#GoT

[ghostinwinterfell]

it’s actually insane how dany crucifying slavers is cited as foreshadowing her “mad queen” arc. you know, the same slavers who crucified one hundred and sixty-three children (and that’s the least of their atrocities). like that’s probably the most sane thing that anyone has ever done in asoiaf.

meanwhile the male characters get to have their badass hero moments—jon can behead janos slynt, robb can fight a war of vengeance, jaime can push a literal child from a tower. and none of them are “mad.” none of them are heading towards a corruption arc.

BUT the formerly-enslaved girl who wants to tear down the system of slavery is the secret villain of the series. okay.

[vintrage]

least broody 14-year-old, actually

[gracelyns]

[duckysprouts]

please read the books for my boy jaime lannister who speedran his character arc when he realized that 99 percent of his problems can be cured with buff girl tiddy

[trupniy]

Jon Snow and Ramsay Bolton 😘 my perception 🤩🥰 YAAAYYYYYYYYY !!!!

[wxlfkingxfthenxrth]

no one can protect anyone.

[dragondreamers]

ALICENT HIGHTOWER & SANSA STARK PARALLELS 4.02 "The Lion and the Rose" | 1.05 "We Light The Way"

[thetorturedlover]

Jacaerys Velaryon

[strfallz]

╰─▸ MISC BOT DUMP ⓒ STRFALLZ 2025

⋆ art and patrick — the choiceᵃᵘ (fem!user)

user found herself courted by two very different men — the polished art donaldson and the reckless patrick zweig. her choice between them, it seemed, could change far more than just one tedious season.

⋆ art donaldson — disneyland

art, now focused on his daughter after his sports career, takes her to disneyland, where her joy reminds him of life's simple happiness. with user, he finds a new sense of love and hope.

⋆ cregan stark — snowflakes and smiles (fem!user)

a quiet snowy morning in winterfell finds rickon crawling into bed between his parents, user and cregan. their marriage, once political, has grown into something warm and tender. as they lie together under the blankets, cregan, half-asleep, whispers that before user and their son, winterfell had felt like nothing but endless cold.

⋆ helaena targaryen — candlelight

grieving in the sept, helaena whispers prayers for her lost son, her heart frozen by sorrow. as user joins her in silence, helaena clings to the candlelight and dreams of sewing a world where her boy still lives.

⋆ jacaerys velaryon — dragon ride

amid the stormy winds of dragonstone, jacaerys laughs as his spouse hesitates before the fierce-looking vermax. fearless, he strokes the dragon and warmly invites user to ride with him, his confidence shining through the sea-swept air.

[queef-in-the-north]

Lady Aurelia Farwynd everyone

♔ Mary Tudor was ‘generally considered handsome and well favoured…and conducts herself with so much grace..she is a paradise. King of France would come as far as Abbeville…to meet her, and there consummate his marriage with this “nymph from heaven”…Her deportment is exquisite both in conversation and in dancing, and she is very lively.’

[snow-blower]

Prettiest Thing

Robb Stark x Pregnant!reader.

MASTERLIST

A/N: This wasn't supposed to go over 500 words... Summary: Robb loves the way you look, especially with your baby bump. He wants to make sure you see yourself the way he does — absolutely beautiful. BASED ON THIS ASK HERE. TW: SMUT 18+, messily written but written with love, pregnancy sex, breeding kink (kind of), body image issues, praise kink, gentle manhandling. Let me know if i've missed anything!

Robb stands behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he holds you close. His chin is resting atop your head, your hair tickling his chin. In front of you both is a mirror — the same mirror he has been refusing to let you look away from for the past ten minutes.

“See how beautiful you are, sweet girl?” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and thick with a love that danced dangerously with desire.

His hands cradle the swell of your stomach, his touch a tenderness that makes your heart pound faster in your chest. But after a lingering moment, one of his hands trails up your side, the fabric of your sheer shift bunching beneath the movement. His hand cups your breast, your breath catches in your throat as his thumb brushes against your nipple.

You try to duck your head, embarrassment warming your already flushed cheeks. But even as you try, Robb catches your jaw with his hand, gently guiding you to look back at your reflection. Your mouth opens to speak but nothing coherent comes out. All you can manage is a small broken, needy sound.

“No hiding,” he growls softly, placing a soft kiss on your temple. “I want you to see yourself how I see you — so fucking pretty.”

A trembling breath leaves your parted lips as Robb's hand slides from your jaw, trailing down your throat and your chest until it finds the curve of your hip. It's a touch so worshipful, yet possessive all the same.

He watches you in the mirror, notes the deep hue on your cheeks and the ragged rise and fall of your chest. To him, you're completely and utterly perfect. Even like this. Especially like this. He just wants you to see that.

Robb's seen the way your eyes linger on the mirror as you dress in the morning, they way you hesitate. He knows you don't think he desires you when you're in this state. He, too, has heard the whispers of those ladies and court. And it pains him, the thought that you could ever doubt how desperately he still wants you. Hell, he needs you. You're so beautiful to him, even round, soft and carrying his child.

Robb's fingers carefully hook under the hem of your shift, dragging it up slowly to bare more of your soft skin to him. He lets the fabric bunch around your hips, his hand splaying possessively across your stomach once more to keep the fabric there.

"Robb," You whine, the coldness hitting you a stark difference from the warmth radiating from your core. It sends a shiver down your spine and has goosebumps rising along your thighs.

Robb smirks against your temple, humming low in his throat. The sound vibrates through your body as his on your hip glides lower, slipping between your thighs.

His fingers find you already soaked, practically dripping as his fingers glide along your slit. The groan he lets out is nothing short of desperate.

“Fuck,” he rasps, burying his face against the delicate curve of your neck. “You're so perfect. So fucking perfect and ready for me.”

Gathering the wetness there, he brings his fingers to circle your clit. Your head falls back against his shoulder at his touch, hands scrambling to clutch at his wrists.

All you can do is whimper his name once more, a shaky moan escaping you as Robb’s fingers work you. They're slow and steady, circling with the kind of patience that leaves you trembling beneath him. The heat pools low in your core, spreading through every vein and filling your every sensation with nothing but pure need. A need for more touch, more of his touch, more of him.

“Ah, eyes open, dove.” He growls once more as he notices your eyes fluttering shut. When you don't immediately open them again, his fingers dip lower, gathering more of your slickness before slowly, carefully, slipping two fingers past your entrance.

Your eyes snap open then, wide and glistening. You clench instinctively around his fingers, a broken gasp falling from your parted lips.

"That's it," He coos, dipping his head to kiss the exposed skin of your neck. All the while, his fingers begin moving in slow, gentle pumps. He tilts your hips just so, his fingers slipping deeper.

Nodding towards the mirror, he speaks once more, more teasingly this time. "Look, dove. Look at how well you take me — look at how gorgeous you look."

Your lip trembles and your gaze wavers, daring to flick up to his face in the reflection. His eyes are blown wide with lust, flicking from between your thighs, your face, and the swell of your stomach where his other hand rests — almost as though he can't quite decide which to focus on first. But then his eyes are meeting yours in the mirror and the lust behind them gentles. It gentles into something that has you melting beneath him, your hips grinding down against his hand.

You give in then, forgetting any desire to fight back, to deny the truth he so easily claims. He sees it, sees the way you finally look at yourself in the mirror. Not just a quick glance. No — for the first time since the swell of your baby began growing, you looked. Really looked.

Robb gives you a moment, though he doesn't pause the movements of his fingers, continuing the slow, almost teasing pace. His eyes are heavy with something deeper than lust now. Pride. Devotion. Adoration.

"Say it."

You let out a sound of confusion mixed with pleasure. You meet his eyes once more, yours questioning where his are narrowed.

"Say it. I need you to say it, darling — I know it's true but I need you to know it is, too." His words are almost desperate now, pleading for you to see what he sees in the mirror. A woman whose beauty compares to none other.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your hands tightening around his wrists, your nails leaving crescent shaped indents there. You stutter, stumbling over words as you tried to find the ones he wanted to hear, the pleasure shooting through your veins and coiling in your core making any and all attempts difficult.

You stammer around the moans and whimpers his fingers pull from you, "I'm pretty, Robb. I'm… I'm pretty," you manage, voice wobbling and hardly sounding like you, but sounding true nonetheless.

Robb groans low in his throat, your words — your admission — the most precious thing he's heard in all his life.

"You're beautiful, so fucking beautiful, my darling dove," he whispers fiercely as he pulls his fingers from you with a lewd pop.

You whine at the loss, your hips immediately bucking, trying to bring his fingers back. Robb is quick to soothe you, his hand moving from your stomach to caress the push of your hip before reaching for one of your hands.

"Easy, love." He murmurs against your ear, his other hand — still wet with the evidence of his touch — reaching to grasp your other hand. He guides you forward, bringing your hands to grasp either side of the mirror frame.

"Keep your hands there, dove."

You nod, doing as he says, fingers trembling as they curl around and grasp the frame. You feel his hands on your hips once more, bending you over just enough to bare yourself to him fully. You swallow thickly, daring to look over your shoulder at him.

Robb meets your gaze in the mirror as he nudges at your entrance, slow and teasing before he finally — finally begins to push into you.

It's slow. Achingly, so. Every inch is a sweet, delicious stretch that has your lips parting and eyes rolling back before fluttering shut once more.

"Eyes, dove. Let me see those pretty eyes." Robb reminds you, chuckling softly as your eyes snap open to meet his in the reflection once more.

You clinger tighter, more desperately to the mirror as he finally bottoms out with a low groan, his forehead dropping to rest on your shoulder. His curls brush against your jaw as he holds you there for a moment, letting you get used to him for a moment.

He then starts to move, pulling out before slowly thrusting back in with measured movements. Each thrust is a slow, roll of your hips, each one making your body rock slightly against the mirror.

His hands roam — brushing over your hips, your belly, your waist — like he can't choose where to touch your first.

"Fuck, love," he murmurs as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "You feel so good...so perfect, taking me so well."

Each meeting of his hips against your own is a deliberate movement, angled just right, to give you the most pleasure.

You watch in the mirror, the way your bodies move together, how your skin glows, flushed and shining with sweat and love. Robb's eyes are glued to yours, his brows furrowed and jaw tight with restraint.

Unable to completely hold back fully, his pace quickens, each thrust a little rougher, a little more frantic as he watches you in the mirror.

"Gods, look at you," he pants as one band slides up your chest to palm at your breast. "My good girl."

You sob out a sound, hips bucking back to meet each of his thrusts, seeking more and chasing the pleasure that's coiling so tight inside you it feels like you're going to shatter.

The mirror rattles beneath you both, the sound mixing with your needy moans and desperate gasps, and Robb's growls and sharp breathes. Your reflections blur even as you try your best to focus, blinking back the glaze of need and desire in your eyes.

You can't even bring yourself to form words anymore, the moans and gasps preventing any words coherent from falling through.

Robb slides a hand between your thighs once more, fingers finding your clit once more, the pace matching his thrusts. It's too much, your walls flutter around him, your thighs trembling and knees threatening to buck from beneath you.

And then he hits that spot inside you so perfectly. Before you know it the waves of pleasure were crashing down onto you, dragging you under like a whirlpool. You trembled, gasped and shattered beneath him like a fragile thing in his hands. You didn't even realise you were crying out his name until you heard it echo around your chambers.

Robb follows soon after, hips stuttering with a final deep thrust inside of you. He's lost in the feelings of you clenching around him, your cries ringing in his ears and mixing with the string of curses and messy praise that fell from his own lips.

Robb pants against you, his forehead slick against your shoulder as he rests there, still buried deep inside you. He holds you up and steady even as your legs threaten to give out from beneath you.

He doesn't let go of your right away. Instead, he keeps his chest pressed against your back as you both regain your breath. His hands soothe gentle circles over your hips, belly, and anywhere he can reach. He murmurs soft praises and reassurance beneath his breath, pressing a trail of kisses along your shoulder, up your jaw, before finally capturing your lips with his own.

He cups your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss before pulling away. He presses a soft peck before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

"You did so well, my sweet girl." He murmurs, brushing his nose against yours affectionately.

After a moment, he slowly pulls out of you, helping you stand properly. One hand splays protectively over your belly as he kisses anywhere he can reach. Your shoulders, your temple, your knuckles. He smooths out your shift, letting it fall back down your thighs.

When your knees threaten to give out once more, Robb's already there, scooping you up without hesitation. He carries you to bed, murmuring soft praises and gentle reassurance against your skin.

Once you're tucked in, he fusses — fetching a damp cloth to clean you up before draping a fur blanket over your body. He presses little kisses to your forehead and nose as he does, making sure you're absolutely comfortable before climbing in beside you and holding you close.

[gameofthronesdaily]

SOPHIE TURNER on the set of Game of Thrones (2010) 

[chippedcupwrites]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐉𝐎𝐘 & 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 ➥𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭 𝖨𝖥 𝖲𝖧𝖤 𝖭𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖱 𝖫𝖮𝖮𝖪𝖲 𝖡𝖠𝖢𝖪 ❛ ━━ ･ ❪ a study in devotional attachment, the torment of longing, and perceived unrequited love ❫ ･ ━━ ❜

- all gifs & image/text/typography edits are made by me - screenplay-style 'poetry' written by me - quote & painting attributions under the cut

A Dance With Dragons by George R.R Martin │ Edmund Blair Leighton, Tristan and Isolde. (1902). │ "Maybe In Another Universe, I Deserve You" by Gaby Dunn │ John Henry Frederick Bacon, Romeo and Juliet. │ Lighthousekeeping by Jeanette Winterson │ The Dead Man by Georges Bataille │ Sir Edward John Poynter, Orpheus and Eurydice. (1862). │ Game of Thrones ep. 6x01 │ "Theon & Sansa screenplay poetry" by chippedcupwrites │ The Blood Pact by Beau Taplin │ Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, Orpheus Leading Eurydice. (1861). & Game of Thrones ep. 6x01 │ "Theon & Sansa screenplay poetry" by chippedcupwrites │ Game of Thrones ep. 5x10 & When Nietzsche Wept by Irvin D. Yalom │ "The Wolves" by Isra Al Thibeh │ "Guilty as Sin" by Taylor Swift │ "Epithalamium" by Louise Glück │ Game of Thrones ep. 5x10 │ Arthur Hughes, The Long Engagement. (1859). │ Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare │ "Work Song" by Hozier │ Game of Thrones ep. 8x02 │ “Little Matchstick Girl” by Trista Mateer │ Possession by A.S. Byatt │ "Climbing" by Lucille Clifton │ The Princess Bride, (1987). │ "Sonnet 57" by William Shakespeare │ Game of Thrones ep. 8x02 │ Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin by Anaïs Nin │ Eugène Decisy & Paul Albert Laurens, La Morte amoureuse. (1904). │ Game of Thrones ep. 5x07 │ "august" by Taylor Swift │ Edvard Munch, Jealousy. (1895) │ "Nature Poem" by Chen Chen │ Game of Thrones ep. 8x02 │ Soft in the Middle by Shelby Eileen │ "Guilty as Sin" by Taylor Swift │ Delta of Venus by Anaïs Nin │ Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Carlisle Wall (The Lovers). (1853). │ prettyboykatsuki │ Game of Thrones ep. 8x02 & Edvard Munch, The Kiss. (1897). │ "Theon & Sansa screenplay poetry" by chippedcupwrites │ Love letter from John Keats to Fanny Brawne, (October 13th, 1819) │ Game of Thrones ep. 6x02 │ War of the Foxes by Richard Siken │ Little Weirds by Jenny Slate │ Gaetano Previati, Paolo e Francesca (1887). │ Game of Thrones ep. 8x04 │ Girls Against God by Jenny Hval │ Ruin and Rising by Leigh Bardugo │ Game of Thrones ep. 5x07 & photo source unknown │ The Angel Experiment by James Patterson │ Hilma AF Klint, The Swan, No 3, Group IX. (1915). │ "Anecdote of the Pig" by Tory Adkisson │ Her Garden Yearns More For Visitors Than Water by Fatima Aamer Bilal │ Game of Thrones ep. 8x04 │ Game of Thrones ep. 8x04 │

[hyperfixations-everywhere]

yeah he is fucking DISTRACTINGLY handsome

I will NEVER understand why Dany didn't snatch Ser Jorah Mormont right up. It's all I think about every time this man is on screen.

[xoshize]

Don't cry darling

Pairing: Cregan Stark x young fem reader (18+).

Warnings: angst.

Synopsis: Cregan comforts you after some boys tease you.

Author's note: I always thought Cregan was a very generous man, and if he saw his wife/girlfriend crying, he would immediately worry. I hope you like it!

The reader is of legal age (I will never write for underage readers, only 18 and up).

Minors must not interact (MDNI).

If you want to make any requests, feel free to do so! I will try to accommodate you according to my guidelines.

English is not my native language so I ask you to have a little tolerance :)

Your hands cling to him for comfort, as if letting go would mean you’d collapse entirely. Cregan holds you tightly, but not too tightly. He’s warm, firm, like a father with his daughter. His fur cloak wraps around you as he pulls you against his chest.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’m here" he repeats, and his voice is the deep low tone of a Northern man, but now it’s laced with softness. His thumbs gently wipe away your tears, brushing your hair away from your face.

You can’t answer right away. The lump in your throat tightens more than the words of the boys who have mocked you, who have made you feel out of place, fragile, different. Maybe it’s just because it’s you. You feel even smaller, and he seems so firm, so distant from the pain that consumes you.

"Who were they?" he asks then, with a calmness so intense it makes you shiver. There’s a promise in his question, and you know Cregan well enough to know that he always keeps his promises.

You shake your head against his chest. You don’t want to name names. You don’t want to seem weak but he holds you tighter, almost as if to tell you that there’s no shame in pain.

"They shouldn’t let that happen again" he finally murmurs, and you feel the anger beneath his skin "I swear no one will ever say bad things to you again as long as I’m breathing."

He pulls away a little, enough to see your face. His gray eyes, cold as winter, seem clearer now. He looks at you for a long time, and then adds in a firm voice "Promise me that you’ll always tell me when something happens. You don’t have to go through this alone."

His words surprise you, comfort you, hurt you in a strange way because you’re not used to someone taking your pain upon themselves. You look at him, your eyes still swollen from crying, and for a moment you forget everything else: there’s only him.