#got characters

He loves to leave hickeys or a visible mark on you in places where it’s impossible to hide them. You belong to him, and he’s going to make sure everyone knows you’re off limits. He always ensures they’re a deep, vibrant shade of red or purple, ensuring that the men and women of the court would whisper to themselves about them.

Jaime’s favorite position to take you in is a tossup between cowgirl and missionary. After he loses his hand, cowgirl is easier for him, and he gets the added bonus of watching you bounce on top of him. Even after his hand is gone, missionary is still common with you two, but not as much so. Jaime enjoys folding you in half, pushing your knees to your ears, makin’ you squeal from it.

“Fuck, my love,” Jaime groans, “You’re so tight ’round my cock.” He has your legs resting atop his broad shoulders, effectively folding you in half. His hips slap against your ass, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the room. Your moans mix nicely with it, which only spurs Jaime on further. “Gods, I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

Bronn is more lenient when it comes to dominance in the bedroom. He’d never entertain the idea of being on the bottom, but he’s willing to hand over the reins of control every once in a while. He’s always in control, it’s almost therapeutic for him to let go. Bronn likes it when you take control, likes it when you straddle his waist and make him ask for permission to cum. But if you overuse your power, he’ll stop letting you do it.

Other than cowgirl, his favorite position is doggy. Seeing your pretty little back arch downwards and your ass wiggling in front of his face gets him harder quicker than anything else. His hands spread themselves down your spine, thumbs rubbing over the ridges he finds there.

“Mm, you’re very good at this, you know,” Bronn said, his voice somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. Your lips are wrapped nicely around the sellswords’ thick cock, sucking him off like you have all the time in the world. Bronn cards his fingers through your hair, tugging on it when he wants you to move faster. “Yeah, just like that, love. Just like that.”

Renly and Loras have found what works for them, and they stick to it. Renly likes to top, while Loras prefers to bottom, so it works out well. Loras is a pillow prince; enjoying being pampered and praised and fucked out of his mind. Renly is more than eager to give Loras whatever he wants, loving the sounds of his needy moans.

Loras knows exactly how to get his lover going, and he uses that to his advantage constantly. While Renly is away at his war council, Loras spreads himself out across their bed, back arched nicely, hips swaying as they hovered over the mattress.

The large oak door creaked as it shut behind him, blocking the noise of angry Lords arguing over tired battle plans. Renly ran a hand down his face and then through his hair, groaning softly. A whistle floats through the chamber, guiding Renly’s gaze to his bed. “My Prince,” he grins, the sight of him washing away any stress brought in from his council. “You surprise me.”

Loras chuckles coyly, wagging his hips enticingly. “Your war council was long today, my love. You left me alone for so long.” He fakes a sadness in his voice, enjoying teasing him. Renly walks to the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving the gift that was Loras’ ass. “You like what you see, Your Grace?”

Renly nods, hands gravitating towards the ass in front of him. “Apologies, my love. The war we wage is growing ever most complicated as of late.” He tugs Loras’ breeches down to his knees, hands spreading his cheeks apart to gaze at all his lover has to offer. “I’m sure I’ll be able to make it up to you, hm?” Loras twists his head back to look at him, a broad grin on his face. “Yes, I know just how to make it up to you, my love.” Renly leans down, licking a fat stripe up his lover’s taint.

“Oh, Gods, Renly,” he moans out in surprise, gripping the pillow in front of him, his knuckles turning white. “Just like that, please, keep going.” His hips press against Renly’s face, a silent beg for more, which his King granted. It wasn’t uncommon for Renly to go down on his lover. Loras melts every time. The feeling of his tongue tracing his rim, dipping slightly inside, making Loras moan even louder than before. Renly rarely needed to stop for air, content with the quick, shallow breaths he got between his own moans. “Renly, My King, please, please give me more!”

When you’re with Sandor, there’s no question of who’s in charge. Sandor is either inside the walls of the Red Keep or out on the road, so sex with him is usually quick, as that’s all he ever has time for. He’s not below pulling you into a closet or an empty chamber for a quickie or a sloppy blowjob.

But when he does find himself with an extended period of free time, he spends it catering to you and your pleasure. He pulls you to sit on his face, his nose buried deep in your sex. Sandor doesn’t stop until his chin is dripping with spit and slick and cum, the fluids rolling down his neck and getting stuck in his beard. His hands sit at your hips, forcing you to keep you still and preventing you from wiggling around.

“Sandor, Sandor, please!” you beg, tears streaming down your cheeks, your hands tangled in his unruly, knot-filled hair. His large, calloused hands envelop your waist, forcing you still. You’re positive there will be bruises blooming there later tonight. “Please, please, I can’t cum anymo—ore!” your voice cracks with arousal, pulling on Sandor’s hair harder.

Sandor came up for air, his lust-filled eyes meeting your own. “You’re done cummin’ when I say so, sweetheart.” He kisses the insides of your thighs before returning to the feast above him. Licking stripes up your sex, each one leaving you trembling and shaking with overstimulation. “Now that I’ve tasted you, how can you expect me to stop so soon?”

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