I haven’t listened to this in ages. Great Gaelic/Celtic song by Runrig/Paul Mounsey and I think it fits so well with Petyr being low-born and burning down the monarchy in my Regency Era fic. I imagine him finding out that Sansa has been taken and that she and his son could be dead...
Instructing his man-servant, before going to Joffrey to kill him,
“Kill them all. Even if she’s dead... Kill. Them. All.”
An Toll Dubh - The Black Tower/Dungeon
Behind the door there will be no sun.
Sitting at the table
There will be no food and no wine
Behind the door there will be no sun
There will be no food and no wine
In face of adversity we will rise from our slumber
In face of adversity we will rise from our slumber
The Gael is in his bed,
The Gael is slumbering
In face of adversity we will rise from our slumber
He came here from the south (England basically)
He came With a fast steed and a heavy key
He came here from England
With a fast steed and a heavy key
**chorus**
On the floor of this black dungeon there will be no sun
There will be no moon Dark will be the night as we sleep
On the dungeon floor there will be no sun
Dark will be the night as we sleep
In face of adversity we will rise from our slumber
In face of adversity we will rise from our slumber
The Gael is in his bed,
The Gael is slumbering
In face of adversity we will rise from our slumber!
I decided to post this because we've all been missing a bit of creepyshipping. It was going to be the beginning of something I wrote forever ago and was going to progress as Sansa aged. It's not finished in that sense and I can't guarantee that I will finish it but you can read this as a stand alone.
And I've stated before and I'll state it again, my Petyr has blue eyes (not green) because we aren't picturing book Petyr. We're picturing Aidan’s Petyr and I can't see him with green eyes.
Warnings: Underage, grooming
The First Kiss
The first kiss was hardly a kiss at all. Not a real kiss, with sucking and nibbling and tongues. No, the first kiss was much more innocent than that or so he would have led her to believe.
Sansa had been forced to attend her dreadful aunt Lysa’s birthday party and being the perfect child that she was, would not dare challenge her parents on such a matter (or any matter). Wearing the dress her mother had instructed her to, she had greeted her aunt with all the feigned enthusiasm she could muster and resigned herself to an evening of boredom and avoiding her cousin, Robin, as much as was possible.
Lysa’s one and only son was a scrawny, spoiled child whose every word sounded like a whine. On that particular evening, he had gathered together all the younger children in attendance - Sansa’s younger sister and two younger brothers included - and coerced them into a game that he called The King’s Service. A made-up game where he, of course, was the King, and the other children were his subjects that had to do various tasks to prove their loyalty.
At thirteen-years-old, Sansa regarded herself as too mature for such childishness - and frankly knew it was a ploy to make the children do Robin’s bidding - so she snuck out of the parlor to seek refuge from her cousin and the boring adults that were already well into their cups. She retreated up the stairs and into the library, the only place in her aunt’s house that she enjoyed. She had concluded that no one would likely be interested in books when wine was flowing so freely downstairs.
It was a large room with bookshelves lining all four walls, as well as a few rows of shelves in the center of the room, making it almost like a real library, only smaller. All the shelves were crowded with books upon books and even more books. Sansa often wondered why her aunt had bothered with such a place for she had no knowledge of the woman ever reading. For Sansa, on the other hand, libraries and the books that filled them were a place of wonder and excitement. In books she could be anyone, go anywhere, and do anything that she dared to imagine.
She walked slowly down the rows, running her fingers along the book’s spines, and stopped when she spied a copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. She took it from the shelf, opened it, and flitted through the pages, allowing the smell of the old paper to waft up to her nose.
“It’s a first edition you know.”
Sansa jumped, startled, dropping the book in her hands. As she knelt to pick it up, she heard quick footsteps coming toward her across the hardwood floor. Just as her hand touched the book, another larger, masculine hand grabbed it from her.
“Sorry...Uncle Petyr,” she stammered, standing upright and looking up at her aunt’s husband. “You scared me.” She felt her cheeks burn with humility, knowing she was about to receive a reprimand for dropping the likely valuable antique in her uncle’s hands.
“It’s all right, sweetling. Accidents happen. Why aren’t you down at the party? Or playing with Robin and his minions?”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’m too old to play their games.”
“But not quite old enough for the games in the parlor? Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful expression in his eyes.
“I guess not. Why aren’t you at the party, Uncle Petyr?”
“I’m not much of a party person if I’m being honest. Nor do I find amusement in artificial conversation.”
He turned and walked back across the room, returning to the desk that Sansa hadn’t noticed when she had first entered and that he had likely been watching her from the entire time. Sansa followed him. “What do you mean, artificial?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” he answered, taking his seat.
She did know what he meant. Conversations that take place where you pretend to care about what the other party is saying. Pretend to find them funny when they tell a joke and release a forced, slightly exaggerated laugh. Pretend to like them. But she had never heard anyone admit to these things.
But Petyr Baelish wasn’t just anyone. Sansa had known the moment she had met her aunt’s new husband, that he wasn’t like any other person she had ever known. It wasn’t something he had said or even done, necessarily; it was a feeling. His sapphire blue eyes hid so much more than what appeared on the surface, a doting, husband and his new wife. Sansa could see that it was a façade but no one else around them seemed to notice. Only her. And when his eyes met hers, she swore that he was aware of her knowledge.
In truth, something about him made her feel uneasy and slightly uncomfortable but that same something made her all the more curious. Being near Petyr Baelish was quite like being too close to the edge of a steep cliff. One knew that it was dangerous but was powerless to fight the urge to step closer to that edge for just a tiny peek at how far down the fall would be; and possibly even more fascinating, what lay below?
“Would you like a drink, Sansa?” he asked, going into the desk drawer and taking out a bottle of dark brown liquid and two glasses that he sat atop the desk.
“I’m not allowed to drink alcohol.”
He raised an eyebrow, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
She thought this over for a moment, wondering if it was some sort of trick to get her into trouble. But her father would likely strangle him for giving it to her and so, she decided they were on an equal playing field. Plus, she couldn’t deny that she was curious, she had never tried alcohol before and longed to know why adults loved it so much and what about it made it too dangerous for kids to drink. It was exciting. “Okay.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her stomach fluttered at his choice of words. It was a good feeling, but she didn’t fully understand it. Her father had sometimes referred to her as his girl, but it didn’t garner the same reaction.
Petyr filled each glass about a quarter of the way full and returned the bottle to its drawer. She waited for him to hand her a glass, but he did not. “Come here, sweetling.”
Her eyes darted to his, then down at the floor and her heart rate instantly sped up. At the moment, the desk separated them and even at that distance he made her feel strange. Now he was asking her to go around the desk and stand at his side.
“I won’t bite. I promise. Come along.” He smiled but his eyes did not.
Returning her eyes to the floor, she slowly made her way around the desk, stopping a couple of feet in front of him. He turned his chair to face her. “Come now, sweetling, I promised I wouldn’t bite but I’m afraid I don’t have another chair, so you’ll have to sit on my lap.”
Her heart rate accelerated instantly. Alarm bells were going off in the young girl’s head and a small voice in the back of her mind, a voice that sounded very much like her mother's, told her to turn around and leave the room. Warning her that if she did as he asked there would be no going back. A pact would be sealed. Leaving would be the right thing to do.
But Sansa Stark was so tired of doing the right thing.
She closed the distance between them and carefully placed herself upon his lap. One of his arms immediately wrapped around her back and his hand grabbed her hip, holding her in place. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.
“There. Not so bad, is it?” She shook her head, eyes finally looking up into his own. He smiled and handed her one of the glasses. “Now try this.”
She took it with both hands and took a rather large gulp that she immediately regretted. The liquid tasted awful and burned like fire going down her throat. He chuckled, no doubt at the face she was making.
“Yuck. Why do people drink this stuff?”
“It gives some men courage.”
“Does it give you courage?”
He regarded her with watchful eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth his only reply.
That flutter in her stomach returned and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was sitting on her uncle’s lap in a dimly lit room. She had never been so close to another adult male’s body, except her father’s. Petyr’s scent filled her nostrils - mint and sandalwood - and it was almost intoxicating. Or perhaps it was the alcohol now burning in her stomach, she wasn’t sure.
He took the glass from her hands and placed it on the desk and the lack of it, although small it was, made her feel as though a barrier had been taken down between them. She placed her hands in her lap, fidgeting.
“You are an extraordinarily beautiful girl, Sansa. Do you have very many boys chasing you yet?”
She shook her head, unable to fight a smile at his praise.
“Are you blushing? I think that might make you even prettier. If that were possible.”
Sansa wasn’t sure what to say, not used to compliments from a man other than her father. But when her father gave her such praise it didn’t feel so sinful and everything about her current circumstances felt very much a sin, though technically Petyr had not done anything that would be considered wrong. At least she didn’t think so.
“I think you’re probably very smart too, aren’t you, Sansa?”
“I guess so.” She shrugged and met his eyes again, the look in them intensifying the warmth she had felt in her stomach since swallowing down the alcohol. She couldn’t read the expression there, due in part to her young age and inability to recognize such emotions yet, but she could sense the danger, nonetheless. Oddly enough, it gave her no notion to jump from his lap and leave.
Like all girls her age, Sansa had been warned of strange men since she was old enough to talk but Petyr Baelish wasn’t a stranger. With that being said, she knew that a man did not have to be a stranger to bring harm to a young girl. Not necessarily the type of harm that comes from violence but the type of harm that can come from a man with impure urges. On countless occasions Sansa’s mother had warned her away from any man that tried to touch her in inappropriate places and alluded to many other things of an adult nature that should never take place between a man and a child. Was Petyr one of those men?
“What on earth is going through that head of yours, little one?” he asked, snapping Sansa out of her thoughts and back into the present. Back into the room where she sat on her uncle’s lap and still tasted the bitter liquid of the alcohol on her tongue.
“Um...I don’t know." Her voice trembled at the thought that those penetrating eyes of his would be able to see into her own and know exactly what she had been thinking. If he could, he must have found it rather amusing because the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk.
“Are you comfortable?”
She only nodded. Then he took his right hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped around her waist, and placed it on her leg just above her knee. Her dress was long enough that it fell well past her knees but even through the fabric Sansa felt a sudden current from his touch that spread and rushed up through her entire body, a tingling warmth like nothing she had ever felt before.
“What about now?” Petyr asked.
“I’m alright,” she answered, at once regretting speaking because the shaking of her words would reveal her trepidation.
“Do I frighten you, sweetling?”
For a split second she thought to lie and blurt out a resounding “no”, but she stopped herself. For some reason she felt that she could be honest with him and not offend him in the slightest. In fact, she was almost positive. He didn’t strike her as the type of person who became easily offended. Or shocked or anything for that matter.
“Maybe a little,” she answered softly.
“Rightly so.”
For the most part, Sansa had kept her gaze fixed on her hands or anywhere but his face and eyes but when he uttered those words her head snapped up quickly to see what she would find there. He chuckled at her reaction, and she found only amusement in those sapphire eyes. Feeling her cheeks blush she looked back down at her hands. What was he laughing at, she wondered, feeling somewhat stupid suddenly?
“Are you mocking me?” she asked.
“No sweet girl, only teasing.” His voice sounded very apologetic which only seemed to make Sansa feel even more stupid for being so easily riled. “Fear isn’t always such an awful thing. Sometimes the things we are frightened of can be terribly exciting, wouldn’t you agree?”
Do I? She wasn't entirely sure, for she was only 13 years old and had yet to do very much living. Fear was a normal reaction to danger and Sansa wasn’t familiar with danger. She grew up in a wealthy, somewhat religious family that tried very hard to keep all of its children on the straight and narrow. Sansa, being the second oldest, and the oldest girl of the Stark children, already carried heavily the burden of responsibility that comes with setting a good example for one’s younger siblings. She was often the basis of comparison when her parents were scolding her younger and wilder sister, Arya. Why can’t you be more like Sansa? Sansa is always such a little lady. Sansa makes straight As and has never gotten into trouble at school.
But she remembered a few times when the idea of not being the perfect daughter had brought her quite a thrill. It was only a minor thing really and could hardly be considered dangerous in the true sense of the word, but on a few occasions, she had sneaked her cell phone after her parents were asleep and stayed up extremely late texting her friend Jeyne and cruising the internet. She had been terribly afraid of getting caught. The Stark children who were old enough to have cell phones, which was only her and her older brother Rob, had to turn their phones in to their parents every night before dinner. The rest of their evenings were devoted to homework, family time, and then showers. One night Sansa was absolutely dying to text Jeyne. Earlier in the day Jeyne had heard from another girl at their school that Joffrey Baratheon had told someone that he had a crush on Sansa. Joffrey was the richest, cutest, and most popular boy in school and Sansa was elated and overjoyed at the possibility that he might like her. She and her friend had talked about it at every opportunity possible all day long, but it wasn’t nearly enough, what with classes and schoolwork getting in the way. That night, Sansa left her room and pressed her ear to the door of her parent’s bedroom. When she was sure the only noise she could hear was her mother’s soft snoring, she slowly opened their door and crept quietly towards the dresser where she knew her parents kept the phones.
She remembered the insistent pounding of her heart and how all her senses seemed to be heightened in fear of getting caught. She remembered the rush she had gotten, a feeling that tingled and rippled through her entire body all the way down to her toes, when she made it out of their room and back into the hallway without being noticed. She had stayed up for quite a while, texting Jeyne, and giggling under her covers before returning the phone back to her parent’s dresser. The thrill and excitement returned the next morning at breakfast when, half expecting her parents to have noticed the phone slightly out of place, she realized that they had no clue as to what she had done the night before. That their perfect, well-behaved daughter who always followed the rules, had broken several the night before.
“I think you do agree,” Petyr said. “I know you’re a very good girl, Sansa, but I think that maybe underneath that there is a naughty girl dying to be set free.”
Petyr Baelish was dangerous, of that Sansa was certain. She knew because every time she was near him, he became the edge of that extremely high cliff and when she stepped closer, she felt her stomach drop. And there she sat perched on that very edge, not only ignoring her intuition telling her that she might fall but feeling excitement from it. He was frightening. Not outwardly, in plain sight for everyone to see, no. To everyone else he probably seemed smart, cocky, perhaps a man who thought highly of himself but was approachable and non-threatening. But Sansa could feel it. She could feel the insidious cunning behind eyes that gave little away as to his true intentions.
“What do you want to do when you grow up?”
“Um... I don’t know. Marry a handsome man and be a good wife and a good mom, I guess.”
Petyr didn’t reply immediately. He looked at her for a moment, pursing his lips and then shook his head. “Is that all you want? You don’t want to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a... a movie star? Do you even want that at all or is it just what you think girls are supposed to want?”
Sansa wasn’t quite sure how to answer, no one had ever asked her that, not the last part. People always asked kids what they wanted to be, but no one ever asked her if she wanted more or insinuated that her reply was a programmed response. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Well, you should. You are far too smart to be hidden away in a house in the suburbs with baby vomit on your blouse and a toddler underfoot planting Legos for you to step on. All while you prepare a dinner to have on the table in time for a man to get home from work that will eat it while whining to you about his long, difficult day and never once ask you about yours. Only to leave you with the dishes so he can plant himself on the sofa and watch television until it’s time for bed, where he’ll roll away from you with hardly a word and leave you wondering where it all went wrong.”
Sansa looked at Petyr then, struck by both fascination and fear. Adults never said such things to her or to any children. They never told them blunt and honest truths. Why was he speaking to her as though they were equals? Then she wondered if the picture he had just painted described his own marriage. Not all of it, of course. Her Aunt Lysa was hardly the type of woman that would leave spit-up on her clothes for more than the amount of time it took her to run and change, nor did she cook, but Sansa felt that something about the general statement of unhappiness rang true. Petyr told people how happily married he was and how lucky he was to have found Lysa but when Sansa thought about it, she knew that she had always felt that he was performing. It was an excellent performance, and others seemed to buy it, but she had noticed that when Lysa went to kiss Petyr he would turn his face so that her lips would land on his cheek instead of his mouth and she had never once seen him kiss her. She had noticed that he pulled away just slightly when her aunt would reach to touch or embrace him, and he never stayed in those embraces for very long.
“We should be friends, Sansa, don’t you think?”
“Friends? You’re my uncle.” She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by friends. Friends were friends and family was family, rarely ever one and the same.
“Only by marriage. I feel that you and I have a connection that goes a little beyond uncle and niece, wouldn’t you agree?”
Sansa nodded, unsure if she understood what he meant.
“And you can tell me things, sweetling. Anything. Things you wouldn’t normally tell anyone else, and you can trust that I will not tell another soul. Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she answered and in this, she did believe him.
“Good. But that works both ways. Whatever I tell you, you keep to yourself. Whatever happens between us, stays between us. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
He smiled. “I knew you would. Now…” He tucked a few strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, back behind her ear. “You should probably get back downstairs before someone comes looking for you. But would you grant your dear uncle and friend a kiss before you go?”
She assumed that he meant to give her a kiss on the cheek, or for her to kiss him on the cheek, nothing more. Her parents asked for kisses all the time and that’s what they always meant. So, she said yes.
But he did not kiss her on the cheek. He took her face into his hands, leaned forward, and pressed his lips directly onto her own. It was soft and chaste, and he did not hold them there for very long before releasing her, but Sansa’s heart drummed wildly against her chest. No one had ever kissed her on the lips before.
He licked his lips after and gave her one of those smiles that did not quite reach his eyes. “Best run along now. We’ll talk again soon.”
She hopped down from his lap and walked only until she reached the library door, then ran the rest of the way down the stairs.
Larycent are really just the OG version of Petyr x Catelyn and Petyr x Sansa, so if any fragmented reports about Them survived for a little over 100 years, Petyr must've totally fixated on them, writing medieval fanfiction about the Hightower Queen and her rumoured lover, the cunning Master of Whisperers, commissioning paintings of them, and projecting his crushes a little too much onto Larys and Alicent
Sansa was nervous, she had emailed her editor, Petyr, the article she just finished. Best case scenario was him suggesting a few changes, worst case would be to get called to his office and be told what a useless writer she was. She wanted to avoid the worst case scenario as she was already running late for a date. She went to the washroom to wash her face, applied some make up to look presentable and got back to her desk, waiting for his email. She texted her date that she might be running late. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to cancel and finally Petyr called her into his office.
She texted the date to wait for her message and walked in to the office bracing for the worst. Petyr was staring into his monitor, reading intently as he signalled her to sit down. She sat down waiting for him to say something.
After a bit more of an awkward silence Petyr said “This is really pathetic work Sansa. I expected better from you, please discard this draft and redo the whole thing. I need it in an hour. When I hired you I expected you to get better pretty fast, but you seem to be regressing with each passing day.”
“Can you please tell me what is wrong with it?” Sansa asked looking him the eye.
“Everything is wrong, the whole point of view is totally biased. So, please think about it again and write. I need it an hour, I don’t like working long hours just because you can’t do your job properly”, Petyr sounded irritated.
“Tell me what I need to do, so that I don’t have to go through this constant criticism from you sir”, Sansa wanted answers.
“Do your job well, don’t wait for me to point out mistakes. Learn from your colleagues who write so well. Margaery is slightly senior to you, but she writes so well. I barely have to correct her” Petyr chided her.
Sansa decided to take matters into her own hands, she got up from the chair and went closer to Petyr. She stood close to him where he could smell her perfume and said “I can work hard in other ways sir, please let me. Just correct my articles, whichever way you see fit. I promise I’ll make you happy”.
Petyr had an idea what she was hinting at, but he didn’t want to get into any trouble. He wasn’t new to pretty young things trying to lure him, and he had been successful at staying away. He loved his wife after all and wanted to keep it that way. He stayed calm and replied “Just do your actual job properly, that’s all I need. I don’t need you to work hard in any other ways.”
“Are you sure sir, I think I caught you staring at my ass a couple of times. I do wear the tight pencil skirts for your viewing pleasure after all, aren’t they enticing you enough”, Sansa moved closer and sat on his desk.
“I love my wife, so you better get back to your desk and start reworking on the article”, Petyr could hear the weakness creeping in his mind and words.
“But my hard work lies here sir, let me prove how hard I can work” Sansa said as she pulled Petyr closer and kissed him, her hand touching his crotch.
Feeling her wet lips on his lips melted any final resistance Petyr had left and he was kissing her back with equal vigour as she started rubbing the hardness growing inside his trousers. His tongue was wrestling with hers, her hands running all over his back inside his shirt.
“Someone might walk in, we might get caught”, Petyr warned her.
” Let them walk in, let them see how hard I work for you editor. Let them see how much I want your approval” she whispered in his ears as she nibbled on his ears.
“I’ll let you work now, let me get back to work too. Do remember this is our secret, nobody has to know” she smiled and got below his desk.
He tried to act as if he was working in case someone walked in, but her hands were moving too fast and before he knew it his cock was in her hands, being stroked so good.
“Oh fuck! I can’t believe you’re making me do this” he moaned, trying to keep his voice low.
Sansa licked his shaft from the head all the way down, getting it all wet, stroking it like a favourite pet. Her pet was responding to her touch and soon enough it was fully grown and ready for more. She took his dick head in her mouth, sucked on it and then pulled out. She looked up into his eyes, he had his eyes closed, trying not to moan too loud. She was stroking him harder and sucking on it like her favourite lollipop, in and out, in and out of her juicy mouth. Her sloppy sucking made him hold on to the chair hard, resist the urge to talk dirty to her as he could still hear people around the office.
“Am I working hard enough now sir? Do you think I’m a better writer than Margaery now?” she teased him before taking him fully inside her, his cock hitting the depths of her throat.
“Oh yes! You are a much better writer than Margaery ever will be” Petyr had no other response for her.
“You will always love my writing and will praise me before everyone going forward, won’t you sir?” Sansa was now taking advantage of his weakness as his cock hit her cheeks, harder and harder.
“Yes, of course. I will ensure your writing is the best of all your colleagues”, Petyr hadn’t felt this turned on ever.
Sansa was now pulling his cock harder, making it hit her throat and cheeks as she massaged his balls. There was a knock on the door and the office boy walked in. Sansa stayed still and didn’t make any noise, it took a great deal of effort for Petyr to stay calm and send him away. He made the boy, lock the door behind him so that nobody would enter again. Once the door was shut again, Sansa was back to sucking her favourite lollipop, playing with his ball sack at the bottom. She knew he could burst any minute, but she wanted him inside her.
“How do you like my hard work sir” she quizzed him as she got back up from below the desk, his throbbing cock still outside his trousers as she pushed his chair back and sat on the desk. Her feet were now on his cock, her pointed heels hurting him.
“Do you like my work sir, tell me you do. Please tell me sir, or I will work harder”, she almost warned him.
“I love your work, you don’t need to work any harder”, Petyr replied as he winced in pain.
Sansa made sure the door was locked and then unbuttoned her blouse, letting it loose as her gorgeous cleavage was now teasing Petyr. She hiked her skirt all the way up and spread her legs, giving him a good look at her red thong.
“Do you like my dressing sense sir?” she asked him, as she squeezed her tits, rubbed her pussy, her heels still pressing down on his cock.
“Yes, I love it” Petyr replied. It was getting hard for him to resist, as she was putting on quite a show for him.
“Then you must reward me for my hard work sir. A nice incentive would only encourage me to work harder for you every day sir. It would make me work weekends too, I’d never leave office at all sir”, Sansa pressed her leg further on his cock.
“Enough hard work, now please stop hurting me. I’ll do as you say always”, Petyr pleaded with her.
“I hope you are a man of your word sir” Sansa smiled at the tortured look on his face. She got up and sat on his lap, spreading her legs around him, kissing his mouth wildly, biting his lips and sucking his tongue. She hugged him tightly and started jumping up and down, grinding on his manhood, arousing him further as she tugged at his hair. Petyr knew he was getting late for a movie with the wife, but in that moment all he wanted to do was to pound Sansa, show her who the boss really was.
“Touch my wet pussy sir, see how hard I worked for you, how wet I got for your thick cock sir”, Sansa whispered in his ears as he bit her lips and grabbed her ass, squeezing it, slapping it as she grinded on his cock.
“Oh I’ll do more than just touch it, I want to do a great many things to it” Petyr was finally finding his mojo as she was within his grasp.
“Please do it sir, I can’t wait to find out what those great many things are” she took his fingers in her mouth and sucked on them.
He moved down to her collarbone, sucking and biting on it as he slapped her ass, pulling down her bra and letting her gorgeous titties loose. They looked far too inviting for him to stay away. He squeezed them together and took them in his mouth, sucking and licking. He dug his teeth into them as she held him by the hair and pushed him deeper into her cleavage, moaning as he devoured her succulent breasts.
“Oh sir! I want you to fuck me so hard, I want you to make me your little bitch and pound my wet needy pussy. Can you do that sir?” she moaned as he sucked and bit her tits harder.
He hiked her skirt all the way up to her waist, now started rubbing his cock up against her pussy lips, getting them wetter and wetter. Her moans were growing louder as his hand found its way down, searching and then rubbing his clit.
“Oh fuck! Your touch feels so good sir. I wonder how your cock would feel against my pussy” she moaned into his ears.
He rubbed her clit harder, as she rocked her hips, grinding down on his cock, hugging him so tight not allowing even air to get between them.
“Fuck me sir, please. My pussy deserves to be rewarded for all its hard work” she didn’t want to wait any longer.
He held her around his waist and kissing her, got up from the chair and made her sit on the desk. He spread her legs wide and pulled down her thong, rubbing her wet pussy, as he sucked her taut nipples, driving her crazy. Her moans and gasps, egging him on as he rubbed her clit, getting her ready for the hardness that awaited her. She pulled him closer and held his cock, rubbing it on her pussy lips, inviting him to take advantage of her. But he wasn’t ready yet, he took his fingers wet from her juices and sucked on them as she looked him in the eye.
“You taste so good” he mouthed as his fingers went back down to get wet again, this time giving it to her. He made her taste the wetness that oozed out of her, making her hornier than ever. Her body was shivering uncontrollably now, feverishly awaiting his final assault. He decided to not tease her any longer and pulled her closer, kissing her, sucking and licking her neck as his cock was rubbing up against her wet pussy lips, waiting for the opportune moment to make a grand entrance. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as he moved in, still kissing and sucking, entering her smoothly as her wet pussy engulfed his thick cock.
“Ah fuck! Yes sir, you made me wait so long for this. Now reward me, fuck me with your thick married cock. Fuck me like your dirty little bitch. Fuck me like you own this pussy” she moaned as he went deeper, filling her up, stretching her to the limit.
He pulled out and pulled her closer, hitting her harder this time. She dug her nails into his back as his cock thumped her wet pussy. The look on her face and her moans told him how much she was loving it. He held her tightly and started thrusting in deliberate short thrusts, hitting her pussy like he owned it.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Just like that, fuck me harder sir. Make me your whore” she moaned and bit his lips as his thrusts were relentless.
She put her hands on his ass, pulling him deeper into her, making him treat her like his personal office bitch. The look in her eyes, driving him to get nastier, choking her neck as he pounded her pussy. He found her clit again and rubbed it non stop, her pussy and clit both being pleasured in equal measure. A heady cocktail of pleasure coursing through every inch of her body, making her throw her head back. She was enjoying the symphony of his tongue, his cock, his fingers all over her naked body, pushing her to the edge where she was trying to hold on for as long as she could.
“Oh Sir! I love how well you reward me for my hard work, please reward me everyday. I want to be your side pussy sir” she moaned as the pressure inside his balls was building up. He slowed down for a few seconds and bit her nipples, making her moan louder, then starting to drill her again. Her entire body was now writhing in intense pleasure, as his cock was truly giving her pussy a reward to remember.
“You better stay back late every night, we have to work on your skills”, he kissed her neck as he drew closer to the edge too. He held her firmly down by her shoulders and now pounded her mercilessly, the pleasure hitting its zenith as she could sense the end nearing for him. And after plundering her a little while longer, he sprayed his seed deep inside her with a loud grunt.
He knew she wasn’t over the edge yet and quickly got down, rubbing her clit, licking her pussy filled with his cum. A few licks and rubs later, she exploded too, her body enveloped by the most amazing orgasm she had ever tasted. His face was dripping with her juices as he looked up and smiled at her. “You just made my wife very angry, I missed my date with her”, he admonished her. “I missed a date for you sir, so let’s call it even” she winked and pulled him up for a sloppy kiss. “If you tell anybody about this, I will get fired” he warned her. “Oh don’t you worry sir! This will be our dirty little secret” she spread her legs, rubbing her wet pussy and then licking her wet fingers.
Just my two cents about the changing interaction between Larys and Alicent.
These time jumps make it hard for me to understand the character development and as a Larycent shipper in particular the changing interaction between Alicent and Larys.
After the first time jump we see them interact the first time during the dinner scene. They have intimate late night dinners, seem to be very close and familar with another and they make little jokes. She takes her shoes off, which indicates that their ‘sexual agreement’ is already going on, to what extend is not known. He also seems to be concerned with her worries and is eager to serve her and make her wishes come true.
After the killing she looks utterly shocked and devasted. It seems that to this point she didn’t realise what he is actually capable of. The thing she values the most, the family, is the thing he destroys without any remorse. It seems that she truly sees him now for the first time. He also shares his worldview with her, beeing someone to never asked to speak, probably something he never did with anyone before. He offers her to life with the lie, that it was an accident, the old curse of harrenhal. But she doesn’t accept this, she doesn’t share his worldview ‘no, you passed judgment’. To this he expresses the first threat ‘the queen makes a wish...’ Basically saying we are bond by blood and sacrifice now, if you turn against me I will make sure you are going down with me. He has her in his hands now to which Alicent tearfully turns away in horror. This killing and his threat casts the first rift between them.
As a result I think she tries to distance herself from him to an extend that he attends the funeral of Laena, not because he is acquainted with house Velaryon but because he presumably stalks and watches Alicent and tries to find a way to get close to (to get in favor) with her again. He stares at her so unabashedly that even Ser Criston remarks on this. Maybe I am delusional but I have the feeling that the interaction between Criston and Alicent causes a rivality. Him seeing her who he sees as kindred spirits, the first person who he opened up to, getting close and relying on a person like Criston Cole, a man he can never be, the archtype of an attractive, healthy, strong westerosi man. I think this is the point where his resentment grows. The scene closes with him watching Alicent and Criston. He is smiling slightley but his eyes are hard and cold.
On the ship he finally approaches her. He shows her his compassion for the tragedy and for her suffering, probably the frist person since the incident who feels sorry for her. Standing by her side and watching her closely having a concerned look on his face. If it’s an eye she wishes for he will do it. Saying that he is on her side and he will do anything she wishes for. And then she says she will need this kind of friend in the future his face lightens up the first time genuine smiling at her. Both standing together paralleling Rhaenyra and Daemon.
So after that I was really curious about their next interaction and had high hopes. But after the last episode I was mildly confused. The six year time jump didn’t really help at all. In their first and only interaction we witness an extreme powershift. Larys waits at night in her private bedchambers for her, uninvited. She enters the room feeling tired, worn out and probably beeing an emotional mess. She tells him to leave her alone because it is late and she is tired. But he disobeys and stays. He is determined to get rid of mysaria the second spymaster, who not only spies on them but feeds the information to Otto, who knows about their many meetings and seemingly dismisses it. He not only confronts Larys about his meetings with Alicent, it was also a warning.
But instead of telling her this threat of beeing spyed on in a simple, short way, recognizing her exhausion and sorrow and be done with it, he demands his price bit by bit - he drags this affair on and on - toying with her emotions. There is no compassion for her loss for her well beeing. No kind words, no condolence. There is a stark contrast to his prior behaviour. She has no choice but to play his wicked game. He has control. He has the power over her and she has to serve him. And she is visibly suffering. Of course he sees and knows this but he doesn’t pay her suffering any regard, instead he gets aroused by it (not only by the feet). At this point he is no friend of hers no ally, she is simply a pawn to be used, also reduced to an sexual object to be used to please his sexual desires.
What is missing is how this turned out to be. Aren’t they supposed to be kindred spritis? His little flower? His mystery? In this scene they focus very often on his clubfoot. It’s Alicents POV. So she focus on his disablity and seems to be disgusted. What if he tried to get close to her (We saw him gently fondling a flower) but she refused his intimacy and rejected him. Telling him the only thing he will get from her are her feet. On the funeral we saw him staring at her full figure up and down not only the feet. So he is attracted not only to her feet but her as whole. In Ep. 9 we swa Alicent and Criston getting really close ‘for everything you feel for me’. Criston Cole the attractive archetype, but unpredictable ,acting without any thought with brute force - choosing him over Larys would be an insult to the cunning mastermind, the Lord Confessor and Lord of Harrenhal..
What if it is jealousy and resentment on Larys part. If you don’t want me I will have you either way. Seeing her now as superfical and shallow. Degrading and humiliating her with no regards for her feelings. And when there was his metaphor: ‘When the queen dies the bee fly without purpose. Beggin the pardon to the turn of phrase your grace’ This wasn’t per accident. It was a threat, a reminder. These are dangerous times, best not to make me your enemy. He speaks seldom but when he does his words are carefully thought out. This phrase felt like a slap in the face for Alicent the queen who should be in power here and clearly has no power over him.
This relationship is wicked and abusive. I am curious how this will play out in the future.
Sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my first language.
Hey fellow creepyshippers, I’m looking for a piece of fanart from many years ago and I’m hoping someone can help me find it. (I could have sworn I reblogged it, but my tags are keeping their secrets).
It’s a long/tall piece that looks almost like an intricate scroll, displaying Petyr and Sansa’s story on either side before they come together at the bottom. It’s meant to illuminate the similarities/mirroring in their character arcs. There may even be a red string of fate involved, but I can’t recall. I believe the quote “Life is not a song, sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow” runs through the whole piece, as well as a mockingbird or two. It has a light coloured background. It’s hand-drawn (so, no images from the show).
Can anyone help?
The first chapter of my Bridgerton AU is now up! This is a cover I drew, except for the flowers up at the top. Got them from a Google image and edited them on! Give credit if art is reposted! You can find me on ao3 at lightning1600.
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