And I have known the eyes already: Jaime/Sansa, implied Mya/Sansa, Sansa/OtherlainemontgomeryJuly 11 2013, 03:00:23 UTC
She lets him choose the girl, more often than not- she tells herself that it hardly makes a difference to her, but it makes all the difference to him
( ... )
And I have known the eyes already: Jaime/Sansa, implied Mya/Sansa, Sansa/Other (Part 2)lainemontgomeryJuly 11 2013, 03:00:42 UTC
She sends the girl away soon after, with a pouch of silver coins for her trouble. After a few wordless moments, Jaime stands and moves toward the door.
A chill sweeps over Sansa's body, and she feels the impulse to grab hold of Jaime, to wrap her hands around his hard cock and bring him to her level, that she needn't be alone...
But she lets him go. As she curls up naked in her blankets, she thinks of how Mya would stay the night with her after their trysts, how she would wrap her sinewy arms around Sansa's body and hold her close, how Sansa would fall asleep to the soothing rhythm of Mya's heartbeat.
The memory twists sharper than she would have expected, and Sansa closes her eyes, indulging herself in a single, lonely tear.
Spiral; Joanna/Tywin; MlokiyanJuly 11 2013, 04:00:45 UTC
Her lord husband was many things - cunning, strong, wealthy, powerful. It was almost frightening, the prospect of marrying the great Tywin Lannister. They hadn't seen each other since they were children and this was a stranger before her with his set jaw and light smattering of a beard signaling his arrival in adulthood
( ... )
Re: Spiral; Joanna/Tywin; MlainemontgomeryJuly 11 2013, 12:34:31 UTC
AHHHHH TYWIN AND JOANNA THIS IS SO SWEET AND WONDERFUL I AM DYYYYING. <333 I love how vulnerable and anxious Joanna is- it's so popular in fandom right now to think of Joanna as this totally implacable, stone-cold manipulator, but I don't like to think of her that way. I prefer a more human and fallible view, and that's exactly what you've given us in this story. Also, the visuals are LOVELY, this phrase especially: Her feet curled against the muscles of his back as she crashed, her spine curved off the bed and her hair a tangle of gold against the virgin white sheets. SWOON. Wonderful work, my dear!!
Re: Spiral; Joanna/Tywin; MlokiyanJuly 11 2013, 17:58:44 UTC
Thanks! They are one of my OTPs and I can't believe it's the first time I wrote them (and half asleep too! For shame!). Yeah, I never buy Joanna as a stone cold fox because just looking at the glimpses of their relationship in the text, I think it would take someone rather different to inspire that kind of loyalty from him.
Shifting, Jaime/Sansa, Mjust_a_dramJuly 11 2013, 16:19:16 UTC
Sansa shifts just a hair away from his solid shoulder. It has been a long inner push and pull that has led to this tiny correction of her body in the straw stuffed bed of the inn, and ultimately it isn’t displeasure that drives her to roll slightly to her right, but desperation.
It isn’t the first time she shared a bed or a bedroll with the Kingslayer. They are glad enough to share the body heat, when they travel on the road-North, it was supposed to be North, and now we move in the wrong direction-and even in this inn, there is need of it, as they have no wood to feed a fire that might make the room warm enough to force him to the floor like a dog guarding her sleep
( ... )
Re: Shifting, Jaime/Sansa, Mjust_a_dramJuly 11 2013, 16:20:16 UTC
After moons of controlling her passions, it takes very little to make her bite her lip. Her breath comes fast, her head bows back, and her fingers draw neat circles, precise as the stitches she once practiced, bringing her closer to her pleasure.
“You’re doing a bloody terrible job of being quiet.”
Her breath catches in her chest. Her body goes rigid with the need to be still, but her eyes fly open wide, every sense alive, as she prepares to express insult and denial or to feign sleep, anything to convince him that his complaints are unfounded.
The seconds tick by endlessly and she only just thinks, I might have dreamt his voice, for he has not moved, when he stirs, his body heaving onto his back, his head lolling to the side to meet her panicked gaze with eyes hooded from sleep.
“Do you need a hand, my lady?”
You don’t have one to spare, she thinks uncharitably. But it’s a cruel jape, so she keeps it inside, where it cannot hurt him. Besides, he did well enough with one hand; it is the remembrance of just how well that keeps her
( ... )
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A chill sweeps over Sansa's body, and she feels the impulse to grab hold of Jaime, to wrap her hands around his hard cock and bring him to her level, that she needn't be alone...
But she lets him go. As she curls up naked in her blankets, she thinks of how Mya would stay the night with her after their trysts, how she would wrap her sinewy arms around Sansa's body and hold her close, how Sansa would fall asleep to the soothing rhythm of Mya's heartbeat.
The memory twists sharper than she would have expected, and Sansa closes her eyes, indulging herself in a single, lonely tear.
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BUT OH, HOW WRONG I WAS. It's you so I should have known better.
Guh, Jaime blue-balling himself and the Mya Stone feeels. I just want them to find love gdi!
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HAHAHAAAAAAA. FAMOUS LAST WORDS. ANGST IS LIKE OXYGEN TO MEEEE.
Thank you for reading, my dear!!
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SWOON. Wonderful work, my dear!!
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It isn’t the first time she shared a bed or a bedroll with the Kingslayer. They are glad enough to share the body heat, when they travel on the road-North, it was supposed to be North, and now we move in the wrong direction-and even in this inn, there is need of it, as they have no wood to feed a fire that might make the room warm enough to force him to the floor like a dog guarding her sleep ( ... )
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“You’re doing a bloody terrible job of being quiet.”
Her breath catches in her chest. Her body goes rigid with the need to be still, but her eyes fly open wide, every sense alive, as she prepares to express insult and denial or to feign sleep, anything to convince him that his complaints are unfounded.
The seconds tick by endlessly and she only just thinks, I might have dreamt his voice, for he has not moved, when he stirs, his body heaving onto his back, his head lolling to the side to meet her panicked gaze with eyes hooded from sleep.
“Do you need a hand, my lady?”
You don’t have one to spare, she thinks uncharitably. But it’s a cruel jape, so she keeps it inside, where it cannot hurt him. Besides, he did well enough with one hand; it is the remembrance of just how well that keeps her ( ... )
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