[ASOIAF SI] The Gilded Stag: A Ruthless Joffrey Uplift | (NSFW) Bonus Scene- Alternate Universe: JOFFREY (Locked)

Note: All the characters involved in this alternate universe are over the age of consent. This is a seperate tidbit outside of the canon of our fanfiction. It explores an alternate darker path full of lust, and the characters have been aged up to over the age of majority (18+).

King Robert and Lord Eddard Stark had ridden out into the freezing mists of the wolfswood, dragging half the keep’s guards, squires, and baying hounds in pursuit of wild boars, leaving the grey stone sanctuary strangely hollowed out and shadowed.

Joffrey stood in the deep recesses of a secluded, torch-lit gallery, his massive shoulders draped in a heavy riding cloak of black wool that did nothing to hide the sheer, terrifying density of his frame. At eighteen namedays, he was already a titan of corded muscle and golden fury , moving with a heavy, predatory grace that made the grand stone corridors feel suddenly cramped. His emerald eyes, sharp and relentlessly watchful, tracked the soft, hesitant patter of slippers echoing against the frosted floorboards.

It was Sansa.

She walked with her head slightly bowed, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over a heavy winter gown of grey wool. Ever since the royal progress had crossed the gates, she had been breathless, her cheeks flushed a bright, feverish pink against the cold whenever the magnificent prince entered the room. She had watched him arm-wrestle the Greatjon , watched his unyielding green eyes command the hall, and she was entirely infatuated by the dangerous, warrior-king paradigm he personified.

Before she could pass the alcove, Joffrey stepped into her path. The sudden movement was fluid and inescapable. Sansa let out a small, caught gasp as his massive hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around her forearm to guide her backward into a secluded, empty solar. He pushed her back, his strength absolute but perfectly controlled, pinning her flat against the rough, cold stone wall.

The contrast between them was stark. Joffrey loomed over her, his broad chest pressing close enough that she could feel the radiating, furnace-like heat of his body. The sheer, suffocating density of his presence completely paralyzed her defenses. He leaned down, his thick golden curls brushing against her cheek as he tilted his head, positioning his lips directly against the sensitive shell of her ear.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice, Sansa?" his deep baritone rumbled, a low, raspy purr that sent a violent shiver cascading down her spine. His breath was warm against her skin. "All throughout the day, during the feasting... your eyes never left me. Such hungry, wandering eyes for a lady of Winterfell. Seductive. Devouring. You’ve been a very bad girl, haven't you?"

Sansa’s breath hitched, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She could only stare up at his heavy, square jaw and the thin white memory of the training scar on his cheek, her blue eyes wide with an intoxicating mixture of fear and deep, submissive longing.

Joffrey’s hand left her arm, his large, calloused fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down the column of her throat. Slowly, inexorably, his hand drifted down the front of her heavy gown, his fingers unlacing the stiff northern ties with practiced precision. He slipped his hand past the rough wool, sliding his fingers beneath the fabric until they rested against the thin linen of her smallclothes.

Sansa let out a soft, whimpering moan as his calloused thumb and forefinger found her protruded peaks. He didn't rush. He pinched the sensitive, hardened crests over the smallclothes, applying a firm, dominant pressure that made her knees turn to water. The localized friction sent jolts straight to her core, forcing her to lean into his massive chest for support.

"Look at me," Joffrey commanded, his green eyes locking onto hers with an absolute, unblinking intensity. His thumb rolled over her nipple, teasing the taut nub until she gasped. "You have induced a hunger in me, Sansa. A very specific, demanding appetite. Tell me... how will a bad northern girl compensate her prince for inducing such a hunger?"

The sheer dominance of his tone stripped away every courtly lesson she had ever been taught by the septas. She was completely uncoiled beneath his touch, her mind dissolving into a puddle of primal compliance. She gripped the leather of his jerkin, her voice breaking into a breathless, desperate whimper.

"Anything..." she whispered, her head tilting back against the stone wall. "Whatever you need... do whatever you need to satisfy yourself, my prince. I am yours."

A slow, chilling smirk touched Joffrey’s lips—a bright, serene expression devoid of any mercy. He withdrew his hand from her bodice, stepping back just an inch to allow the cold air of the solar to hit her flushed skin.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his voice flat, absolute, and dipping with an unshakable authority. "Take off the wool, the velvet, and the smallclothes. Strip it all away, Sansa. Present yourself to me in all your glory."

Trembling violently, her fingers shaking so badly she could barely manage the remaining knots, Sansa did exactly as she was told. She unlaced the heavy winter gown, letting the thick grey wool drop from her shoulders and pool around her ankles. Then, under the unrelenting, heavy gaze of the golden giant, she reached for the straps of her smallclothes. She pushed the thin linen down, stepping out of the last barrier until she stood entirely naked before him, the pale northern light illuminating every soft curve, the flush of her skin, and the rapid, erratic heave of her breasts.

Joffrey didn't move. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp emerald eyes running a comprehensive audit of her naked figure. He scanned the swell of her hips, the narrow waist, and the perfect, rosy peaks of her breasts still trembling from his touch.

"Beautiful," Joffrey murmured, his raspy baritone echoing in the quiet room. It was not the courtly praise of a soft southron boy, but the heavy, possessive evaluation of a conqueror claiming a priceless asset. "Exquisite skin, perfect lines. You are beautiful, Sansa... worthy of being the sexiest whore in all of King’s Landing. A prize meant to be thoroughly used and masterfully kept."

Joffrey looked down at the pool of discarded linen at Sansa’s feet, his green eyes darkening with a cold, deliberate intent. The pale light of the fading afternoon caught the sharp angles of his face as he reached down, his massive hand scooping up the thin fabric of her smallclothes. He gathered the linen, rolling it with practiced, efficient movements into a tight, firm bundle.

"Winterfell has too many ears, Sansa," he whispered, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated against the stone walls. "And a proper northern lady shouldn't let the entire household know exactly how her prince chooses to discipline her. Open."

Sansa’s eyes widened, a flicker of raw, submissive thrill passing through her gaze as she parted her lips without a moment's hesitation. Joffrey slid the rolled linen between her teeth, pushing it deep enough to anchor against her tongue.He then secured it firmly behind her head with another linen fabric. The fabric effectively muffled her breathing into a series of soft, nasal huffs, sealing her protests and her pleasures behind a barrier of her own garments.

He stepped back in, pinning her frame against the wall with the sheer mass of his chest. His hand gripped the back of her hair, tilting her head sharply to the side to expose the long, elegant curve of her throat. Without warning, Joffrey leaned in and bit her earlobe aggressively, the sharp pressure of his teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh. Sansa let out a sharp, strangled whimper against the gag, her toes curling against the cold floor as a fierce jolt of pain and pleasure shot through her nervous system. Before the sting could fade, his tone shifted, his lips descending to soothe the ache with a hot, wet lick, followed by a sequence of slow, bruising kisses down her neck.

His predatory gaze tracked lower, settling on the rapid, erratic rise and fall of her exposed breasts. Joffrey dropped his hands to her waist, lifting her slightly to align her body perfectly with his desires. He leaned down, his mouth closing over one of her taut, protruding peaks. He bit down with a calculated, demanding pressure, eliciting a muffled cry of ecstasy that vibrated behind the cloth gag. He rolled his tongue over the hardened tip, suctioning it deeply into his mouth, alternating between sharp, bruising nips and deep, possessive kisses that left the flesh flushed and glistening.

As his mouth worshipped and tormented her breasts, Joffrey’s right hand drifted downward, his large, calloused fingers sliding over the smooth skin of her lower belly before slipping between her thighs. The stark contrast of his rough, warrior’s palm against her ultra-sensitive skin made her shudder violently. He pressed inward, his fingers finding her nether regions already slick and weeping with a heavy, thick wetness born of pure submission.

A dark, satisfied rumble sounded in Joffrey's chest as his fingers coated themselves in her heat. He began to stroke her deliberately, his thumb applying a firm, unyielding pressure to her swollen core while two fingers slipped inside her tight, pulsing warmth. He established a relentless, dominant rhythm, stretching her gently, driving his fingers deep inside her while his mouth continued to bite and suckle her breasts. Sansa was entirely uncoiled, her hips arching off the stone wall, trying to chase the friction of his hand as the intense stimulation pushed her closer and closer to the precipice.

Sensing the tight, rhythmic contractions beginning to ripple through her walls, Joffrey withdrew his fingers, leaving her glistening and desperately aching for release. He dropped heavily to his knees before her, his massive shoulders blocking out the remaining light as he parted her thighs wide, anchoring her hips firmly against the cold stone structure.

He didn't hesitate. Joffrey pressed his face directly into her dripping center, his tongue striking out in long, broad, unyielding strokes. The sudden, intense contact made Sansa’s eyes roll back, her fingers clutching frantically at his thick golden curls as she tried to ground herself. He used his mouth with total mastery, his tongue swirling around her hypersensitive node while his lips suctioned her slick flesh, refusing to give her a moment of respite.

The pressure was absolute, the pleasure entirely overwhelming. Bound by the gag, Sansa’s shattering orgasm tore through her body in a wave of violent tremors. She thrashed against the wall, her hips bucking helplessly against his face as a succession of deep, muffled screams choked behind the linen smallclothes. Joffrey held her fast, his hands locking her hips in place as he drank in every drop of her release, maintaining the relentless friction of his tongue until her tremors finally subsided into a soft, trembling exhaustion.

The echoes of her shattering release still vibrated through the damp, torch-lit solar, leaving Sansa completely undone. Her knees buckled, her thighs trembling so violently that she would have collapsed to the cold stone floor had Joffrey’s massive hands not been locked around her hips, anchoring her firmly against the wall. She breathed in ragged, desperate gasps, her chest heaving as the intense aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her core.

Seeing her completely uncoiled and entirely at his mercy, Joffrey reached up and unfastened the linen smallclothes from behind her head. The makeshift gag fell away, pooling on the floor and leaving her lips parted and glistening. Freed from the restraint, Sansa didn't try to hide her state; instead, she let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, her blue eyes wide and dark with an intoxicating mixture of exhaustion and unfulfilled longing. She looked up at the golden giant looming over her, his emerald eyes burning with an unslaked, predatory hunger that told her he was nowhere near finished.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice a breathless, raw plea that scraped against the quiet of the room. She reached out with trembling, weak fingers, clutching at the heavy leather of his jerkin, her knuckles turning white. "Please, my prince... don't leave me like this. Do whatever you want. Anything. Just... please continue."

A slow, dark smile curved Joffrey’s lips—a serene, terrifying expression of absolute ownership. He appreciated her complete surrender, the way the proud northern lineage had been entirely bent to his formidable will.

"I intend to, Sansa," his deep baritone rumbled, a low, gravelly purr that sent a fresh wave of goosebumps cascading down her spine. "But a bad girl must be thoroughly opened before she can receive the full measure of her king's favor. Stand still."

With an efficiency that spoke of absolute confidence, Joffrey reached into the pocket of his heavy riding cloak and withdrew a small, ornate silver flask. He unscrewed the cap, pouring a generous amount of a thick, exotic oil from the Free Cities into his palm. The oil caught the flickering torchlight, casting a warm, amber glow against his calloused skin. It smelled faintly of sweet myrrh and heavy spices, a rich southron luxury entirely foreign to the stark, cold air of Winterfell.

He stepped closer, his massive body pressing her flat against the rough stone once more, forcing her to lean forward slightly. His large hand slid down the small of her back, his fingers spreading the warm, slick lubricant over the smooth, pale curves of her hips before descending lower. Sansa let out a sharp, caught gasp as his oil-slicked fingers made contact with her nether regions, but he did not touch the front. Instead, his thumb guided the heavy oil backward, pressing against the tight, forbidden crease of her other opening.

The realization of what he intended sent a shockwave of frantic heat straight to her core. Her breath hitched, her fingers digging desperately into his shoulders as she felt the slick, warm pressure of his finger beginning to circle the virgin aperture.

"Be still for me," Joffrey commanded, his voice dipping into an unshakeable, dominant register that left no room for hesitation. He leaned over her, his chest a massive wall of radiating heat against her back. While his lower hand worked to patiently lubricate and stretch the tight, resistant opening, his other arm reached around her front, his massive, calloused hand cupping her breast. His fingers clamped firmly around the soft mound, his thumb and forefinger finding the protruding peak that was still raw and sensitive from his earlier attention. He squeezed and rolled the hardened crest, using the localized sting of pleasure to distract her mind from the intense, stretching invasion happening below.

Sansa whimpered loudly, her head rolling back against his shoulder as the dual sensations overwhelmed her senses. The slick oil was worked deep into the tight folds of her asshole, his finger pressing slowly inward, conquering the resistance inch by inch, preparing her body for the immense weight of what was to come. She was completely trapped between the cold stone wall and the crushing, muscular density of her prince, entirely consumed by his touch.

Satisfied that her body was sufficiently prepared and glistening with the exotic oil, Joffrey withdrew his hand. The sudden absence of the pressure left her panting, her skin flushed and shivering in the cool air of the solar. He stepped back just enough to unfasten his heavy trousers, freeing his massive, rigid instrument into the dim light. It was thick, heavy, and pulsing with a ruthless, demanding heat that mirrored the raw power of his frame.

He stepped forward again, crowding her against the wall, his thick thighs bracketing hers. He guided the crown of his rigid length directly against her newly lubricated, aching opening.

"Look back at me, Sansa," he growled low in her ear, his breath hot and ragged.

She forced her head around, her eyes wide with a frantic, submissive heat as she looked into his unyielding emerald gaze. Slowly, deliberately, Joffrey began to push forward. The heavy, unyielding weight of his initial thrust left Sansa completely breathless, her body stretched to its absolute limits around his thick, rigid length. Joffrey did not give her time to adjust to the profound fullness of the invasion. Clutching her waist with his massive, calloused hands, he anchored her firmly against the frosted stone wall and began to move.

The rhythm he established was slow, heavy, and utterly relentless. With every deep, deliberate plunge, the exotic oil lubricated their friction, creating a slick, warm heat that radiated between them. Sansa let out a series of broken, high-pitched cries, her fingers digging desperately into the leather of his jerkin as the intense, taboo pleasure of the act overwhelmed her senses. Joffrey loomed over her like a golden titan, his breathing turning into a ragged, animalistic growl as he drove himself deeper, his unyielding emerald eyes locked onto her flushed, tear-stained face. He picked up the pace, his massive thighs slapping against her trembling hips with a bruising, possessive force that pushed her directly to the brink of delirium.

With a final, powerful surge, Joffrey drove himself to the absolute hilt, pinning her flat against the masonry. A low, guttural roar tore from his throat as his body locked up, his muscles tensing as he released deep inside her forbidden opening. The sheer, pulsing warmth of his climax flooded her tight warmth, sending a final, devastating shockwave of pleasure through Sansa’s entire frame. She arched helplessly against him, her voice fading into a breathless whine of total surrender as he held her pinned, absorbing the final, desperate tremors of their shared release.

Slowly, deliberately, Joffrey pulled out of her glistening warmth. The sudden absence left Sansa shivering, her legs so weak she could barely stand as she leaned heavily against the wall for support.

Joffrey stood over her, his breathing gradually slowing, his massive instrument still semi-rigid and heavily soiled, coated in a glistening mixture of the amber silk-oil and the fluids of their intense encounter. He looked down at his length, then shifted his cold, dominant gaze to Sansa's dazed, heavy-lidded eyes.

"Look at the mess you've induced, Sansa," Joffrey rumbled, his deep baritone dipping into a chillingly quiet, authoritative command. "A king should not have to present himself like this. Clean it. Use your mouth and ensure my instrument is pristine."

A sharp blush of noble shame rushed to Sansa’s cheeks. The sheer indignity of the command sent a wave of reluctance through her highborn sensibilities; she was a lady of Winterfell, daughter of the Warden of the North, and the idea of kneeling in the dirt to perform such a degrading task fought hard against her upbringing. But as she looked up into his unyielding, powerful gaze, the intoxicating thrall of her absolute submission completely crushed her hesitation. Her resistance dissolved into a quiet, trembling obedience.

Slowly, she sank down onto her knees, the cold stone floor biting into her bare skin. She knelt before the golden prince, her auburn hair falling over her shoulders as she looked up at his massive, waiting length.

With trembling fingers, she reached out to steady him, her small hands contrasting sharply against the thick, pulsing skin. Parting her lips, she reluctantly but thoroughly leaned forward, taking the crown of his soiled instrument into her mouth. She began to clean him, using her tongue to lick away the thick coating of oil and release, swirling around the sensitive crest before sliding her mouth down the heavy shaft.

Joffrey stood perfectly still, his hands resting on his hips as he looked down at her with cold, masteral satisfaction. He reached out, his thick fingers tangling in her long auburn curls, guiding her movements with a firm, subtle pressure as she meticulously cleaned every inch of his length, entirely consumed by her role as his obedient, conquered prize.

~~~

Reference image for the above chapter

PS:- The canon shall continue, but I had some inspiration and I had to share with you guys.