝

thank you for reading and if you enjoyed then don’t hesitate to like,share or reblog!

- maya🪼

[seejayseattle]

You, Therefore

Sansa Stark x fem!reader

summery: The first time Sansa sees you is in the Sept and she cannot help but feel like you do not belong somewhere so solemn.

warning: !TW! implied non-con/SA (non-descriptive + mentioned very briefly), language, time-period homophobia, violence and gore, angst, implied smut

word count: 9.13k

The Sept in Winterfell is always quiet. Sansa never had known it to be anything other than quiet and uninhabited. She thinks that none of the other southern wives visit because of its nature. A gift to the newly wedded Lady Stark from her greener-than-summer grass Lord husband. Or mayhaps it was not a gift at all, but an apology for bringing a bastard home from war.

Sansa does not think of faith often, but she has always dreamt of marrying a southern prince, and following his gods would likely please him. So, here she kneels on the cold hard stone and listlessly watches wax tears roll down the candle as it melts.

Her eyes start to grow hazy and her hands that were firmly pressed together start to go limp, but then-

“Do the gods bore you?” 

Sansa goes rigid. She turns her neck so sharply that the tendons and muscles pull tight and strained. She is expecting someone she knows, a serving girl or a bannerman’s young wife. You are neither. You are unfamiliar. A stranger lurking in the dark, only the light of a dying flame allows her to see your face. 

You are very pretty, she thinks to herself. Your hair is braided in an elaborate way she had never seen before, and your clothes are made of a fabric that her fingers had never touched.

Still standing far enough away that your presence is not towering, you take a step forward and tilt your head in a way she had seen hounds do. She suddenly remembers you had asked her a question. 

Do the gods bore you?

She ponders the question with the same lightness it was asked with. Sansa has no obligation to answer you, let alone speak to you. Although, there is something interesting about you. The two of you are the same age, she’s sure of it, but you have an air of flippancy that she has never seen any woman wear.

Sansa hums before she speaks. “How could they not? They never say anything back.”

“Mayhaps they do and you do not listen well enough.” 

Sansa feels her face go hot at your teasing tone. She scoffs, looking away from you while mumbling, “You should address me as ‘my lady’.”

Your brows pull together in confusion. “But you are not my lady.” squinting your eyes at her, you huff a laugh. “You are not a lady at all really, just a girl.” 

She has decided that she dislikes you greatly.

Do you not know that she will be queen one day? The King and her father are brothers in all but blood. The golden prince will whisk her away South to wed her and the people of King's Landing will sing songs dedicated to their love and beauty. Moreover, you seem to be oblivious that she's a Stark, highest birth in the North. 

Pressing her palms together and clenching her eyes shut, Sansa feigns quietude whilst attempting to disregard your presence entirely. 

You laugh, and she decides that she truly hates you.

“May I kneel with you?” 

She opens one eye to peek at you from the corner of it. Your own eyes blaze with amusement, so bright that she thinks they might burn her if you are any closer. Without waiting for the invitation, you walk to her side.  

Your boots make a horrid gritty sound when you drop to your knees and Sansa winces as it scrapes against her ears. This close she can see your dress properly, pink silks with detailed orange and yellow embroidery. She has to resist the aching desire to run her finger over the intricate pattern of each stitch. 

It is something one would never catch eye of in the north and Sansa is struck with the realization that you are likely a Southerner who has traveled here for trade.

Even though she finds you rather annoying, her curiosity of the dress's origins and the excitement of conversing with a true Southern girl makes her speak.

“Are you from Dorne?” She questions, feeling as though the vibrancy of those colors would likely come from there. 

You simply smile, “Sometimes.”

“Something?” She repeats incredulously.

“Aye.”

Sansa feels a strong urge to do something unladylike, like calling you a name or shoving you. But she is a lady and will not deign herself. She is about to say something haughty to put you in your place, the way she often does with Arya, but you speak first. 

“What do you pray for?” You ask, eyes fixated on the few unlit candles in the sentry of the Sept. Your grin is so wide, Sansa notices. Although you two have only just met, she feels as though the giddiness on your face is genuine.

She shrugs. “I pray for what every lady prays for.” At your encouraging look, she continues. “To marry the prince and give him many healthy sons.”

Your smile dampens and you shake your head, but you say nothing else.

After a few moments of silence, Sansa wished to quench her curiosity.

“What do you pray for?” She asks.

You turn, fully facing her. She is truly caught by how beautiful you are. Sansa should feel envious, for she has always been the most comely in Winterfell. 

The grin on your lips turns sly, countering the whore-Ros that Theon favors. Secretive and inviting. 

“Nothing.” You say, “I do not follow the Seven.” 

Sansa cannot help the girlish giggle that burst from her mouth. You laugh along with her, and she is even more sure that you do not belong here.

°°°

She sees you around Winterfell. Sometimes trailing after a man who looks much too young to be your father and other times she sees you gallivanting around the courtyard as if you are Lord Stark himself. 

Robb seems to enjoy you, well he enjoys the crumbs you throw at him now and then. Her older brother always seeks you out when he goes to the yard to practice his sword skills and he laughs a bit too loud when you jest. Jeyne has been practically tearing her hair out with envy because of it.

Sansa cannot find it in herself to comfort her friend, for she should have known that Robb could never marry a steward’s daughter.

Even with his constant attention, your eyes always find hers. You always come find her, in the keep or the dining hall or in the yard. It would be quite the inconvenience considering Sansa’s dearest friend despises your very existence, but she thrives on attention. Her Lady mother used to say that praise to Sansa was sunlight to a rose.

The library is not a setting she can imagine you in, but you rarely achieve predictability. She watches you for a moment in hopes that you have not noticed another presence. 

You sit curled up against a shelf with a book in your lap. You pinch the corner of the page and lightly roll it between your fingers. It's as if you are already anticipating turning the page. 

“Do you intend to join me? Or is watching from the darkness something you enjoy?” You ask while finally flipping that page. Eyes never straying. 

Sansa sniffs and walks forward into the golden light. Her dress glides too close to the hearth and for a small moment, it looks as if the flames from the fireplace are reaching out to grab the fabric, crackling in anger when Sansa jumps away from it. Looking up, your eyes meet hers.

A blaze of yellow and orange glows against your pupils. 

You smile and tilt your head in that strange knowing way. “You should be more careful, Dearest. The fire has few masters and you are not one.” 

The words are strangely shrewd for the teasing tone, but Sansa waves her hand at you dismissively. She rarely listens to the odd things that pour from your mouth like soured sick. Unlike Robb, who will grip onto every word with snow-white knuckles. She walks to the space in front of you and sits down gracefully. 

Sansa reaches forward and uses the tip of her finger to lift the book away from your lap just enough to see the cover. The book is one she has seen Jon reading as of late, although she has no knowledge of what it's about. 

“Whatever are you reading?”

“Tis about Old Valyria.” You say while shutting the very book and placing it beside you. She hums because she has nothing else to say. She has never cared for history or sums or anything other than the pretty things of being a lady. Her mother worries but she will have a council of Lords to do the boring things for her when she is queen. 

Readjusting her position, Sansa clears her throat. “I came to find you for a purpose.”

“Oh, how flattering it is to be sought out.”

She pinches your leg. “Quiet you.” Waiting until you stop laughing, she continues. “I wished to speak to you about Robb.”

“What about him?”

“He is besotted with you.”

“He is a man, next moon he will be besotted with a barmaid with big eyes and bigger teats.” 

Sansa gasps and pinches you again. “Do not be crude!”

You laugh and she finds herself restraining her own giggle. It is moments like this that Sansa is so very glad you are a friend. Jeyne is lovely but Sansa would never dare share a true secret with her, as it would end up in every young lady's ears by the time the sun dies. Arya is simply awful and quick to anger. 

Father always smiles fondly and says wolf blood. She wonders if she looked more like her dead aunt if father would indulge her tantrums just as often. 

Their laughs subside and Sansa takes a breath, “As I was saying. Robb wants you but I encourage you to deny him.”

You tsk. “And why should I deny the next Warden of the North?” 

“You are not a highborn lady, Robb cannot marry you.”

“That only makes me want to marry him, Sansa.” 

She huffs. “Out of spite and stubbornness?”

You shrug and smile at her easily. “There is little other reason I would wish to marry him. I find him rather foolish.” Sansa opens her mouth to defend her brother and mayhaps reminds you of your stature, but you quickly press your hand over her lips.

“Hush, I meant no offense.” You say swiftly. You slowly drag your hand away from Sansa’s face and place it in your lap. She is almost shocked into silence at your words. You say many unorthodox things, but an apology has never tumbled off your tongue. That was the closest thing akin to one. 

“Besides, Robb is not mine.”

Her curiosity peaks. “Oh, and who’s is he? Do not say Jeyne, he finds her plain.” While teasing, it is the truth. Her brother only entertains Jeyne’s affections out of politeness and boredom. She waits for you to say something, but you are silent. 

You stare at her, then blink, open your mouth, and close it. 

“He will be the strangers.” 

You blink again, shake your head, and smile brightly enough to blind. Sansa watches your odd actions with a scrunched nose. She would ask, but instead, she starts to talk about how horrid Arya had been while they were at lessons.

°°°

The prince will be at Winterfell in just a few weeks. Jon Arryn's death brings her father heartache but she cannot help the feeling of her dream being on the horizon. Sansa feels sick with nerves and anticipation. Her hands are unsteady while she stitches the details of her new dress. 

She stitches lions around the neck, to win the Lannister queen's favor and express loyalty. When she told you of her plans, you had told her that gold would look horrid with her hair and gray direwolves would look lovely embroidered on her dress collar. She had not listened. 

So, the two of you sit in silence while she carefully constructs the snout of a lion. Sansa hisses and drops the needle when she pricks her finger once again. In truth, she is starting to believe that this dress will never be completed. That thought makes her even more frustrated. 

With a huff you reach over and take her shaken hand, cradling it between your own. “That is the fifth time you have done that. What ails you?” 

Sansa lets you caress her fingers while she wills herself not to burst into tears. 

“The prince will be here very soon.” 

“Yes.” You respond as if that means nothing.

She lets out a cry and smacks her hand against the floor. “That is the problem, silly girl. The prince will be here soon and I'm dreadfully unprepared.” Tears start to track down her cheeks and her breath shutters like the winds of winter.

You move yourself closer to her, where your knees are touching and she can feel your warmth. “No need to be upset.” You say. “Even if you are betrothed, a wedding shall not take place until you are of age.” 

“That is not what upsets me!”

“Then tell me what does.”

Sansa sniffs and wipes her wet nose with the back of her hand. “What if he does not like me? What if he has been with other ladies, older ladies that are more experienced than me?” She cries miserably and hides her face behind her hands. The thought of not being enough for the golden prince makes her cry harder.

You sigh, annoyed, then she feels your hands prying hers away from her face. Your pursed lips and incredulous expression make her feel a bit childish even though you are the same age as she.

“Sansa.” Your voice is stern and demanding of attention. “If the prince does not like you then he is a fool.”

“But how can I be enough? I have never even been kissed. What if I'm no good at kissing and he hates me!” She yells in your face. In the back of her mind, she knows she will have to apologize to you for being so rude.

“I’ll kiss you.”

Sansa’s breath stops altogether and stares at you utterly flummoxed. You stare back unflinchingly, eyes never straying from hers. She could not have heard right, but then again you are rather crude and unpredictable. Pressing her finger against her eyes to dry the wetness, Sansa opens her mouth.

“What?”

You shake your head, beautiful hair swaying with the motion. “You are not hard of hearing, dearest.” 

Denying the offer would be the most sensible, the most ladylike. She would deny you for many reasons, you are rather opinionated, you give little knowledge about your life even though you know every inkling of hers, you do not respect titles nor the people that hold them, but most of all, you are a girl.

She wonders if you have been kissed by many. Sansa watches your big smile turn a bit more earnest. Knowing that it is wrong can be avoided with her distress of wanting to impress the prince. 

She nods, thinking about how much her embarrassment can be quelled with just one minuscule lesson. “Alright, kiss me then.”

“Are you certain?”

“I said kiss me, did I not?”

It seems you do not need to be told a third time because you lean forward and kiss her. It’s nothing more than a brush of lips really, a whisper of what a real kiss should be. It makes Sansa blush red hot all the same. You pull back sharply as if her mouth stung

So, here the two of you are. Sitting on the floor of her chamber with flushed faces, cloth and string scattered around and Sansa's dried blood on both you and her hands. 

A moment of quiet, then-

“That was hardly a kiss!” Sansa says loudly, then shrieks at her volume. She turns to make certain her chamber door is shut and lets out a long-suffering sigh of relief when she sees it is. Facing you again is much less intimidating when she hears you start cackling. 

You laugh and laugh until tears run streams down your cheeks. They drip off your jaw, one after the other. She watches, bewildered and terribly confused but she finds her own laugh begins to rise up her throat.

°°°

You leave only 3 days before the king's carriage arrives. She cries fat bellowing tears, you kiss her cheek and tell her that you will meet again. You also gift her one of your dresses, the one you wore during that first meeting almost a year ago in the sept. 

Sansa starts stitching the direwolves onto a new dress. Her blood had stained the lion's mouth and made it unsalvageable. 

“What are your favorite flowers? I'll stitch them onto the dress since I am already using your brilliance.” She asks you as your brother says his goodbye and thanks to her Lord father.

“Red fennel flowers.” 

“Whyever would those be your favorite?"

“It is what they signify.”

“And what do they signify?”

Your brother calls your name while he climbs onto the wagon, but you seem keen on pretending he does not. You reach forward and take her hands, leaning as if sharing a secret.

“Victory.” You whisper.

Later that day, Jon places a direwolf in Sansa's eager arms.

°°°

When Joffrey kisses her for the first time, she thinks of how thankful she is to you for preparing her.

And a moon later, in the hours after her father’s head tumbled to the ground, she thinks about how thankful she is that Joffrey was not her first kiss.

°°°

Margaery reminds Sansa of you. Tis a foolish thing for the two of you are not alike. Margaery is nothing but a mummer's mask, a beautiful venomous snake covered in honey. While you were raw and still sweet to the bone.

But as she walks in the Redkeep's garden with the soon-to-be queen arm and arm, she thinks the two of you would get along well. You would both talk endlessly about all the strange things you know and how you know them.

She catches Sansa staring at the side of her face, she must feel the burning of her eyes.

“What is it, sweet girl?”

Sansa shakes her head, “I did not mean to stare, it's just..”

“You remind me of an old friend, is all.”

“Oh, how lovely. Well, you must tell me of her.”

She does. She talks about your buoyancy and terrible insolence. She talks about your beautiful dresses and the one you gifted her before you left.

Margaery does not interrupt, allowing Sansa the freedom to speak openly about the girl she has not thought of in moons. She regrets it later, while she lays in a featherbed that feels like gravel against her back. She regrets pulling you from the depths of her mind. Regrets dragging you from the black water of memories and tugging you onto her ship. It's painful, remembering how much she misses you.

She briefly wonders if you are even alive. That would be quite the jest, wouldn't it? If her closest friend was simply no more. Dead. Mayhaps someone heard her speak of you to Lady Margaery and is out trying to find you.

Joffrey would jump with glee to find something to punish Sansa with. She thinks of all the things he would do to you in her name.

Sansa vomits in her chamber pot while Shae holds back her hair and coos sweet sentiments.

°°°

Ramsey says your name once. He calls you a ‘little pet’ and thanks Theon for telling him all about yours and Sansa's companionship.

She tries to refrain from reacting but cannot withhold the shudder when he tells her of all the things he will do to you.

In that moment, she wishes to never see you again, she prays to any gods listening that you are already dead and the only thing Ramsey can torment her with is your bones.

He never does bring you up again, most likely angry in his fallen attempts to find even a whisper of you.

°°°

Once, while she is at castle black, she hears one of the wildling women speak of bedding another woman. The woman is crude with her words and detailed with the actions they two committed between their furs.

The old Sansa would find it horribly disturbing. Two women together. But now, all she can feel is envy of women finding pleasure in bed and bitterness for all the pain she has gone through. She feels bitter most times when she sees two people happy with one another. She wants so desperately to feel that, feel anything good at all.

While the dreary castle sleeps, Sansa trails her icy fingertips up her thigh, between her legs, and feels.

She thinks of your pretty face behind her closed eyelids. And when she comes, there is not a shred of shame in her chest.

Sansa laughs hysterically when breath returns her.

°°°

The wind carries like a sweet sigh, a whisper against the skin of her cheek. Sansa watches with careful eyes as the dragon queen trots along on her horse. The woman is much smaller than she would have anticipated with all the roaring praise Tyrion's ravens are loud with.

Jon swings over his own steed, boots sloshing into the snow beneath him. His bottomless Stark eyes peer into Sansa’s and she is quite astonished to see him grinning. Tis a silly boyish grin she remembers from when they were children and he wanted to show her a game.

Something with rocks or sticks. Something she turned her nose up at.

Her brother does not help the dragon queen from her horse, nor does he wait to greet his family. Jon is before her and sweeping her into a crushing embrace before the Targaryen’s boots make temporary marks in the snow.

His mouth is cold when it presses into the shell of Sansa's ear but his breath is warm when he whispers, “I have a gift for you.”

Pulling away, he leaves her with a kiss pressed into her hair and moves on to engulf Bran in his arms. It’s like he might just hold their brother until they are nothing but bones and ash.

There is scarce time to taste his words, less to chew them. Raising her chin, she watches as the Targaryen walks unsteadily to her.

She can see the unease riddling this woman, precarious and glancing at Jon for guidance he does not have. This woman must discern that Jon willn't give her what she is seeking, for she swallows down something Sansa could call bitter and smiles kindly at her.

She should not leave her face so vulnerable, so susceptible to having her grievances and sorrow torn into like one would pry open a clam to find the pearl.

A mummer's mask is the only way to survive court, the only way to win this torturous game.

“Lady Stark.” She says, rather personally than diplomatic. This woman speaks her words and molds her face as though they know one another, sweetly and sisterly and for a fleeting moment, Sansa wants to believe in it.

It's been so long since she has believed in anything other than herself, and it would be oh-so lovely to put faith in another.

Daenerys tilts her chin to peer around the stone and snow. “Winterfell is as beautiful as your brother claims,” She faces her again, smiling tenderly. “As are you.”

Sansa can see these pleasantries for what they are, an olive branch. She knows what her position must look like, desperate for allies as the dead march with little regard for the North's readiness. This woman must feel as though she is reaching forward to offer a hand to Sansa as she balances on a damp plank of a sinking ship.

Fortunately, Sansa learned how to swim in angry waters long ago.

“Winterfell is yours, your grace.”

Crestfallen, her silver brows crease, and Sansa almost feels the clams insides wet her harsh digging fingers.

Jon’s hand reaches out to grip Sansa's shoulder. “Let us move into the hall, but Sansa, I must tell you-”

Bran says your name with the same eerie coldness he does everything else.

Her breath catches in her throat and suddenly she sees you.

You sit upon a sand-colored horse that is littered with white spots. You are already watching her, she realizes. You have been watching the entirety of this exchange.

She feels her own face crack open, tongue spitting the pearl into your hands like she had done at the green age of three-and-ten.

You've changed. The purity of youth has been shaven off your face, your hair is different than it once was and there is a scar that drags down your lips as if it's trying to sew them together.

It frightens her, that you are no longer the ungraspable thing that she can look to for comfort, that you are no longer just a memory she keeps on a throne.

“Yes, She is an adviser of mine, my Lady of Whispers.” The dragon queen says softly, and Sansa feels as though a blade has just sheathed into her gut. She does not turn away from your gaze, even when your lips curl into a smirk that she can only describe as predatory.

You do not look away, not even when Bran tells them of the rogue dragon and the shattered wall.

°°°

The halls are silent as she walks to her bedchambers. Although approaching doom has become a recurring presence in her life, Sansa has still not become accustomed to it. Nervously twisting around the ring on her finger she arrives in front of her door.

It's open, just enough to put her finger between the door and framing but not nearly enough for her to peek into. She glances around, but there is not a guard in sight, all most likely sleeping before they see battle.

Placing her hand on the heavy wood, she wrenches it open with a horrid ear-stabbing creak.

You sit on her bed. The dress you wear is black, with beautiful Stark gray embroidery. Sansa noticed the color when you scurried into the hall with the others; now, she sees what the stitching is. Detailed patterns of wolves, all connected by the same stitch, seem to prance across your breast to your back.

The dress itself is rather strange, with sharp pointed shoulders that counter the beast that had flown over Winterfell. The skirt parts into a cape-like thing at your hips, trousers wrapped around your crossed legs and boots cover your feet. You do not meet her eyes.

“You took your Lord Father and Lady Mother's chambers.” You speak with no true inflection, only a soft slyness that reminds her achingly of her girlhood.

The tip of your boots moves in union with your head as you greedily take in the decor of her chamber.

There is something unsettling about you, she thinks there always has been, truly. Sansa remembers Jeyne being envious of you, but she had always forgotten how perturbed she was with you near.

“Yes.” She agrees. Sansa brings her hands behind her back and raises one eyebrow at the woman lounging on her bed. “Why are you here?”

You blink, eyes fluttering as though you did not expect the question. “I wished to see you,” you tell her, words slow like falling snow.

You say it with an obvious tilt like Sansa is simply supposed to know one single thread in the mess of your mind. She imagines it to look like Arya's old stitching basket, a clutter of silk ribbons, furry yarn, and fine threads all crumpled into one pretty woven basket.

You do not seem to understand that you are a stranger now, another foreigner who has invaded her home with intent to snatch it from Sansa’s dying grip.

She parts her lips, and says, “How flattering it is to be sought out.” Instead of voicing her grief with you.

A loud surprised laugh jolts from your mouth, it sounds a bit like someone has squeezed it right from your chest. Fingers digging into the soft linen of her bedding, you shake your head. Sighing long and loud, you look up at her with starry wet eyes.

“Fuck, I had forgotten what a rude child I’d been.” You gasp out, something caught between a laugh and cry scratching your voice.

Sansa watches as you bring your hand up to your face and wipe at the wetness beneath your nose. One of your fingers is missing on that hand, all the way down like someone had plucked it from the bone. She pretends not to notice for her own sanity.

Grimacing, Sansa makes a disgruntled noise. “Yes, well, I can see little has changed.”

Again, you laugh. “Too much has changed, dearest. Too much for even myself to understand.” Your voice trembles into a whisper, like the wind against the glass of her window. She says nothing, for there is nothing she knows how to say. You have always been shrouded in mystery.

Gracefully leaping around any question of your life, but bearing your heart wide open, prying it apart like an overly ripened fruit and gifting the mush mess to Sansa.

Swinging your foot, you lift yourself from her bed. She is close now, like when you were girls and only sat with brushing knees and fingers twisting in one another's hair. You do not step forward, studiously keeping distance.

“I missed you.” You tell her so earnestly she feels sick.

She steps into your space and practically collapses into you.

“I missed you too.”

°°°

There is very scarce time to speak when the army of dead march, though you and Sansa seem to steal time between bearing the weight of Lady Stark and the Lady of Whispers.

Stolen moments like now, as she follows you out into the snow after you insisted she must meet your steed. It amuses her greatly that you have not grown out of that petulant way of demanding things instead of asking. It reminds her of Robb.

You glance behind at her many times as if to make certain she is still following.

“You have been rather quiet.” You say softly after approaching your speckled horse. You give him a firm pat on the snout. Sansa chooses her words very carefully when she converses with you.

The Lady of Whispers is not a person she can afford to trust. No matter how much she aches to.

“The dead are very close. All words seem wasted, don't you think?” She responds thinly. Sansa is aware that you can sense her distrust like a hound can sniff out blood, but it seems you are willing to eat any words Sansa feeds you. Even if they are terribly cold.

The timidly hopeful look on your face washes away into something incredulous. “When would words matter, if not now?”

Sansa huffs through her nose, “Foolish words could be your last.”

“That is for all of time.” You tell her with a haughty flick of the wrist. “Death has no bonds. The Stranger is greedy and constantly reaching out to take.”

A memory clings to her mind, when she was a girl and you had interrupted her prayer. You had confessed to not following the seven gods, and somehow Sansa cannot fathom that you have found faith in your years of travel.

Staring at the side of your face, she says, "I did not think you followed The Seven.”

Startling her, you throw your head back and cackle as if it is the most humorous ridiculous thought. Snow falls into the tendrils of your hair, melting instantly after it touches your warmth.

“Oh dearest, I do not.” You reach up and press your fingers into your eye. “You do not need to follow something to know it is real.”

“And how do you know it is real?” The query is spoken lightly, but she is truly curious. She wishes to know how it is you simply know. How you say things with such certainty that she has no choice but to believe.

She longs to know you. Not the girlish giggling memory she has held close for so many years, but the woman who stands before her. She longs to know you as you are. She thinks that you wish to know her as well, for you are the one who has always sought her out.

You do not answer her, strangely solemn and quiet as you pet your horse. And then she sees it, a tear rolls down your cheek. Without thought, she is touching your skin and caresses the drop of salt and sadness away.

The wet clings to her thumb.

“Do you know what a greenseer is, Sansa?” Your voice is much like the tear that fell, like the snow that drops from the sky. Serene and sad and twisted with the approach of something dreadful. She cannot recall the last time she heard her true name on your tongue.

Her hand does not leave your face. “I..” She hesitates and is reminded of Bran. Her brother who is not her brother at all, but a hollow-eyed creature that wears her brother's flesh.

“Yes. I- I believe I do.” The words are small and breathy. Akin to confession to the gods. You smile, a true smile with no slyness, no cajolery hidden in the curves of your teeth. It pulls on a thread of desire she had not known was left in her.

“Is that what you are? Do you see all, know all?” She asks, with less caution than she had with Bran. He had been thoughtlessly cruel, intending to tell her something only she and Theon could possibly know.

But you are only cruel with purpose, only sharpened your words when you intended to pierce.

You laugh wetly, nose scrunching up with a sniffle. “Goodness, no. Truly, I believe I know very little compared to some.” Your hand reaches up to where hers cradles your cheek.

You place your atop hers, completely trapping her in warmth. “I am not like Bran. My dreams have never been clear. Tis like reading a book through torn out crumpled pages.”

Sansa suppresses a sigh when you remove her hand from your face, but smiles when you continue to hold it tightly. In truth, Sansa does not know what to say. You are not one to take pity without feeling sour, and she is glad for that.

Rarely is she content with a secret shared with her,

Jon and his true parentage, Arya’s whereabouts over the years, The raven that speaks through her brother's voice.

But this, you. You she can accept. You she can continue with as if the secret had never been one at all. She had always known you were odd.

Mayhaps if she was not so consumed with herself as a girl, she would have surmised this. You never hid it from her, simply never spoke the words.

“That must be confusing.” Is all she says. If you are relieved by her nonplussed response, you do not show. You swing your and her connected hands.

“T’was, but I find that trying to make sense of it is a futile task.” You lick your lips and look up, gazing into Sansa’s eyes like you are searching in her soul. “Although, there has been one clear thing in all my years alive.”

She does not look away, intent on seeing your soul as well. “And what is that?”

“You.”

Sansa blinks, “Pardon?”

You sigh, “Oh dearest, it's always been you. Before I knew me I knew you.” Stepping closer, your breath makes a fog against her mouth. “There was no other, no gods, no words that I knew before you.”

Sansa can feel tears welling in her eyes and her chest shake with the weight of confession. The moment is happening so fast, but she has waited so long for something that it does not feel fast at all.

“How..”

You bring your hand up, pressing it against her cheek and caressing her bottom lip with your thumb. It's a mirror of what she had just done to you, but it makes her gasp all the same.

“I have always known your name, Sansa Stark. I know not what entity has given me this sight, mayhaps the stars, mayhaps the gods, but they told me your name when I knew not else.”

And then you are kissing her. Sansa gasps into your mouth, caught between kissing you back and crying out for a reason she knows not. She brings her hands up, placing them on your neck, feeling the thunderous pulsing of your heart.

She's kissing you back. The kiss is rushed and messy and desperate, both of you seem to be gasping for breath whilst diving in for more. She has never been kissed like this, and she thinks of her first kiss.

She wonders if you had known then, if you had felt this against your lips instead of a soft brush of curiosity. She forgets her thoughts when your tongue curls around hers.

It feels so good, Sansa never wants it to end, never wants to come up for air. Drown me please, let me swim in you forever, she thinks and moans when your hand flutters down to her waist, tugging her closer.

A throat clearing behind you and she makes her pull apart.

Jon has his hand covering over his eyes and Daenerys Targaryen’s lips are pressed together like she is desperately trying not to smile.

Daenerys is the first to speak. She clears her throat and pats her chest with a gloved hand. “I am terribly sorry for interrupting. Please, continue." The dragon queen giggles at the end of her words and Sansa hears you huff in what she assumes annoyance.

Jon squawks, “Dany! They cannot-you cannot!" He waves his hand wildly between the Targaryen and the two women beside the speckled horse.

Daenerys seems keen on ignoring him and says your name instead, “Please find me when you return. There is something we need to discuss.” She says and then she picks up her skirts and turns to walk the way she came. Jon does not move, looking humorously betrayed as if he has caught his closest friend with a hand up his sister's dress.

Mayhaps his feelings are justified, she has always known that you and Jon were close but she never thought much about it.

The dragon queen calls over her shoulder. “Come along, Jon. Leave them be.”

He begrudgingly follows after her.

“She will be a good queen.”

Sansa glances at you, bruised mouth and blushing cheeks. She imagines she looks quite similar. She does not answer you, it feels rather futile to argue after what you have just confided in her.

Leaning forward, she presses a sweet kiss against your mouth and pulls away when you try to deepen it.

“Go to your queen.” She says, patting down her dress as she walks back toward the Keep.

Sansa feels strangely at ease. Everything is changing, falling apart, and growing all at once. But she feels sure and content in a way she has not since her father was alive. She can not imagine you would kiss her if she were to die. It gives her a comforting reassurance.

Your taste is still on her tongue when the horn blows.

°°°

They lose many in the battle of dead and living. Good men, good women, bad men, redeemed men, Sansa has stopped counting the corpses. She looks through the bodies, looks for your face, wide-open eyes and lips bluer than the fresh morning sky.

She does not find your body, nor anything that would indicate you have fallen. In the midst of her search, a hand curls around her arm. When she turns, she comes face-to-face with her sister. 

Arya has blood crusting all over her face, and the rest of her is covered in soot. Arya must see her crestfallen face, for she chuckles. T’is an unnerving sound Sansa has not grown accustomed to yet.

“Are you not pleased to see me, Sansa?” Her sister tilts her head with the query. Sansa swallows her unease and bile, the smell of death too strong. 

“Of course, I am. Do not be foolish.”

Arya hums, "I am not the one you were looking for.” It is not a question, but Sansa feels as though she must disagree. It feels sinful, to be less pleased with her sister's survival than she would be yours. But Arya is a child no longer and does not need Sansa to water down truths in fear that it will be too strong for her little sister to swallow. 

“No.” She whispers, “No, I was not looking for you.” The confession makes Arya let go of her arm. The younger takes a step away and hums once again. Sansa feels her skin crawl under the Stark grey gaze of her sister, but she does not cower.

Instead, she strains her chin up and shows some lion-like pride. “Well done, NightKing Slayer. Allow the maesters to look after your wounds after you bathe." She then picks up her dress and moves to walk away, but Arya’s voice cuts through.

“I saw her, she is alive.” The younger says, voice smooth like the finest silks. Arya seems to have absorbed an accent from her days in Braavos. Sansa wonders what that would have been like, to shed the gown of girlhood whilst under the warm sun and splash in the sea as a woman grown.

It sounds like a lovely sentiment, something she might have longed for in the prison of the Red-Keep.

“She is well?”

Arya scoffs, “I believe I said ‘alive’. She will need to see a maester, and she will have scars.” She raises a bloodied battered eyebrow. “I know you have always been quite vain bu-” 

“You do not.” Sansa interrupts. She does not intend to, truly, but the words slip off her tongue and she cannot remember the last time she allowed herself to speak so freely with anyone other than you. The younger says nothing in clear expectation of more. 

“You do not know me. Not anymore, Mayhaps you never have.” It is calm and even, not quite cold but never warm. Sansa does not mean for the words to pierce, but for a moment she thinks that Arya’s mummer's mask of indifference slips.

Big steel eyes stare up at her, a telltale shine of hurt pooling in her lashes. 

She nods, a smile curling at the edge of her mouth. “You are right, I…I do not know you. The girl I knew would never have been in love with a woman.” She says it with a playfulness that she has always reserved for Jon. Sansa smiles back.

“As I said, mayhaps you never knew me.” Because she has always loved you. When she was a girl as green as summer grass, she would get on her knees and pray for a sweet love. The gods sent you to her. Right there in the sept, they gave her what she prayed for. No matter the tribulation she endured, you had always been there. Kept close to her beating heart.

“It has always been her, always.” She repeats in attempt to quell the prior baleful words. 

Arya stares at her, as though she is witnessing her again for the first time. “Then go to her, Sansa.” She steps forward, clutches Sansa's hands in her own and squeezes. “Go find your knight and dress her wounds, kiss the battle from her brow, and sing her songs of victory.” 

She moves closer and presses a kiss on Sansa's cheek. “She’s a lovely knight, Sans. I’m happy you get this dream, I am truly sorry for what others became.”

The younger drops her hands and turns, walking in the blood soaked sludge towards the Keep. 

Sansa never quite knows what Arya is thinking, cannot read her mind the way she can do others. But at this moment, she thinks that Arya understands her much better than she imagined. 

She thinks that her sister finally understands the appeal of what poets have named love.

°°°

The door of Sansa’s bedchambers is ajar, once again. There is much less finesse than the first time you pushed through her door. She speaks not as her feet carry her through the sanctity of her room. There is warmth, the hearth crackles over her thundering heart. 

She had prepared her hurt in lest you chose to abandon her for another queen. But you sit in front of the flames, red stained and leather bound. 

“Have you not bathed?” Sansa says and feels frivolous for it. You throw your head back and let out a gritty laugh. She shut the door, sliding the lock in place before she carries on. There is leftover water in the basin, and a cloth somewhere in her oak chest of fabrics. 

She can feel your eyes follow as she pulls a thin net cloth from the chest.

“Whatever are you doing?” Your question is so very soft, it makes her smile. Collecting the water in an iron chalice, she comes to you and sets the cup near the fire. Looking at your face so close, she can now see all the cuts and bruises. 

“Do you have any other wounds?”

“Nah.” You scoff “Those ice fucker only got in some blows. Nothing that will not heal on its own.” 

There is something wrought in your cavalier retort. The delight of victory does not quite reach your eyes. She hums and dips the cloth into the water, bringing it to the burst of blood congealed on your lips. When you were girls, you would squirm like a caught rodent while the 

Septa tried to brush the tangles of sleep from your hair. 

As she swipes the blood from your mouth, you are unmoving. Tranquil in your contentment. If only Septa Mordane had allowed Sansa a try then mayhaps they would have been to lessons sooner.

She can see much in your eyes this close, the love, the quiet, the melancholy.

Sansa scrubs at a partially dry flake of blood on your cheekbone. “War is not over, is it?” She asks, not ceasing her ministrations. 

You do not look away from her, “No.”

You give her no other explanation, and there is nothing in your manner that would inflict worry upon her. It is calm and faint just as the chamber's atmosphere.

Whilst serene, there is a thick tension that has consumed the air like smoke. Sansa feels no wariness for she could simply sooth the taunt if she pressed her lips to yours.

She does not.

“Will you go to Kingslanding?” She breaks through the silence, “Will you follow Daenerys?”  

You do not respond with an instant denial and she feels a petulant anger bubble up in her core. She wants you to not need to think. She wants you to know which queen you would follow. She wants you to seek her out like you have always done.

She wants you.

With a hesitant sigh, you open your mouth. “I…I wish things were simple, though they never are.” 

Hearth glowing against the pits in your eyes, you stare into Sansa’s.

“What would I be?” You ask, a hysterical thread of desperation sewn into your voice. “What- What shall I be if I stay?” 

“Mine.” Sansa says, “You shall be mine.” And she dives forward, head first into warm waters. Sansa Stark learned how to swim in thrashing frigid water long ago, but now she thinks kissing you is akin to swimming in the balmy Dornish sea. 

You taste of blood and peach and home. 

The two collide atop the furs in front of the firelight. Between kisses, Sansa tentatively tugs at the laces of our leather jerkin. You disjoin your mouth from hers, but your hands stay put in the tendrils of her vibrant hair. 

Swallowing, she watches the fast rise and fall of your chest. She moves her hand to press against the motion and feels the heavy rapid pound of your heart on her palm. Your eyes flutter as you sigh, she is so close that she feels every move you make. 

“I love you.” You whisper into her. 

She gasps, “Yes, yes, I love you as well.” And bears up to kiss any other words from your tongue.

“I covet you.” The words are slid into her mouth and she wants to taste them forever. The kisses become frantic and your hands are digging into her skin deliciously.

Sansa pulls at your laces until she can see your lovely skin peaking out. “So many words, too many words.” She moans into the kiss and only breaks apart to continue, “So many things to be said, let us say them on the morrow.”

“Sansa-” You breathe against her throat and she shutters. Her whole body feels not unlike a piece of flit being scraped against steel, desperately trying to catch spark.

“Show me.” She says as she unclasps her cloak. Sansa lays down on her back against the furs. 

The fire reflects against your skin, and she remembers all those years ago in the sept when the candle made you glow and she thought about touching your dress. 

“Show me,” She whispers, “Show me how you covet me. I want to feel it.” You are above her, your hand pressed flat beside her head.

Pulling apart your jerkin, she presses her hand on your naked breastbone and drinks in the sigh you let out. It sinks into her skin and settles in the marrow of her bones.

Sansa likes this, that you are letting her spread you open with no uncertainty. 

You dip down and press delicate kisses against her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and then her mouth. Your tongue twists against hers as your hand digs underneath her to tug at the laces of her dress. 

The fire burns hot and she knows what it is to be coveted. 

°°°

You stay. 

°°°

The Dragon Queen's reign is fleeting and not without madness. Sansa knows not what has happened between her and Jon, but she does know that he stuck a knife into her belly. She knows that he loved her.

Her brother sits solemnly in the snow, staring up at the Weirwood tree as though the face in it shall speak its wisdom to him. She walks over and sits on one of the ancient trees protruding roots. 

He does not glance away from the face in the wood. “Do you think there was another way?” He asks, and she does not know if he is speaking to her or the gods. Jon turns his head and she is struck with a sadness of how much he looks like father. 

“Do you think I could have saved her?” He says again.

Sansa has no thoughtful answer for him, for she is rather glad Daenerys is gone. She thinks the woman caused more harm than good, but she is well aware that Jon is not alone in his mourning. You had shed many tears when you heard of Missandei’s demise.

She has a strong inquiry that you knew then. You knew what the Dragon Queen would become.

“She was going to be the greatest who ever lived. She who was promised.” You had whispered to the dark starry sky as Sansa dragged her fingertips up your arms in tries of comfort. 

“No.” She decides. “You cannot save someone from their own madness, Jon. You cannot reach into their skull and pull out the rot piece by piece.” 

Jon says nothing, but he starts to smile in a pained way. 

“When did you become so wise?” 

She laughs, “Mayhaps I have always been wise, and you never took note.”

They are both smiling and she feels this lovely bittersweet moment soak into her like sunshine. 

She will most likely never see her brother again, but was that not always what she was meant for? She was always meant to leave, to fly away and only speak to her family through ink and parchment. 

For that is the life of a woman. 

Jon stands, smile never ceasing. “I am surprised you are here with me, and not letting your lover fawn over you before your coronation.” Reaching her, he takes her hand and puts it in the crease of his arm, linking them as they walk the old path of childhood to the rest of their lives. 

Sansa hums, “She will be pleased I am here with you.” She gently knocks her shoulder into his. “She loves you, you know.” 

Those words seem to make Jon choke on a sob, for he turns his face away from Sansa's watch. “She is my oldest friend.” Is all he says in return. 

“Well then, I shall send her when I need your council. I will be quite busy as queen, you see.” She leans her chin up in mock of your particular haughtiness.  

“Ah yes.” He chuckles. “The men of castle black will learn respect in lest she eat them for sup.” 

Her coronation is close calling by the sudden falling of the sun. They come close to the Keep, still gripping one another tightly enough to leave a remembrance in bruises. Jon’s steps come to a halt.

“Well, won't you look at that.” He conveys in awe. Sansa looks to where his eyes are gazing.

A little patch of green grass under the wet sludge of ice and snow. The flowers are long blossoms that are connected but thin stems. The plant is a rather bronze color, and she feels as though she has seen these flowers before but cannot place where.

“Red fennel flowers.” 

Sansa blinks, startled. “Pardon?”

“Red fennel flowers.” He repeats, light with a buoyancy that comes with the start of spring. 

“Those signify-”

“Victory.” Sansa whispers. 

She stitches bronze blossoms into the lining of her dress only moments before she is to be presented as queen.

When she sits on the Northern throne, a Direwolf crown on her head, she looks for you in the crowd and suppresses a smile when she sees tears flowing down your face.

You always knew, in life and death, you always knew it would always be you and Sansa Stark.

End

[fantasydreamland]

Reader is Margaery's shy secret admirer, she wouldn't dare bother the king's wife, so R communicates in the language of flowers, sending all kinds of them to express her feelings

Basically Margaery Tyrell x Fem!Reader, please?

Secret Admirer

Margaery Tyrell x fem reader

Summary: You have always admired Margaery. Her grace, her kindness and her overwhelming beauty. You wouldn’t dare make your feelings known as you (and many others) are terrified of her husband King Joffrey. So you find a way to secretly show your admiration. 🌹

Notes: 18+ ONLY!! a little smut, mostly kissing, fluff, wlw, cheating (kinda), possible spoilers

Thank you so much for this request!!

word count: 1209

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Ever since Margaery arrived in Kings Landing you have been completely entranced by her. You have never seen a woman so beautiful. Her graciousness and kindness only adding to your admiration.

The day of the royal wedding was a tense one. The festivities were great fun but you could not help but notice King Joffreys cruel antics and Margaerys uncomfortable demeanour in response, no matter how well she tried to smile and hide it.

That very night you decided to send her a large bouquet of flowers to congratulate the couple, but really it was in hopes it may bring her some delight on her awful wedding night. You quietly delivered them to their chambers long before they would enter.

The next day you did the same, quietly delivering beautiful flowers to her chambers. The king and queen now slept in their separate rooms only rarely would they share a bed when Joffrey wanted to try for an heir.

Every few days you would secretly sneak to her chambers to leave her beautiful bouquets to express your love for her. For weeks you sent different flowers, lilies, carnations, tulips, peonies, orchids, sometimes mixtures of different kinds. One day leaving lovely white roses.

The next day you saw her having tea in the gardens as usual, this time with a white rose in the back of her half braided hair. Your heart soared at the imagine of her finding them and enjoying their beauty so much she decided to wear one. Part of you hoped it was a sign to her secret admirer that she has noticed these gestures.

That evening while she was at dinner, you decided to leave red roses. As you were setting them nicely on her bedside table, you heard the door opening. You froze as you stared wide eyed at Margaery entering her chambers. She looked at you for a confused moment until she glanced over to the new bouquet on her table.

“You? You have been the one leaving me flowers?” She asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Uh, y-yes my queen.” You choked out.

“They are quite beautiful.” She said moving closer to them. “If you would be so kind to tell me who has been requesting you send these, I would love to give my gratitude.”

“I- um, I have been sending them at my own request, my queen.” You shyly look down.

“You’re my secret admirer?“ she ask, amusement in her voice. “And why have you wanted to send them?” You did not see the small smirk as she asked.

“Well I- I simply admire you, your grace.” You say still looking at the floor.

She walks closer to you forcing you to look up and meet her gaze. “You have sent me beautiful flowers for weeks, only because you simply admire me?” She says raising her eyebrow again.

Her question makes your stomach knot and palms sweat. You stare at her blankly, not knowing how to respond.

“Please… tell me the truth of it.” She calmly demands.

You swallow hard before speaking. “Well. I do admire you quite a bit, my queen. Quite a lot, in fact. I- um, I think you are the most kind and gracious woman I have ever met, and your beauty-“ you stutter.

She gives you an enticing look to continue your sentence.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” You blurt out, instantly feeling embarrassed.

She smirks at you, lightly touching the red roses before leaning in to smell them. “So, it would be safe to assume your admiration may actually be deeper feelings for me?” She turns back to you.

Once again you freeze in panic. The strong feelings you have kept hidden for so long being called out by her.

“I cannot say I have not noticed you as well, (y/n).” She says, making your heart race. “I have noticed your gaze on me. We do not know each other well but I have also been one to admire your beauty from afar.”

“R-really?” You say dumbfounded, shocked by her words.

“You are very intriguing.” She smirks, walking closer to you. “So what is it you desire from me, hm?”

“I- nothing, your grace. I simply wanted to quietly bring you some small form of joy and beauty.”

“Yes, that was your intention leaving me flowers… But what do you desire in your heart?” her enchanting blue eyes looking deeply into yours.

You stare blankly at her, too frightened to give a truthful response.

She moves closer, until you are nearly a breath away. “What is it you think about in the night? When you think of me?” She takes your hand, making your heart stop.

“Your queen is demanding a truthful answer, my lady.” She says with a calm but serious expression, continuing to look in your eyes.

“I- I think about a moment like this…” you choke out, looking down at her hand holding yours. “Imagining being this close to you… and-“ you stop.

“Continue…” she urges.

“And… I think about what it would be like to kiss you… m-my queen.” Your voice shakes, terrified at the words you just confessed.

“So that is what you desire, hm?” She smirks, gently lifting your chin to meet her close gaze.

Her touch was making your brain fuzzy, all you could do was give a timid nod.

You hold intense eye contact for a long moment before she leans in and places a delicate kiss on your lips. You look at her with wide eyes, trying to decide if this is truly happening or you are somehow dreaming.

You use all your strength to push away your fears and kiss her back, harder and longer than the kiss she gave to you. She is taken aback, with a smile on her face. She pushes her lips back into yours making you whimper. Letting go of your hand, she moved hers to hold your waist, pulling you closer to her. Your hand moves to cup her cheek as the kiss deepens. Your body feels as if it’s set aflame when she slips in her tongue. You moan into eachothers mouths as your tongues gently dance together. She slowly moves one hand from your waist to your breast, still pulling you close with the hand that remained on your waist. Your hands gently move into her hair, making her sigh. The entire world felt still as you kissed, only resuming when your lips finally parted.

“Well I will be expecting a rather large bouquet of flowers in the morrow.” She jokes, as you both grin widely, still holding eachother.

“Of course, my queen.” you say as your body still vibrates from the excitement of the moment.

You slowly break apart and she places a final kiss on your cheek. “Goodnight, (y/n).”

“Goodnight your grace.” You give a small curtsy, still smiling wide. Your legs feeling like pudding as you make your way out of her chambers and back to your own.

—

There was overwhelming electricity the next time you caught eye of each other in a public setting. Margaery takes a drink as you look down at your feet, both silently smiling to yourselves remembering of your little secret.

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