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Balon Greyjoy (Please forgive me, I can't control myself🫦🙏) ""Salt wife"? Think again, girl. You have bad taste."
The Smiley Boy…
Was reading theon's first chapter in acok and this is how imagined him coming back to pyke… also it made me so sad how often characters point out his handsomeness and SMILES, it actually made me sad knowing what happens to him later… i like suffering. But anyway i always wanted to draw theon before “reek” and i love it! Dude is awful but ugh i love him
it's a shame that we don't get to see more of westerosi cultural variation through clothing and accents. but i'll let you in on a little secret. in the iron islands *everyone* has a shitty mullet
What is dead may never die
Iron born! Cregan Stark x Septa! fem reader.
Warnings : Rape/Non-Con, virginity loss, dacryphilia, blood kink, overstimulation, breeding kink. odaxophilia, sacrilege, blasphemy, rough, pain infliction, DEAD DOVE, NOT EAT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Your consumption of media is your own responsibility just as it’s mine to warn you of the contents of my work. If you chose to willingly read despite knowing you’re sensitive to the topics I named above don’t go crying in the comments.
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The great hall was overrun with laughter and clattering of dishes as a thousand men tore through the meat and mead of your Lord. They were rugged men, in boiled leather and ring-mail with their axes and swords at their hip, bearing the golden kraken across their chests. Laughing and throwing cruel, foul japes that made you flinch. With your head lowered you continued to serve, trying your best to ignore the flaying gazes of those men as you filled their cups with ale.
Stories of iron born came back to you; reavers, rapers that spared no one and you were the only woman there, with no men of your Lord to protect you. Only eight serving women and girls that you sent away on the next ship, dragging one by the hair to the ship because she refused to leave you. It was a noble gesture, but nobility could get you so far as to a an early grave. You knew your Lord would too coward to return with men at arms and greet Lord Cregan Greyjoy himself as he boasted in the council. So, you had chosen to do your a favour by sending them away before anyone could touch them. As for yourself? You didn’t think on it.
“Woman” a biting voice called. You rose your gaze and there was Lord Cregan Greyjoy, sitting in your lords chair and drinking from his golden cup. He was a tall, broad shouldered man, with brown hair he kept half up, deep grey eyes and sun-kissed clean shaven face. He was in leather and ring mail, with the kraken at his chest and a sword at his hip no different than his men, however, any fool with eyes and the wits of a fish could tell who commanded the room.
“Pour me ale”
You moved and poured with shaking hands. The rumors of the Lord Reaper of Pyke had never been far from your ear. The say he sips wine from the skull he keeps on his ship from enemies, they say likes blood better than wine and war better women. And women.. it happened you overheard from a whore house on how The Lord Reaper wanted his women face in the sheets with their rear up, or on their knees with sucking on his fingers, one even claimed a tore a chunk of flesh off her shoulder, and another claimed he made her pray while taking her under a heart tree. The sinful things you heard were appalling.
“M…” you swallowed. “My lord should be here soon”
He picked up the goblet, sharp grey eyes on you as he drained the cup. They had the patience of a wolf circling elk. Swallowing, you avoided his gaze. He set the goblet down.
“Your Lord came to me” he admitted. “He fell on the floor and licked my boot. I offered him my sword at his back. His head hangs upon the spikes of my ship, once it rots I shall drink wine from his skull”
That did not surprise you. Your Lord was a coward. You had known that the day you were given him as a governess to his children. Had you had not thought to sent every woman and child from here, what the iron born may done left you sickened. You were eyed as though you were more succulent than the fat honeyed turkey siting torn at the middle of the table. Only the Gods held them from ripping off your robes and taking you right here, that, and The Lord’s gaze.
“Then I pray you enjoy the treasures. The castle is filled with gold, my Lord. Take what you will and what pleases you”
“Your Lord promised me his castle filled with gold right after I took his head. But.. he also promised us the women of the castle. Serving girls, his own wife. All I see is Septa shaking like a rabbit. You will do, Come here”
The pitcher slammed on the floor as you bolted out of the hall, the door slamming behind you. You ran upstairs, lungs burning and heart hammering. The castle of your Lord had been made on an island, far from old town and Kings landing. It would be impossible for you to swim there. No footsteps pumped behind you, however you dared not stop. Pushing the massive door open, you slammed it shut then and locked the door, slumping against with a sigh.
Across you, the statue of the Maiden stared right through your soul. In the candle light, you could glistening, long trails beneath her eyes, it looks as though the statue were weeping. Lounging on your knees, you brought your hands in prayer and began praying.
“Maiden please, guide your servant that has served faithful, now and forever, let your protection be above me. Protect my virtue that I had promise to keep. Protect my-“
Heavy boots thudded on the floor. Echoing louder as they approach. You sobbed, and then kept praying. The footsteps stopped right behind the door. Your words trembled on your tongue.
One kick is all it took for the massive oak door to break. You forced your eyes closed as you kept praying, until a firm harm hauled you by the back of your robe, making you yelp as you pulled you into him.
“Your gods will not save septa. But keep praying, they’ll listen”
“Please” tears rolled down your cheeks. “No..”
He tore off your robe. You cried out, it echoed through mockingly. Your nipples tightened because of the cold air. The Lord Reaper leaned in and inhaled your scent making you shiver and weep more. His rougher hand squeezed your breast, thumb circling the nipple.
“Please” it came out as a sobb. “Please”
His rough thump wiped away a tear so gently it hurt. He smeared it on your bottom lip. You dared glance at him only to find him looking right at you.
“Begging won’t save you, girl” His breath warm against your face. With one arm, all of the candles were off the table. The face of the maiden vanished, and you were pushed with your face into the altar. The coldness bit into your skin. He held you pinned with one hand as the other slithered between your thighs.
“No!” You squirmed fruitlessly. “No, please, anything but that!” You gasped his fingers found your pearl beneath the hood of your womanhood. His finger dug into it making you jolt, “No. No please, I’m gods sworn!” You greeted your teeth when he grind his fingers against that spot.
“Greenlander Gods” he forced two fingers in, making you scream. “Even they know to stay out of when the drowned God hunger” ripping his fingers out, he unlaced his breeches. You felt the blunt head line against your entrance more tears rolled down.
“Please” the vows you had made your lips dry. You sobbed more when forced himself in, breaking your maidenhead on the altar of your gods. he grunted, his hand gripping your hair as he thrusted into you hard unyielding, using his weight to keep you pinned. Lord Greyjoy forced you to look at the maiden by the hair
“Pray to your Gods” he commanded. You wailed when he went deeper. “They already watch you bleed on my cock, prey septa or I’ll have my men take turns”
You whimpered, eyes shutting tight. But even if you couldn’t see, you could feel, you could hear. He grunts in your ear, his ring mail scraping your bare back. When you wouldn’t speak, his grip tightened you could feel tearing at the scalp.
“Please Smith, warrior, make this stop.” You choked up, his grip didn’t loosen. Neither had his thrusts. “Please mother, maiden, croone, father! Kill the iron born, make his heart stop!”
He barked a laugh, leaning in to bite your shoulder until bled. “The only thing that will stop tonight is your pious life. This cunt grips me as though to keep in me” he remained in you. “I’ll take you as my salt wife and you’ll give me son. If they turn weak out I will cut off your head” he went hard. Too exhausted, you slumped against the wood as he took what he wanted. You knew he was close when he went faster, then stayed buried in you with a groan before pulling out. You shivered in disgust as you felt something warm leak down your thigh.
Lord Greyjoy forced you up, then tossed you over his shoulders and marched with his new conquest down stairs.
"Average ironborn has two braincells" factoid actualy just a statistical error. Average ironborn has 0 braincells. Rodrik the Reader, who lives in a Book Tower and knows over 30 letters, is a fuckign nerd adn should not be counted
A little sneaky preview of the first few pages of my comic, Strange Waters! The 31 page comic I made for PCAF Perth, following the backstory of my ASOIAF tabletop character Gwyn and his mysterious Ironborn upbringing. (Our campaign is run by @oneirotect with my fellow pc @clownprincenico) It made me so incredibly happy to draw so many seals.
I'll have physical copies available to purchase when my shop reopens next friday! (16th August 2024) and it will later be available to purchase as a PDF or to read on my website! I'll keep you updated!
Can I tempt you with seals and Gwyn's hot uncle?
Theon Greyjoy
Prince of Winterfell... Prince of Fools
