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#no one will love cat & ned like me

yeoldenews · 2 months

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While we’re on the subject of names, is there an explanation for how traditional nicknames came about that are seemingly unrelated to, or have little in common with, the original name?

ie- John/Jack, Richard/Dick, Henry/Harry/Hank, Charles/Chuck, Margaret/Peggy/Daisy, Sarah/Sally, Mary/Molly, Anne/Nan, etc

I am actually over a week into researching a huge follow-up post (probably more than one if I’m being honest) about the history of nickname usage, so I will be going into this in much, much more detail at a hopefully not-so-later date - if I have not lost my mind. (Two days ago I spent three hours chasing down a source lead that turned out to be a typographical error from 1727 that was then quoted in source after source for the next 150 years.)

As a preview though, here’s some info about the names you mentioned:

The origins of a good portion of common English nicknames come down to the simple fact that people really, really like rhyming things. Will 🠞Bill, Rob🠞Bob, Rick🠞Dick, Meg🠞Peg.

It may seem like a weird reason, but how many of you have known an Anna/Hannah-Banana? I exclusively refer to my Mom’s cat as Toes even though her name is Moe (Moesie-Toesies 🠞 Toesies 🠞 Toes).

Jack likely evolved from the use of the Middle English diminutive suffix “-chen” - pronounced (and often spelled) “-kyn” or “kin”. The use of -chen as a diminutive suffix still endures in modern German - as in “liebchen” = sweetheart (lieb “love” + -chen).

John (Jan) 🠞 Jankin 🠞 Jackin 🠞 Jack.

Hank was also originally a nickname for John from the same source. I and J were not distinct letters in English until the 17th Century. “Iankin” would have been nearly indistinguishable in pronunciation from “Hankin” due to H-dropping. It’s believed to have switched over to being a nickname for Henry in early Colonial America due to the English being exposed to the Dutch nickname for Henrik - “Henk”.

Harry is thought to be a remnant of how Henry was pronounced up until the early modern era. The name was introduced to England during the Norman conquest as the French Henri (On-REE). The already muted nasal n was dropped in the English pronunciation. With a lack of standardized spelling, the two names were used interchangeably in records throughout the middle ages. So all the early English King Henrys would have written their name Henry and pronounced it Harry.

Sally and Molly likely developed simply because little kids can’t say R’s or L’s. Mary 🠞 Mawy 🠞 Molly. Sary 🠞 Sawy 🠞 Sally.

Daisy became a nickname for Margaret because in French garden daisies are called marguerites.

Nan for Anne is an example of a very cool linguistic process called rebracketing, where two words that are often said/written together transfer letters/morphemes over time. The English use of “an” instead of “a” before words beginning with vowels is a common cause of rebracketing. For example: the Middle English “an eute” became “a newt”, and “a napron” became “an apron”. In the case of nicknames the use of the archaic possessive “mine” is often the culprit. “Mine Anne” over time became “My Nan” as “mine” fell out of use. Ned and Nell have the same origin.

Oddly enough the word “nickname” is itself a result of rebracketing, from the Middle English “an eke (meaning additional) name”.

I realized earlier this week that my cat (Toe’s sister) also has a rebracketing nickname. Her name is Mina, but I call her Nom Nom - formed by me being very annoying and saying her name a bunch of time in a row - miNAMiNAMiNAM.

Chuck is a very modern (20th century) nickname which I’ll have to get back to you on as I started my research in the 16th century and am only up to the 1810s so far lol.

#names #nicknames #onomastics #history #asks #nicknames are really hard to research you guys #there is so much info out there and it's almost all nonsense #and I'm talking academic books with listed sources not buzzfeed listicles #some guy in the 18th century forgetting to mention Bill on a list of common nicknames does not mean it wasn't in use at the time ma dude #i've had to get very creative with sources #god bless word for word murder trial testimony

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15-lizards · 2 months

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AGOT Dash simulator

⚔️ ser-bran Follow

Going climbing again today!! Trying the highest tower in Winterfell 😝

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hopital

☀️ dornedaydreams Follow

JON ARRYN DEAD 🦀🦀🦀🦀

🍇redwhined Follow

Girl what did he do to you

☀️ dornedaydreams Follow

Old and busted

🐉 conquerors-girl Follow

That new Khaleesi in the grass sea is fourteen. She should be learning her letters from a septa!

🐉 conquerors-girl Follow

Just found out she’s pregnant…I need Drogo to get Rhaegar’ed IMMEDIATELY

⬛️ bro-in-black Follow

Mormont just gave the 5’6 fourteen year old asshole bastard who’s been here five minutes his ancestral sword. I will take us all out with wildfire

🕊️littlestbird Follow

Was snooping for the spider today and I overheard Lord Ned asking about a book of noble family lineages and physical traits after whipping his head back and forth between Robert and Queen Cersei’s kids for like five minutes straight

🕊️ littlestbird Follow

Which could mean nothing

🍋 ladyjonquil Follow

First tourney today guys!!! I’m sososo excited the knight of the flowers literally gave me a rose! If he wins I might be his queen of love and beauty omgfggnnd

🐺 nymeriiia Follow

LMAO TWINK DOWN!

👁️thosuand-eyes-and-one Follow

Lost thirty dragons betting on Ser Jamie for the twelfth time. Can someone who’s good at budgeting help me. my family is dying

🐈‍⬛ lordpounce Follow

🦀 KING ROBERT DEAD 🦀

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🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

👑 lannisportlady Follow

🦀🦀🦀🦀

🌲 house-whoare Follow

Lmao y’all are acting like Jofferys any better when there have literally been reports of him skinning cats alive

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How do those Baratheon boots taste

🌫️ quite-quiet-isle Follow

THE PRINCE IS LITERALLY A BARATHEON

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I hate this stupid city watch job so fucking much. Someone manifest an execution or something so I have some entertainment while I walk the parapets by the Sept of Baelor

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By the mother this can’t be happening

🔥 Targupdates Follow

Exiled princess Daenerys Targaryen has been seen stepping out of her husbands pyre with three dragon hatchlings on her shoulders

Keep Reading

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Guys please don’t buy into this type of stuff, do your own research. These gossip accounts are a bunch of targ loyalists. Dragons died out during the dance please do not spread false information!

🧜‍♀️ womanderly Follow

Cersei Lannister isn’t gonna fuck you man

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ALL WILL BOW TO STANNIS BARATHEON, TRUE KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS. IT HAS BEEN WRIT FOR CENTURIES IN FIRE AND IN ICE, HE IS THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED. HE WILL BANISH THE DARKNESS.

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????

🪷lys-living Follow

Girl what

🌊 father-rhoyne Follow

Is there lead in the dragonstone water

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So glad to witness episodes of true psychosis on this website

🌏 westerosi-heritage-posts Follow

Heritage post

#asoiaf #asoiaf shitposting #nymeriiia is aryas burner thank you for asking

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tell-them-the-north-remembers · 8 months

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If there is one line I like to over-analyze in the ASoIAF books it is a rather famous thought that goes inside Cat's head before her death. As the steel is close to her throat Cat thinks "No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, Ned loves my hair." And this line and her entire inner monologue is absolutely heart-breaking but one thing I fixate on is the actual sentence itself.

"Ned loves my hair."

Anyone who has read the books knows that Cat holds contempt for the fact that except for Arya, she has failed to give Ned children who look like him. It is also one of the reasons she dislikes Jon so much, because the mother of Jon (who she assumes to be Ned's bastard son) has managed to give Ned a child that looks just like him while she, his lawfully wedded wife gave birth to five of his children only for four of them to come out looking exactly like her. Red hair, blue eyes. Unlike Jon (and Arya) who share Ned's dark hair and dark eyes.

And knowing that it is so interesting to me that Cat's last thought about Ned (and her last thought ever) was that Ned loves her hair.

Because Ned loved her, he loved her hair, he loved her the way she was. And every time he looked at Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon he saw the reflection of the woman he loved, while Cat was so upset that they weren't all reflections of the man she loved.

Every time Ned ran his fingers through their hair, he ran his fingers through the hair of the woman he loved. He never resented Cat for the fact that four of his children didn't look like him, he loved that they looked like their mother, again, the woman he loved so much. He loved that they had the same hair he loved on Cat, and judging by it being her last thought Cat also knew that Ned loved her hair (and the way she looked), whether she ever came to the realization that Ned was perfectly happy with the way their children looked at all, or if she realized after he was dead and it was too late, it is unclear. But all those years she beat herself up over nothing.

Ned loved her the way she was, Ned loved his children the way they were, when they looked like him and when they didn't. Because when they didn't look like him, they looked like the love of his life, his darling wife.

And if the books decide to go with R+L=J it also adds another layer to Cat and Ned's relationship. Because Jon's mother was always a woman she didn't know but was still competing with in her mind for Ned's love for all these years. Turns out she didn't even exist. Turns out she didn't need to feel inferior to the woman Ned loved enough to not even talk about with her, no need to feel bad about the fact that she was able to give Ned a child that looked like him while Cat "failed".

At the end of the day, all the voices in her head making her feel insecure in her marriage never needed to be there, because everything she thought of as a problem with her were not problems at all for Ned. He was perfectly happy with her and their children.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf meta #got #game of thrones #eddard stark #ned stark #catelyn stark #cat stark #catelyn tully #jon snow #robb stark #sansa stark #arya stark #bran stark #rickon stark #nedcat

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maisiestyle · 7 months

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"Ned Stark's Precious Little Girl"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

~*~

The northmen want to fight for Arya:

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

[…]

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

~*~

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

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

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atopvisenyashill · 5 months

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i was thinking more about characters Performing Gender, but not necessarily Transgressing Gender. I wound up focusing on Ned and Sansa bc I feel like I understand them the most but-

Sansa as a hostage is imo the most obvious (bc it’s so well done) moment of someone clearly Performing Gender but not being transgressive in that performance. Which isn’t to say it’s not a complicated performance; it’s a fine line Sansa walks between weaponizing her gender to protect herself without seeming too fake. She’s trying to placate the Lannisters by playing the perfect, dedicated, air headed betrothed because it’s the only defense she has - if she outwardly rebels, she will be punished in a likely violent and/or sexual way (which isn’t even conjecture - when she says “or maybe he’ll give me yours” Joffrey has her struck with an armored hand). She’s not quite successful in being convincing but that’s because it’s a rather extreme situation; despite no one believing her, she does make herself seem meek and stupid enough that no one suspects she’s plotting to escape with Dontos until she’s well away from KL. The fact that she even has Dontos to confide in is because of Sansa’s relationship with gender! When she saves him, she covers her rebellious slip by playing up Joffrey’s intelligence & his role as King; she reaches for “tools” of her gender AND of ~proper manhood~ to save a life and herself from another beating. Her retreats into the godswood and silence are very much Sansa attempting to recharge from these draining interactions, the same way a knight would need to stop and eat and rest after a fight. She is fighting, constantly, by forcing herself to stay within the narrow confines of a specific type of gender performance as a way of shielding herself from harm.

Ned yelling at Cat is another big one, and I’ve seen the scene referred to as Ned using his patriarchal power to scare Cat, which is a great description. It feels like a Performance because Ned is putting on this terrifying Lord Stark mask in an attempt to get Catelyn to stop asking about Jon (and Lyanna). This is not how he usually acts with those he loves! When Ned is with His People, he is welcoming of questions, curiosity, emotion, even transgressive thought (to a point! the idea that Ned is a feminist because he lets Arya learn to fight is Not accurate but you can’t deny he allows significantly more flexibility wrt gender expression than most of the fathers we meet in this series. the bar is in hell tho). Yet when Cat asks him about Jon’s mother, Ned scares her so well she stops asking & still remembers the moment bitterly over a decade later. And if that snippet we see through Bran’s eyes of Ned praying that Cat will forgive him does come after she asks (like it’s suspected), it’s clear not only that this is a performance he’s putting on & weaponizing against Cat, it’s one he does not like using as a weapon against someone he is close to. After using the power his gender gives him to cause harm, he retreats to the godswood and silence to pray and rest, much like Sansa. A spiritual cleanse, the way a soldier may pray after battle, to reset and reconnect Being A Proper Man to Being A Kind Man.

I think there’s something interesting in that two of the characters most widely defined by how well they adhere to Westerosi gender norms both dislike feeling like they had to weaponize their gender. They are exhausted by the performance, because it’s a performance. This isn’t Sansa getting excited over tourneys, or Ned teaching his sons to fight; it’s toxic masculinity, it’s structural misogyny. It’s something they’re good at, excel at, and connected to something they enjoy but when it’s paired with violence, whether done by Ned or done to Sansa, it crosses over in their minds from an innate part of themselves (The Gender) to a performance necessary due to survival (The Gender Role). And that after these performances, both retreat to nature & god as a way of resting and cleansing from the experience.

#valyrianscrolls #ned stark #sansa stark #getting on my soap box #there’s something here too about romanticism. like shelley and coleridge and whitman. the need to return to nature to undo society’s harm.#especially with the way various romance movements and romantic tropes are played with by their characters.#i can’t even remember who said it which just shows u how shitty an english major i am aksjd but about how.#like society is necessary but just as necessary is the ability to escape into nature. i *think* it was coleridge i’m probably wrong.#the gender war makes corpses of us all #gender politics in asoiaf #obviously you can point to several moments for both of them. sansa calling petyr father. ned’s relationship with theon. wherein they both #are clearly performing something for an audience.#there’s like 12 other branches of this in my head. jaime’s romanticism. being knighted bloody & the sacrilegious nature of the sept sex.#and his inability to escape his gender performance the way ned & sansa do. ned being willing to cry in front of others but robb only ever #crying in the dark with his baby brother after he loses ned. cat’s tower stuff & finding solace in sewing.#i’m gonna try to write up something about loras & renly here too. tomorrow.#also i wrote this at the train station after work so if there’s errors or it makes no sense just pretend u never saw it skskdj

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melrosing · 2 days

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the thing that annoys me the most about the bullying claim among the stark sisters is that they talk about how much it affects Arya that she thinks she’s ugly and such and like she does, but she’s so much more worried about being “bad” she killed a boy. She’s also going through poverty and war and starving and being introduced to cults/bands of “justice” by murder

but nooooo she totally is more affected by being called horse face despite being compared to SOOOOOO MANY PRETTY PEOPLE AND THAT MEANS SHES GOOD (never mind that good looking=good person should NOT BE YOUR BASIS)

I think most people, and especially girls, know exactly how it feels to worry about your appearance and feel ugly and unattractive, and I get that this is a particular pain for Arya, who apparently has never been called pretty except by her dad one time in AGOT, in an offhanded comparison to her aunt Lyanna. I don't think attractiveness is the most important thing to validate in any child, but I do think that it is good and nice to affirm to your child that they have their own beauty, so that they can then negotiate their relationship with that word from a safer place in adulthood.

It's not about telling your child they don't look a certain way (e.g. no good telling Brienne she's a normal height and her nose is hardly crooked at all), but that the way they look is something unique to them and something they should take pride in, regardless of what others say. Like I think it's an OOC moment in the show, but I think it's sweet when Olenna tells Brienne she looks 'marvellous' or something. She's not saying 'you look like bella hadid', she's saying 'I love the way you look!' to a woman who has received nothing but insults (despite looking like fuckin. Gwendoline Christie lmao). that is nice. it's not the most important compliment anyone can receive, but it embraces divergence as positive.

as it goes though, Arya is a pretty girl and it's just weird that the adults found countless compliments for Sansa and none for Arya. and that's why I find it so bizarre that everyone wants to pin Arya's self-esteem issues on Sansa, a prepubescent child!! like, would Arya have taken these insults so hard if Cat had stepped in and said 'don't listen, you're a lovely girl and your father says you look just like your aunt Lyanna! sansa i am telling you off for calling people names'. children are always going to call each other mean names! it is one thing that is practically guaranteed to happen in any sibling relationship, and anyone who says otherwise is an only child or lying.

but it is much harder for a child to manage that hurt if they're getting called those names, and society seems to be reifying to truth of them at every turn! Septa Mordane is calling her ugly! Cat is calling her a mess! Ned has never complimented her till AGOT! etc! she has never received a compliment before! so how on earth can you say 'and Arya's self-esteem issues can all be traced back to the playground bickering between she and Sansa and Jeyne' when Arya is obviously getting the same message from what seem like far more authoritative sources! is it not worse that those sources are all complimenting Sansa all the time and never Arya? does that not make it worse when Sansa acts like a child about it? like!!

and yeah I agree that there are other more painful insecurities Arya is struggling with. I do think at least part of the reason that this argument keeps coming up in fandom is that people keep trying to claim that Arya's story is similar to Brienne's, in that she IS ugly according to society's standards and that's ok! which isn't true, Arya is canonically a pretty kid with a dirty face and unbrushed hair. that's all it is. so if we could just accept that, there'd be no excuse for the insistence that this is an important aspect of Arya's story.

because it isn't. like im sorry but the ugly duckling means nothing when there are plenty of people who don't grow up to be swans. they get called ugly as children, and they get called ugly as adults. look at Brienne: she has suffered far, far worse prejudice as a result of her appearance in childhood, and she doesn't get the catharsis of growing up pretty to show them all how wrong they were. Brienne has been treated like a fucking monster for how she looks, all of her life. this is a character for whom her appearance IS actually an important theme, and it will be meaningful to see her realise it's a strength, and find love etc. I'm sorry but Arya growing up to be beautiful doesn't mean shit to me lol. I fully accept it's canon, but it is not a meaningful story beat, in a story with people like Tyrion, Brienne and Sam. Arya's story has so many more fascinating themes about identity, trauma, justice, war, friendship and family. if Arya was pretty all along, why should I care?

#ask #asoiaf #arya stark

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fandom-puff · 10 months

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Anything Ned Stark. Second wife, first wife, fluff, headcanons anything. 💚❤💚❤💚 -Maris

Omgg!! Haven’t written much for Ned and haven’t written game of thrones in a while so I rlly liked this one!! I went with 2nd wife HCs for this one.

Being Ned Stark’s second wife would include…

Warnings: AU where Catelyn dies, reference to death, political/arranged marriage, age gap, reference to smut, but it’s skipped over

Gif creds to owner

Almost a full year after catelyn had passed, Ned decided that Winterfell needed a new Lady, and his children needed a maternal figure

Of course, no one could replace Cat, who was the mother of five of his children and kept Winterfell running smoothly while he tended to his duties as warden of the north

So after much deliberation in the Godswood, he visited Lewin’s Solar and had ravens drawn up to the northern Lords

And one to King Robert himself.

it takes several moons, but soon his new bride arrives at Winterfell, accompanied by your Lord father and two of your brothers

The wedding itself is a small affair, with your vows said in the Godswood before the old gods

The children are in attendance, and the eldest among them seem aged beyond their years following the death of Lady Catelyn.

The feast afterwards is quiet, the music played quietly, the guests not yet rowdy.

You sit at the head table at Lord Eddard’s right side, your shoulders weighed down by the great grey cloak of House Stark, and the new responsibilities of the Lady of Winterfell

Soon the children are herded off to bed, and it’s time for the bedding

Your mother had discussed what would happen in the marital chamber in scant detail, so you knew the mechanics

Your father had only told you to do your duty to your house, his jaw tense

But when a rowdy fiddle player tried to liven up the festivities with his bawdy hollering and calls to strip you through the halls, Eddard stood from the table

A cool look from his stern grey eyes was enough to silence the musician

“You may continue the festivities,” he addressed the wedding guests. And although his voice was low and quiet, it commanded respect from all in the Hall.

He then offered his hand to you, and when you slipped your hand into his calloused palm, he guided you up and then down from the platform, through the hall of well-wishers, all bowing their heads to the Warden of the North.

The walk to your new chambers was silent, but not uncomfortably so, and when Eddard held the door open for you, you thanked him in a quiet voice.

“These are your chambers,” he said lowly, gesturing.

They were beautiful, in a rustic, comforting way. The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows over the furnishings.

“In here is your sitting area, with your Solar just ahead. Your bed chambers are through that way. Your things have been brought up already, but you have plenty of time to sort all of that out. And you’ll have help, of course,”

You smile gratefully as he explains that you are free to change the appearance of the chambers as you please.

“My own chambers aren’t too far from here,” he adds with a small smile, and you notice the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

Together you sit before the fire, sharing a cup of ale, talking of not much at all, but easing into one another’s company.

“Thank you,” you say, setting your cup down. When he looks at you quizzically, you expand. “For before. My younger brother teased me before I came here, telling tales about bedding ceremonies. I knew you wouldn’t allow it, you didn’t for-“ you catch yourself. “You defended the Lady Catelyn’s honour. And I am thankful that you defended mine too, Lord Stark,”

Eddard watches as you talk, the way you handle talking about Cat, his Cat. There is no scorn, no resentment at being a second wife, at being a replacement, at knowing that he did not love you

Not yet, at least

“I would never dishonour you, My Lady,” he tells you, and you smile gently.

He is silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “I will not make you consummate this marriage tonight My Lady. Not if you don’t want to. We can proceed in the coming weeks, if you would prefer,”

“What if I want to?” You asked. “I must do my duty to House YLN and now to House Stark as well. You and I both know this marriage cannot go unconsummated, otherwise our houses are not formally allied,”

Eddard surveyed you for a moment, relieved he had wed a Lady with a wise head on her shoulders, and not a skittish young maid.

“Then I will go at your pace, my Lady, and you must tell me to stop should your mind change,”

You nodded your head in agreement, and together you made your way to your bedchamber

He keeps his word, and the marriage is consummated slowly, dutifully, gently

Afterwards, he holds you, never leaving to return to his own chambers, and had a servant bring wine for you

But when he returns to your bed, he finds you asleep, snuggled into the fur, your face serene and your hair mussed up

With a gentle smile he slides back into bed with you, though it takes him much longer to fall asleep, killed by your gentle breaths

#eddard stark x reader #ned stark x reader #Ned stark imagine #ned stark headcanons #game of thrones headcanon #game of thrones au

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claymoresword · 4 months

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Where's My Love

Cersei Lannister x Stark Fem!Reader 🐺

Prompt: I was wondering if you could write a Cersei x Stark!fem!reader where she's Ned's youngest sister and Cersei's ex-secret lover. Reader is a rebel like Arya and never married but she's very protective of her nieces/nephews. She and Cersei had a bad breakup and are finally reuniting during the events of the first GOT episode when the king's court goes to Winterfell. You could write reader backing up Arya again Joffrey and Cersei seething 😂😂😂 you can include g!p and smut if you want.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Pairing: Cersei x Stark Reader

Warnings: g!p reader, smut, power play, depictions of physical abuse, cheating , very toxic , references to alcoholism, breeding kink if you squint, emotional manipulation, did i already say this was toxic ?

Note: thank you so much 🐑 for the prompt! i actually had a lot of fun writing this one. also important to note this is my first time actually publishing something y'all have requested me to write so hopefully i got this right.. i know i tweaked and added a couple things but i hope you don't mind! and if you hate this i'm sorry lmao i tried <33

(smut after asterisks)

Bouts of laughter erupt from your nephews as Bran once again misses his mark, the arrow flies way over the target.

You glare at the older boys, in response Robb places a hand over his mouth, Jon instead chooses to avoid your gaze entirely focusing his stare at the ground beneath.

All dirt and sleet on the base of your boot, the ground squelched with every step you took.

“Try again, Bran. Take a deep breath, aim properly.” You order placing a lingering hand on his shoulder.

The young boy nods obediently as you step back once more, he raises his bow arm.

He aims, soon releasing the string, and once again, he misses. The arrow pierces the edge of a barrel on the far left, leagues away from his actual target.

Once again the boys burst into fits of laughter, this time is it not you who reprimands them.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” You follow the sound of your brother's voice, he is standing on the balcony above, Catelyn by his side.

“Keep trying, Bran.” Jon decides to cease his teasing, he encourages his half-brother.

A sudden gust of wind tickles your face, the cold breeze permeates the air, bleeding through the thin fabric of your doublet. You immediately regret not putting on more layers this morning. You have lost track of the days, but there is no doubt that winter is coming.

“Robb, make certain your brother continues practicing. I am going back inside, but remember– your father is watching.” You warn your eldest nephew, as stern as you can manage.

Shaggy streaks of red hair fall over his eyes as he nods.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you start up the stairs, but your plan to slip back into your chambers unnoticed fails.

“Y/n.” Cat appears next to you.

“Are you alright?” The Lady of Winterfell asks, and you force a sweet smile, one to disarm and hopefully quell her worries.

Catelyn didn't exactly warm to you at first, and neither did you with her, but over time you both grew to truly care for one another. She was like an older sister to you, the void left by your late sister Lyanna did not seem so large with her around.

“I'm fine, I just needed to fetch something from my bedchambers, that's all.” You lie. However, the older woman somehow always manages to see right through you.

She gazes upon you skeptically only to eventually release your arm. She takes a step back, allowing you to take your leave without further interrogation.

In truth, you were far from alright.

Despite yourself, you have been on edge since finding out that the King is on his way to Winterfell with his Lady wife and all of their children.

This visit is a sudden one. Upon the death of Jon Arryn you had expected things to be different, knowing how much the former Hand meant to your brother– but you never anticipated a visit from the King himself.

You hadn't seen Robert in nine years, and his wife for longer than that.

It is not by accident.

If it was up to you, things would be different. You would still be in King's Landing today, perhaps serving as Knight– or as Cersei had once intended, a personal guard for the Queen.

You were once certain that you would spend the rest of your days by Cersei's side, no matter the circumstances, but you merely held the high hopefulness of a young girl.

Since then have been forced to accept that life is nothing like the tales and songs you were fed as a child. The Gods are not always merciful, things rarely ever go to plan and love most certainly does not conquer all.

Life got in the way of your love, and pride did the rest.

You have not spoken to Cersei Lannister in a decade, yet your entire being continued to ache with every day that you have spent apart. Time does not heal the type of hurt that only yields to resentment.

When the King and Queen arrive for their visit on the morrow, you intend to avoid her Grace at all costs, for her sake and your own. Above all, you will have no choice but to grit your teeth and endure what you must.

You haven't seen Cersei in years, but you were bound to slaughter each other given the chance.

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“Come in!” You beckon whoever was on the other side of the door as you fastened the clasps on your doublet.

Ned ceases his knocking, pushing the door open, he looks upon you in a way he knew you hated, but your brother can hardly help it.

He worries about you. When you returned home all those years ago, you were inconsolable.

You are a Stark, not made for the South. Your brother tried in jest, but he knew it wasn't the weather, or even court politics that despaired you.

It was Cersei, it had always been Cersei.

"The King was seen riding up; he should be arriving any moment.” Ned states.

“Right, I'm almost done here.” You quip, but the man takes it upon himself to assist you with your sheepskin cloak, draping it over your shoulders.

He keeps his hands on you, his brows furrowed with evident worry, and for some reason you can't help but find it all a bit silly, you chuckle lightly. “I will be fine, Ned.”

Your brother appears less than convinced, you shove him playfully. “You worry about me too much, brother, it’s beginning to age you.”

Ned scoffs. “Aye, try being in my position for a day and you'll understand why I worry so much… but it is time that's aging me, little sister.” Ned quips in response and this makes you pause.

You notice the streaks of white, scattered across his dark locks. As the morning sun peeks through the window, catching his face, you observe more of those streaks in his beard.

Where has time gone?

Ned steps closer, it seems that he has mistaken your silence for something else. Your brother plants a quick kiss on the crown of your head as a result.

In times like this you can't help but feel like a girl of thirteen again, looking to her older brother for protection.

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You watched as the Kingsguard rode through the walls of Winterfell, Lannister banners in hand. It unsettles you more than you thought it would. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, turning to Sansa, her younger sister still nowhere in sight.

“Sansa, where is your sister?” You question and the girl only shrugs dismissively, but you aren't left wondering for long as Arya can be seen pushing through the crowd, quickly settling next to you.

The young girl was wearing an iron helm you had never seen before, her once pristine dress now ornamented with specks of dirt and grime. You shake your head disapprovingly, an effort to suppress your amusement.

Sansa scoffs at the sight of her younger sister, while you snatch the helm off Arya's head, she looks up at you with a scowl.

“Where did you even get this?” You ask, your tone manages to match the look on her face.

Arya gives you no response, and you aren't allowed the opportunity to press her further as you feel a nudge against your arm. Ned forces you to look ahead as the King can be seen dismounting his horse.

Ned kneels, and you and everyone else follows suit.

After a beat, the King's command all of you to rise, and soon you spot the carriage halting a few feet behind him.

You involuntarily held your breath as the door opens. The Queen emerges, she keeps her gaze ahead as she climbs down the steps.

Cersei looks the picture of poise and grace. She seems older, and somehow even more beautiful than you remembered. It knocked the wind right out of you, you had to look away.

Your eyes are no longer on the Queen, but your chest aches all the same.

“Cat!” Your attention is pulled to the display before you as the King addresses your sister in law, pulling her in for an embrace that she doesn't appear to be prepared for.

“Nine years. why haven't I seen you, where the hell have you been?” Robert addresses your brother once more.

“Guarding the North, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies, practiced and noble as he always was.

Robert then turns to you, a scowl upon his face, one that stuns you slightly. Your mind turns to Cersei, you consider what she might have shared with her Lord husband in your absence.

She must have told him the real reason you left King's Landing, no doubt the King will want you punished for repeatedly bedding his wife all those years ago. but then the King's frown turns, and your mind ceases its torment.

Robert lunges only to pull you in for an embrace, a gesture that startles you, your body remains tense until he releases you from his hold.

“I expected better from you, Y/n.” The King narrows his gaze in a puckish manner.

“Unlike your damned brother here I thought you enjoyed the Keep. I was sure you wanted to serve in my Kingsguard.” He adds, and you force a grin, gallant yet strained.

“I admit that was a different time, Your Grace. These days, my passions lie elsewhere.” You reply, and you can hardly prevent the way your gaze flits towards the Queen for a moment.

Cersei has been stood beside her husband, staring at you relentlessly for the entire duration of this interaction. If the Queen has remained the same person she was all those years ago, then you know for certain this was her attempt to intimidate– but you were not so keen on letting her have the upper hand.

You drill your expression, unfazed.

The King snorts derisively at your answer, but says nothing more.

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You had spent most of the afternoon, drowning in your cups. The knowledge that Cersei was only a few doors away was aggravating, everything you thought to have successfully repressed has now resurfaced.

Every inch of you calls out to Cersei, your very soul yearns for her. You craved the unbearable pain, and blinding pleasure that came with being around her.

You have laid awake many nights picturing the ways you would confront her. The things you would say to her.

You fantasized about the possibility of finally being rid of all of your pain. To hurt her the same way she hurt you. Your heart, dense and cold, obstructed by all things Cersei. Within you, you carried everything you despised about the other woman– and all the things you adored.

The Queen was a mistake you couldn't erase, and simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to you. You hate her, but you cannot stand to be apart from her.

The sound of commotion snatches you out of your thoughts. The voices that permeate sound vaguely familiar to you, but you are only able to place them once you take a glance out your window.

You spot Arya and Bran in the courtyard. Prince Joffrey standing over them, your face falls as you spot his steel unsheathed from his scabbard and in his hand.

Without another moment's thought you rushed downstairs towards the training yard, prepared to pacify the affair, however dire it may be, but it seems Arya has taken the situation into her own hands.

Bran is gone, but the Prince is now on the ground. It seems that Arya has managed to disarm the older boy, his steel thrown to the side in the dirt.

Now she is threatening Joffrey with a wooden practice sword, her direwolf beside her, growling with intent at the Prince.

“Arya enough!” You intercept the blow, forcefully dragging your niece away from the boy.

“What the seven hells do you think you're doing?” You bark, and Arya drops the sword, her chest still heaving.

A young girl seething with unbridled fury was such an uncommon sight that it makes you grimace.

“He was trying to hurt Bran! I had to protect him.” Arya gestures to the Prince, the boy still whimpering in pain.

“Damn you and that stupid dog! I am telling my mother! I will report you to the king!” Joffrey hurls his threats, and Arya makes the juvenile decision to respond.

“Nymeria's a direwolf, not a dog!” She shouts and you sigh, placing a hand over your niece's mouth to silence her, an action Arya fights but your grip on her doesn't relent.

“My Prince, I am sure my niece meant no harm–” You try but the boy interjects.

“No harm?” The Prince hisses. “She nearly sliced my arm off!” Once again he whimpers like a pup that had just been trampled.

You take a step forward to examine the cut on Joffrey's arm, and it was only that– a minor cut, one that will heal without leaving as much as a scar.

Large footsteps approach, the Prince's sworn guard comes rushing to the scene, Sandor Clegane scowls at you before assisting the boy to his feet effortlessly with one hand.

“Some protector you are, dog. I almost died!” Joffrey then redirects his frustrations towards his guard.

He continues muttering insults as he retrieves his sword from the dirt, strutting out of the training yard.

Nymeria doesn't cease her growling until the boy was entirely out of sight, it was also only then you remove your hand from Arya's mouth.

“Have you completely lost your wits?” You gape, looking down at your niece disapprovingly, before kneeling to be at eye level with her.

“He was–” Arya starts, but you interrupt.“–I don't care what he did, Arya. You never attack a Prince.” You state firmly.

“You do something like this again and I will make sure you never get the chance to wield a weapon again, do you understand?” You assert, and your tone is harsh enough to make Arya wince.

She doesn't reply with words, she continues looking down at her feet as she nods.

“Let's go and get you cleaned up.” You state, you try to pull her by the arm but Arya doesn't budge.

“I was trying to be brave, like you.” She mutters under her breath, and you turn to look at the young girl once more.

“What?” You ask.

“Don't be upset with me, please, please. I'm sorry.” Then Arya states frantically, her voice small and frail– it shatters you.

“Oh, Arya– my sweet girl.” You say, kneeling once again. “I'm not upset, I was worried.” You pull her in for an embrace, your niece clutches you tightly in return.

After a prolonged moment, you cease the hug, wiping away some of the dirt from her face with the pads of your thumbs.

Then you took a quick scan of your surroundings, to ensure that you were alone before speaking again.

“Our Prince is a bit of a cunt.” You finally quip, earning a chuckle from Arya.

“He is.” Your niece beams at you, in turn this makes you fill with relief.

“I am proud of you for disarming him. but next time, leave it at that. Do you understand the consequences that come with attacking a King's heir?” You ask, and you watch as a realization graces the young girl, she averts her gaze, this time with guilt.

“Never again, do you hear me?”

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You were exhausted from the events of the day, and yet it was not close to over.

You decide to retire to your chambers, aiming for at least a few hours rest before the King's welcome feast later this evening.

Resting your hand on the pommel of your sword, you take large steps through the gallery. You crave the horn of ale waiting for you on your nightstand, the comfort of your warm bed.

You turn the corner, a figure appears before you and you swerve out of the way quickly enough to avoid whoever it was that decided to walk toward you in this exact moment from the opposite direction.

As you gather yourself to take a proper look at the woman who you nearly bumped into, your blood runs cold.

“Your Grace, forgive me.” You state curtly, inclining your head at Cersei.

Your hand remains resting on the hilt of your sword as you attempt to slip past her, but before you can successfully walk away, she has a hold of your arm, dragging you backwards to where you stood.

You yank your arm out of her hold, a scowl covers your features, but Cersei ignores your visible discontent as she speaks.

“That niece of yours tried to murder my son.” The Queen accuses.

“What?” You can't help the half-laugh that slips out of you. Cersei takes offense to this, her expression hardens.

“Joff will bear those scars for the rest of his life.” She is not backing down, and you can't pretend that you possessed the will to deal with her theatrics.

You only roll your eyes, finally slipping past her and into your chambers.

You step inside your room, but before you can close the door Cersei intercepts, forcefully pushing it open to let herself in.

She slams it closed behind herself.

“You dare walk away from your Queen?” She bellows.

This time you groan, collapsing onto your bed.

You ignore her statement, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration. “Oh, Cersei, it is a cut, it'll heal!”

A prolonged silence from the Queen, she only speaks again once you sit up in your bed.

“You've not changed a bit.” She remarks, treacherous emerald gaze meeting your pale greys.

“Neither have you.” You retaliate boldly.

More silence until Cersei is first to look away, clasping her hands infront of herself she assumes an impassive stance.

“I will have that girl punished.” The Queen threatens, her tone sounds spiteful. but you don't hide your incredulity.

“For what?” You ask, and Cersei's jaw clenches even tighter, you wonder if she might lunge at you.

“She attacked my son. the King's heir.” Cersei retorts, and you scoff.

“Is that what Robert’s teaching his sons? How to lose to a little girl?” You taunt, not backing down.

You knew Arya should receive consequences for her actions by right, but giving Cersei that satisfaction is the absolute last thing you plan to do.

“Or is it not the King's doing at all?” You ask again as Cersei fails to respond. You rise from the bed, stepping closer to the Queen.

“Is it Jaime's fault?” You tilt your head inquisitively, mockingly.

You are close enough to smell the lavender oil on Cersei's skin. Her eyes flit to your lips for a fleeting moment, and yours do the same to hers.

Then a madness overcomes you, prompting your next choice of words.

“I expect it is him you've been opening your legs for these days–” You utter, but you are swiftly silenced when Cersei's palm makes contact with your cheek.

She slaps you across the face, your head turns slightly from the force of it. Your face is now throbbing, raw and red with traces of Cersei's wrath.

She goes to strike you again, and this time it is intercepted by your firm grip on her wrist.

A fury reignites within you as Cersei tries to fight out of your hold, entirely allowing your emotions to guide your actions, your hand finds her throat. Before your rational mind can mitigate it, you have your fingers firmly wrapped around her neck. The back of her head slams against the wooden door as you forcibly pinned her upon it.

The Queen is clawing at your hand, struggling to take a breath as you restricted her airway. A real fear flashes across Cersei's face, and a part of you wants to watch her fall limp within your grasp, to quiet her once and for all, to destroy the cause of your agony. but you don't– instead you take a step back, releasing her.

Cersei gasps as air sharply re enters her lungs, roughly wiping away the tears that have made it down her cheeks.

The Queen attempts to regain her resolve the best she can, and the look she gives you is not one of shock, instead it is pure disdain, and you look at her the same. Cersei doesn't speak, she merely shoves you harshly with both hands against your chest, as you stumbled back, she turns to open the door.

You collapse on your bed once more as Cersei dissapears into the hallway, the door shutting behind her.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. It seemed the Queen will never fail to elicit the worst from you– to make you act like an utter lunatic.

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The welcome feast has been dragging on now for what felt like an eternity.

The King was no longer seated as his high table, instead he was in the center of the hall, shamelessly flirting with some of the servants.

You roll your eyes, reaching for the flagon of ale infront of you, as you attempted to lift it, it doesn't budge. You fleetingly wonder if the liquor had caused you to lose all strength in your arm, only to realize your brother was holding the jug firmly on the table so it wouldn't move.

You squint at Ned, and he glares at you in return.

“Enough. You'll drink yourself into an early grave if you keep this up.” Your brother warns and it makes you snigger.

“That is the plan, brother.” You slur slightly, but Ned makes the deliberate effort to ignore you.

You slump backwards in your chair, when you've realized you lost this argument, as you often did when it came to the lord of Winterfell.

You eyes fall upon King Robert once more, he is still in the middle of the room, surrounded by maidens and even more whores.

This time he is no longer flirting with them, he is in a full lip lock with one of the women. He does this in the presence of the Queen, dishonouring her for all to see.

You grimace at the sight, an unwanted rage overcomes you. You can hardly believe this lecherous drunk was King of the Seven Kingdoms. Married to the most beautiful woman in all of the seven kingdoms, the only woman you have ever wanted.

You can't bear to look at Cersei's reaction to this, in fact you can hardly remain at this feast for a moment longer. You abruptly rise from your seat, Ned looks up at you, puzzled.

“May I please be excused?” You asked formally for the rest of the table to hear and your brother hesitates before nodding curtly in response.

As you walked back to your chambers you can't help but invision what your life would have been like if your brother had taken the Iron throne instead of Robert Baratheon. If you had remained in King's Landing– if you had wedded Cersei instead.

Perhaps in a different life.

You and Cersei would be married, and you'd rule together. In another reality Cersei would be your Queen and not Robert's. She would bear your children, your heirs. You would grow old together and live out your days by each other's side. In a different life, you would have remained faithful to Cersei, you would have given her everything she desired and in return, Cersei would offer you her heart.

You would have been happy.

In another life.

By the time you reached your room, the tears had stopped flowing, but the collar of your shirt remained drenched.

As you shut your door, you unclapsed your doublet, lifting it above your head, tossing it aimlessly across the room.

Now only in your tunic and breeches, you feel the urge to weep some more, but you refuse to allow your tears to fall this time.

You take a seat on the settee, head in your hands. The effects of the ale already wearing off, a headache rapidly setting in, you realized that you needed another drink.

You get up to fetch the flagon from the small table but as your door flings wide open, nearly hitting you in the process, you freeze where you stand.

A familiar golden haired beauty emerges through the doorway, and you allow yourself a deep breath. Clutching your chest slightly to calm yourself.

“Your Grace, the hour is late.” You state dismissively, starting across the room to fetch your goblet.

“If you have come to order my execution for my behaviour this afternoon, best get it over with.” You quip, the liquor in your system doing all of the talking for you.

You hear the door shut, without looking back you assume Cersei had taken her leave but you are perplexed when you turn to see her still standing by the door, watching you set down your goblet.

You walk across the room once more to take a seat on the settee, you remove your boots, setting them aside.

Cersei has remained silent for long enough that you nearly forgotten her presence entirely. Her next ask startles you.

“Look at me.” Her commanding tone leaves no room to argue, you glance at her.

Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks flushed. It is clear to you that she has been crying as well.

You rise from your seat abruptly, approaching her. “Are you alright?” You ask, and again the Queen says nothing.

She merely stares at you, hopefulness at your concern and despair at the fact that you needed to ask.

She lunges forward, before you can fully comprehend it, her lips crash against your own, she kisses you deeply, pure anguish and want. It snatches the air right out of your lungs, but you have no desire to pull away.

Your tongue makes contact with her own and Cersei moans, pulling you impossibly closer by the nape of your neck.

Your body pressed up against hers as she leans against the wall. You were now both panting into the kiss, all aggression and desire.

You had not been with Cersei like this in a decade, and yet there was a complete lack of uncertainty. It felt right, you were certain that you are meant to be with her like this, until the end of your days.

However, there still exists voice deep within you, whether it is pride or reason, you cannot say for certain. but it urges you to pull away, so you do.

The Queen chases your lips eagerly, but you pull back even further. “Cersei, stop. What is this, what are you doing?” You ask, every moment you spent without your lips on hers felt like pure agony.

“I just need you– please–” Cersei replies with a desperation you have never heard before, and this was enough to break you.

Any semblance of dignity vanishes into the very depths of yourself, all that's left is your deep and tortuous want for Cersei.

You kiss her again, rough and urgent, you are panting and groaning into each other's mouths. Cersei's hands immediately move to the hem of your breeches, she unlaces them in record time, slipping her hand inside.

You nearly lose it all when she wraps her fingers around the base of your cock, stroking it with such dexterity you fear your knees may give out.

“Gods–” You grunt, bucking your hips embarrassingly into her touch.

You find the strength to remove her hand from your breeches. Soon enough you slip them off, your slacks pooling around your ankles before you kicked them to the side.

You swiftly remove your own tunic as Cersei's trembling hands struggle to undo the laces of her dress.

Your patience wearing thin, you flip her around, indecently ripping the fabric open with one swift tug.

“Y/n–” Cersei scolds in response to your eagerness, glancing back at you with dissaproval, but her dress easily slips off her shoulders after that, her smallclothes follow suit.

The Queen is still facing away from you as you part her hair away from her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses against her hot flesh, as you reached a certain familiar spot, your teeth grazed the skin, before biting down on it briefly.

This earns a louder noise from Cersei, she is still trembling as she turns back around to face you, grabbing you firmly to pull you in for another sloppy kiss.

Lips still interlocked, the Queen walks you backwards onto the bed, Cersei doesn't waste another moment, straddling you as soon as you settled your rear on the edge of the bedding.

Your cock now stiff as a rod, poking at Cersei's entrance. The other woman begins moving her hips as you kissed, rubbing her cunt on the length of your shaft, coating it with her slick.

Your breath quickens, the sensation was maddening, you needed to be inside her now.

“Gods, I missed you.” You let it slip as your lips parted for a moment, but Cersei doesn't respond.

The Queen's grip on the nape of your neck moves to your hair as she grasps a handful of it, tugging your head back slightly. Her other hand travels south, she grips the base of your cock once more, this time lining it up to her entrance.

She begins lowering herself onto your length, Cersei moves quickly, with every inch that enters her, she lets out a gasp at the sensation. Soon you are sheathed inside of her to the hilt, and Cersei throws her head back, she releases an unrestrained moan, her hands now firmly on your shoulders.

She attemps to push you back against the bed, but you refuse to budge. Cersei relents, kissing you again as she moves her hips up and down the length of your cock. With every moan from Cersei you retaliate with a groan.

The feeling of her walls fluttering against your girth made you dizzy. The Queen felt so unbelievably good wrapped around your cock, you had forgotten just how intoxicating it was.

Now that you were experiencing it again, you never wanted it to end.

Vulgar noises of your coupling filled the room as Cersei moved herself desperately against your lap, your cock hitting just the right spots within her.

The Queen can feel her release already approaching, entirely overwhelmed by this she falls limp against you, but you manage to support her weight with minimal effort. Her hips still moving at a steady pace until it finally hits her, her orgasm washes over her like a wave.

Cersei cries out in pleasure, partially muffled against your neck, she holds onto you for dear life as her peak overcomes all her other senses, relentless and unforgiving. You feel her cunt clenching painfully around your cock, her short shallow breaths against your neck, she is trembling helplessly, and you never want to let her go.

“Seven hells.” The Queen breathes out, finally lifting her head to look at you.

Cersei's eyes were nearly glazed over, her chest heaving violently, but you were far from done with her.

You capture her lips with your own again, earning a content moan. You remained sheathed inside of her as you flipped your positions, now Cersei laid on the bed, with you on top of her. The other woman's gasp in surprise is muffled by your own mouth against hers.

Once again she moans into your mouth as you began your thrusts, deep and slow, you aim to feel every inch of her. Cersei wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you in even deeper.

The Queen gasps as your mouth found the swell of her breasts, your tongue leaving a trail of saliva as you expertly moved from one nipple to the other.

Your thrusts grow harsh and inconsistent as you felt your own climax building. Cersei's back arches, a deafening moan rips out of her.

You roughly placed your hand against her stomach, pinning her down against the bed as you continued to rut into her. Cersei was mewling and panting like a whore now as you used her for your own pleasure, heightening her own in the process.

The Queen finds just enough strength to pull you closer, her lips now against your ear.

“Tell me you love me.” Cersei pleads, and this takes you entirely by surprise, you slow your movements but you don't stop.

“What?” You ask, shaky, breathless.

“Just say it.” The Queen repeats amidst another moan, she clenches around your cock and the sound that emits from you then is guttural, primal.

You oblige without asking further questions.

“I love you, Cersei” You speak, from the heart, damning the consequences.

With that, Cersei reaches her peak again, her nails digging into the flesh of your back as she comes. The feeling of her perfect cunt milking your cock, accompanied by her writhing body underneath you was enough to push you over the edge.

As you attempt to pull out, Cersei kept her legs firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. You are not given the opportunity to question it as it was already too late, you moaned as you released your load deep inside her, painting her womb with your seed.

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Nearly a candlemark has passed since your coupling and neither you or Cersei have said more than a few words.

Simply embracing each other under the sheets, she rests her head against your shoulder, tracing circles absentmindedly with her finger against your abdomen.

This position was achingly familiar, almost as if no time had passed.

Cersei soon moves her hand further up, she traces her fingers across your bottom lip before running her thumb down the bridge of your nose. The sensation earns a chuckle out of you, you finally had to reach up to remove her hand, guiding it away from your face.

Cersei's stare betrays an intensity that makes your heart constrict painfully in your chest.

Still unspeaking, it was your turn to explore her body, but you don't get very far, your fingertips trace the faint bruising on her neck, the marks left by your own cruelty.

The Queen then shuts her eyes, she doesn't allow herself to look upon your guilt any longer. Wrapping her arm across your torso, nuzzling her face against your shoulder.

“I'm not letting you go– never again.” Cersei mutters, and the smile that tugs on your lips is one of relief and acceptance.

You don't supress the urge to plant a lingering kiss on her temple, one the Queen allows herself to melt into.

#cersei lannister smut #cersei x reader #g!p reader #cersei lannister #ned stark #stark reader #fem stark reader #ned stark x reader #catelyn stark #g!p

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danytherelentless · 7 months

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A Heartfelt Goodbye

Eddard Stark x fem!reader

summary: after his wife's recent passing, Lord Stark is looking for a governess to raise his children

warnings! smut, cunniligus, p in v, pre-marital sex (big deal in Westeros), asoiaf typical sexism (if you squint)

word count: 3k

note: please forgive me if there are any mistakes or it appears a little disjointed, the editing was shaky at best

It was more than a year after the loss of his wife that he decided to take on a governess for his children.

He had refused marriage so soon after, and did not think he would ever take a wife again, and had not wanted to have a governess raise his children for it felt an insult to Cat, yet Maester Luwin had been advising him that his children would need such guidance in their lives, especially with them all being so young, and Eddard had finally relented.

He mulled over the options of Northern ladies for some time before deciding upon you. He'd never met you before, but he had known your father, brothers and some of your cousins. Your father had been one of his greatest and truest advisors during Robert's Rebellion, your elder brother one of his friends as well, and he remembers hearing much of you then, though you'd been younger at the time. Patient, caring and wise as a child. Surely you remained so as an adult? You were also unmarried which meant you had no other obligations nor children of your own to tend to. So he sent the letter to your Lord father asking if you would be suited and able to fill such a position in his household.

He received response soon enough and it was settled upon that you would be arriving to Winterfell within the next few weeks.

Your smile was the first thing he noticed upon meeting you, a kind and gentle thing which warmed him to you almost immediately.

"My Lord," you greeted with a curtsy after you had dismounted to stand next to your father and brother who had led you here.

"My Lady. I am thankful you have taken upon this position."

"It is a great honour, my lord. One I hope I shall be able to fulfil."

Robb was the most reluctant of his children to you, though that was expected and understandable as the eldest. His youngest three, however, were instantly enamoured with you, even baby Bran. But it was Jon which made him realise you were perfect for the role whom you treated well as any of his other children.

It took some time of course for the new dynamic to settle, for you to become comfortable with his children and vise-versa, but eventually, even Robb warmed to you. Even Ned himself found that he enjoyed your company. You had to ability to always make him feel at ease or give him the perfect advice for whatever situation he was put in.

He began to fall for you, which felt inevitable given how lovely you were. But he could not help the vicious guilt which he felt. It felt wrong, no matter how much time passed since Cat's passing, it still felt like a great insult to her memory, and to your own honour, though he never acted on his own feelings.

At least not until Robert called upon him when Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the crown.

He sat in the Godswood, the night before he would leave in contemplation. Many of his bannerman had gathered already at Winterfell with more on their way straight to White Harbour. He did not want to die so soon, though that was something he expected just as he had during Robert's Rebellion when he rode away from Riverrun, yet this time it felt so much closer to him. He couldn't bare the thought of Robb being made Lord so young, of his grief. Of the struggle and strife which he would face and the deceit he would no doubt face in spite of his youth. The idea of his little lady Sansa, or his wild little she-wolf Arya not remembering his face as they grew. Of baby Bram not having so much as a memory of him to place to his name.

He thought of you, of never seeing you again, of never confessing the feelings held within his heart. Though his guilt remained to an extent not as it once had, the idea of never getting to tell you made his heart ache something fierce. It overwhelmed any guilt he was feeling.

"My lord," your voice snapped him from his glum pondering.

"My lady. The hour is quite late, the air cold," he could barely see you in the darkness, the only light emitting from the lantern in your hand and the one sitting near his feet.

"I was worried for you," you confessed.

It was a normal thing to worry about. He was beneath no assumption that you felt the same as he, but he knew that you viewed him as a friend for you often spent hours drinking, exchanging stories and laughing well into late evenings together. So much so that he’d had to quietly had to expel rumours amongst the staff to the best of his ability, hoping you had not heard of them. He knew that it was a sign of the impropriety of your relationship, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.

"I'll be back soon enough," he found himself reassuring you.

He watches as you walk closer to him, "may I sit?"

"Of course," he spoke embarrassingly quickly.

You took your seat on the tangled roots at his side, shivering slightly as you burrowed closer into your cloak.

"You really shouldn't be out here, my lady. You may catch a chill," he voiced his concern.

"And neither should you. What sort of a friend would I be if I allowed you to wallow out here all alone?" there was teasing in your voice. He found a smile growing across his face.

He looked to you then. You looked truly beautiful in the low light of the flickering lanterns, shadows cast across your face. You seemed quite sad, though he could see a longing in your eyes has he stared at you.

He felt something get trapped in his throat, unable to say anything as he looked upon you. There was a vulnerability which always clung to you, in the way you smiled so freely, the way you spoke so kindly and could be so forgiving. He saw that in you now. Something raw. He craved it, craved you, craved you near him, in his arms. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach.

He craved you, completely and utterly. Entirely vulnerable, bare flesh beneath him, moaning for him. His name, not his title, he loved it when you said his name. Not Eddard, just Ned. He wanted to hear it. Now.

He kissed you instead, a hand on your cheek pulling you close to him. Regret flooded him immediately.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised, pulling away, yanking his hand from your flesh, suddenly feeling quite sick. Barely a moment of your lips on his, so sweet and true. The taste turned to ash on his tongue, however.

"That was dishonourable of me, my lady. Forgive me please. I lost myself."

"No," you grabbed at his forearm and moved closer, you leg leaning into his own, "I... I don't mind."

He looks to you then, a goddess at his side. Meant to be worshipped. It was fitting you were both sat beneath a Weirwood tree.

He feels your delicate hand upon his bearded jaw and he allows you to pull him to you, eyes closing as your lips are joined with his.

He can tell you're inexperienced, but he relishes in it. It has been so long since he'd had any company, and he wanted this. With the thought of possible death so close, he could hardly deny himself you, especially if you wanted him too.

He part from you, breathless, "I want you."

He hadn't quite meant to just blurt it out so bluntly, but can't bring himself to want to take it back. It is his truth, after all. And in this moment, it would be wrong for him to not tell you.

You seem shocked for a moment.

"I want you too," you admitted.

His heart stops for a split second before he crashes his mouth back on yours, your tongues tangling together in some dance.

He kisses you for what feels like hours before he remembers you are out in the cold, and then he guides you back to the keep and to your chambers. The walk is silent and you bump into no one, though guards trail you both outside the keep and through some of the hallways.

He is about to part ways with you and leave for his own when you grab his wrist.

"Wait. Why don't you join me?"

Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, and he can hardly refuse such a welcome invitation, though his honour is screaming at him to stop. His desires simply win over, he is a weak man for you.

He undresses you slowly, pulling away your cloak, helping you unlace your dress as you exchange kisses. You help him with his own layers, and soon you are both bare as the day you were born. He looks upon your beauty, across your smooth skin, your breasts, the mound of hair between your legs. He feels his mouth water. He would turn you around and simply sit gazing upon your naked flesh for hours, studying you like a tome of history.

He lays you down upon furs and kisses down your neck, sucking a bruise some too dark into the flesh which he may regret some the next day should he notice, yet he cannot help himself as he listens to your sweet sighs and feels were hands caressing his arms then his chest.

His lips continue down your body, sucking and licking at your breasts and listening to the melodic sounds you bless him with, hands pawing at your thighs as he further parts them. He kisses down you stomach, beneath your bellybutton and then your naval, before finding his place between your legs, eyes upon your cunt, so close to him and oh so delectable.

"What are you..." your sentence is broken by a surprised and quiet moan as his tongue parts your folds and tastes your sweetness. He licks and sucks at you observing each reaction from his place which he could. Every twitch which you body made and every sound which left your lips. Ned took one of your thighs in his hold and brought it up over his shoulder. His nose is buried in the mount of hair above your cunt as he sucks on that bundle he knows will have you see stars.

You moan and gasp, legs tensing around his head and fingers tugging at his dark hair. He cannot help but groan into you, grinding down into your sheets to attempt to relieve the ache in his cock. He resists the urge to fist his cock in hand by instead pushing a finger inside of you, curling it upwards to feel that spongy spot. You are tight and warm and so so wet. He savors every moment of it.

He curls a second finger inside of you, listening to you high keening whimpers and stretches you wider, and then a third.

"Ned!" your fingers tighten and tug harshly at his hair, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your body tensing as you climax on his fingers. He licks some of it up before he finds himself too impatient to see your face again. He hopes he will be able to do this again so that he may taste you for longer.

You are worn, face etched with sweet ecstasy. He kisses you with your own taste on his tongue, an action which should disgust you, yet you answer with fervour, a laziness to your motions. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into you, deepening the kiss even further till your tongue is again in his mouth.

One of your arms caresses down his body as your lips part, your eyes hooded, breathing erratic. Your hand trails over his hip before it wraps around his hard cock.

He thrusts forwards as your fist closes around his tip, jerking downwards experimentally. He wraps his own hand over you guiding it up and down as he would his own in the privacy of his own chambers on lonely nights.

He guides himself within your hand to your cunt, nudging it over your nub, toward your sopping hole.

The thought suddenly hit him hard and fast. So suddenly he jerked back slightly from your touch.

"What... what is it?" you looked concerned, eyes wide, braided hair mussed.

"I shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong." It was dishonourable and an insult to such a fine lady as yourself for him to be debasing you so. You weren't married, after all. Not yet, he thought. He could see you at his side as his wife. But you were not his wife now, and you may never be his wife.

"No, no, no! Please, take me," eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with each breath you take as you tug him down so gently, "if you'll have me?" His chest clenched at such tender words.

With you begging him so sweetly, he could not resist, though there was a part of him still demanding he stop now, for this was wrong. Yet it was drowned by his raging desire which he had harboured for for so long.

He takes his position once more over you, between your thighs, and pushes himself inside of you slowly and carefully. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull at feeling such pleasure, and he nearly thrusts into you as a wild man would, but he resists easily enough for he knew it would cause you harm. He listened as you groaned and your face tugged into a discomforted expression, he felt himself stopping then, ready to pull out should you change you mind.

"Just slowly. Be gentle with me, please," your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, you knees farther parting to allow him better access.

He moves his hips so slowly at first, thrusts shallow and experimental, before his lips captured yours in a passionate flurry of movements. You were so warm, so wet. He knew you were most likely a virgin, a lady such as yourself. That thought only made his feel more hungry for you.

His movements continued as a slow and steady pace, before you whined prettily into his mouth and grabbed at his hip.

"You can move more," you spoke, breathless as he parted from you.

He obliged, building up his pace, pulling one of your legs up and around his waist as his thrusts became deeper and faster with each moan that left you mouth.

He could not tear his eyes away from you, from your sweat slick brow, your squeezed shut eyes and 'o' parted lips. He felt his own release build, but wanted you to finish at least once more for him, so he brought one hand between you and felt for you nub and began to rub at it, listening and watching your reaction as to what was best.

You tightened further around him, legs squeezing at his sides as you came for a second time. He could no sooner hold onto himself and buried his face in your neck and lost himself to you, thrusting without abandon as he chased after his own climax.

He came with a low groan, sucking kisses into your neck, filling you with his seed so deeply that for a moment, he prayed it would take, the thought of seeing you with child so tantalising.

He stayed within you for a few moments, perhaps even minutes, catching his breath and listening to yours.

He presses a tender kiss to your brow before pulling his softened cock from you with a wince. He was unable to look away as he sat up and eventually saw some of jus seed dribble out of you. He had to supress a groan.

"I'm sorry," he eventually broke the silence.

"Whatever for?"

He looked back at you, a goddess much to perfect for someone such as himself, worth more than ten of him, "for dishonouring you, my lady. I would have wed you before bedding you, yet I have not."

"I don't expect you to wed me, my lord," you admitted.

"Please don't call me that now. I have no right to any title after the disservice I have given you," for even thinking of getting her with child.

"You haven't. I wanted to be with you, just as much. I hope you don't think any less of me for it."

"No, I do not."

"Then we are simply two friends having a long and heartfelt goodbye," your smile is sad and small, not one of any joy or happiness.

"Is that all you view me as? Your friend?" he found himself speaking before he could stop, pulling on his underclothes.

"No, no. I... I feel for you. In my heart. I..." you paused and he looked at you, "I have come to love you, Ned. For not only the just and honourable Lord which you are, but for the loving father, and kind man. I enjoy the companionship you have offered me in the time which I have known you, and I have desired more of you for some time now."

He found himself dropping his breeches from hand and returning to your bed where you sat looking at him.

"It is fine should you not feel the same--"

"I do," he interrupted, bringing his hand to your cheek, "I love you."

You leaned into him, smile broadening across your face.

"I will wed you upon my return, my lady. I swear it to you."

He kisses you once more, a deep and long kiss filled with his love, before dressing and bidding you goodnight, feeling wrong to leave you after you had shared something so intimate with him.

Despite himself, despite leaving for war and having bedded you, confessed his love and swore to marry you though he may not even live to see you again after tomorrow, he sleeps well and peacefully that night.

He wed you the same day of his return.

comments are looked upon fondly here so don't be a stranger ;)

(please no negativity, my heart can't take it. I am a delicate soul)

#ned stark x reader #ned stark x you #asoiaf x reader #got x reader #got x you #ned stark #eddard stark #got smut #asoiaf smut #smut #house stark #fluff

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 6 months

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OFMD is by far my favorite show and I had incredibly high expectations, so I think it's been easy for me to be very critical. On the whole, though, I've been having so much fun with it and it's met a lot of my big expectations, especially when I take a step back from fandom spaces and look at it on its own.

I completely understand if other people aren't where I'm at, especially for other fans of color who've been harassed and who [redacted]'s arc isn't sitting well with. But I still wanted to take a sec and just think about some of my absolute favorite things this season ahead of the finale next week.

- Ed's arc and journey of self-reflection. So well done! I love the gravy basket especially.

- How Ed's mutiny/suicide attempt is set up so well that we can't blame the crew for it. So juicy!

- Stede getting to be a little bitch at every opportunity

- Every line out of Zheng Yi Sao's mouth

- How they underscored the larger theme of transformation this season by having Buttons turn into a bird

- A bit more Fang screen time. I love Fang so much guys

- I wish Archie had more screen time but every one of her lines is a knockout every single time

- How Ed and Stede were able to get back together early and the season is actually about continuing to grow with each other

- Really loved how Stede defeated Ned Low by leveraging a people positive management style

- They put Ed in a cat collar. Can't overstate that enough

- I actually really like Ricky's silly prosthetic nose, and how he's just like Stede except in all the ways that matter

- Drag! That isn't made into a joke! Just a beautiful celebration of queer joy!

- How characters of color are consistently portrayed as smart, successful, and desirable!!

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #our flag means death

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esther-dot · 7 months

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I’ve always found it odd that in s8 Sansa started wearing her hair more like d@ny. Like that bun braid she’s got going on in the promos & those two little braids that frame her face at the dragon pit. I can head-canon that she chose to wear her hair like that in king’s landing for the sake of the unsullied. Perception is everything & their leader wore her hair that way—a strong woman capable of commanding an army; an intimidating woman. Sansa likely felt she needed to project an intimidating level of strength if she had any hope of securing Jon’s release & the braids could’ve been a way to subtly influence their perception of her. Meant to recall images of their leader & paint her as someone to be feared.

As far as wearing her hair the way she did at the start of the season…the best I could come up with is that she was doing it for Jon. And while it’s an answer I can accept (be still my jonsa-heart!) it doesn’t feel quite satisfactory. I’m wondering if you’ve put down any thoughts on this & might have something more for us to consider? Or perhaps a head-canon you’d like to share?

I remember this debate and there’s even an article about it,

(link)

But the idea that Sansa was copying Dany never made much sense to me because Sansa starts wearing the hairstyle before she’s met Dany? I think that Sansa's hair was meant to be a Northern style, and worked with the association of Sansa & Lyanna the show created (link).

Here’s a pic and another post about it:

(link)

And then in s8, looking at the hairstyles, even though there are braids in both, it looks to me as if they attempted to keep them distinct. Look how soft and loose Dany's is in contrast to Sansa's. Also, Sansa has a bun while Dany's braid is like a crown sliding off her head (ba-dum-ch!)

Even when I look at “Sansa’s war braids” at the dragonpit,

It doesn’t make me see Dany at all. She susually had two curls down by her face, but that was to soften her look, whereas Sansa's braids have the opposite intention. My main thought is that it’s weird the girl who wasn’t fighting got the armor-ish dresses while the two who were out there with the army of the dead did not! This may have been an effort to give her a totally unique hairstyle from the Northern cast, in prep for Queen Sansa?

I think the Jonsa implications would be in the Lyanna connection and the NedCat cosplay from s6-7. The fact that the finale rested on Jon’s (Targ) love for Sansa (Stark girl) makes me think there was some story-related reasoning back in s5-7 that carried through to the end even if they didn't really wanna follow-through on the implication. Making Jon appear as Ned and Sansa as Cat (the hairstyles are similar, not exactly the same but the script referenced the Cat thing at one point so it was intentional) also feels like something that was still present in s8 storywise. They were a unit, they did trust each other, but there was a lot of anxiety about that trust and pain about a perceived betrayal.

And in-world reasoning, I’d say that when in the South Sansa was trying to fit in at court so mimicking to greater or lesser extent the fashion made sense, and when she returned home, it made sense for her to start wearing styles she’d worn or seen as a girl.

(link)

#jonsa #game of thrones #anti daenerys #(just to be safe)#dot chat #< for filtering

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jedimaesteryoda · 29 days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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writingsofwesteros · 7 months

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KINKTOBER : NED AND READER ( BREEDING KINK)

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

NSFW GIF

The house was quiet; the pack of children finally in bed now with dreams of Christmas filling their minds. Still, soft moans began to echo around the living room as you arched from the soft, fur rug. Your elegant legs wrapped around Ned as you kept him impossibly close and deep. The gifted stockings are still hugging your legs.

“Hmm, oh -oh my…” You whispered out; eyes rolling as he snapped his hips particularly hard. The old wolf only chuckled as he brushed your noses together before lovingly capturing your soft lips. It was soon a more passionate act as he pushed his tongue into your hot mouth and moved to fight against yours for dominance.

Soon, his mouth was pressing sweet kisses down your neck, which had your head lolling to the side and offering him more room. Your hands moved up and down his back as you passionately rocked to meet his eager thrusts. “Have you been a good girl?” Ned purred; nipping at your neck as you whined out some more for him.

“Hmm, oh..yes” His larger hands slowly moved towards your ample breasts now; palming them whilst his thrusts continued. “Please….” You sweetly whispered up at him, locking eyes whilst Ned only smirked down at you. His lips were soon on yours once more as you leaned into the act and lost yourself in the pleasure.

Your soft, sweet moans were muffled by him as Ned slowly pushed one of your legs towards your chest and pushed deeper. “Hmm, I can’t wait to fill you up again.” He purred as their hands grasped each other and their wedding bands touched. Gods, he was glad to have married again and to someone so much younger than Cat and himself.

“Ned…” You were completely breathless now as you arched and reached for him. “So good to me.” Ned’s praises were whispered into your ear as you whined and wiggled against him. The intense pleasure making its presence known as your wetness completely soaked his thick length. Still, he fucked you through your orgasm.

Your leg dangled over his shoulder as he groaned; head falling back as his own climax teased him. Ned grunted as he looked down; your sweet, creamy pussy clamping down on his fat cock. His thrusts were soon slowing down as he groaned. His own release quickly came over him as you milked his thick cock deliciously.

Your legs shook as his cum flooded you with ease. Your eyes rolled back as his whole weight was on you. “Hmm, as if one of my sons could handle you.” Ned purred into your ear before pressing soft kisses down your neck once more. Your hands had reached for his bare arse with whimpers leaving you as you clung to him.

A soft blush came over your face at his words as you burrowed into his neck. Your hold on him only tightening as he rested on top of you. His larger hand slowly moved up and down your sides as you rested on the rug. Gently, Ned placed your leg in a more comfortable position as he whispered sweet nothings.

Your bodies tangled together in front of the fire as it crackled in your ear. The warmth from it and Ned had you practically purring. “We should go to bed now.” You sweetly whispered into his ear as you locked eyes. His fingers were sweetly moving through your locks of hair as he pecked your sweet tasting lips again and again.

Ned hummed at your words before gently placing you onto his lap. His softened cock pressed against your stomach now as you leaned in. “I love you.” He whispered; nibbling on your bottom lip before passionately deepening the kiss. “I love you too.” The words fell from you with ease as you settled against him.

#ned stark x reader #request #kinktober

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ser-zoras · 6 months

Text

How POV Characters In ASOIAF Feel About Halloween

Ned - likes Halloween for the sake of the kids, but you cannot tell me this man wouldn't do a dramatic performance in which one of the direwolves eats him. Also for his children's benefit of course, but he enjoys it.

Cat - the mom who hands out healthy snacks. She probably has a very corny sweater with a ghost pun on it.

Dany - she is also an ugly Halloween sweater person. She also would have a matching costume with all of her dragons. Probably a bat.

Tyrion - he might take Tommen and Myrcella trick or treating, but that would be the extent of his involvement. Maybe he reads some Stephen King to get in the feeling of the season.

Jon - emulates the older brother in Hocus Pocus. He takes Arya around and as the cool emo brother, he's legally obligated to be miserable the whole time. He secretly loves it.

Bran - really good at freaking everybody out. A little too good.

Sansa - allegedly hates Halloween. She stays inside, yes, but because she is watching every single Jordan Peele movie and scaring herself shitless. She has seen Us twelve times. This has not made her any more normal about it.

Arya - is dressed as a werewolf. She insists on crawling on all fours the entire night. She also howls about every five minutes.

Melisandre - is literally that person who everyone compliments on their costume despite the total absence of a costume. She is doing witchery, but she will leave out a bowl of candy anyway.

Sam - using the occasion as an excuse to make a full cosplay. He won't be wearing it anywhere, but he enjoys the creative process.

Cersei - watching a Saw marathon and taking diligent notes.

Asha and Theon - Asha has convinced Theon to toilet paper someone's house. She will leave him there and call the cops herself. He will be bailed out three hours later, claiming that he's learned his lesson. This is the the third year in a row this has happened.

Brienne - let her carve a pumpkin PLEASE

#ned stark #catelyn stark #daenerys targaryen #tyrion lannister #jon snow #bran stark #sansa stark #arya stark #melisandre #samwell tarly #cersei lannister #asha greyjoy #theon greyjoy #brienne of tarth #briennergy if you will #my posts #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls

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atopvisenyashill · 22 days

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Do you… do you maybe want to share the nedcat sex headcanons?

alsdfj i got you anon

so emotional/timeline wise my headcanons are-

Ned actually knows a lot about sex because he grew up with Brandon and Robert in his ear talking about the women they'd been fucking but he sticks to missionary until after Sansa is born because he doesn't want Cat to think he's a man slut, he canNot get hard if he's thinking about Brandon or anything Brandon ever said to him even a little, and he's also like 75% sure they were just straight up lying to him.

Ned doesn't want to pressure her because he's unsure how long it takes to recover from birth and he's worried she hates him so he awkwardly asks if the birth was hard, how she's feeling, and Catelyn realizes he's asking if she's cleared to fuck and she's just like "yeah I'll come to your room tonight if you want" but Ned is like "no no i'll come to you!!" so the first few years, they're doing all their fucking in her room instead of his.

With the three year gap between Robb and Sansa, I think the first year or so the two of them are barely fucking. There's barely an eye contact because Catelyn still thinks he's mid and he always looks so serious and Ned keeps thinking about Brandon, going soft, and getting embarrassed (i'm an expert on grief and sexual dysfunction bro trust me on this) (i'm being serious here i got a lot of dead family members)

The crying incident happens like a month after the Ashara incident. Ned doesn't skip their Scheduled Sex Day, but the bruise he left takes forever to fade away and they're both really aware of it when they're fucking and he can't like, apologize even though he feels like the biggest asshole and she can't be mad at him because that's not how Proper Wives act, so it's just a lot of no eye contact sex until he's crying into her hair and trying to hide it. Catelyn feels so weird about it because she's like "he's crying over Ashara he hates me he wanted to marry her instead of me and we'll never be happy" but she's also Elder Sister Extreme so his crying makes her start playing with his hair, and then they're sad making out and both crying and he goes soft and they're both laughing at how deeply stupid they're being.

He comes to her room the next night to apologize for being a fucking wreck and then when they're banging - and it's going really well - he suggests she get on top and she's like...I can do that? Hell yes she can and it's real good.

They start fucking more spontaneously, with her dropping hints outside of Scheduled Sex Days that he could drop by if he wants, and Ned awkwardly asking if he can come by on other days, but before they really find a groove she's pregnant with Sansa and he's like "if we fuck it'll hurt the baby" but he notices Cat is clearly feeling some type of way about the fact that they stopped having sex and this is when Ned goes down on her for the first time.

Literally the moment she's cleared they start having sex again. I love that scene in the show where Ros says he rang all the bells in Winter's Town for a week after Sansa was born, because I just love the idea that Cat is feeling slightly bummed that this one came out with red hair and a girl at that (she wants a daughter eventually but what she wants is a son that looks like Ned) but Ned is so jazzed about being here for this birth and getting to hold Sansa when she's still a newborn and the birth was easy so they're both healthy, and keeps stopping random servants to be like "look at my baby i made this!!" that Cat just completely falls in love and is dropping hints about him visiting her rooms whenever he wants and Ned loves affection so. It's so good none of the kids are old enough to be scarred by how often their parents fuck yet.

Sometime after Arya is born and he's back from the Greyjoy Rebellion, they start getting super adventurous. He's going down on her in the godswood. She's going down on him in the middle of the day in his solar. One time she wears an old dress that's a lil too tight across the chest and he mumbles about visiting her later and she's just like you know what fuck it and they do it in a random room. He feels her up one time in the Sept but she's like i canNot do this with the Seven watching so he drags her to his room and it's not even lunchtime. They get ass over tits drunk at an Umber wedding and bang (really quickly and not very quietly) in a random hallway. Robb sees like the corner of Ned's ass one (1) time when they're fucking in the godswood and they calm down a little bit because Robb spends the rest of the month sullenly glaring at Ned while Jon is clearly trying to become one with whatever floor he's standing on because Robb obviously squealed immediately.

They start fucking in his room before Bran is born and she starts sleeping in there sometimes when they get tired out lmao. As they age, they gotta limber up a lil bit but that just means Ned has has an excuse to "massage" her aka feel her up. She will do that thing where she'll lightly massage his shoulders in public but it always gets him a lil rowdy (in an affectionate, loving way) and it makes Theon cackle and it makes Robb want to die and Jory is always saying he hopes he's happy like that with his wife while Robb is begging him to shut the fuck up.

Ned would never grab her ass in public but he definitely checks her out with zero shame in front of the gods and everyone because the pregnancies gave her a huge ass and sometimes Arya will narrow her eyes at him because she doesn't know what the fuck he's staring at but she knows it's inappropriate and then Ned feels guilty for being horny in front of his kids.

specific "what are they doing in bed" stuff-

most of the weird shit they get into is curiosity. neither of them is ever trying to be sexy (he doesn't want to pressure her, proper ladies don't enjoy they endure, etc) but she is naturally curious and they find each other so completely sexy that they just want to try everything to see how it feels.

they get into orgasm denial (for her). starts out as just like, they're unsure of what to do, he's fairly certain Robert was making up all that stuff about his girls screaming in ecstasy but once they find a groove, Ned finds he really enjoys like, methodically edging her until she's tearing her own hair out and then getting really rough, and it becomes a game to see how close he can get her without pushing her over, how long she can stay on the edge without going over, and then snowballs into how long they can fuck ~just for him~ until she's like, inconsolable. this is mostly because ~proper ladies don't ask for it~ right so Catelyn is always framing her own sexual desire as I'm Sure You Have Needs My Lord so Ned becomes determined to make her admit that she really wants him.

He goes down on her literally all the time. Man dreams about eating the pussy every night.

obviously Ned has a canon breeding kink a mile wide but that's because when they're fucking Catelyn is talking to him about making another son. she picked that up from a Manderly wedding they went to. she doesn't go down on him as often because he's like no it goes Inside You Cat and it's the most hilarious, most sexy thing he gets huffy about.

they do reverse cowgirl all the time specifically so he can watch her hair bounce all around. she really loves when she's in his lap and they're just kinda grinding and making out and he's playing with her hair because she really likes the feeling of her chest against his.

they go hard he has bruised her hips a lot but it's okay because she scratches the fuck out of his back. they're both really apologetic the first time it happens except as it turns out not only does Cat get a thrill out of pressing down on the bruises during the day, Ned likes looking at the scratches so they start doing it on purpose. he's really careful to never bruise her arms however (he did one time kind of accidentally because he was holding her wrists above her head and she was weird and moody all week until he realized he'd triggered The Bad Memory) but he will leave fingerprint bruises all over her thighs and chest. She'll scratch up his chest enough to draw blood and he'll be fingering the scrape and Luwin is like why do you two do this to me. make sure she washes her hands before at least so it doesn't get inflamed seven hells.

She catches Theon doing anal with a servant and gets curious and brings it to Ned and she likes how it's just a little painful and overwhelming. Ned never finishes inside her ass though he thinks it's really weird, so he finishes on her belly usually which he feels is a waste until she started scooping it up and licking it off her fingers again, mostly out of curiosity than anything, and he uh, really likes that.

He still refuses to come in her mouth though lmao.

#nedcat #asks #anons #ned stark #catelyn stark

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