#Jon snow imagine
Text
Description: During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival, a thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together.
Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion sees the need for a sworn sword in his beloved daughter's life.
You should know better, truly you should, but you’ve always had a weakness for pitiful-looking creatures, or at least that’s what your father has always said. He stands a pace ahead of you, watching as your uncle, the King Robert, embraces Lord Ned Stark with a boyish joy you have never seen in your uncle. Your Aunt Cersei stands to the side of them, smiling politely at the Lady Catelyn Stark, Joffery all but hanging from her skirts, demanding attention. Usually, you would scowl at the back of the boy’s head, but the sight of Ned Stark’s bastard son has you quite distracted.
He is pitiful, even his name, Jon, it’s so common, so often used it cannot differentiate him from others. He stands stiffly, with gray eyes so dark they almost seem black set beneath thick brows. He has curly dark hair that frames his face, an unchanging frown upon his face, and his hands clasp and unclasp nervously as he watches the mingling of your two families. Jon’s dressed like all the other Starks, but somehow lesser, as if he has chosen only the drabbest of colors in an effort to blend into the dreary landscape. There’s a solemn softness to him that intrigues you. What secrets does he keep? Why does he look so mired in grief? He notices your gaze, and his face tints pink as he ducks his head further into the fur collar of his cloak. You bite back a laugh, for a moment he looked like a turtle.
The boy beside him, Robb, stands an inch or so taller with cornflower blue eyes, and auburn hair. The clear son of Lady Catelyn radiates confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, as he surveys the servants unloading your family’s belongings from the wheelhouses. Beside him stands a boy whose arrogance you wouldn’t mistake for confidence, even if you were less astute than you are. But the arrogance rings false, you can see the cracks in his bravado, the insecurity leaking from every pore. It’s in the way he hovers so close to Robb, as if he fears to be away from him would be his undoing. This one you know inside and out; your father had drilled you on everyone you were going to meet before you even stepped foot outside King’s Landing.
Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, a war prisoner disguised as a ward, the closest companion to Robb Stark, both accepted and held at a distance, Lord Stark’s sword an ever-looming threat should his father ever revolt once more. Theon has eyes like the sea and tousled hair the color reminiscent of the mahogany desk in your father’s study. He is lankier than the other two, hungrier, and when your eyes meet his, he winks. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in response, you were a lady, a Lannister, you were not so easily swayed. Theon is handsome, but if your father’s reports were true, he spent much of his time in brothels. The tactics that worked there would not work on you.
“And this is my eldest daughter, Sansa.” Lord Stark says, motioning to a girl that was perhaps two or so years younger than you. She is beautiful, with fiery red hair, eyes like Robb’s, and high, graceful cheekbones. She curtsies with the air of a Southern lady, and smiles when you do the same. This is who you are meant to befriend, and it does not seem it will be too difficult, Sansa’s eyes eagerly drink in every aspect of your being, as if she wishes to glen all she can of Southern life before it is ripped away from her.
“She is as beautiful as her mother.” Your father says, giving her then Lady Catelyn a smile.
They both thank him, Lady Catelyn beaming at the praise, while you notice Sansa’s cheeks flush with color. She is easily flattered; you must remember that.
“Allow me to introduce my own daughter, Y/N Lannister.” Your father introduces you, putting emphasis on your surname, the very fact that you have one. You are not a bastard, no matter what awful Joffrey likes to say. Your mother and father had married in secret, she died giving birth to you, it was tragic and left your father quite saddened, but you were not a bastard.
Your eyes dart back to Jon taking him in subtlety. You wish to see him blush again, but you will not make your actions so easily observed.
“It is too cold, why must we stand here all day?” Joffrey whines, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot resoundingly.
Your aunt fusses over him, and Lord Stark leads you all inside, talking jovially with your uncle as you hurry to catch up with your father.
It is loud in the Great Hall of Winterfell, made of gray stone and smelling of smoke, meat, and a hint of dog, which you must assume is from the Direwolves. It is well lit and filled with people, all enjoying the bountiful feast set before them on long wooden tables. You’re seated away from your father, something you despise. He is closer to your Uncle Jaime, nearer to the King and Lord Stark, while you have been seated with the other children. It has only been you and your father for so very long, a part of you feels anxious to be separated from him, but you are a Lannister, if you cannot charm the strangers around you then can you truly call yourself such?
“Will you tell me more of King’s Landing, Lady y/n?” Sansa asks, looking enraptured by the mere thought of it. She is dressed in a gown of blue silk, her fur lined cloak on the back of her chair, her hair done up in a style you’re quite familiar with. She is very beautiful, and you spot many men staring at her, one of them being Theon who is seated at the lower tables. You catch his eye and smile knowingly. In response, he scowls and ducks his head.
You must mention this observation to your father.
You smile and return your attention to Sansa, regaling her with tales of festivals and feasts, of tourneys and services in the Great Sept. Her siblings either listen as well or turn their attention elsewhere, which you don’t mind. They are not who you are here to befriend.
Sansa sighs dreamily and turns her gaze to Joffrey, who is seated next to his mother further up the table and is staring down at his food as if it has offended him. “And what of Joffrey? Surely you must be close?”
Your cousin, and closest companion, Myrcella snorts into her drink, and you shoot her a look. Myrcella was meant to be sitting next to Joffrey but had convinced someone to switch with her so that she could be next to you.
“Joffrey is a…spirited boy, he has many…passions.” You say carefully, running your finger along the rim of your glass.
Your father suspects Robert will wish to wed Sansa and Joffrey. It’s a strategic match, but your cousin is a horrible bully, you have marks hidden beneath your sleeves to prove your words, and you do not wish to see innocent Sansa suffer in such a way. True, you have not spent much time with her, but she has been warm and welcoming, her innocence shining through like the sun on a spring day.
“Does he enjoy tourneys? I have heard the King was quite the warrior, he and father fought together.” Sansa continues, resting her chin in her hand.
You smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in your skirts. “Joffrey has not competed in any tourneys quite yet, Lady Sansa, he is too young.”
“He is three and ten, is he not? Most squire by one and ten, why has he not been sent to one of your bannermen like his uncle?” Robb says, taking a long drink from his glass.
“My mother does not wish for him to get injured; he is heir to the throne, after all.” Myrcella chimes in, saving you from coming up with another excuse for why Joffrey has not been allowed to leave King’s Landing.
Sansa nods and gazes longingly at Joffrey once more. “That seems most wise, what a dutiful mother Queen Cersei is.”
“Where is your mother, Lady y/n? I did not see anyone else arrive.” Bran, one of the younger Starks asks, his round innocent face not dulling the sting of his words at all.
Myrcella takes your hand under the tables and squeezes it. She has been privy to the nights of crying, of mourning the mother you would never know.
“Bran, that is not polite.” Sansa hisses.
You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “My mother died giving birth to me, but I am told she held me in her arms before the Stranger came for her, that she named me and spoke of how dearly she loved me.”
Bran makes a soft noise of apology, and the conversation lulls, until finally you have finished your meal and are free to retire to your chambers.
You wave off any offer to escort you, telling them all you wish to admire the architecture of Winterfell in solitude.
It’s not wholly a lie, though you cannot say you ever wish to be alone , you enjoy the company of others, are invigorated by it, but tonight feels different. Perhaps it is the mention of your mother, or the false face Joffrey is putting on for the Starks and their bannermen, the sound of his laughter ringing about the hall. You wander the halls of Winterfell with a faint knowledge of where the guest chambers lie, when you find yourself approaching the training yard. The night is quiet, snow falling gently, the brisk air seizes your lungs, purifying them with an icy chill.
You are not alone, the thud of blunt metal upon wood, the sounds of exertion, the turn of boots in snow covered dirt. You slowly move towards the sound, knowing your father will scold you later for such carelessness. There are countless people here, and you cannot be assured they all wish you well.
Jon Snow, the ever so distracting bastard, stands in the middle of the yard, training alone, the moonlight shining down on him, making his pale skin glisten. You rest your hand on the stone archway, one foot on the dirt, the other still firmly planted on the stone. You should leave him alone, you know it, but you’re mesmerized by the sight, the tension in his muscles, the expanse of his back, the strength in his arms. He is a little older than you, six and ten to your five and ten, both old enough to be married, yet both remaining unbetrothed.
There had been offers for your hand, even though you were the imp’s child, and many wondered if you would sire broken children, if you would pass on your father’s curse. But for the gold that backed your name many were willing to risk it. You didn’t like your suitors, they were too brash, too lewd, too old, or simply just not right.
Jon stops and lifts his tunic to wipe the sweat from his brow. His stomach is toned, his skin mostly smooth, though there are some faded scars.
Yes, they were simply not right, they did not look like that.
You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you avert your eyes. What were you, a child? A lovesick maid? You have spent no more than mere minutes in his presence, and already you are lusting after him like some silk street whore? It must be the chill that is muddling your mind, yes, the chill. Not the kindness that you saw within him as he played with Arya and Bran in the courtyard earlier in the day. Or the way he stood stiff lipped while Joffrey threw barbed insults at him as he passed him in the hall, or the stack of novels you had overheard the maester say were to be set aside for him. Merely the chill. The chill and the flights of fancy all young girls are prone to.
With that in mind, you wait until he has returned his tunic to its rightful place and step fully into the snow.
He turns on his heel, weapon at the ready. He is perceptive, you note, good reflexes, excellent hearing, fine form, carved from marble, glowing like a god in the moonlight.
Gods y/n, pull yourself together.
“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You say, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. It is thin, far too thin to wear in the chill of night.
Jon lowers his sword. “Lady Lannister, why are you not inside at the feast? Are you lost?”
“Yes.” You lie, batting your eyelashes at him, crafting your expression into one of helplessness. “I wished to return to my chamber, but I lost my way.”
Jon stows his sword and retrieves his cloak from a nearby rack. “I will escort you, if you do not take offense?”
You tilt your head in faux confusion. “Why would I take offense?”
He shuffles his feet and busies himself with his cloak. “You are a lady of a great house, and I am…” He lets the unspoken words hang in the air, and you have the grace to act surprised.
“Oh, yes, right, you are a Snow.” You say, taking a step towards him and extending your hand, waiting to set it on his arm. “Well, I care not if you are a Stark or a Snow, I am sure you are more than capable of escorting me to the guest chambers of your home.”
He ducks his head, that delightful blush returning to his cheeks, and he holds out his arm for you.
You take it gratefully, allowing him to guide you back towards the way you came. The wind blows through the yard as you walk and cuts straight through your thin cloak, a shiver shooting down your spine.
Before you can blink, Jon has draped his cloak over you, clasping it shut with a surprising boldness. “It is far too cold for such a thin cloak; you must remember to wear your furs if you find yourself wandering out here once more.”
You look up at him through your lashes, your heart skipping a beat at the proximity between you and him, the depth of his dark eyes. “And if I were to wander out here again…might I be able to count on you to escort me? I must confess I find the halls of Winterfell quite confusing.”
He lingers for a moment, drinking you in, his head nodding almost imperceptibly, then he wrenches himself away, his gaze set forward. “Anyone in Winterfell would be more than able to escort you, My Lady.”
You nod, feeling the sting of rejection. It’s no matter, this is only the first night, there’s still plenty of time.
Ch 2
Yes I used a Hozier line bc it's perfect for the vibe of this fic
#meg's writing#jon snow x reader#jon snow x you#jon snow x oc#jon snow imagine#jon snow#tyrion lannister#lannister!reader#new series alert!#I know y'all don't want this but I wanted to make the title thing so bad#tyrion's daughter#theon greyjoy x sansa stark#theon greyjoy#sansa stark#got fanfiction#robb stark
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heart of the Great Wolf
46 - And Wait for the Snows
Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)
Length: 19.6k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, implied child abuse, character deaths, sexually violent language, disturbing imagery, body image issues, references to torture, smut, oral (f receiving), slight exhibitionism/voyeurism, handjobs, breeding kink, p in v
Notes: A lot happening in this chapter, but we'll get a chance to breathe soon enough, I promise. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here
The Crow's Eye would not consider himself to ever be a victim of circumstance. No, he made due no matter what was thrown his way. Those around him may not like the path to get there, but they had no say in the matter. Not anymore. When he was a boy, of course he had to do what his father bid and listen to his older brother, but he gleefully had three younger brothers to torment as he pleased.
Which he did. Not sure if the youngest of his brothers truly recalled those days, but they certainly still hated him as such. What choice though did he have? None. He didn't do it because he was told to, or even because they at all interested him. His brothers were all stupid, weak, and pathetic and if his youngest brothers were going to learn their place in this family, he was going to force them to learn they would never be above where he stands.
Then the second youngest died, still a child from some infection. Leaving the brothers to only four left and as he grew up, the more he learned he was the best of them. He answered to his father and elder brother for now, but the Crow's Eye was patient. He would wait. Bide his time until it was all prepared and then it would all prove to be his.
It took many decades to find that opportunity, but once it presented itself he took it with no remorse and now he was the only one left to prove he was worthy of being in charge. Five brothers to four, and now to three and he stood as the eldest. He had many plans to put into place and enacted them all swiftly. Scrapping his late brother's pitiful ideas, and sending his men every which way to get organized for once in their pathetic lives.
Truth be told, even though she was the focus of part of his new plan, he did not give a single care about the Targaryean girl. He didn't care what she was doing, what she looked like, or what she wanted. If she were smart, she'd give him what he wants willingly and he'd let her keep the dusty slave cities she pretended to rule over. He let his men assume that making her his Queen was his goal, but laughable if they truly thought he needed her.
He had heard stories, screaming that she was the blood of old Valyria but which one of them had traversed the poisoned lands? It was not her. Gold could be wagered on how sure he was that she never once had to lift a finger. Just stood around looking pretty and making big speeches as if that was what made a leader.
No, spilling blood with your bare hands made you a leader.
What use was she to the Crow's Eye if she relied on men and magic and dragons to win everything in her honour? Put her alone in a room with him and give each one of them a knife and who would win? Well, it wouldn't be the one whose never even held a sword before. But he let his men think all that anyways. It was easier to get her dragons if she thought she was wanted with them. He'd dispose of her later.
It wasn't as if women did not interest his desire. No, in fact he showed women exactly what he liked about them and it wasn't dainty girls who spent more time looking and sounding impressive and alluring. Either learn what true men what, or spread your legs and shut your mouth before he grew tired and cut your tongue out for you.
Much like the Flowers girl. She was pretty, and she fucked well, but she talked too much and thought that's what would endear him. Now she had no tongue and in some months time, would gift him a brand new bastard before he disposed of her too. None of these women had a single clue what would make them invaluable and he knew he was never going to find one who did at this rate.
His plans were all working, he needed the Targaryean for her dragons, so he begun organizing to soon send his brother off to accomplish bringing her to him. But the Crow's Eye was no fool. He had walked in the ruins of old Valyria, seen the vastness of shadowbinders in Asshai. Without those dragons, she had nothing to offer him. And once he tamed them, he had no use for another bed warmer with a large mouth.
No one knew what he has seen. No one knows where his exile had taken him, what he had done and what he had been stripped of. He had dreams of flying as a boy, and finally he was able too unlike a single soul anywhere else. Even when it had been taken away from him, his people were all fools to think any could keep up with him.
Until that was, he sensed it. On his ship and the night was quiet as the water were calm and yet he felt it. The pull in his mind. It was not clear right away, but it was there. Someone out there had been gifted as he had once been. Given the Greensight and whoever it was, their connection to it was strong. Unusually strong, as if there were the powers of two people inside what he sensed was one mind.
He was cut off from his strongest of abilities, Bloodraven had seen to that. He had found little use of it alone anymore, but if he could feel it coursing through his veins so far away, the Crow's Eye knew he needed to find them and maybe he could find a way back in by force. It took time. Weeks, then a month, then a little more time passed and finally he found it.
And his plans changed. He still needed the dragons, and he still needed to show Westeros he was the only man worthy of ruling them, but he finally found it. The only one he'd want by his side. The only one who had power that couldn't be found anywhere else.
The one with the Sight, just so happened to be a small stag. A green eyed Baratheon girl the realm once thought was dead. But she lived, and now ruled in the North beside her bastard born false King. Had he been a highborn, maybe he'd have considered the boy's feats impressive. But he was a bastard, a Snow, pretending to be worthy of being a King, and even worse? The girl had brought him back from the dead before he took her as a wife.
She was something else. Something no woman could conceive of being. But, he did not consider the circumstances to be in his way. The bastard King would be taken care of when the time was right to strike, and once she sees the magnitude of who The Crow's Eye is, she'd leave behind Snow in an instant. Power recognizes power, he knew it.
But even better, she was a fighter. She knew what spilling blood with her own hands was like, she fought and killed men in war, and she grabbed that dagger in their pulling visions and plunged it into his eye without hesitating. When his mind returned to his body, he was more sure then ever. He tried seeking her in the Green Sight again and again, but she always had her Great Wolf by her side. As if even in her dreams the damned bastard was still protecting her. Then she cut him out. She grew stronger and he found himself unable to seek her out no matter what he tried.
But he would not give up now. Only power was worthy of standing by his side, and the girl had power. Even the red woman had seen it. Coming to him this night as he looked to the darkness of the open water. An accent so many from Asshai thought they could seduce with, but the only things he cared about were what her god and blood magic could do for him. “She will not be easy to sway to your side. The wolf's claim on her is strong, stronger then any man I've known. He will not give her up.”
A lift of his eyebrow, and a smirk over his face came about. “He is a bastard, he is worth nothing. Trust in me, I have enough of my own. One dies, I'll fuck another into a girl to replace them. I do not fear him.”
The red woman however, held a look he could only describe as grim and knowing. “Then you would be a fool. I have wished to see of the Lord within you, and the flames show me nothing. I asked for the Lord's chosen warrior, and he shows me no sight of you. I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only snow. You are not his chosen warrior, and thus such are not men to be trifled with. They will not give her up easily.”
But he was the Crow's Eye. He had never let lesser men then him best him at anything, and he would not begin now. “Ask your Lord to show me how to get to her, and we shall see what it takes for the bastard to give her up. Until then, I have a Kingdom to take. Bring me what I ask, or stay out of my way. You are not here for your looks. Cease to be useful, and we shall find out how much your Lord protects you from me then.”
She did not react, and he did not expect her to at this point. He did not care her fire god did not think he a great warrior. The only war that existed was the one before his eyes. As she walked away, he already knew taking her would be a challenge. Her King father on one side and her Great Wolf pretending to be a King on the other, he needed to be careful.
But Stannis Baratheon could not watch over his daughter all the time, and eventually, Jon Snow would slip up. He couldn't protect her forever, he was nothing more then a bastard after all. She would grow tired of playing pity eventually.
He had told her in the last Green Dream he found her in, to come find him. He hadn't given her his name, but he wanted her to want it. Want him and find him without anything to go by. Prove she wanted better then to warm a bastards bed in a frozen wasteland. If not though, that was fine. He would still take her by force when the opportunity arose.
He was Ironborn after all. Taking what he wants, when he wants it, was what he was born to do.
The hand finding it's way caressingly at the back of your neck instantly had you lean back with a hum, eyes fluttering closed for only as long as it took for the hand to turn to a warm body sitting down next to you.
Colder and colder as the North became, the more work was done to keep Winterfell warm. Hardly a room you could go into with fires blazing everywhere, but it was nothing compared to the natural warmth soothing beside you as Jon joined you. The servers had begun putting food out ten minutes ago but you hadn't glanced away from the journal in front of you even once.
Showing Jon the papers you had found in the Lord Commanders quarters of the Nightfort, Jon had wondered what you'd want to keep it between you both for now for, until he got to the last. The direwolf sigil said it all. It sounded serious, and now it was his family directly involved in whatever this was. He kept them stashed away, knowing you had copied it down and ever since arriving back days ago, every spare moment alone your eyes would find the symbols and work through it with something weighing your head down until it ached in your neck.
Jon's voice now, was comforting in your ear as the hand slipped from your neck down the top of your spine to rest “I need you to do me a favour.” Turning instantly, it seemed he knew just how to capture your attention as he held back a smirk right away at your serious eagerness. “Have one meal with me where you haven't drifted off somewhere else.”
Shoulders deflating, Jon rightfully took that as a sign. Reaching over you to pry the edge of the book from your fingertips and close it. Watching with a hidden away amusement as he then picked it up, and started moving it. Sensing what your response would be, Jon shifted so his hand left your spine and nudged gently at your ribs when you reached for it. Placed now out of your sight behind where he sat somewhat to the side to face you.
A murmur on your voice unconvincing. “I'm not distracted every meal.”
Hand coming up to your jaw, Jon let two of his knuckles gently run along the skin he could find. Grey eyes wide and shining as he looked at you with nothing but a fondness. “What news did Arya tell me this morning then?”
The longer you did not answer, the more playfully mischievous Jon's eyes turned. Turning from him to roll your eyes, he also did not believe the huff which sighed out of you. Relentless Jon seemed to be that evening, interrupting whatever he put on his plate to add to what you assumed you finished to yours. Turning with a raise of your eyebrow, Jon hardly responded before biting into something. “No arguing, eat.”
You knew the easy quiet which followed was carried with Jon watching you with sharp eyes to ensure you were obeying him. Many including him had previously complained you seemed to not be eating enough, but now Jon was sparing no time in breaking that habit entirely from you. He was good at it, mostly though, because he was unquestioningly giving you orders without saying as much.
Orders which Jon knew you'd listen to if spoken in that tone. “Tell me if I'm mistaken, but I'm beginning to suspect you might actually enjoy ordering me around a little.”
Jon didn't even need to look your way to do it. “I don't like ordering you around. I like it when you're good for me.”
Eyes flying wide open as the fluster wormed it's way from your chest to your cheeks you knew the smile on you was shining in embarrassment. Muttering not low enough Jon almost wouldn't be able to hear, “Seven hells, Jon..” Only just catching your gaze, you could see the absolute enjoyment in his dark eyes in watching you get so easily flustered by him.
Rasping low but with as much tease as there was something raw and held back in affection, “You'll be thankful I'm trying to prepare your appetite now. I was always hungry as a boy, meaning soon enough he'll be too.” But you didn't continue, hands paused mid motion to look at him. It came so easily from Jon when before in these very halls never once did you discuss anything close to children together, it was always a known impossible.
You knew Jon likely could sense the weight in your throat at your moment too long of quiet, before you almost diverted the emotions to sit back down in your gut to explore at a later time. Quietly turning back to your plate and muttering only for him to hear. “I don't know. Not being hungry could be an indication she's going to be just like myself.”
Jon didn't hesitate to mutter quiet but quick, “He's a boy.”
A smile almost broke out instantly, a rolling of your eyes as you bit your tongue to keep it all just slightly at bay. Neither of you had told nor seen anyone about it yet, but even through Ghost you knew he couldn't possibly be able to tell that. But Jon had only argued when you brought it up. “I don't need anyone to confirm it for me. I know it's a boy.” He had yet to explain himself on such, but you rolled your eyes playfully all the same.
Whatever retort died on your tongue at the sound of footsteps coming along the corridor. Jon and yourself glancing to one another, a knowing in both eyes that for now, it was being kept to the two of you. Jon knew one could call him selfish for it, but he enjoyed having this between only you two, no one else sharing or watching.
Jon liked that the only business your future child was thus far, were yours and his. A little family in the making Jon thought impossible, and he wished to be selfish about it a bit longer. Though, there was something else he wanted to do, wanted to tell. But those two would also not speak it to a soul, though Jon was aware he had not informed you yet that he had blurted it out to Sam before he even told you.
Tomorrow you were planning on going back to Gilly's reading lessons and Jon hoped Sam would not stare at you in knowing. He just did not want the world to know yet, he liked the quiet life you both were trying to form and that included quiet about your son.
Arya's voice filled the quiet room however the moment she opened her mouth, a talent of her very own before even walking fully into view. “How many winters have you both been through before this?”
Glancing to one another, eyes squinting in thought trying to look passed the decade long summer to before that. Slowly answering as the numbers formed as he spoke them Jon replied in hesitation, “Four, maybe five. But I was too young to remember the first two, so three”
All but flopping down, Arya had her fur cloak wrapped around her so firmly it looked like a blanket, as she stared incredulously at how neither you nor Jon even had fur anywhere near your persons. Her voice in the same disbeleif. “Was it always this cold, or is this winter special because the world wants to end with it?”
The talent Arya had in making Jon smile at subjects usually pulling him back down to seriousness, Jon replied as he even more amusingly to you, found himself almost instinctively putting food on her plate for her. Though, all of you knew she'd pile more on top and somehow continue to stay that minuscule size.
“This is your first winter, it takes getting used to. Always make sure you're tending to your fires, and stop forgetting your gloves when you go outside.” Arya instantly piped up that she hadn't forgotten, only for Jon to reach to something at his side and with a dramatic slap, flopped her gloves right onto the table separating them.
Neither spoke for a moment until she reached for them, stuffing them away quickly as she narrowed her eyes in a jesting glare at him. “I had them on, I just..left them somewhere.”
Without even a blink, Jon answered flatly back. “Right. By somewhere you mean the dresser in your chambers?” Once more both wolves stared the other down, only causing you to look away in an amusement before turning back to the food on your plate.
You were almost certain there was more food on there now then when you last looked. Utterly relentless he was. And you were by his estimation, only a month in. You dared not think how he was going to start to fuss once the sickness starts. You had tried to avoid Robb those mornings to prevent him fussing over you, but there was not a chance you'd be able to sneak away and get sick without Jon seeing or being told.
As much as you trusted and appreciated both of them, the moment Olly or Theon knew you were trying to hide from Jon getting ill of any kind, they'd tell him without the passing of a single heartbeat to heartbeat.
Between the siblings bantering to the side, you had only just noticed as silent and graceful as ever did your mother find her way to sit by you. A warm shall wrapped firmly around her and a low tone as if speaking through the wish to shiver. “At least sending you here all those years prepared you for the cold. Brightwater Keep is as warm as a place can get before reaching Dorne.”
A doubtful huff of a laugh left you, quiet in tone as she was, you'd both be drowned out by the two wolves were you not know slightly faced away from them. “If how warm Kings Landing could be, I have an idea. You were right by the Honeywine though, I can't imagine it could get that warm even in the middle of the summer season.”
The sudden voice piping up from Arya drew both your attentions over to her, something if you flicked your gaze over more slightly, you'd see a bit of an amusement in Jons eyes. “What's that?”
You know why Jon was amused. It was getting a bit easier for Jon and Selyse to get used to one another so regularly. While he was used to your quiet, Jon also knew how to pull more wildness out of you in a way that wasn't so clear even existed in your mother. Not any fault of hers, but she simply was a bit on the more consistently serious side then the Starks would've been used too.
It did however, make her and Arya's interactions amusing. Two very different people in every manner now bound as family by law, and clearly she had no read on how to get along with her yet. Typically then, you'd act as the median in between to make it easier to connect loud and eccentric with quiet and stern but she still answered with ease. “The Honeywine is a river sat right in the heart of the agricultural valley in the Reach. Most farms all try to compete in buying land right by it, since whoever produces the most, there normally will sell for high prices come the harvest. It's where a large majority of the food in the South is imported from.”
Nodding, you tried to ignore that as you ate, with both the other pairs of eyes keeping on each other, you had to not glance down noticing Jon returning to your plate what you had subtly tried to put back. He and Ghost both, honestly. At least the food Jon kept throwing at you was cooked and not normally still with it's skin and covered in blood. Though if Ghost could cook it you wouldn't put it passed him either to then bring you cooked food whenever he returned from a hunt. Turning into a game this was.
Arya meanwhile, asking with a genuine curiosity. “How do they decide who gets what?”
It almost felt like you were back in the days of Kings Landing, you being the one asking the questions to your father preparing to take over at some point in the years future, but now the two of them played those roles. “Typically that's left for the Master of Ships to sort out. Each Kingdom has their own unique needs, and how much of what they ask for can also depend on either their gold, or the value of the export they trade us in return. The worse the offer, the less they get.”
Not one to mince her words either, Arya's brows narrowed. “That sounds like a horrible job.” A laugh came from you before your mother could answer, affirming it was. “That was what you did, in King's Landing?”
Nodding, you ripped off pieces of whatever you had picked up, once more ignoring Jon watching you through his own meal as you explained more. “Mostly. There's a lot of learning what grows where and what place without it demands said crop, what they have to offer in terms of resources and how readily they can produce it to trade on a regular basis. How much each Kingdom makes in gold and what of that goes towards their agriculture, mining, whatnot. It's half the days in a week looking at too many numbers, and the other half either down by the ports ensuring everything is running to standard, or arguing with the Master of Coin because your own spending allowance was once more cut down.”
You knew for a multitude of reasons the image bothered Jon. The man himself you were referring too, and a once long ago dislike of how a man such as Petyr Baelish would treat you. When in truth you were certain Jon's head may implode if you told him just how many men in power in that rats den they call a capitol, would try and find ways to take advantage of your young age and lack of influence on the people.
Renly would used to jest that Janos Slynt seemed to treat every one on the small council with respect except for you. What he may tell to any else in a calm and reasonable tone, he would puff up with ingidnance and spit it at you as you barley would raise an eyebrow towards him.
Just as you all had begun to stand and make their leave, Jon grasped at your wrist, giving a small tug towards him before you could fully leave the seat. A gesture to the two now leaving as if to implore you to give him a moment when out of earshot.
But by the time they had, he didn't quite jump into whatever it was. Running a hand through the loose strands of hair at the side of your head, you tilted more towards him with a small question asking in your eyes to his. Jon only responded with a shake of his head in no, letting him toy with your hair and eyes drift innocently along until you knew where he wished he could see better.
Meeting back, Jons gaze flickered in something upsetting for a moment, letting a frown slip to follow. Quiet as any, so guards nor servers passing by would hear him. “I know you don't like talking about it, but I'd like you to answer me honestly.” Your brows narrowed as a bit. “Did they used to starve you? The Boltons?”
Head tilting back slightly in surprise, you opened and closed your mouth twice before pushing past the uncomfortable stammer collecting your thoughts. A nod left but so did the words you knew Jon preferred to hear instead. A strain in your voice, you didn't expect. “It was worse when I was in the Dreadfort. They kept me in the dungeons for months, fed twice a day but it would be generous to call both combined enough for one proper meal.”
Letting the hand toying with your hair, find it's way to the skin by your cheek and jaw gently. A concern in his eyes as he looked back down to your stomach and up again that you hated seeing on him.
Trying to explain it away, knowing Jon knew better. “Roose Bolton always argued against treating our prisoners well during the war, it only made sense he wouldn't show me the same courtesy. Wanting me to know how little he cared for Robb's methods.” Jons voice more of a rough husk as he asked about when they brought you to Winterfell. “They had to feed me more, trying to dangle me in front of our people and pretend as if they were treating me well. Didn't have much of an appetite, but I suppose at least Roose Bolton always ensured wine was in steady supply to force down my throat, just enough to keep me from lashing out.”
Jon didn't move or say anything beyond the angering clench in his jaw. Only letting something hiss out as he looked down to your stomach again. “Only for that?” When you didn't respond right away, Jon found your gaze again, the anger far closer to the surface then even seconds ago. “Did they tell you that's why they were forcing you to drink?”
Tilting your head a bit, you knew he could see that you were not following his logic, but answering best could be anyways. Words stretching at first as you put the thoughts into form out loud. “No, that would have required Roose Bolton to tell me anything. By then I knew what I was there for, and what I was to do. Just play my role with no fuss, don't try to ask any in the castle for help, just be quiet and play nice.”
Oh something once more was too close to the surface for him. Exhaling roughly, you could see Jon was keeping his mouth closed knowing too easily something might spill out of it in anger should it open even for a breath. Your hand closest to him instead reached up, raking gently through his curls hoping the sensation would calm down whatever had worked him up so quickly.
Leaning close enough to him he likely would feel your breath across his skin as you spoke, you whispered with nothing but a tenderness. “Jon, that's passed us now. We're here and they aren't, that's all that matters.”
Interrupting the end of your sentence, Jons head whipped up to find your eyes. Yours innocent and confused against his more intense and angry ones. “What did you say to me, the first time I took all your clothes off?”
You felt even more confused, and by now couldn't even recall whatever nervous ramblings came from your mouth that afternoon. Grasping at straws, it was evident in your tone you were making it up. “Something along the lines of not knowing why you'd want to do that with me in the first place?” Your attempts in a lighter tone to ease up this new tension failed.
Jon was no calmer as his eyes narrowed more at you. “No, when I saw you bare for the first time what did you tell me in that moment?” Eyes wide a bit as you could not put the memory to any words spoken. Saying you remembered being nervous, but Jon jumped in finally. “You started apologizing to me. Right away, you tried saying you were sorry you didn't look like other girls, thinking you weren't impressive enough or small enough.”
You could've been right back in that room, the manner in which the same embarrassment filled your veins now as it did then. Jon intimidating you with a memory right into being as nervous fully clothed and married as you were bare and a maiden. It was horrible to spit itself out, but you said it before you had the reason to be able to stop it. Muttering without looking at him directly, “Hopefully was small enough the second time around.”
But he only stared at you. Something angering but confused and disapproving melting into his features as he barley shook his head at you. “Do you really think that's what I want?” Your silence said it all, that you really weren't quite sure what your mind wanted you to say versus your insecurity. Head dropping with a sigh, Jon raised it as he grabbed your arm gently. Pulling you to stand with him as the other arm grabbed your journal and tucked it away somewhere on him. “Come on.”
You followed him in quiet, his arm slipping to your bicep to almost pull you close as he soothed his rough palm over it back and forth. You knew better then to question him when he was walking you in a silence demanding privacy. By the time he reached whatever destination he had in mind, he ushered you into it with the door closing and locking behind him. Intentionally that was.
A more open room, a large tub in the middle typically used by those not in the family, as each room proper all that one individual to them. But you weren't sure why you were in here and not simply brought to Jons. Only, by the time you turned to ask what this was about, Jon had decided on the path he was going to approach making his point from.
A path in which, you truly, should have been able to predict by now.
Turning back to face you, properly Jon ran a hand over his mouth almost with a frustration trying to get wiped from his expression. Eyes glancing around the room behind you, Jon let out a sigh before coming up to you. Head dropped a bit as his eyes trailed down to your stomach, likely still wishing he could see anything by now.
Both hands coming gently to hold at your hips, your own hands found their way up his chest and along his collarbones and winding to the back of his neck to wrap around. One hand removed from you, Jon gently ran two fingers down your stomach by the back of his knuckles still not looking away. Your voice gentle as it tried to call out to him. “Jon,” A half heard grunt barely left him to indicate he was listening. “I don't say those things hoping to upset you.”
Gruff in tone, he still didn't tear his eyes away. “No, but they do.” In thought for a moment he hadn't shifted his stance at all by the time he said it. “Take this off.” Your head jolted back just a small bit in question but Jon with his other hand still on your hip tugged slightly at the material of your dress. “Off.”
Repeating his command, you felt your heart race just a bit as Jon took enough of a step away from you to give you space. Nerves flowing through you all the while as he didn't move to do or say anything else, but watching with dark, tense eyes as your hands begun to undo things in front of his watchful gaze.
First the longer, drapier material covering most of you, second then moving to your warmer dress, letting it fall to the ground pooling at your feet. The shift let on you was dark, but short enough the cold of the air begun to hit you right away. Inhaling as he looked you over, something on the edge of greedy seemed to slip through Jons voice. “You wear more layers then you used too.”
Those nerves turned ragged almost in an instant, wishing to shuffle on your feet but stood in stillness not wanting him to think they were there. Your voice however, low and muttering did not quite exude confidence. “It's also colder then it used to be.” Staring at your shift he said nothing but the message was spoken. You were not done yet.
Looking away from his tense eyes, you carefully pulled down the straps of your shift down your arms and it too pooled to the ground of piling clothes. That time Jon didn't need to imply anything, you read him loudly and clearly. A shaking exhale left your lips as you gentle pushed down the last of the material on you hiding your most intimate of aspects from him, now bare in the cold of the room against Jon still fully clothed.
Jon kept you standing there. His feet taking him a few steps backwards to lean against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he still only looked at you. The flustering in your heart running rampant in your veins like a flooding wave, on an embarrassed edge against his unblinking, dark stoicism. His voice rasped deeply from something trapped within his chest. “Some nights I wish I was a worse man.” You said nothing, trying not to look like you wanted to start shivering. “Could have kept Ramsay prisoner, put him in chains, gag him and make him watch me take you apart. Show him what it's like to enjoy something he tried to ruin.”
Your breathing picked up, but attempting to hide the fact was impossible as bare as you were. The rising and falling of your chest made it obvious how much Jons eyes kept training back to your breasts.
Jon though, thought little of stopping. “I'd keep you there, take you as long as it took, all night if I had to. Take you apart until you were the beautiful crying mess I know I make you.” The desire mixed with a hint of humiliation had you wanted to shift around nervously again. He was extremely talented at it. “And the only thing that would make me stop, is when I was sure beyond any doubt I put a child in you. Finally when he realized it too, then I'd kill him.”
Little grey was left in his dark eyes, almost now sitting angry and black in colour. Your own voice but a fleeting high pitched whisper. “But you are a better man then that, Jon. I know that.”
Shaking his head, Jon barley let his eyes close as he spoke. “Some days I wish I wasn't.” Biting your tongue as he opened back to stare intently at your form he was rough in a strain as he spoke. “If I were that man, darling, I wouldn't have even let you leave my cock that first night until you were pregnant. I wanted to, I wanted to tie your arms up, tie your legs spread out for me against the bars too, and fuck you until I was sure, then I'd fuck you more just to be safe. If Ghost hadn't brought you to me when he did, I was getting so close to finding you myself and fucking you where you stood.”
Your breathing was noticeable now if it hadn't been before. It should scare you, the possessive thoughts spilling from his mouth like they were rambles he couldn't stop. If Ramsay spoke to you that way, it would terrify you. But it came from Jons mouth, and it only made you feel humiliated as no doubt you could feel blood rushing to flood between your legs as he had barley even blinked. And he still couldn't stop himself from speaking.
Hands clenching as they were crossed over his torso, Jon almost wasn't even aware how much he had begun to let it all spill out. “When I saw you like this for the first time, almost every night after until you came back to Winterfell, I couldn't stop myself. I'd see you, remember how you felt, how you looked. How you were so nervous but you still lay back on my bed and spread your legs knowing I wanted to see you, see how wet you were. Every night after that I came in my hand thinking about how you looked that day.”
“Do you know how often I think about how you looked that night in Castle Black?” Shaking your head, his answer wasn't even what you expected. “Never. I think about everything else, but I've never thought about how you looked. Because I hated it. I still do.” The dark edge on his voice and you started to wonder if Jon even realized how much he had begun to ramble angrily. “They starved you to keep you weak, and you've managed to trick yourself into thinking because it makes you small like other highborn girls, that you should stay that way. But I hate it. I've never seen anything as beautiful as the way you looked at afternoon, and I miss it. I miss when you weren’t scared for me to see you. I miss when you let me just tell you how I thought you were perfect and you wouldn't argue about it.”
Swallowing harshly, you turned away with futile hopes of the flush in your skin going way or the stuttering breaths disappearing. Feeling his eyes watching your jaw twitch trying to hold something back you didn't even know what it wanted to say. The muscles in your neck almost shook trying to remain collected knowing that Jon knew better then that.
Only a mutter, but in the quiet of the empty room, you trusted he could hear you. “I know you didn't care I didn't quite look as pretty as other girls.” The hint of smile almost found your lips, “And it was easy with Robb. We were south at war for three years, there was no looking pretty there when you lived in army camp to army camp. But..” One more you tried to swallow that heavy stone of nerves back down but it was too large. It refused and thus a cracking in your voice came out as your face turned more into a stone like expression trying to smother it. “The girls Ramsay kept around..they were so..”
Not looking Jons way, you missed the wide eyed brightness in his eyes. How easily your own insecurities turned his frustration over them into something more gentle then Ramsay was even capable of pretending to be.
But you continued. Hands wanting to hide what of you was still exposed to his eyes, but forcing your arms flat at your sides, only the tensing and twitching of your fingers giving away to Jon how much you wanted to cover up. “If he was going to marry me, then to him, I'd better have walked into the godswood looking like a girl he'd want to actually fuck.” Shaking your head, eyes closing as you could see the image in your head, you felt a long gone wave of regret. “The way he'd speak so rudely about Roose's new wife, it was like if I didn't look just like the girls he kept around himself then I may as well be as grotesque to him as he saw Walda.”
It was far too late to change, but you still felt the regret. The way you barley gave her a chance, when in truth she made the best of the marriage she like so many had no say in, and in return you refused to even try to be anything of a real friend. The girl probably died thinking you hated her. But still, the way Ramsay spoke about her? Rambling on about how he wasn't even sure how his father managed to fuck her, as if her weight had anything to do with such an act.
It was easier to not fight back against the way he wanted you to look, but perhaps you still hadn't quite come back enough to remember Jon wanted you before you were forced to look that way. He had seen you after seven days on the run, no longer looking dainty like they forced you to look. But he was always still there, wasn't he?
Whispering in your ear about how he had made you something no one but Ramsay would ever be charitable enough to want anymore. Had ruined you in ways more then you've ever allowed yourself to think about. By the time your eyes flickered back up, it was only the tender softness of Jon's grey eyes bright as he looked at you with something so easily detectable as heartbreak. Forcing yourself not to look away that time, you stayed with nervous eyes on his.
Approaching you finally, Jon once more let a hand rest along your hip while the other tilted your chin up so you could properly meet his eyes. Something upset was trying to hold back within them. Your hands just barley found the courage to rest along the belt sitting low on his waist keeping things still strapped at the ready. Digging your fingertips slightly into it trying to seek any freedom between it and the leather under it. “I'm not about to get any smaller or firmer now.”
“Good.” Your eyes flickering up to his with a hesitation to doubt him right away. Jons face far more wanting to smile then before. “I'll keep you pregnant if I have to, just so you understand how little I care about you looking that way.”
Shifting to hold at your hips, Jon begun suddenly to move you, turn your back so you were standing how he just had been and pushing you backwards slowly. Your hands grasping onto his wrists. “Jon?” But nothing was said until he stretched his reach to gently push you against the back wall. Not leaving your touch until he saw you relax a little.
Instead though, of matching how he had you take everything off, Jon knew just how to keep the upper hand while riling you up for him. Far back enough you'd have to push off the wall to reach him but knowing he wanted you to say just like that. The belt along him and weapons attached came off, but nothing else. Only watching you with a shine in his dark eyes as his large hands swiftly moved his layers enough that by the time he came back to you?
One hand pressed against the wall beside your head, the other just managed to pull his cock out alone, leaving everything else on as he crowded your bare self against the wall. Leaning so his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “Give me your hand.”
Tenderly, you reached out as Jon guided you to wrap it around the hard, and thick girth of his cock, squeezing you tight enough more then what he knew you'd do alone, before moving that same hand to hold back at your hip. His breathing increased slightly, as did your nerves but peering up at Jons eyes? He gave a single, small nod and you knew once more, he had given you a command he expected to be obeyed.
Normally, he guided you until you were comfortable enough taking over, but you started stroking his cock. Firmer then you would have held him on your own, trying to recall the help he'd give you. To grip him tighter, to go just the right pace beyond the more slow and gentle way you'd handle him. Your eyes wanted to trail down but Jon leaned in, keeping your eyes up on him with a narrowed expression until he closed the rest of the gap.
Gripping the back of your neck, Jon captured your lips with his, deepening it as he kept you pressed further into the wall. Biting at your bottom lip before switching back to his kiss, and then once more biting at you again until you gasped.
Allowing Jon to slip his tongue inside your mouth as you instinctively gripped his cock a bit tighter, and a growl crawling up Jons chest and vibrating into your mouth as he brushed his tongue along yours. Both hands coming up to cup your cheeks, Jon tilted your head more up to him as he stood a step closer. Your hand having to twist somewhat to find the right angle to stroke his cock at, that you thought he'd like, but his tongue only left you long enough to bite at your lips again and once more forcing his path in your mouth as you mixed between pleasuring him and being at his lips mercy.
A mercy he granted not your neck. Dragging his lips down your jaw and neck, Jon spared no time biting down roughly, breaking the skin just perfect enough to indent his mark and sucked at the sensitive flesh. Your back arching off the wall into him, your thumb running along his tip before using your palm a bit to help run it all along his cock. Trying to make the sensation for him a little less raw.
Both of his own hands moved downwards, grasping roughly at your breasts you already too felt his nails dig into the sensitive skin as his teeth did your neck. A growl leaving him as your hand ran up and down his length a bit faster, and a bit tighter. His fingers grasping at the small buds of your breasts and twisting without build up from ease. A cry leaving your mouth until Jon pulled from your neck. Eyeing his work before pinching and yanking at your nipples, watching your eyes flutter closed trying to not cry his name out.
Muscles in him straining, his cock throbbing in your hand desperate to cum. Jaw clenched as he muttered your name roughly, nudging your nose with his to gain your attention. Slowly down only a bit, just as you did Jon reached down. Covering your hand with his and forcing you to stop and squeeze him more. “You feel this? How tight your grip is now?” Nodding, Jon kissed you, a rough force pulling back with an equally as rough bite. “That's not even half of how tight you feel around me.”
A whine peeking from your held back sounds, Jon nodded as your eyes half open gazed up at him, now only following him moving your hand along his cock. Something was teetering on his mind, but a shaking exhale, Jon groped roughly at the breast his other hand was still on before leaving.
One hand reaching down to your bare thigh, yanking it up in his arm along his hip as the other all but forced your hand from him with a throw. Finding your eyes, Jon gave no chance to think. In one smooth, but soaking tight thrust Jon slid inside of you. The cry leaving as you grasped his shoulders, he was as deep as he could go and the burn that time a little more noticeable. But still certainly wet enough you felt embarrassed he now knew how quickly you were ready for him from stroking his cock alone.
His now free hand cupping the back of your neck, he turned you to look up at him and you clenched tightly around as the core in you built into a burn. Eyes blown out, lips parted, Jon already looked so close and his rambling spoke just that. Hardly needing to pull out halfway and slide slowly back inside of you, “The next time you try and tell me you don't look good enough-” Eyes squeezed shut as he hissed out, you grasped his shoulders as you tried to move against his cock each time he slid back so deep.
“Next time?”
Trying to prompt him back to you, Jon more firmly slid the hand on your thigh down more, gripping behind you tightly, one ass cheek in his hand Jon forced your hips against his. His cock brushing against something sensitive inside of you. Fingertips gripping the plush skin, trailing more towards your ass as if tempting you with the idea of taking you there again too. Nodding, Jon watched as your eyes struggled to stay open looking to sweetly up at him. “Next time you talk badly about how you look, I'm bringing you out to our men and show them what they will never have. Cunt, ass, mouth, I'll fuck all of them just so they understand how beautiful you look taking me.”
Leaning close to your lips, Jons breathing was heavy in your mouth before he rested his forehead against yours with a growl. Your hands rushing up to wrap around the back of his neck, raking gently into his curls. Pulling him more to your neck, Jon pressed you more against the wall as you coaxed him gently. “Anything you want, please- just cum inside me, Jon. Please,”
He only nodded, thrusting roughly barley four more times as the leathers against your bare skin scratched, but he crowded you. Sinking his cock deep as he could, Jon groaned your name in your muffled neck. Spilling deeply inside of you, the hand still at your ass forcing you hips to take him as deep as you could. Almost hot in the cold air around you, his seed filled thick inside of you, flooding your cunt, his muscles tensed as he did so.
Just to find the sadistic tendencies in him, as soon as Jon finished spilling inside of you, he pulled out completely. Not gentle or even with any warning, but your walls so sensitive and begging for your own release and he refused anymore then what he filled you with. Grabbing your jaw, Jon pulled you to meet his lips in a rough, biting kiss. Panting against them as he spoke lowly. “Do you want to cum?”
Biting your lip slightly you nodded against him, but Jon only sighed out another rough exhale. Rasping against your lips, “Prove to me you understand then. I won't let you anywhere near an orgasm until you prove to me you understand without doubt how much I'll always adore your body.”
You hated that he meant it, and you hated how much you loved when he'd refuse you just to add too the lesson he wanted to teach you. “I promise, Jon. I'll prove it, I will.”
Cupping one of your cheeks, Jon swiftly readjusted his clothes to look nothing out of the ordinary as you pressed bare against him. Smile so handsome and so perfect on his face, “Show me by the end of tomorrow you've learned your lesson, and I'll take care of you, alright? I promise.”
Only a breathless laugh was capable of leaving you, but he shared it right back only brighter and better on his face. This certainly had not been on the list of things to do by the end of the night.
Any other life, and you might have felt ashamed at how easily you let him treat you however he wanted, but you also knew he wasn't cruel to be mean. He just enjoyed dangling you on that cliff's edge, both of you knowing at some point he'd pull you back to safety, but loved the fact that until that time, you had to rely entirely on him to get to that point. It was probably a good thing you knew so little about sex most of your life, had you known being with Jon could be like this, you would not have been an innocent maiden nearly as long as you were.
Only, it was what he told you after as you both waited for sleep to take you in bed that same night, that changed everything. As for a brief moment you thought he had changed his mind, but it wasn’t that, not at all. Almost as if he had worked you up earlier, keep you on edge as if to prepare you for something else entirely.
“I'm beginning to get used to this pattern where you don't explain what you're doing to anyone.”
Your eyes drifted up from where they were trained on the papers before you, only to flicker them away with a withheld sigh and close to have rolled your eyes. The tip of the quill tapping at the very top of the ink bottle for the past ten minutes without even noticing the degree of time passing. Your tone was flat just as your expression. “Not quite sure where you were the first time we met, but I rarely tell anyone what I do at the best of times. You are only noticing it now.” Pausing you looked to the book in his hand with question. “I seem to recall asking Olly to fetch me that.”
Unlike your dutiful steward, Theon chucked the book on the table somewhat by where you sat before taking a seat on the side adjacent to you. “You did, but I was speaking to Wolkan when he came in, and gave him a break from taking orders from you.”
Your eyes peeled back to your work, a great effort being made to avoid the appearance of rolling your eyes with a smirk, but not from keeping the comment off your tongue. “Some people are happy to take reasonable orders without complaining, Greyjoy.”
You could leave it to Theon, when alone in the room dropping all formality except for mocking. “Just because he doesn't complain to your face, doesn't mean he isn't complaining, Baratheon.” Only trying to rile you up, you let a small smirk let out before pulling the quill from the ink bottle, and instead choosing to go from tapping on the glass, to lightly twirling it between your fingers, eyes narrow on the page. Theon's voice breaking the quiet with more genuity. “Thought you said nothing in those papers you found was of use.”
Managing to maintain the twirl of the quill, you continued to look at the same words you kept re reading for the entire time since transcribing it. Muttering in a bit of distance in your tone, “That doesn't mean it isn't valuable in some other way. We already have it in our possession, so we may as well understand what it said.”
Asking if you had leaned who wrote it, once more the line you hoped sounded as if it came easy as the truth sounded. “No. There were dozens of Lord Commanders who have little written record of. It could very well be any one of them.” Glancing up, you dragged the book over to you without further comment. Page after page you quickly sifted through before finding what you were looking for. In quiet for a good moment before glancing back up, a questioning gaze on Theon. “What?”
“Something around here seems odd. Ever since we left the Nightfort, something's been off with Jon. You as well, but mostly him.” The worry and concern was genuine, and it didn't feel good but it was easier to deflect it now as if for nothing. Not what you said to Theon, but the knowledge of knowing you that the world wasn't going to let you find the answers here.
Certainly the Stark who wrote of these images seemed to agree. Whatever he had found, was not here nor the Wall. Whatever the green in the heart of Winter was, he found something of a woman in white. Jon had said none have gone beyond the mountains of the Frost Fangs and returned, and yet the page you were looking at was the beginning of a trek this Lord Commander had made. A trek which begun in description of going beyond those same mountains and there were more pages after that, all written in succession. And returned to the Nightfort.
One person had gone there and survived, but the why was thus far no where near close to an answer.
Glancing back at him, you knew Theon deserved a more honest answer and you didn't like keeping it from him, but you spoke a half lie regardless. “A lot on my plate is all.” It was dismissive enough he didn't pry, and still, you felt the guilt for purposely leaving him out of it.
“Are you avoiding telling anyone about it?”
Jon barley had spared a glance up before returning back to the too many things in front of him to count. His response half hearted, “There's nothing else to say, Sam. I told her, we haven't told anyone else. That's all there is to it.” Asking why not, Jon once more found his eyes trailing to what he truly wished he didn’t have to be planning. “Why not what?”
Sam it seemed, was as interested as this news as he was so far with many steps he saw of Jons relationship with you. “Tell people. You're King in the North, don't you think people want to know the King's wife is pregnant?”
That one got Jon to look up at him with something more nervous then before. “They would, but we want to keep it between us for now.” The shortness growing in Jons patience grew shorter still hearing Sam mention he knows, Jon looked back down away from him. Opening his mouth before closing it again, Jon let an exhale out as he found the attempt one more time, far calmer. “I never thought I'd have this. Have her. The last night I had her to myself before she married Robb, we sat in the godswood making up a story about other lives we could be together. I thought I was giving her up for good.”
Walking more towards the side of him, Sam had found both the understanding in him but also knew that maybe Jon was just vulnerable enough to say the truth right after that one. “And it has nothing to do with how you've been staring at maps north of the Wall all day?” Jon knew when he said nothing, that was as good as an admission in Sam's quick mind. “Jon-”
“Bran's still out there.” His eyes were a bit wider, knowing the grey in them were shining against the dim light around the room from the fires. “You told me they went beyond the Wall to try and stop this, stop them from coming.” It was quiet, but it was loud in his head saying it. “What if the answer I'm looking for isn't here? What if it's out there?”
There was only one brazen enough to stand outside the King's study and listen as if he had any right, but he was one to walk in and make his spying known. “It isn't an easy answer to come too.” Howland Reed had taken not more then two steps into the room before turning. Making a point as he closed the door on the guards simply station outside. Saying nothing else but quiet when out of earshot of listeners. “Brandon Stark isn't the only one beyond the Wall, remember. I watched my children leave their home, not knowing when I would ever see them again. Knowing they had too, because they were the only ones who could help him.”
Sam had not noticed the glance between the two men, the knowing as Jon and Howland both knew the answer Jon was trying to rationalize. Before he told you the night previous, Jon had went to the one man who understood dreams as such first. Still, he appreciated Sam arguing for his sake anyways. “You can't be suggesting he goes out there, he has a Kingdom to look after, he has a wife-”
Jon turned to stare at him into the quiet, Howland Reed however finished a different sentence to the initial thought. “Tell me Samwell, what use will it be ruling over the North if we have not done everything possible to stop the storms before it takes us anyways.” Sam's own words were interrupted as the man stepped calmly but further into the space Sam stood, your name coming from the older man. “She is not the only one with strange new abilities tied so closely to the North. She returned from the dead, and she brought Jon back from the dead.” Head nodding to Jon. “Warging, skin changing, green dreams, none of these are powers any yield but from the North. And all of them point further north then Winterfell or the Wall alone.”
Jon knew his silence without a shred of question, confusion or doubt on his face only added to the realization that this was not the first time this idea was brought up around him. Sam asking directly, “How long have you-”
“The night before we left I started to figure it out, and the time we've been back here I finally put it all together.” Pleading with all he had, Jon felt the same twisting in his gut as the morning after the attack on Castle Black. The knowing that it was not a plan which sounded good, but just as horrible to think the consequences of. “Sam, you didn't see what happened at Hardhome. You don't know what they're capable of. If I don't do everything I can to stop this, it will happen all over again but this time to my own people. And it won't stop with the North once they're gone too.”
He hated it, but he knew too much. Jon had been in Winterfell, he had been in two forts along the Wall and he had been beyond it. And never closer to real answers of what was going on were given to him then those years he spent out there. It had begun with watching Craster offer his baby, his own son to the Others, and watching one take the baby away, and it got worse and worse until they attacked Hardhome.
Books were only going to get Jon so far, and hiding away hoping they could, was not going to save his people when the time comes. What was the point of calling himself their King, if he hides away in his castle?
Sam though, he asked the question Jon dreaded. The one he and Lord Howland ultimately argued over the day prior before Jon knew he would come to you about it. Sam asked what about you, if Jon goes beyond the Wall again and the answer was right there in his face and he knew he was asking too much of you but there was no other choice. “She's coming with me.”
The symbols, the signs, all pointing to the same place but it was the dream he had that was it. You had spoken of what they were like when so vivid. The question of when was answered easily in his mind.
You were a month pregnant, Jon had to do this now. He couldn't wait to make sure everything possible in the North was taken care of. You had to come with him, and Jon didn't know how long this would take. He knew how long it would take for the two of you and Ghost to get to the Frost Fangs, but nothing beyond that.
If he and you made it, Jon needed to ensure he got you back to Winterfell in time to birth your son here in these walls. But if you two weren't coming back, he didn't want you to get so far into your pregnancy that losing it again would feel like losing another child. Either you two made it to the Heart of Winter and back, or this ended when you both got there, but Jon had a plan in that case.
If he left in the next coming days he may be able to get you there before you reached five months, or just at that time. Meaning if this was it, at least you wouldn't be tormented knowing you got closer that time.
No matter what happened he told himself, you were still together. He'd have you, Ghost, and to whatever end it was, he'd have his son as well. But judging by what he had seen, that's what they wanted. They had without even the human words made it clear. Jon alone was not enough. But it finally was asked in that room, the pressing question. “What are you going to tell people?”
Whatever the answer to that Jon was trying to figure out, he knew he had to do what his brothers did for Sam. Thinking Gilly was dead, they all told him she could've made it out before the attack on Mole's Town. Jon didn't, he hadn't wanted to give Sam false hope. But he knew he was wrong. He understood why his brothers gave Sam that hope.
In fact, you had said it yourself. People need a selfish reason to keep going, otherwise they'll fear they are fighting for a lifeless cause. Jon wouldn't lie, but he knew it might be a mistake to tell them the degree of danger this might lead too. But if it ended without you all coming back, Jon at least needed them to understand that if he didn't come back, it was because the Others weren't coming either.
Jon wondered if this was how Bran felt. Knowing he had to go beyond the Wall regardless of the fear which may come and the danger he'd find. Bran had the bravery when he was a boy of eleven, so Jon as a man, had to have the same.
It had been the story of a Stark going beyond the Wall which did it. From his parting conversation with Stannis, to the entire ride returning to Winterfell that story stuck out in his mind. None knew what truly led to the end of the Long Night. They told stories of battle, but Jon had seen what battle with this army brought and it was only death.
The First Men had warred with the Children of the Forest for thousands of years until they had made a pact in peace to end it. He also knew that somehow, enough was understood between them, that only a man in Craster, had come to an arrangement that kept him and his wives safe, at the cost of any infant sons he had.
But if something needed to be exchanged for peace, Jon was not a man about to send the innocents he's fought to protect, to do it for him. He needed to do it himself. Jon knew too, it was why his Uncle Benjen had refused to let Jon even think of coming with him beyond the Wall. He was headed to the Frost Fangs, and was never seen again. But the Others were still coming, if his uncle survived or not, that hadn't been enough.
Jon knew, he needed to be enough now.
She was trying not to freak out, Jon and yourself could tell. Were she still just a young girl, likely Arya would have let herself be as emotional she felt but now it was trapped inside of her and fighting to not come out, to be brave. “You can't separate us now.”
Your silence remaining as calm as could be in the room, knowing the two of them could easily let this fly off the handle if one lost their cool. Meaning it was on your shoulders to prevent as such. “That isn't what this is. This is about survival.”
Her eyes wanting to shine with water, but held back. The sorrow however, remained. “We're family, we survive this together, not apart, not when I came back just to find-”
Jon moved from where he had been standing in front of her, moving Arya back some as he guided her to sit on the edge of her bed. Crouching in front of her so she could look more down at him this time, nothing but a steadfast assurance shined bright in his eyes. The low rasp just as comforting despite the words. “We need each other. To survive this winter together, but we can't do that when it's only us. Bran is still out there, Uncle Benjen is still out there. We aren't a family together if they're still trapped somewhere in the North.”
A quick glance up towards you, you were the collected confidence for her as Jon was the soothing support in front. He had been the calm one telling you, so you had to be the calm one as he tells her now. Arya's tone weak as she looked back to her brother pleading, “Can't I go with you? You know I can handle myself now-”
Shaking his head, Jon reached a hand up to cup the side of her head. “I need you here. These aren't just my people, they're yours too. So I need you to stay here, and lead them until I return.” Her head tried to tilt in beg, but did not wish to sacrifice the soothing feeling of his hand. Jon, read such words not needing spoken a single one out loud. Leaning in a bit more, his eyes more stern without anything harsh. “You're a Stark, and my sister. You're the only one I trust to take care of the North while I'm gone.”
It took Arya a good moment before nodding. Jon giving her the space then to breathe without moving away from her in proximity. Both of you felt the heaviness of leaving her behind here, but perhaps, you felt different because it wasn't the first time. Robb and yourself had this very conversation with Bran when you went south. But for the two of them now, it was the first time they've had to have this new dynamic of separation.
Walking a few steps forward, you came closer to where Jon knelt. The sensation of one hand of his gently wrapping around the shin closest to him with a warm caressing feeling. Neither of you quite sure if it was for you, or for his sake. “Everyone else is staying here, you'll have them to help you the whole way. Keep their spirits strong instead of letting it shatter, someone has to be here to ensure your people don't lose hope the longer we're gone. They need to believe, and you have to lead it.”
It cracked out in a desperation which Arya seemed to backtrack the moment it spit from her mouth. “When are you coming back?”
But Jon would not lie, not to her. “I don't know.” Don't let that thought shake you, you told yourself. A deep inhale, and Jons hand tightened on your shin. He felt the same. Stay strong in front of her, because she had to have hope to lead with it. A tender tone, low and calm as Jon used his other hand to gently hold at the back of her neck to make proper eye contact. “But we are coming back, Arya. This isn't a goodbye forever.”
Crackling of fire the only thing filling the room for a moment before a deep inhale finally smoothed out the scattering worry in her tone. Finding a confidence in her nod and a return of determination in her eyes. “You're right, it can't be forever. Because if you have to come back, then you also have to make sure you bring Bran back.”
A small chuckle left Jon, pulling one from her as swell. The ease of which made them look almost as young as they were when they first had to part ways for a long time. By the time a hug was shared, you however, begun to feel the opposite. Your own goodbyes were not going to be as simple or heartfelt.
Some were easier then others.
Gendry had the exact reaction you expected. He was a Baratheon in blood after all. And what did Baratheons do best towards one another? Get angry and yell. “So your fathers in the North where at any moment he could find me again, and when I actually find a different person in this family I don't hate, you take off too?”
The narrowing in your eyes was almost childishly annoyed, but so was his anger. Neither of you were really approaching this with a formality, but then again, none in your family did that correct. “Stannis has no reason to come to Winterfell, and by chance he does, go wandering through Winter Town. He won't step foot in there, he doesn't have the patience for how crowded it is.” Glancing down you could tell his hand was twitching by the hammer. “I can't tell if you're currently thinking about using that on my father, or me.”
Looking between, Gendry all but tossed it back down a foot or so away from him. Turning from you to grab at a rag by the mostly empty armoury by that point. “I'm still deciding.”
Sighing, you glanced around and walked further into the space to avoid the trailing ears which might be struck by curiosity. Whispering more as you barrelled into his space to swiftly move in front of him, cutting off his path to force him to face you. “You wish to be angry I'm leaving, that is your right. But this has nothing to do with taking off or leaving you behind. I have to do this, and you don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it.”
Breathing out, the breath cold enough for both of you it flowed visibly after each word or exhale, even beside the warmth of the hearth. His tone was irritated, but his expression spoke that of something far less with said intention. “Fine. But you have to promise me you'll come back. It can't just be me and your father left, that's a disaster waiting to happen.”
Neither but you two quite grasped what had made the Queen in the North and the new blacksmith laugh so genuinely in the quiet with one another, but it was easy for you two all the same. You could see her face though, and despite the awareness that Jon would not like it if he knew this, you had to press on something anyways. “Take care of Arya while we're gone. She'll pretend like she is handling it better then she's going to really feel, and she will need someone who cares about her at her side more then ever.”
Nodding with a seriousness, you held back that splurge of questions and thoughts. Teasing him was not the time, and it wouldn't be for a good while. Gendry was as serious as ever. “I will. I'll look after the kid too. Don't imagine he'll be too happy about this.”
No one was. Not you, Jon, Arya, none. But there was no use in not doing something because it didn't fit your idea of a perfect life. You had never had that, and neither had Jon. Until the snows stopped, you wouldn't get a proper chance to start it, so you would suffer until the end.
Theon though, you had no idea where to start. What to say. Out of everyone you had not wished to truly leave behind again, it was him. He was the only reason you even were alive beyond that horrored year coming back. The only thing that kept you going in any meaningful way because as pathetic as states you both were in, you were all the other had.
If by the slow approach you had walked into the room with didn't say enough, it was the quiet dismissal of his men from the room which spoke volumes. Or the quiet closing of the door as you leaned against it, hands crossing your front. But he knew you well at this point.
Well enough that it was bad news, and news he wasn't going to be part of. “Just say it.”
Your eyes flickered up from nothing back to him, and you hesitated. Mouth opening and closing a number of times before sighing. Walking in as you without any proper decorum, walked to the table he had been hovering around.
The guilt was heavy, and you hated that on the outside, he seemed to take it the best. But he also didn't quite take it with much emotion either. He wasn't saying it, but Theon had suspected something like this was coming and if there was any proof he was as much a Stark as Greyjoy, he had down the pattern of Starks withholding their emotions to remain distant in the face of hardship.
You wished he would get upset, because if you didn't come back, you knew Theon enough he would be the guilty one leaving things this way. But as it was, he refused to give anything away. He kept it as inside as you were. It was the easiest, but it was also the worst. “Theon-”
He had cut you off hardly through your explanation, he had heard enough and you felt something shatter in the degree to which he was instantly shutting you out. “I heard you, your grace.”
You two stood across the room from one another, and he wouldn't even look your way, not at the silence as you looked wide eyed at his distance or the shattering in your heart that the one person you needed to talk this through with, responded so badly he wouldn't even look at you.
He had turned to you after a breath, “Is there anything else?”
Oh there were many, but not a single one he wanted to hear. In a single conversation, the only one you had relied on for months had shut you out in one fell swoop. If you were still teenagers, you would've stood there arguing with him until you understood each other, but you wouldn't argue now and he knew it.
The night had found itself in a close, and just as it was going to be for a good while, eventually there was none left but you and Jon. “There really isn't any other way?”
Your eyes pleaded with him, the inevitable would come but he had the advent of being stronger at keeping the same dread more inside. He stayed calm so he could too calm you, sitting next to you on the bed he was sure as anything. He hadn't thought of this fleetingly, it had been on his mind a while now and there was no more mistake of it.
Running a hand along the hair at the side of your head, Jon let it drift to cup your cheek as he leaned in to you, you doing the same as your own hands found his shoulders and back of his neck. “We both know we have to do this.” Nodding your head, barley contained was a swallowing of something too fearful close to the surface. Jon shifted quickly, cupping both of your cheeks to gently guide you to look back up at him. His tone soft and eyes even softer, despite it all nothing but love sat in the greys. “All my life I've tried to protect you, and you gave me a new life to finally do just that. But if we don't do this, I won't be able to protect you no matter what.”
Running along the back of his neck, a choking feeling was overwhelming your senses as much as Jons very presence so close soothed them. Breathing out what wanted to be a cry, Jon pressed your forehead to his, running one hand once more along the hair at the back of your head as your fingers found his curls. Whispering gently, “So far only one person’s ever come back before.”
Nudging your nose with his, Jon still kept your own fear at bay. “Maybe we'll be the second.” A laugh in a single huff left you, bringing a far brighter one out of Jon. Grey eyes bright as he looked better at you, the hand on your cheek letting his thumb run across the soft skin he found. “I know you're scared, darling. I promise I am too, but if this is what they want, we have to give it to them. I told you we belong together, you, me, our son, all three of us belong together, even if it’s out there. If they wanted me alone-”
Shaking your head, you grasped onto the curls loose around him tighter, Jon shifting to keep you close as well. “You can't go alone. You told me I have to let you protect me, right? You can't do that if we're apart can you?”
Jon only smiled the slightest bit, the thumb on your cheek drifting to your lips with a gentle murmur. “No, I can't.”
Inhaling deeply, you finally looked up at him. Nothing ever but the man you love. You were brought back scared and alone in this world, and only found purpose when you brought Jon back too. You knew, you had to risk it. There was not a single guarantee you both would come back, but Jon had told you. Maybe you two were always supposed to fight this battle together. Even if you were going to be marching into your last before your new lives had a chance, but you'd do it together.
“Do you know what you're going to say tomorrow?”
Jon nodded, moving from beside you on the bed to pulling you up with him. This time, the manner in which he handled you was only gentle. Far from the roughness of the other nights acts, but you had a feeling Jon had planned it this way. Tease with roughness in your last days, and spend the final in Winterfell with the last true gentleness you both will face for months.
Undoing the laces keeping your layers together, he rasped in your ear. “Mostly. I've written a raven for your father. Ser Davos had said he would tell him, but I thought he should hear it from one of us as well.” Your eyes fluttering shut, a lightness in your chest lulling you into something relaxing as you sounded almost a tad breathless. Jon so carefully taking things off of you without any rush.
You should have felt more concerned at what your father would think, but in truth you knew it was safer not too. You and Jon were doing this no matter what, it didn't matter who disapproved. It was to protect them all from what seemed like the end no matter what. “And what about your new best friend?”
Jon paused for a moment, no doubt his face twisting in confusion as he looked over your shoulder, until the hint of an amused smile was sat on your lips. Chuckling deep in your ear, Jon once more moved back to undressing your heavy layers. “He can't get the North to be more neutral then if I'm not even around to side against him in the first place. And I know you're joking but,” His hands pulled down at the material now loose at your torso, letting it fall as the first to go. Gently grabbing your hips he rasped in your ear. “I already have a best friend, and I married her.”
Heart skipping a beat before floating within your chest, you leaned back into his touch which was so perfectly warm against your back, as you reached across your stomach to hold at the opposite sides hand on your hip while the other reached behind you to gently graze your nails at the skin on the back of his exposed neck. “This is normally the part where I’d ask who the lucky girl was, but I'm not sure if you used to have another proper friend that was a girl besides myself.”
Pressing his chest more against you, Jon somewhat tried to tug you closer. His face leaning down to lay a single kiss below your ear as his breath danced hot across it. “That's because the only girl who gave me the time of day, was the beautiful Baratheon one who tortured me for years.” Questioning the word tortured with a laugh, Jon laughed right back. The sound of it, now that was the truly beautiful thing. “First time I saw you, I wanted to throw up thinking I was going to have to live with such a pretty girl in my home. And then I thought that every single time you came back for almost eight years.”
Quick on the draw you leaned your head back against him relaxed, contrasting to the jest in your teasing finally slipping through. “What, did a new pretty girl come through Winterfell to catch your eye then?” You had no doubt he both was smirking, and rolling his eyes at you simultaneously.
Jon didn't even bother entertaining you on that one, muttering in a mocking of irritation, “May I continue?” Waiting enough for a nod, Jon returned to attending properly to you. Pulling the sleeve of your dress down one arm then the other, he pushed at the material to also drop down to the pool by your feet.
Little left, you swiftly turned in his arms. Your hands grasping at his sides, leaning up to meet his lips with an innocence. “Your turn.” Just a short and chaste kiss, you felt him try to chase you on it before you went right for the belt normally keeping his weapons all on him.
It was always quiet when you did this part with him. You undressing him from the day, whereas Jon found things to talk with you about when he did yours. You were never sure why, maybe it was being used to the familiarity that Robb normally took the reigns in your struggle of such consistent conversation, or perhaps you were more used to the silence between Jon and yourself.
Taking as much care as he did you, it struck you in a flash of your mind how much you were going to miss this. Everything was going to be different soon, and you were sure clothes for that sort of cold did not include gentle intimacy in the undressing procedure. You felt somehow prepared by Jons side yet entirely blind as to what you truly were about to walk in on.
How much this would set you apart should you not be ready to handle yourself that far North. You felt uncomfortable the second it came into your mind, that shade of red. Comparing to that wasn't fair to what she truly was towards Jon, but it poked at your mind all the same. Would the ability to compare change the light he saw you both in?
Not having realized the narrowing in your face as you got him to his final, softest, simple layers did you move from him naturally to put some of his things across his desk. He didn't even want you walking around with anything more then a small knife at this point, would you be a burden if he had to do everything for you out there?
No doubt she didn't need Jon to do things for her basic survival.
You almost shook your head thinking about it, not quite noticing the wide eyed curiosity trained on your every move as Jon stepped towards you carefully. Once, twice he called your name but it was the gentle pull of two fingers at your cheek turning you to face him that did it. His eyes soft without the judgment you worried of. “Where's that beautiful head of yours gone off to?”
Then came that clearer doubt. The way he looked at you? It was foolish to think he'd turn heel and think you useless now of all times. Your insecurities always so desperate to compare yourself to what you feared they should like better. Almost slipping right before Jon, the thought that from what little such visions showed you, she was so very clearly much prettier and fitter then you. Even now, especially the longer you and Jon were out there.
Shaking your head though, you always felt guilty when you did this. You knew what she had done, and still you worried as if she was something ever good to him. He rarely talked about her though, sometimes it was difficult to fill in the blank spaces of your knowledge without the worry of not matching up taking up that mantle.
Jons hands pushed away your thoughts as he dragged the sleeves of your shift, thin on your shoulders and the second your hands were free of what you had been holding, Jon wasted not a second in pushing them down your arms. The silky material slipping easily after such a movement, only to have Jon kneel slightly down to pull the rest hiding you from him off, his hot breath tickling your shivering skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your mound, then your hipbone, and finally so gently on your scar.
Pulling back, Jon held at your hips to keep you both steady but he only looked at it. Still, there was nothing there. You would be well into the cold wilderness by the time there was anything to look at, but it did not seem to matter to Jon at all. Not disturbing him, you carefully moved to let loose his curls, raking your fingers through to smooth out them out. Voice only a whisper, you tried to coax him back to you. “She's too small to sense you're there yet.”
Leaning forward, Jon pressed another gentle kiss before standing up. Cupping your cheeks he pulled you into a deep, but soft kiss. Barley pulling away with a smile in his voice, “That doesn't mean I won't try. Maester Luwin had said that babies in their mothers wombs can can hear her voice, which means he might be able to hear my voice eventually too. I want him to get used to it.”
You tried pulling away with a shake of your head. “Well, I'm sure she will love that.”
“He will.”
You weren't sure yet if this was just a game between you both. Yourself insisting on a girl, and Jon insisting he already knows it's a boy. Running your hands under the material of his shirt, they rested against his torso almost comfortingly. Feeling some of the scars under your palms, it got a little better each time knowing they were there without that gut wrenching feeling of horror.
Catching your eyes as he pulled back, Jons eyes were bright, painted with something far too soft to handle as he looked at you. A deep rasp as he pressed another kiss to your lips before mumbling against them. “Let me take you in front of the fire tonight.”
By the time you had even knelt on the soft fur in front of his fire, everything on him had already come off swiftly. The differences of such earlier days in your youth compared to now, were night and day. A wave of nerves would come from both of you, not yet confident enough to take anywhere near significant amount of clothes off in front of the other. And yet now, there wasn't the air of a confident man, but merely one comfortable in his own skin when alone with his wife, bare as you were in the cold, winter air but not even slightly bothered by it.
Already, his thick cock was hard and ready, as if it took nothing to work him up to such a state and yet Jon swiftly moved to sit with you down on the fur. Ignoring that by this point, most men would already expect you to take care of them in such a state. But he only ran his hand along the strands of hair by the side of your head, gentle eyes with a hint of an adoring smile easy on his face.
A gentle rasp as he also moved his thumb to brush briefly at your cheek. “All my life I've wanted to have this with you. My wife, the mother of my children, being able to just be together here in our home.” The hand not somewhat keeping you sat upright in place, reached to grasp at his wrist. Thumb running just along his strong, steady pulse.
Leaning to brush your nose against his, Jon returned the gesture right back as you murmured to him. “And we have that, right now we have that. And no matter what happens, we will always have had this together.”
The hand in your hair moved to cup the back of your head, pressing your forehead to his. “I want to tell you I know we're coming back, believe me, I do. I hate that I might be taking all of this way from you for a second time. You don't deserve this.” But you shook your head.
Taking turns easing the others woes it now was in your palms. Your hands resting along his neck and collarbones, running up and down hoping it was anyway soothing. “We deserve to be with each other. We deserve to be together, and we always will be.” You hesitated, but in truth there was no reason to hide it from Jon of all people. “Robb and I promised we'd stay together, and we didn't get that chance. I came back without him, but you have me and I have you. I won't let that slip away this time. Where you go, I go. No matter the path.”
Furrowing his brow, Jon struggled to mutter out, “Does it make me selfish for wanting that?” The answer of no on your lips was so easy you knew it took Jon off guard. Inhaling, he shifted. Pushing your back against the soft furs, as his top half now hovered over you, one hand beside each side of your head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Good. I've let you go too many times, I'm not allowing you to walk away ever again.”
Barley getting it out before his lips captured yours again, you whispered, “Sounds rather possessive.”
Another kiss pressed to your lips, “I'm a wolf, darling.” Another kiss, deeper that time, and his voice dropping lower then before in desire. “I've been possessive of you since I spent three days and nights taking care of you.” Finally pressing most of his top half down over you, Jon properly kissed you, deepening it without a chance of easing you into it.
For once though, it was not done with greed. It felt more of need. A need shared between two souls desperate to stay together, losing parts of themselves each time they were forced apart, and now the need to stay together overwhelmed until it burned like the fire blazing beside you.
Your hands wrapped around his shoulders and the back of his neck. One hand raking through his curls, pushing some as you did so, out of his way as he kissed you. The other side, tickling long what it brushed of your skin, as Jon guided you to stay with his pace.
Stealing your breaths and sighs, he kept all of them to himself. Brushing his tongue along your bottom lip before ever so gently sliding in your mouth the moment you parted for him. Shifting so his body properly now hovered over you, running his tongue along yours gently before pulling back. You chased his lips just as Jon was weak enough to come back on his own for more, unwilling to part too soon.
One hand now keeping him propped up, the other running down your side before wrapping behind you. Pressing against the small of your back, Jon arched you up into him as he leaned down more to you, switching between licking into your mouth and letting his kiss turn somewhat sloppy simply unable to pull away from you each time a small whine broke from your lips.
One of your legs moved up as he arched you more into his chest, rising up along his hip he instead slid that same hand down to wrap around your thigh, keeping you hoisted up by your lower half now into his. His cock brushing against your inner thigh and core, but he seemed to ignore it despite each feeling sparking something tingling in the spot begging to be touched more.
Now leaning a bit more on his knees, Jon used the leverage to cup the back of your neck and keeping you pressed against his kiss. The greed still not there as much as an urgency deepening it as all could be heard was the fire crackling beside you both and your breathing running harsher with every passing brush of your lips together.
Slowly before you could truly notice it seemed, Jon begun to raise the leg his arm held to him higher and higher. Barley tearing himself from your lips enough, you could see the saliva connecting you both snap as his lips parted in a breathless need as he dragged your leg so your thigh sat up over his shoulder. Not giving you the chance to protest, Jon did the same with the other and held each there over his shoulders with both strong arms. Kissing down from the stretched position he had you in, between your breasts and long your stomach and scar before reaching your mound once again.
Pressing his forehead against it, Jon shamelessly groaned. As husking of his voice he sounded it too was slurred by what felt like ramblings of an accent so thick Jon likely didn't even notice he said anything, but you heard it muttered against you as hot as his breath was. “Gods, I love the way you taste..”
Before you could breathlessly point out he hadn't done anything yet, Jon kissed down to your clit. As if teasing and licking and kissing as if it were your breasts, Jon barley cared about any patterns or even any decorum. He sucked and nibbled at it with such a sloppiness it made you far more worked up and wet for him then even before.
Greed was when he held your hips to his mouth, this was a need of something too raw inside of Jon for words to express. Licking at your clit until your back arched, but Jons firm grip on your thighs over his shoulders kept most of you in place. Hands spread beside you trying to grasp at the short furs below you, gasps and small whines of need high pitched from your mouth with pleases you did not understand what for.
Burning from your clit up into your core and stabbed like an edged blade through your blood stream but you couldn't keep grounded long enough to try and let the fire inside simmer. The embers blazed in the wind right to igniting wild in you, a coil twisting so quickly as Jon ran his tongue desperately along your clit before slowly making his way down just enough to tease you before coming right back up to the bundle of nerves.
Something growling in Jons chest vibrated against you, finally causing one hand to reach down. Grasping at his curls the only thing which dragged you out of the darkness and so much more at his mercy. “Oh gods, Jon please..”
Eyes so dark they were nearly black, Jon almost glared up at you before grunting as he sucked at your clit harshly. The gasp leaving you so high pitched and so desperate, it had him nearly rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he returned to you, even just taking care of your clit he felt out of his mind at how much he adored it.
In a split second, Jons hands gripped your legs tightly as if he could sense it. Arching unknowingly into his mouth, your clit felt as if it took that spark of fire and burned it right through you with more begs of Jons name. Hardly as your orgasm begun, did Jon run his tongue flat along your folds and deeply buried himself proper into your cunt just as you grew that much more wet around his now desperate for the taste, tongue to lick along your walls inside of you.
Cries without words pouring from you, his hair a lifeline keeping you tethered to the ground and not floating into the air away forever but he kept running his mouth and tongue so deeply inside of you, tasting your wetness with a grunting sound and yanking your legs more up to his mouth. His dark curls all you could see as he held you to lean down more into your cunt with a vigour.
Not letting you go, he drank deeply from you as if consumed by the taste, an unwillingness to ease up despite your breath not having caught up. The high feeling in your mind as if you hadn't truly come down yet and Jon growling words you would not hear into your cunt made you that much worse, but you'd never protest against him.
His facial hair burned raw against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but it mixed with the warm wetness of his tongue brushing deep inside of you with need. A contrast that had your eyes fluttering closed unable to handle seeing beyond what of his dark curls were buried between your legs, holding you to him.
It twisted inside of you faster and faster then you could convey with words but you knew you must have been soaking his mouth as he was soaking your core with every drink he refused to give up. No effort Jon even had to put forth before he dragged you to your finish so soon after the first you felt tears forming as you burned from within. Growling more into your cunt, Jon refused to let you go even after your orgasm settled and the ringing in your ears left.
Not until he was satisfied, hands tighter and tighter, bruises would be left on you by the morning but he could not seem to pull away. He never refused your peak, he dragged you from one to the next with babbling pleads of his name which Jon took as a beg for mercy, and proceeded to deny any semblance of it. One to the next, you felt your heart straining at how much you could not be allowed to come down.
You had no concept of how much time had even passed by the time he pulled away. More then five he had given you, but you weren't sure beyond that. The fog in your head taken over by his touch. Shoving your legs off of him wide, Jon spared no time in pulling from your core and rising up to press you back into the furs. Hands sliding underneath you to grasp at your ass, one handful roughly in each of his large hands as he licked his way into your mouth. Gifting you the taste he had taken from you over and over in the long time he kept you there.
Not pulling away enough to keep his lips from brushing against yours Jon rambled, “I'm bringing you home, alright? I promised you a son, and you promised me a daughter. So I'm bringing you home, darling. No matter what, we're coming home and we'll have as many as you want.” Nodding against him, you cupped both of his cheeks and surged back to seek his lips again.
Barley convincing himself to let go of your ass long enough to shift along you. Lining up his leaking, throbbing cock with the core he had soaked you to, Jon growled against your lips once more. “We didn't come back for this to be the end.”
Nodding, you cried out as soon as the burn stretched you. Sliding his thick cock deep inside of you, your walls tight and warm and knowing despite that you gave him no resistance from how utterly soaking you were. Muttering to his kiss, “I love you.”
Moving his hands, Jon once more pulled a thigh up to his hip, the other grasping at a hand in his hair and pushing it down beside your head. Interlocking his fingers with yours he gazed down at you with dark eyes. Your face twisted in a pleasure he could not look way from, as his own jaw clenched trying to keep himself together.
Sliding so smoothly in and out of you, Jons cock was so soaked that were you to hear it over your own breathless cries you'd have been embarrassed. Dragging slowly, you almost wanted to beg him to speed up, but the sheer prospect of it made you just as upset were he to change how gentle and slow he moved what so ever.
Keeping your eyes on his, something sensitive along your walls Jon moved against so steadily each time he thrusted slow back inside of you, dragging you back into a burning desire all over again but without the words to speak such a desperate language beyond begs of his name.
Nodding down at your need, Jon leaned back down to capture your lips. Murmuring between kisses to ramble, his own face twisting, jaw clenching and a groan wanting to leave his mouth each time he slid as deep as you could take him at a cruelly slow pace. “I love you so much.”
Biting your lip as a whine wanted to slip by, the twisting of a coil inside you so tight that it would snap in a single second at any point you felt your eyes sting at the pleasure his cock could only ever show you alone. “I'll always love you, I'm yours, gods I promise I'll always be yours..”
His hips sinking into you so deeply, both your bodies with a sheen of sweat not even from the fire, but he pressed his forehead to yours. Never allowing himself to go rougher, or pick up the pace he nodded against you before pulling himself up. Keeping your back flat, he let go of your hand to hold both your hips. Watching his cock at the slow speed sink deeply inside of your cunt, and each time as slow he pulled out of you and the amount you soaked his cock Jon closed his eyes rambling nothing but swears rough and harsh in his throat before looking back. Each drag of Jons cock inside and of you was as deep as he could sink and pulling out almost entirely but the tip before once more gliding back inside.
Never sped up, never got rougher, and it wasn't even lust in his eyes, almost a wonder as Jon watched his length disappear deep inside of you. As if even now, he could not believe this was his. But it was, and you wanted him to always take you exactly when and how he wished. You would hand your body over for his pleasure only if Jon had asked that of you, and you'd never fight him for it. You'd offer yourself up to be something to touch and fuck for his own need and he was the only man you'd beg to do to you as such.
But he wouldn't want you to say that, so you tried to gently match his pace, dropping his head and gripping your hips more firmly. It took a strain on his muscles to never change his gentle slow push inside of you, and how he almost regretted each time he came close to pulling out. “You're perfect darling, you've been so good for me..my perfect, beautiful wife..mother of my children..”
Jon did himself in, groaning with his head dropping and eyes sealing closed. Jons cock throbbed warm inside of you, but it was not too early nor late. Opening his eyes, Jon watched you with almost too innocent of eyes for what he was doing. Dragging you right along that line with him, you clenched around him just as Jon sunk as deep as he could inside of you. Covering your body with his and pressing his lips in need to yours, Jon finally let go as well.
Spilling his seed deep inside of you as you were so tight cumming around him, it was as if he couldn't leave your warm walls. Not that Jon wanted too, at all. Pouring his cum thick inside of you, he knew coming home was necessary. He needed this for the rest of his life, and not short either. He needed this for as long as he could and not a second sooner. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and curls he hid his face in your neck as soon as he moved from your lips as you leaned to hide in his hair.
Slow thrusts moving to nearly nothing but Jon never let up. His cock still so slow inside of you, making you shake and cry gently in his ear as much as he wanted to keep cumming inside of you.
Once more, Jon wasn't sure how long he was inside of you that night. But pressed against one another on the furs in his chamber in front of the fire? Neither of you could think a better way then to slowly take one another until sleep found you.
Jon only pulling out once you were asleep, and carrying you gently to the bed. As soon as he had climbed in beside you, you curled into his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around you. Unlike many times before, sleep found Jon easy. Relaxed in your embrace as you were nuzzled into his chest, neither of you for once, dreamed of any sort.
They had all debated if they agreed with it.
Arguing back and forth what they thought should truly be done and there was none who found such firm ways to think on it. Claims that the King and Queen in the North should stay in the North, but once more it could only be argued back that the it's the North all the same, he's the one who has been there and knows how to survive out there.
There were more crammed into that meeting hall then ever before to hear it, and the plans laid out but Jon gave no room to give the idea he could be convinced otherwise. “The answers don't lay here, it's out there. And it's waiting for us to come their way. But if we only stand here, don't do everything we can to protect our people, they'll come for us anyways. When dead men and worse come hunting for us in the night, is the King you want to stand by one who holes up in his castle? Hiding behind high walls as their army turns our homes into a graveyard?”
Whispers had begun to spread. They didn't have to like it, but they had to accept this was necessary. They had to accept that they named Jon their King, and a King does everything in his power to fight for his Kingdom. No matter the cost.
You would leave to Castle Black, Jon knew the best of paths from there and he made it clear to everyone in that meeting hall once the tunnel was closed behind him, none were to follow for any reason. “If I bring an army at my back, they'll fight us like an army. And we cannot afford that, not anymore. I need all of you here, protecting the ones you love. Not dying beyond the Wall where your bodies will be burned and left behind.” Your name coming confident from his mouth, you had stood by him as sure as he and they all needed you too. “We will find the answers beyond the Wall ourselves, not sending out people into their deaths to do it for us. And I will find my little brother, and your children too. Meera and Jojen Reed, Brandon Stark, wherever they are, we will find them and bring them home too.”
By the time you had reached Castle Black, it had been nowhere near the week long scramble to escape the last time had been. Hardly any had come, but the spectacle in the courtyard of was loud and busy as things were swiftly prepared. It was Tormunds home you were venturing into, and he was the last to see you both off with a goodbye.
The North had pled that they needed their King, but as you both walked through to where the tunnel's gate awaited to rise, you both had the confidence they needed to see regardless of what end this path led too.
They wanted their King and Queen with them in the North, Jon and you wanted to be home together to start a true family as you scarcely dreamed of having, but the white cold was approaching, and the dead with would ride with it. Jon had put it in the perfect terms to his people, regardless of wants and fears of what you were leaving behind.
He said it exactly as Jeor Mormont once said it to him, because the Old Bear was never more right about it, then now. “I will not stand meekly by and wait for the snows.”
Jon had gone to see his father, and perhaps the last time, see the mother he never had a chance to know. She had watched over him his whole life here, but she couldn't now, and Jon had to hope she knew at the least, however much she loved him in the short time they had with each other, he'd never forget the short time as a man he's known he was her son. A final goodbye to Rickon resting peacefully by their father, Jon had said goodbye to him too.
Jon wasn't a man of many words, but he hoped Eddard Stark understood, he was still now and forever, the only father Jon had, wanted or needed.
You nor Jon knew when you would come back, or what you would even find once you reached the heart of winter the Others called from. But you would find out one way or another, be it peace or death, you would find out. Your purpose was Jon, but Jons was his people. And a King did everything in his power to protect his people regardless of his life, or yours. Both of you on a horse, and standing tall beside Jon with Ghost doing the same. Follow Jon to whatever ends this led.
The tunnel gates opened, and you, Ghost, and the White Wolf by your side, finally did not look back.
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#jon snow#robb stark#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#jon snow x you#robb stark x you#jon snow imagine#robb stark imagine
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jon Snow*Couldn't Resist
Pairing: Jon x f!reader (could be modern or not)
Kinktober Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end
Word count: 1114
Warnings: over stimulation, multiple orgasm, fingering, f! receiving oral, dry humping, neck kissing, slight begging, needy Jon, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut 18+
Masterlist Here
Kinktober List Here
Soft black hair tickled the skin of your cheek, rousing you from your slumber. As your eyes fluttered open a moan escaped your lips as you felt soft lips against your neck, sucking softly on the skin. “Jon?” You yawned, glancing down at the man who was already all over you before the sun had risen.
He hummed against your skin, lips never leaving your skin as he worked his way down your neck. “What are you doing?” you asked, noticing his hand softly running up your bare thigh. After a long night with your husband under the sheets last night you had fallen asleep bare, something Jon found to be irresistible apparently.
“Kissing you,” he said, his lips trailing along your collar bones, “Feeling you,” he murmured, his hand running up your inner thigh. You shivered when his fingers ran over your wet cunt, “Touching you,” he finally added, his lips edging farther down your chest, “Need you,” he muttered against your skin making you chuckle lightly.
“You had me last night,” you giggled, “over and over, and over again,” you teased, your fingers toying with his hair.
“Not enough,” he said, his lips moving down your stomach. You sighed in content as he made his way further down, moaning lightly as his finger rubbed over your clit in slow circles, his lips edging further down. “Wanna taste you,”
You hummed, figuring you had time for now, “Just once sweetheart. I know what you’re like,” you said, hands still holding his soft locks.
Jon laughed as your skin, “Have no clue what you’re on about love,” he said and before you could chastise and remind him of last night, he had placed a soft kiss to your clit making you whine, your back arching slightly, “Just wanna make you feel good,” he said, warm breath fanning your wet cunt making shivers radiate up your body,
His hands held your thighs, pushing them over his shoulders as he licked a stripe up your cunt making you tense in anticipation. His hands locked around your legs, keeping your hips steady as he began to lick greedy tongues up your cunt, devouring you like a starved dog.
Your hands twisted in his hair, toes curling as his lips moved up to suck your clit, his fingers edging in your hole. You gasped when you felt him ease two fingers in but moaned as he began to move them slowly, curling them with expert position like he’d studied your body for a lifetime.
Jon moaned against your cunt, vibrations running up your body making your skin tingle. Your heels dug into his back, and you could feel the way he was humping the bed, giving himself his own slight release as he worked on yours.
It didn’t take long in your sleep ridden haze for a warm feeling to spread through your stomach. “Fuck,” you whined, as you came to your peak. Jons tongue did not stop even as your body did, your legs twitching around your head, “Just one,” you whined, pushing at his shoulder.
“Cmon baby,” Jon whined, his face wet with your juices, “One more please? I’ll be good after this I swear,”
You whined before nodding, “Fine,” you said, and the words had barley left your lips before he dove back in. this time his tongue darting inside you making your body shudder. These moans were harder to contain especially when his nose moved to nuzzle perfectly into your clit.
Your second peak arrived even quicker than the first but as you reached this one you felt your hips bucking, hand clenching Jons hair tight, as you grinded onto his face. Your movements only spurred Jon on as soon his fingers had return, this time slipping three in with ease as he moved up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves again. His fingers were faster this time, his teeth grazing your clit, and no sooner had your second orgasm finished did your third hit like a fallen castle.
You could barley contain the moans, biting into your arms to try stop yourself as your body twitched under Jon. His movements didn’t stop till your hands began to push his head away, not feeling like you could face another as your legs continued to twitch.
Jon crawled up your body, his lips kissing your cheek and jaw gently as his hips rutted into yours. his hard cock rubbing into your stomach as he searched for friction, “Please,” he murmured against your skin, “Let me fuck you please,” he begged, kissing your skin desperately.
You nodded making him look up from the crook of your neck, his eyes searching your face for approval. You nodded at him, not sure if you were even able to speak yet. Jon knew your signal to stop, a double tap on the shoulder, but with your nod and no tap he waisted no time in lining his cock up with your ready hole.
As he sunk his cock in you gasped, your hole already so sensitive from before. Jon however was still desperate for release so as his lips latched to your nipple, his free hand playing with the other, his hips began to snap against yours setting a relentless pace. “Fuck Jon I-I,” you gasped, interrupted by your own moans as you felt another orgasm approaching.
Jon moved his hand to under your back, pulling it up to arch your back to hit a new spot which caused your eyes to roll into your skull as a fourth orgasm crashed down on you. his thrusts did not stop but the way your cunt squeezed him just made his pace quicken.
He was determined to milk one more out of you as his hand dropped your back letting you sink into the bed but now his hand slipped between your bodies till, he was rubbing fast circles into your clit. His lips left your skin as he lent up, allowing himself to fuck you deeper as his hand came up to cover your mouth as your moans probably echoed through the walls.
You looked up at him through hooded eyes, admiring his body for the few moments you had before your final peak arrived making your legs clench around Jon which only pulled him in deeper. You vaguely heard cursing as you rode out your final orgasm, but you released why as you felt Jon spill inside you.
After a few moments of him catching his breath Jon rolled to lay beside you, glancing at you with a sorry smile, “What happened,” you started to ask, panting as you looked to your husband, “to just one?”
“Couldn’t resist,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics
#jon snow smut#jon snow#jon snow imagine#jon snow x reader#jon snow x y/n#modern jon snow fluff#modern jon snow imagine#modern jon snow#modern jon snow smut#modern jon snow x reader#jon snow fluff#game of thrones smut#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader#got#got smut#got imagine#got x reader#modern game of thrones#modern game of thrones imagine#modern game of thrones smut#modern game of thrones x reader
941 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jon Snow Urges You to Be Vocal
Pairing: Jon Snow x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, praise, cunnilingus, encouragement, pussyworship, gentle sex
A/N: Little drabble commission. I realized that despite him being on my list no one ever asked for Jon Snow writing before.
It was understandable that you didn't want the soldiers outside to hear you being fucked. It was what you were here for, to be fucked by Jon Snow specifically. Still that didn't stop other soldiers from offering you money, or trying to talk their way to you, trying to lure you into their tents instead.
Jon was no fool, he knew their plans and he had a plan of his own.
"What did we agree upon? Should I remind you?" He spoke into your cunt from behind. "No covering your mouth. Those bastards need to know your my whore, and mine alone." His lips pressed back against you, tongue lapping at your sweet juices with gusto.
"It's embarrassing. Sir." You clung onto the sheets with one hand, the other keeping closed over your mouth as more sounds threatened to spill from it.
"Embarrassing? I am quite surprised you still have things to be embaressed about. This cunt has probably known more cocks then there are people stationed in this fucking hellhole." Yet he couldn't get enough of you.
Every night since you arrived he's been on you like it was his last day. It could have been. How long has it been since he's fucked someone, felt the warmth of someone else? You didn't need to know that, it was none of your business.
You were only here to be fucked. As far as that went he was pretty good at it, you'd wager almost as good as he was in battle.
"It appears a slut like you needs a firmer hand to listen when she's being spoken to." Jon bit his way up your thighs, your ass and your spine all the while aligning his hard cock with your pussy before sliding it all in without warning. You've had it a lot rougher before, he was actually being pretty gentle for now but you there was a reason for it.
You felt his firm hands grab both your wrists and pull you back, your spine tense as Jon began thrusting in and out. "Let them hear my whore be fucked. They should all know."
Little by little you let your voice out, combined with the rhythmic sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Everyone who passed by Jon Snow's tent knew from then on that he was the only man who would fuck you.
#game of thrones x reader#jon snow x reader#game of thrones imagines#jon snow imagine#game of thrones smut#jon snow smut#got x reader#got imagine#got smut#game of thrones drabble#jon snow drabble#smut drabble
447 notes
·
View notes
Note
dad jon snow headcanon with a targaryen!reader? i love that we have a new got writer and hotd! ♡
father's love. | jon snow
❝ pairing: jon snow x targaryen!reader.
❝ summary: what would jon snow be like having children with you, his beautiful dragon wife.
❝ warning: mentions of sex and innuendo, worried and scared jon.
❝ note: i really love the orders with targaryen!reader, thank you very much for leaving your request, i hope you leave one again and you like this. first post! ♡
★, when you tell jon that you're pregnant.
at first you had your doubts, you didn't know if it was just a delay or you were with a child.
but when you decided to approach your dragon and this approached, sniffed and caressed your belly, everything became clear to you.
you were with a child.
you had talked to him before about the children, his children. jon was insecure, he didn't want them to do to his child the same thing they did to him.
but you always assured him that his children would also be targaryens, they carried the blood of the dragon and the wolves, son of the king of the north.
jon smiled and took you by the waist, kissing you and affirming that having three children with you would be a blessing from the gods.
so at night, when you were already taking off your clothes to sleep, you feel familiar hands undoing the strings of your dress while leaving kisses on your neck, you know that it is now when you should tell him.
"jon" you called him, and you felt how his inner wolf wanted to come out. you only called him that in two situations, when you were angry or when you wanted to have sex.
"yes, my beautiful wife?" he asked with his thickest voice, knowing what he provoked in you, you laughed at how his breath crashed into your neck and his cold hands went into your bare back.
"we can't do this right now, my love" you tell him as you turn around and place your hands on his neck, massaging it. a small smile appears on your lips when you see his confused face.
"i did something wrong?" he asked and you laugh, shaking your head and watching your husband's eyes widen at his smile, admiring your beautiful purple eyes. "nothing wrong, sweet husband. it's just not appropriate when i'm with a baby" you finally said.
you watch as he opens his mouth to say something but closes it immediately, the information reaching his brain slowly. his hands become lighter on your waist and his eyes become even smaller and watery.
"are you sure?" he asks with a voice that shakes, but his hands travel smoothly to your still flat stomach. "i didn't believe it until rhaegon proved it to me, i trust my dragon's judgment" you answered him and smiled, jon wasted no time in gently cupping your face and kissing you, his hands now caressing your stomach.
"i'm the happiest man in westeros, we're going to have a little pup" he says and smiles at you, showing you his beautiful silver pearls. "he'll be a dragon" you tell him, but jon shakes his head, taking now by the waist and sitting on the bed.
he crouches before you and brings his face close to your stomach, kissing him "you're a wolf, aren't you? you make me the happiest man in the world, my little pup" you smile caressing his curls, letting him call your baby a puppy.
★, when your puppy is growing up.
jon loves to see how his puppy grows inside you every day and considers that seeing you in this condition is his greatest adoration.
shamelessly caress your belly or look at it affectionately when he doesn't have much time for you and his son.
but he's always watching you, he knows you're a fighter, but you carry his son inside, and now you're more vulnerable. he would kill whoever touched a single hair on you.
when he has all his time or puts his duties aside to pamper his wife and son, he can't stop adore you.
"you are beautiful" "our wolf grows healthy and strong thanks to you" "my beautiful wife" "i hope he has your dragon eyes" things like that are whispered in your ear while he caresses your belly and kisses your neck.
jon denies it sometimes, but he would love it if his son had your eyes and his dark hair.
but sometimes it scares him too, the thought of his son being called a bastard makes his blood boil. he can take it, but when it comes to his son, never.
he already has people under his eye who dared to call his son a bastard.
he also thinks about the names, he knows that he wants to name it ned or robb, you suggest combining it with a valyrian name. he likes them but ned and robb are always his first choices.
if it's a girl, he would like you to choose the name, he loves valyrian female names.
you have always loved your mother's name, rhaella, and he would like his daughter to be named after the woman who gave him the love of his life.
he is not very interested if it is a girl or a boy, it is his and he will love it, with his being.
jon tries to always be easy on you when he's stressed, he never blows up on you. he already knows how your emotions are and knows that making you cry is his worst sin.
so, when some assembly goes wrong and some lord insults him for not responding to his request, he just enters his chambers and sits behind you, feeling how his wolf kicks in response to his touch and smiling on your neck. he loves that feeling too much.
it also comforts you when something stresses you out or makes you cry.
like your impossibility of being able to give a dragon egg to your son.
you've always dreamed of being able to see your child grow up with a dragon, but thanks to the disappearance of dragons and the fact that both your dragon and your younger sister's dragon, daenerys, are male, it prevents you from fulfilling that wish.
what makes you cry frequently.
and jon is there to comfort you.
"then he will have a direwolf, my love. don't worry, i'm sure that rhaegon will let our son ride him one day" he says and makes you feel good.
when he sees you standing, looking out the window, he always stands behind you and puts his hands under your belly, lifting it up to give you a rest. you love when he does that, it makes you overflow with love for him.
"i love when you let my poor back rest" you say as you sigh and rest your head on your shoulder, jon chuckles and lets your huge belly droop again. "jon!" you moan angrily and he lifts your belly again.
he only plays, but loves to give you breaks and massages, especially on your feet.
he is always protecting you, especially when it is time to sleep.
he has nightmares about how while he sleeps next to you, someone walks into the room and hurts you. you and his little wolf.
he couldn't take the blame.
that is why, when you sleep, he is always the one closest to the door. his chest against yours while one of your legs is on his hip, or your back against his chest while his hands cup your tummy.
he would rather something happen to him than to you, his loving wife and mother of his child.
★, when the time of birth comes.
the last time you approached the maester, he told you that the arrival of the heir to the north would come soon.
you and jon were looking forward to your son. the heir to the north and the iron throne.
jon was sitting in the weirwood tree one morning, thinking more deeply about the birth.
and if you died? or did they make him choose between you and his son?
he couldn't.
he couldn't allow someone to mercilessly cut you open and murder you. not in front of him.
so he asked, begged to the gods for your life and for his son.
"please give my son an easy birth, no pain for my wife, don't take her away, always leave her with me. i ask you to take care of my beautiful wife and my son. i lost her once and i don't plan to lose her again."
and when he finished asking for you and his son, a wind raised his curls, relaxing him immediately.
he knew that the gods had heard him.
his peace was interrupted by your servant, who ran towards him with sweat on her forehead and blood on her dress and hands.
"the queen is giving birth" he said in a rush, jon getting up quickly from the log. "is she in our room?" he asked and the maid nodded, he didn't even let her answer when he started to run to his wife.
the closer he was to the room, the more his heart beat, he was scared. he was scared for you. he loved you so much that the idea of your death only brings his as a consequence.
when he enter the room, he was already crying.
"jon" you said when you saw him come in, you were pacing around the room, trying to ease the contractions, your water had already broken, it was only a little more to start labor.
he came up to you and kissed you on the forehead, he walked with you by the hand until the time will come.
he knew his child was coming when you had to lean on him in pain. with the help of the midwives, he lifted you onto the bed and sat behind you, leaving your back with his chest while the midwives made you push.
it was the easiest birth he had ever witnessed, it was only three pushes and his baby came out.
his son began to cry and his eyes filled with tears, he watched as the midwives lightly cleaned him. "he's a boy, your grace. healthy and strong, like a wolf" said one of them, putting your son in your arms.
"ned" you whispered, caressing his cheek with your finger, which was almost the size of his face. "he's small" jon said and you laughed "my little wolf" Jon took your hand in his, reaching both hands towards ned.
ned's eyes widened at his parents' touch, jon didn't expect his eyes to be unique to a targaryen. purple eyes and perfectly black hair, small curlers were already visible.
"he's beautiful, just like his mother," he said, kissing the side of your head many times. "thank you" he said "why?" you asked, turning to look at him as jon took your hand and kissed your palm "for giving me a family."
★, what jon would be like with his son.
at first, he was afraid to touch him, that it would break.
but after his son took his finger in his little hand, he couldn't stop carrying it. he loved his little son ned and his wife.
jon walks ned through the gardens every day or takes him on horseback, he wants him to adapt to the environment that is winterfell.
but you always fill him with clothes that jon sometimes thinks his son even sees what's going on around him.
he introduced him to everyone a few days after his birth, naming him "ned, heir of the north"
you and he agreed that he should sleep with you, there are people who would harm their little son at the cost of everything.
so jon usually sleeps shirtless because he knows his son loves physical contact, he lays it on his chest while he strokes his head.
he loves to see how you fill his hungry son, and sometimes finds it funny how he takes so desperately from your breast.
"he's like his father" he says as he looks over your shoulder as his son desperately eats.
he protects his son with his very life, be it from people or words. he will not let his child be harmed or insulted.
jon is a great warrior with a sword, he knows how to use it with great agility, so he just lets his son ned watch him fight.
thanks to this, when ned was older, you found him several times imitating his father, leading him to be a better sword wielder than him.
he loves his family more than anything in the world, and having children with you is the best thing he has.
so, very soon, you will have a child in your belly again.
masterlist | © vermithorider | do not steal, copy, publish my work without my consent, if you wish, ask and inform me about it, I am the one who should give you my permission.
#jon snow x reader#jon snow x targaryen!reader#jon snow#vermithorider#game of thrones x reader#targaryen!reader#jon snow x pregnant!reader#jon snow headcanon#jon snow imagine#jon snow one shots#jon snow stuff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
୨୧ , jon snow x FEM!reader. ( 1.7k )
imagine... you, a young servant of house stark, teaching jon snow the sweet, yet innocent act of kissing. and finding out just how eager he is to learn.
tags making out, crush, innocence, first kiss, friends to lovers, season 1
AS NIGHT FALLS throughout Winterfell, lit lamps wither away along with the hushed whispers of winds. It's a melody you wish to hear more often as your stay here in the North begins to drag.
More often than not, your ears tend to ache at the shutters of metal against one another when frequenting the Forge; or when tasked by one of the Stark children to fetch an apple, where you're greeted by a dozen women huddled together in secret, gossiping to one another about Winterfell's latest whore. You loved the girls dearly, but feared that maybe one day you would be the topic of their conversation.
With a content smile, you inhale greatly and exhale with ease as you sit outside the kitchens back in the brittle cold. Your surroundings are empty of others, only the wind to keep you company. Even as you feel your chest start to tighten around your lungs at the cool air, you stay seated and grateful for the silence on this star-filled night.
Eyeing the various critters crawling about, you jump at the laboured breathing of an animal ahead of you in the depths of the forest, before the small stature of a direwolf pup stumbles its way out of the ominous shadows and towards you. You hadn't noticed it at first, the thick white coat of fur complemented its snowy surroundings.
As the wolf yields closer in clumsy strides, your eyes widen in knowing as those red orbs of it become clearer.
The name of his is faint on your lips, "Ghost?". And before your limble frame is aware, the pup has thrown his warmth onto your lap. You giggle in turn, scratching earnestly at the back of Ghosts' ear just the way he prefers it.
The way Jon does it.
As you busy your hands with the pup, your shallow breaths forgotten as the cold seeps into your skin, you glance around the woods in hopes of finding the brute man you dream off.
"Now tell me, Ghost. Just where is your broody friend?" You ask the pup, who in turn just laps messily at your face. Distracted, you fail to hear the large boots of the man you mustn't fancy, and the sudden dip of the floorboards beneath you.
"Behind," A gravelly voice huffs out against the back of your exposed neck. The finest of hairs stand on edge as you're suddenly aware of the warmth intruding in on your space, like a lone fire in the depths of Winterfell's worst nights.
You're yet to yelp in shock, accustomed to Jon's dire way of greeting you. He took joy in teasing the poor servant girl who never thought to send out a complaint to Lord Stark; to which the man took great advantage of, you were his only friend after all. Whom else could he mess around with other than his elder brother, Robb?
"Y/N, you're practically naked with those kitchen rags on," he sighs, Jon is no longer crouched behind you, and instead stands tall in all his glory besides you. You still have not uttered a word to him yet, nor could you now. As you gaze up his length, your jaw slacks unwillingly at the sight of him.
Some days you found yourself enamoured with House Stark's bastard son.
You, along with a maiden of Lady Sansa's, spent your breaks eye-fucking him from across the courtyard as he trained with his brother. Jon would dorne tight clothing on those days which defined his toned arms in the sun's favourable rays. The sweat would glisten against his flushed skin; it was, oh so tempting to just lick off. The two of you girls would let out boisterous laughs at the dirty idea from where you sat on the courtyard's curb. And before long another servant would pull you by your ear angrily, complaining about time and whatnot as you would spare one last glance at Jon before tasked with yet another bore chore.
Only during his and Robb's spars would he acknowledge you in public. Robb was the only Stark who knew of his brother and your friendship; he was positive the people of Winterfell would talk if Ned's bastard son and a poor servant girl were out frolicking together. So Robb kept quiet. He never commented on it and never thought to spare a look at you. You were sure he hated you.
Jon reassured you that the eldest Stark son just loved to be a dick, and was most likely jealous of the fact that he had another to call a friend; in Robb's words, 'a fine lady'.
You had blushed at his words.
Robb Stark was a fine man, you along with all of Winterfell knew this. You would have to have your eyes gouged out to not see it.
But now, as your eyes trail Jon's stoic form, your heart beats with a skip in its mellow thump. Jons face never gives away his emotions, though maybe that is exactly what you find endearing about the young man. He stares down at you with a look of tiredness, stripping himself of his fur coat.
You raise an eyebrow at him, protesting, "I have no need of your coat Jon, it is fine!" You reassure all too easily, though the chattering of your teeth gives you away. Jon clicks his tongue, before draping the large warmth of his coat over your smaller stature.
"It does not seem like it." He shrugs, avoiding your teary eyes from the cold. All you could do was hum in acknowledgement, mind hazy at the thought of him giving you his coat in worry. Your face flushes, though Jon is all too ignorant as he decides to sit beside you on the curb, watching off into the distance with a brief frown.
Suddenly, Ghost nudges you with a dirtied paw towards Jon, as if on purpose. You shake your head at the silly idea. Without realising, you let out a whisper of a giggle.
"What is it?" Jon turns to face you now, and as you sneak a glance you catch the faintest of freckles gathered around either corners of his eyes and how his mess of dark hair curls to frame his pale face. You realise suddenly, just how close he is.
Jon does not seem to notice, or perhaps he does, but has no concern over it.
With strained confidence and courage from a white paw, you shuffle ever so slightly closer to Jon. The man just stares at you with a look you cannot describe, and a terrible feeling gnaws within you. Why must he just stare? Is that a look of disgust? Oh, what am I doing?
Battling your inner turmoil, you miss the way Jon looks you up and down, biting his bottom lip as if instinct when he stares upon your beautiful face.
"Y/N?" He says it almost too quietly, but his breath fans your face with how close the two of you are now. It is silent all around, even the whistles of the wind do not interrupt this moment. You turn to face him fully now, though the bottom half of your face stays well hidden beneath the large heaps of fur. You are embarrassed yet intrigued to know what Jon chooses to do next.
With his index finger, he tugs lightly at the fur beside your cheek, testing the water. You continue to stare dumbly, as he asks shyly, "May I?".
The words are stuck in your throat at the sudden vulnerability from him. You have never seen this side of Jon before. As you go to nod, he almost pulls back with a hitch in his breath with how long you take to respond.
Hastily, you shout out, "Yes! Yes." He does not look convinced even as you tug the fur down to reveal a timid smile. He returns it, though the ends do not meet his eyes.
You let out a sigh. You had ruined your chance with Jon Snow.
Then, as if waiting for the drama, you felt a push from behind you. You did not need to see to know who exactly it was. Ghosts' tiny paw nudged you once more, as if the pup was irritated at this charade.
With another ounce of confidence, you grabbed either side of Jons questioning face. You could feel the roughness of his beard, and that was all it took for you to regain your composure before looking up at him through glazed lashes.
"Jon," you spoke. He waited with uncertainty as your grip on his face loosened. "Is this okay?"
All he could manage was a slight nod, distracted by your enchanting eyes.
"Okay." You repeated, before leaning down to meet his bruised lips. From the way he sat rigid against you, you were sure this was his first kiss. Soon you were worried though there was no protest from his end. It seemed as though Jon wanted you to lead. And as his tongue swiped over your top lip, you took that as your confirmation.
With not an ounce of shame, you shuffled to sit on his lap, wrapping your thighs around his fine torso. Now comfortably, you began to deepen the kiss with your tongue. Your hands moved away from his face and found themselves tangled within his hair. And with growing confidence, Jon soon wrapped his arms around the bottom of your waist, nearing your ass. His fingers teased at the fabric there, unsure.
As your tongues danced together, you dragged a palm down his front sensually, to which he let out a pitiful moan you could not help but swallow, before stopping atop of his uncertain hand above your waist. With loving guidance, you moved his hand ever so slightly towards the plump of your butt. His thick yet lanky fingers grazed against it, and with uncertainty he pressed down at the soft flesh. You were still clothed, but you could feel the heat emitting from his fingers.
You gasped into the kiss, pulling back for needed air.
"Was it something I did, Y/N?" Jon asked with worry. You could only laugh at the young man and his wary conclusions. With a shake of your head, inhaling the cool air to steady yourself, you whispered. "Not at all, Snow."
The corner of his lips tugged upwards with ease; and all you could do was watch with a feeling of need sprouting within you. You were eager for this man to ravage you, though there was a lot to teach.
There was no sound of complaint from you, as you felt him knead your ass with certainty.
Jon was a quick learner, after all.
#jon snow#jon snow x reader#asoiaf x reader#got x reader#got imagine#asoiaf imagine#fem reader#jon snow imagine#jon snow x you#jon snow drabble#x reader#fanfiction#got fanfiction#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones x you
731 notes
·
View notes
Text
They Will Suffice
Jon Snow x fem!reader
summary: a pleasurable moment during your pregnancy with your husband
warnings: smut, illusions to sex, fingering, sweet talk, a little bit dirty, pregnancy, slight pregnancy kink (if you squint really, really hard)
The wind is howling and furious outside, it rattles the shutters of the windows and whistles through the gaps it manages to slither through the walls creating a chill in the air in spite of the warm pipes within the walls of the castle.
You lie in bed with your husband, a quiet and comforting moment between two lovers. Basking in the afterglow of love-making leaning back into his strong arms as they wrap around your front and caress you belly.
His bare knuckle grazes where your child kicks. A budum rhythm over and over again.
"It appears we have awoken them," you muse, looking up to see him. His handsome face is wrought with concentration, dark brows furrowed close.
"He," he corrects you.
You huff a laugh, "he? So sure are we?"
"Yes. I dream of our son in your arms. Of him playing in the Godswood with Ghost," he presses a kiss to your brow.
"Every man wishes for a son. But dreams will not make our child grow a cock if they do not already possess one," you warn. You can't help but feel a little nervous at his surety of a son. What would happen if you birthed a daughter instead?
"I would not be disappointed with a little daughter, my love. I just know that this..." he strokes the underside of your belly where there is another thump, "is our son."
You hum in acknowledgment, a small smile curling at your mouth.
"And what shall our son's name be?"
"Edric," his response is instant.
Your eyes soften, "for your father?"
"Hm. Little Ned," he is smiling now, a small, beautiful and oh so rare thing. It makes your heart swell and tears well up in your eyes.
"When we have a daughter you shall name her," he tells you, as if it is a certainty.
"And what if we shall only have sons? Or only this one child?"
"Then you can name them too. You're the one doing all the hard work," he tells you.
"I suppose you are right. Though you certainly take care of me," you respond with a teasing grin.
"I do now, do I?" he teases right back, one hand going further down to your .
"Mhm. I find myself quite satiated in your presence."
"Careful, I might become unbearable with all this flattery," his teeth graze at the side of your face. You sigh as you sink further back into his arms.
"We can't have that now, can we?"
His hand slips between your thighs, your knees parting some more to allow him better access.
"I find myself not fully satiated tonight, however," you continue, a stir in your lower belly, an urge to squeeze your thighs tightly together.
"Oh. We can't have that now, can we?"
His fingers slide between your folds, already slick once more. He had already cleaned you up after your previous bouts of love-making quite nicely, though is appears it was for nought as you would soon be a mess again.
"I'm not sure I have such energy as you," he admitted as he slid a curled finger into you, thumb circling your nub. A moan broke past your lips as he moves much to slowly.
"Well... your fingers will have to suffice," you let out another broken moan as he gathers your wetness and slides in a second finger.
"Hmm, so wet. So warm," his lips are pressed against the side of your face, teeth grazing the flesh as he whispers his sweet praises into your ear.
His practiced movements speed up, your knees part wider. His cock is hardened somewhat against your back, though not nearly at full mast.
"I can't believe I have you, so perfect, so tight, right in my arms," he speaks, lips dragging across your jaw as you throw your head back against his shoulder.
His fingers curl further, rubbing along that soft spot inside of you which had your thighs twitching and your eyes rolling back as your nails dig into his flesh.
"Right there," you moan, breathless, "please."
"Please what? What do you want?"
"I want to cum. Please make me come," you let out a louder moan.
His movements speed up, "come for me, wife. Finish for me."
You reach your peak, your third that night, fingers curling into the flesh of his thighs, a high, broken keening sound passing your lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut and mouth forming an 'o'.
"So pretty," he strokes your thighs and swollen belly, "so perfect."
You don't hear what he says next as you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, howls of the wind distant to your ears as his warmth envelopes you whole and drags you down to the depths of rest.
comments are greatly appreciated, don’t be a stranger :)
you can find me on Wattpad and AO3 by danytherelentless
let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for any of my works (character specifications and smut or not)
#jon snow x reader#jon snow x you#jon snow smut#jon snow imagine#jon snow#asoiaf x reader#asoiaf smut#got x reader#got x you#got smut#smut#fluff
434 notes
·
View notes
Text
ONLY YOU - JON SNOW
Summary: After being accused of wanting another woman instead of you, he makes it his mission to let you know that he wants you…and only you.
Warnings: This is all over the place but it makes sense in my head :D. Completely made up the last name for the sake of the fic. Now for real warnings - One (1) quickie, unprotected sex (be smart y’all), vaginal penetration, fingering, oral (female receiving), face-sitting., love-making ig, overstimulation, basically porn, very light touch of breeding, one (1) use of the word ‘whore’, marriage (yes that is a fucking warning but it’s not that complicated in this fic), feelings (ew), mild language, cheating accusations, mentions of not being able to conceive, one (1) very brief mention of Jon crying (yes this is also a warning)
A/N: Hello my darlings! My laptop is still being repaired so please bear with my shitty typing as well as possible typos. I just recently started watching GOT and I HAD to jump on the opportunity the second I laid my eyes on Jon…… considering that I’m only a few episodes in, I did not follow anything too canon considering that I don’t want the details to be too off.
Word count: 4.2k+ (this is the most I’ve written in forever LMAO)
not my gif!
Daenerys Targaryen. The most wanted woman of all in any of the kingdoms. She was undoubtedly envied by many, you included. You were a very close runner-up, but it didn’t help much considering your family’s constant comparisons between you and the younger girl.
You were nearing twenty-one and you had yet to be set for marriage, your parents frowning upon the idea that you wanted different things in life. Sure it might be nice to carry on your family’s legacy and become the heir, being their oldest of seven girls, but it wouldn’t be all that nice when you’d get threatened by others to give up your title as queen.
You’d met Jon when your parents had gone over to the Stark residence for a ceremonial dinner. He’d been out front, swording away at a dummy. You removed the flask from the garter that sat under your dress, sipping the bitter whiskey. You’d leaned yourself up against the wall, eyeing the dark-haired alpha as he blabbered away to his uncle Benjen.
He stole several glances, his tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek when he realized your gown parted more and more to allow some air under the fabric.
“I shall go with you when you leave, Uncle Benjen. My father will say yes - ask him!”
Trying your best to not eavesdrop much more, you began to wander off. His uncle couldn’t stop the perverse words that fell from his tongue. You glanced over your shoulder, shooting the older male a wink, careful as to not show too much of your face as he’d only seen your silhouette. He took off, heading into the castle to rejoice with his brother and several lords, leaving you in the presence of the young man.
“Tisn’t quite the scene for a lady. You should be inside with everyone else.”
“Nor is it the scene for the son of a lor-“
“Lady Stark requested that I didn’t join them for the dinner.”
“Oh, right. Jon Snow, is it? The bastard?”
You finally turned to face him, his eyes widening in their sockets.
“Honorable Y/N Burke. You shan’t be in the presence of an unwed man, young lady.”
“There are many things that I ‘shan’t’ do,” you mimicked air quotes. “But, you’ll find very soon, bastard, that I don’t care much about the things that I shan’t do.”
He eyed you for a moment longer, his sword firm at his side. You had yet to conceal your flask, offering him a sip before taking one of your own.
You watched as his eyes glanced over the way your lips encircled the opening, a drop of the liquid dribbling down the side of your mouth before your finger swiped at it, sucking the digit into your mouth.
Then he lost it.
He pounced on you in just a matter of seconds, groaning as your tongue mingled with his. The exchange of tastes - the whiskey warm with a mix of whatever sweetness you’d treated yourself to beforehand, and his bare whiskey. You could almost taste his musk but it must’ve only been the way his scent overstimulated each of your senses.
His hands, which had made themselves up to your face, dropped to your waist, pulling your lower halves together as he felt up on your body.
“Goodness- we can’t get caught, Snow.”
Your breath picked up into heavy pants, his fingers dipping into your undergarments as he swallowed all of your moans.
“Just be quiet, darling, and they won’t know a thing.”
He teased your clit with a grin plastered to his face. He yanked your underpants down, mimicking the move with his own clothing.
“Jon-“
“Sh, sweetheart-“
He hoisted you into his arms, not hesitating to plow himself into you. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to fight each moan from leaving your mouth. A high-pitched squeal sounded from your throat as his hand accompanied his rather vulgar pace.
“Fuck-“
“Remember what I told you, sweetheart,” he grunted into your ear.
His arm circled itself around your waist, stabilizing your squirming figure. His head tipped back, a groan sounding from his throat before his forehead met yours.
“Jon, fu-“
Before you could finish your statement, you felt the pulsating of his cock, his seed dribbling down your legs. He fucked you through his high, dropping his thumb to your cunt so you’d finally come around his cock. Your body shuddered as your climax hit you, your hands clutching onto him for dear life.
He pulled his garments back up once he’d placed you on the makeshift railing. You remained silent for just a bit longer until you broke said silence.
“Look, Jon- Lord…Snow, I’ve heard of your desire to leave this land and become a Night Watcher. I just….”
For once you had not much to say despite wanting to spew so much out.
“I know of your oath and the things you must accede to.”
“What are you getting at, Hon Burke?”
“If…if I am to carry your child, and I know the chances are slim because it’s only been once-“
“As you said, it’s only been one time. Don’t speak nonsense. This never happened. Are we clear?”
“But-“
He turned to you, helping you redress yourself with a sigh. He couldn’t miss the way your demeanor faltered just a tad, his own softening drastically.
“It’d be in both of our best interests to pretend that this never happened, sweetheart.”
And so you did as he said.
Despite wanting oh so badly to miss your menstrual cycle that month, it’d worked out for the best - you’d told yourself. You’d only known the lad for a few minutes tops but he remained on your mind for years following.
Upon his leave, you were devastated. Watching with teary eyes as the man you knew you wanted so much more with was leaving. Your mother watched as you quickly wiped a tear from under your eye, sniffling quietly.
Two years down the line, it was nearly impossible to avoid the fact that you’d have to step up and become queen rather soon.
“Mother, I am not stepping into that role until I get a proper proposal!”
“You’re too picky, Y/N! We’ve been waiting - for years, we’ve been waiting. You’ve gotten thirty proposals, all of which you’d turned down for the darndest reasons!”
“I’m not picky! I am awaiting someone that will settle for more than what the stupidity of this society offers. My king-“
“Has arrived.”
That voice. His voice.
Immediate tears were brought to your eyes as you found Jon standing in your doorway.
“J- Sir Jon Snow. Am I dreaming?”
“No, m’lady. ‘Tis truly I.”
You resisted every fiber in your body that urged you to jump into his arms and snog him right in front of your mother.
“Lady Burke,” he bowed.
Your mother offered a tight-lipped smile before leaving the pair of you to catch up.
“I didn’t think I’d see you for another ten years.”
Your smaller arms pulled his body into yours, embracing his warmth despite his cool armor.
“Jon,” you hummed, nuzzling yourself further into him.
“Y/N,” he copied your actions, smoothing his hand over your hair. “I couldn’t do without you for much longer.”
“Really? That’s hard to believe considering how quick you left after fucking me,” you quipped.
“I’m sorry, darling. I truly am.”
You met his lips in a soft kiss, your fists clenching around his coat.
“How’ve you been holding up?”
“I’ve just been dandy.”
Lies.
“Sort of glad I didn't have your child.”
Lies.
“Tried to get back out there after you left.”
Lies.
His arm tightened around you at the last of your statements.
“Tell me, Hon. Am I marrying a whore?”
“‘Marrying a whore’?” you were flabbergasted. “One - never call me a whore again. Two - who said we are to be wed?”
“Me.”
The simplicity of his statement baffled your mind.
“You? My father would never let me-“
“Marry a bastard. But, darling, as I remember, you’d told me something two years ago. You don’t care about the things you shan’t do and that shall include claiming me to be your king.”
“Well, why do you wait, my lord?”
He held you tight to his chest with his pupils blown.
“Tell me you’ll be mine, sweetheart. This is my proposal to you. We shall leave this land and rule our own kingdom together.”
“I do accept your proposal, my dearest, but I believe it isn’t that easy.”
“Nothing is easy, especially this. If your father is to deny our marriage and your leave, we shall go nonetheless.”
You grinned up at him, shaking your head as you laid your head on his chest.
“Then I shall marry you, my king.”
As expected, your parents didn’t have the merriest of a reaction when it came to notifying them of your leave with the man who’d notoriously been known to be a bastard. They were disappointed you wouldn’t be running their kingdom but they were relieved to see that you were finally off to be married. They hesitantly approved of the young man’s proposal, sending you off with him.
On your ride to your new castle, miles from your parents’ kingdom, you couldn’t help but question your husband-to-be.
“Why did you leave?”
He eyed you.
“The Night Watch. Why did you leave, Jon?”
“I know my status as a bastard would’ve done me well over there but I couldn’t take it. Being away from you, my family. It was eating at me day and night.”
“Then…why’d it take you two years to come back?”
“I didn’t know how to tell them I’d be leaving. It took me a long time to muster up the courage for that.”
You allowed yourself to remain silent until he placed a hand on top of yours.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I regret ever setting myself up to be away for the rest of my life, but now I’ve got you and that’s all that I need.”
“You sure have a way with words, don’t you?”
His lip quirked into a gentle smile, his hand squeezing yours with tenderness.
In just a couple of weeks, you were settled into your new home with your husband. It was now time to host several dinners and welcome all to your land. You were beyond ecstatic but it wasn’t until the guests actually arrived that you became wary of those around you.
Daenerys had made quite the entrance into your home, every one entirely forgetting that you existed for a moment. The Khal trailed behind her, offering head nods to those that personally greeted him.
Your heart stammered in your chest beyond your control. You isolated yourself from the crowd, tears cascading down your cheeks as your breathing grew jagged.
Your husband seemed to be infatuated with the platinum blonde-haired girl. You couldn’t blame him but it was killing you. He hadn’t torn his eyes from her, nor did she. She seemed to eye Jon for a bit too long, keeping great eye contact with him as she bowed.
“No need for that,” he chuckled, greeting Drogo with a firm handshake.
He waited for you to greet the couple, not sparing a glance at your seat until he hadn’t heard your voice whatsoever.
“Y/N?”
Chatting and eating resumed, Jon’s leg bouncing anxiously. He watched like a hawk, eyes wandering about the crowd.
“Lord Snow, I don't think Lady Snow is feeling all that well.”
Upon hearing your name, you wiped the last of your tears, seating yourself at your husband's side yet again.
“Darling, what’s the matter?”
He held your face in his palm, eyebrows furrowing at your puffy and reddened eyes.
“Nothing, my lord.”
You spoke the words with such harshness that it pierced his heart.
“What-“
“Ah, Lord and Lady Snow! Why don’t you make a toast?”
“I don’t think-“
“Of course, Benjen. We shall give a toast!”
You stood with your goblet, Jon staring at you with confusion clear in his features before standing on his own two feet.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. Lord Snow and I are delighted to be sharing such a special moment with you all. We wouldn’t have wanted it to be spent any other way. Jon?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke.
“I’m sure I’m supposed to be thanking you lot but if it weren’t for my beautiful wife here, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you and for that, I thank her. I thank her for trying to understand me, for being the greatest human on earth, and for standing by my side regardless of what. I’ve known the shame of being a bastard for my whole life but she’s willing to bear the embarrassment of being wedded to me.”
His speech went on and on and on. It didn’t seem to end but your heart fluttered at his words. He grasped onto your hand when you turned away from him, your eyes catching Daenerys’. You shook those pestering thoughts from your mind, repeating ‘stop it, stop it, stop it’ over and over in your head.
That had only been the first of many instances, though.
You were distraught. It’d been months since you and Jon were lawfully wedded yet it seemed as if you couldn’t conceive. Your parents were applying pressure, sending ravens to your kingdom every day after, asking when you’d bear children.
After a dinner you’d put together at your castle, you lost it. Jon had spent nearly three hours lingering near the Khal and his Khaleesi. For only two minutes, he held you at his side while conversing with the couple. You’d shimmied yourself from his arms, entertaining the younger Stark children.
Robb had witnessed the way in which you embraced your inner child, chasing the kids around as they screamed their heads off. You shooed them away with a motion of your hand. With a hand on your hip, you watched them run off, your heart aching at the thought of never having children.
“Any luck yet, m’lady?”
Robb chuckled as you flinched in the slightest.
“My goodness, Robb. No, no luck yet. However, we already have names picked out, as well as runner-ups for godparents.”
“Oh really?”
You playfully rolled your eyes, spinning to face the brunette.
“If you’re so desperate to hear it, then yes, you are a candidate for our children’s godfather.”
He took your hand into his, landing a kiss on your knuckles as you giggled endlessly.
“I knew you always loved me,” he dramatically expressed.
You raised a brow, badgering him, “Say that with caution, Stark.”
“Or what? Lord Snow will behead me?”
“I might.”
The older boy wrapped his arm around his brother’s neck in a cub-like embrace.
“Goodness, Jon. Leave your brother be,” you scolded him, watching as his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.
The dinner was called to an end rather soon, but a few of your guests straggled about - Khaleesi Daenerys amongst the few. Your eyes were like daggers as you watched Jon converse with the younger girl. You were drawn from your thoughts the moment Robb placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Now, Y/N, I am well aware that you think my brother is mad over this woman - or at the least, having an affair with her. But I can assure you, nothing of that sort is happening at all. He’s only trying to make am-“
“I’d like to hear that from him, Robb. If he’s just trying to make amends with the Khal and everyone then that’s on me. But it doesn’t help that the Khaleesi is that fucking gorgeous. She has these big doe eyes that scream ‘help me’ or ‘fuck me’! I don’t know which one it is but I’m afraid that Jon will play the hero and be the one that fulfills any of her needs.”
You were seething in the corner with Robb at your hip. He tried assuring you repeatedly but you were quite a stubborn queen.
After everyone had left for good, you wasted no time in heading straight to bed. You wanted to avoid Jon to the best of your ability but you simply couldn’t outdo the king. Before you could step foot out of your bedroom with your things in hand, Jon stepped in front of you. He backed you into the room, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shut the door.
“What’s your problem?”
You tried to not break under his intense gaze, your eyes bouncing from his own to everywhere in the room.
“What is your issue, Y/N?”
His voice was too quiet for your comfort.
“Are you…having an affair with Daenerys, Jon?”
The words that left your mouth sent a genuine fit of laughter racking through his body.
“Are you being serious?”
“Answer the question.”
His laughter died down, his body gravitating towards yours.
“Of course, I’m not having an affair with Daenerys. What makes you ask this?”
“The way you look at her kills me, Jon. When she’s here, it feels like I don’t exist! Why do you think I disappear for hours on end- you know what - you don’t even realize that I’m gone because you’re too immersed in your interactions with her! It’s-“
His hands found themselves on either side of your face, forcing you to look at him, though gently.
“If I was having an affair with Daenerys or anyone else, do you think that I’d be in the same bed as you every single night? All of those things I said about you months ago were nothing but true. You were probably too busy being upset with me to hear most of it but I don’t want anyone else. I want you and only you.”
“Then why do you look at her the way that you do? There’s so much compassion and-“
“I look at her that way because I feel bad for her! She talks to me because she feels as if she can’t trust anyone else, not even her own brother. I’m sorry that I ever made you feel less important. You’re the most important person, the most important thing in this world. I care for Daenerys’ well-being but I don’t care about her the way I care about you. I love you and I know I don’t say it enough but I do!”
He panted as he read your face.
“So you’re not cheating on me?”
“No, and I never will! I only want you, Y/N Snow. Only you.”
His lips met yours, your shoulders falling as relief washed over you. You allowed your hands to get lost in his hair, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your lips moved in tandem.
“Tell me you love me.”
You hadn’t noticed the few tears that stained his cheeks until he spoke against your lips, your heart aching in your chest.
“Jon, my darling, I love you more than you will ever know.”
His arms tightened around you, lifting you from the ground as he pecked your skin.
“It seems as though I have to make up to you for the rest of my life,” he chuckled against your skin.
“Sweetheart, you loving me alone is enough of an apology.”
He laid you gently on the bed, undoing your bodice in an impressive amount of time. He held back no longer, suckling on the skin that was graciously presented to him.
“Jon,” you hummed.
He imitated your actions, putting a ministration to his movement once he’d reached your underpants. After kissing, biting, sucking on your skin, his lips were red and plump. They met yours again, the taste of whatever wine you’d been drinking just hours prior still lingering on your tongue.
He worked his hands into the sides of your underpants before pushing them down your legs. You whimpered against his tongue as his fingers stimulated your clit.
“Darling,” you gasped out, his fingers dipping in and out of your cunt.
He used a leg to pry yours apart, reveling in your angelic sounds. He propped himself up on his other arm, hand holding his head. With your hands tugging at his clothing, you pulled him in even closer.
His face disappeared into the nape of your neck. The way in which he breathed against your neck caused your skin to crawl.
His nose nudged at your jawline, a dumbstruck grin taking over his features once he felt your walls pulsating around his digits. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the next words that flew from his mouth.
“Lannister had told me he imagined you sitting on his face long before my proposal. I nearly slayed the son of a bitch until I realized you weren’t mine then. Why don’t you come on my face, sweetheart?”
“W-what?” You stammered out - half shocked at the proposition and half processing the fact that he was still fucking you with his fingers.
“My pretty girl doesn’t want to sit on my face?”
He jutted out his bottom lip, on which you pressed a kiss, uttering an ‘I do’. Your legs squirmed a bit more until you came. Your back arched off the mattress as you gasped and cried out. He slid his fingers into his mouth, his eyes locked on your blissful features.
“You taste heavenly,” he murmured, wiping his saliva-slicked fingers off on his bottoms.
His words made your cheeks heat up, using whatever strength you had to push yourself onto your knees.
“Are you sure about this, Jon?”
“A million times over - yes, I’m sure about this.”
He laid himself down, your legs trembling as your cunt hovered over his face. He brought you down in seconds, not being able to resist the temptation.
His tongue expertly worked your cunt as it’d done several times before. Sitting on his face, however, brought a new sense of pleasure to you - his nose bumping your clit every so often as the entirety of your cunt grew soaked. The mix of his saliva and your release sent you spiraling once more, the core in your lower half tightening before you could say anything.
His tongue softly fucked your desperate hole, a glass-shattering moan sounding from within. You couldn’t hold back any of it. You needed to let the whole damn castle know that your king was treating you right.
“Jon!”
One hand dropped to his hair, the other fondling your breast. Your eyes dropped to his, your body giving out at the sight of his disheveled hair and his eyes just begging for your come.
Your body shook gently as you came in his mouth, eyes screwing shut once your head had lolled back. You’d lifted yourself off to the side, your husband chuckling at your already fucked-out state.
“How was that?”
His fingers traced patterns on your skin as you came down from one of your many highs for the night.
“Fuckin’ amazing,” you breathed out, your arms reaching for him once he’d brought himself to his knees.
You watched as he undid his bottoms. The intense eye contact he held with you was a telltale sign that you needed to help him out of his clothes before he exploded.
“I won’t be rough tonight,” he whispered.
You bit your lip, feeling the burn of his gaze on your face as you undid the buttons of his shirt. Your insides grew fuzzy, becoming giddy at the fact that this was truly your husband. No one, nothing could ever take him away from you.
He stood nude before you, pressing his back to the headboard before patting his lap. You climbed onto him in a matter of seconds, your hands already stabilizing themselves on his shoulders. Your knees bent at either hip, legs akimbo to appease his girth. You pumped him a few times, running his tip up and down your fold before sinking onto him with a cry.
“Has it been long, my darling?”
You nodded, offering an airy chuckle as you struggled to take all of him.
“Gods, I’m beyond s-“
You hushed him with a kiss on the lips, your hips beginning to rock back and forth once you’d hit his base. His hands fell to your behind, your back arching as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. His name left your mouth like a mantra, chants of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ following right after. Your mouths found one another in a slobbery mess, a clash of teeth and tongue as the rutting of your hips became more desperate.
“Stop apologizing, my lord. I- holy shit, I love you,” you choked out.
“I love you, sweet girl.”
His forearms held onto your waist, using this as leverage to thrust himself further into you.
The pace of his hips, the words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces. Just outside your door, guards exchanged knowing glances, clearing their throats at the sounds that came from the both of you. They seemingly grew louder, Jon taking the opportunity to let the words flow from his mouth - “I shall put a baby in you tonight.”
And so the night proceeded. Jon didn’t let up until you physically couldn’t go for another round, making sure none of his seed left your womb.
It was a relief to know that your king, your lord, your love wanted you and only you.
Join my taglist here!!
Old miscellaneous taglist (dm for removal): @ronbrokemyheart @quxxnxfhxll @eunoia-kth @siriuslyslyslytherin @dracomalfoys-wh0re @rudypankowisdaddy @tenaciousperfectionunknown @i-love-scott-mccall @justreadingficsdontmindme @sprucewoodlover @iwannabekilledtwice @daydreamin-lol @analove26 @ravenhood2792 @spiderdrive27 @photocoz @lunar-writing
#jon snow#jon snow smut#jon snow imagine#jon snow imagines#jon snow x reader#jon snow x you#jon snow x y/n#jon snow x self insert#jon snow x female reader#jon snow game of thrones#jon snow fic#jon snow fanfic#game of thrones#game of thrones smut#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones imagines#game of thrones fic#game of thrones fanfiction
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
House of the Dragon / Game of Thrones prompt list
I've finally made a prompt list for HotD and GoT! Please send requests 🐉⚔️🖤 The characters I write for are: Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Jacaerys Targaryen, Jon Snow (see my pinned post for request rules)
‘’My blood is not noble enough for a prince.’’
‘’Why must you always hate me? Can't we unite for the good of our house(s)?’’
‘’I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you.’’
‘’This was no decision of mine.’’
‘’They used to chant my name, now they’re screaming that they hate me.’’
‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’
‘’The idea of you getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me.’’
‘’I really thought I lost you.’’
‘’Where have you learned to do that?’’
‘’Are you courting me?’’
‘’Stay with me.’’
''Don't ignite a dragon's fire, you'll get burned.''
‘’Teach me how to make you feel good.’’
‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife/husband.’’
‘’If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.’’
‘’This marriage wasn’t my choice.’’
‘’Be quiet. We don't want to get caught.’’
‘’I don’t want to marry my him/her, yet this is my duty my house.’’
‘’Why did it have to be him?’’
‘’The throne is mine! I will not let anyone take it from me.’’
‘’Love or duty. That is a choice I don't have the privilege to make.’’
‘’Our parents expect so much of us.’’
‘’Let me help you.’’
‘’My heart belongs to another, but my duty lies with our house(s).’’
‘’How could you betray me like this?’’
‘’I do not care about the suitors. I love you.’’
#aemond targaryen#daemon targaryen#aegon targaryen#jacaerys targaryen#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jon snow#jon snow x reader#jon snow imagine
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
robb stark and jon snow thoughts
warnings: smut, masturbation, authority kink, slight exhibitionism, cheating, robb x you, jon x you
Robb is a good man, he would never do something you did not agree with.
However, he has these urges.
He was already betrothed to another woman as a way to strengthen his alliances, and still, that didn't stop him from pursuing you.
"I only wish to know your name, my lady." Robb smiled directly at you, he was charming enough to make you not so hesitant anymore. You weren't highborn and didn't consider yourself worthy of having the king's attention.
"I am not a lady, your grace." You kept your head down, not daring to look him in the eyes. Robb looked amused and seemed to not care about your words.
"You are very pretty." And he would compliment you until you finally gave your name to him. He was enchanted, wishing to know more about you.
That was his mission as he would wait for his marriage to the Frey girl.
He would do anything to make himself seen trustworthy, to make you come to him whenever you needed advice.
Eventually, you started to fall for his charms and would agree to anything the prince asked you.
It started with small, innocent favors you just couldn't refuse.
"Would you be kind enough to bring me some water?" Robb asked sweetly, going through the papers on his desk once more. You didn't hesitate, failing to see the smirk on his face.
Once he saw how obedient you were becoming, he began to ask more from you.
"Could you run me a bath?" The king was visibly tired from planning his next war, it just wouldn't be polite to not do it.
But when you were preparing the water, Robb came unannounced, putting his hands on your shoulders from behind. You swallowed in a nervous action, feeling his fingers caressing your skin over the thin clothes you were wearing.
"You do so much for me, I can not thank your kindness enough." Robb continued to lower his hands, whispering in your neck as he inhaled your scent. He was dizzy, and his words were lazier and lazier.
"My purpose here is to serve House Stark, my Lord." You murmured trembling, sighing as he took his hands off you.
"I am forever grateful for that." He smiled, and you froze as he began to take his clothes off. "Care for helping me? I am just so tired."
He took full advantage of your loyalty, teasing you and making you embarrassed at every opportunity.
You caught him naked one day, you apologized profoundly and said you would never come to his room without knocking again. He only laughed and asked you to come closer. "You ever seen a naked man?"
You denied with your head, words failing you. He made a motion for you to step closer.
"Just look at me. Look at my body, dove." Robb finished and your eyes were on his chest, his hair dark and going all the way down to his crotch, arms and legs toned and thick with muscle.
You were blushing, cheeks burning, and he turned around before you could invade his intimacy and look at what you weren't supposed to. You saw his large back and shoulders, firm ass, and hands at the sides of his body. He smiled once again.
His nakedness became regular, you often found him reading bare in his room, muscles and legs all for you to see.
You were careful not to stare too much and to not let your eyes travel too far again, but you were eager to know more.
"Lord Stark?" Robb had called you to his chambers, and you came as quickly as you could. He took in your appearance, from the way your lips were plump and shiny to the way your thighs clenched at the mere sight of him.
Robb knew he succeed at making you want him, and that just made everything simpler.
"Sit at my feet." He ordered and your mind was quick to obey as if it were trained for it.
Robb always looked intimidating to you, he had the eyes of a true king, and having his presence so close and his attention solely on you made butterflies fly in your stomach. At his feet, he looked bigger, stronger, like he could break you into pieces with his hands. You thought he only needed his words.
You were itching to make a comment, to make him proud of you in a way. However, you were paralyzed.
"Unbuckle my belt." The king commanded as if he was talking to his soldiers, but his hand went to your hair and gently petted your head.
Your hands were shaking, you felt your belly ache and your breath was not as controlled.
He was just in his trousers, and even though you had seen him naked countless times, that seemed too intimate.
Your knees started to burn, you didn't mind and looked up at him. You almost didn't recognize Lord Stark, his eyes were darker, expression was almost haunting.
You didn't realize that was just how he always looked at you, starved.
"Suck my cock." He licked his lips as the words left his mouth with a certainty that was final, you just couldn't question him.
You did what you were supposed to, obeyed Lord Stark.
Jon knew it was wrong in all the ways possible, but he didn't know how to stop wanting you.
He made a promise, took a vow and swore to take no wife, to not let women distract him from his duties. He knew it was going to be hard and he managed, until he saw you.
You were married to a southern Lord he didn't care enough to know the name, and you needed help from the people in the north.
The lord commander agreed on letting you and your husband stay for a few days, and Jon knew it would be his downfall.
He wouldn't be the only one to stare at you during dinner, the men in the castle couldn't handle pretty women, but his intentions were the clearest, he wanted you in a way he wasn't able to explain.
Jon would subtly avoid you, only speaking to your husband when he needed to, and would try to not meet your eyes. You thought it wasn't polite, but you were intrigued.
"I think this is yours, Jon Snow." A letter he was supposed to send that morning was now in your hands, waiting for Jon to take it with a gentle smile on your lips.
He seemed surprised and quickly took it from you after rasping out a thank you. His voice was hoarse, a little shaky, but he was brave enough to stare into your eyes.
It didn't last long, as your husband appeared behind you with a hand on your waist. Jon left, and you sighed quietly.
That night, he forgot about being a man of the Night's Watch and touched himself thinking about the way your fingers touched his, about how sweet you smelled, and the way you said his name. He spilled his seed on his hand and as he came down from his high Jon thought about how you'd look tasting his cum.
Jon felt guilty, dirty and promised himself to not think about you that way anymore.
"For some reason, I fear you do not like me." Your voice came as a gift when he was training alone, sword hurting the target as your steps were closer. He stopped, almost amused at how wrong you were.
"I do not know you enough." He spent enough time looking at you to know a few things, but his mouth wouldn't betray him.
"You could." You smiled and his heart beat fast, he was confused and a bit nervous. "Come to my chambers tonight, my husband will be meeting with the Lord Commander."
Jon blinked, still staring at you. His eyes travelled to your mouth and back to your eyes, you understood. Your mouth moved without your permission.
"See you tonight, then."
a/n: pls write more for my stark brothers guys </3
#game of thrones#got#female reader#aegon targaryen#robb stark#jon snow#got smut#robb stark x reader#jon snow x reader#robb stark x you#jon snow x you#robb stark imagine#jon snow imagine
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
❄️ Imagine Being Luwin's Apprentice & Childhood Friends with Robb, Jon, and Theon ❄️
-> This will include headcanons about all Starks, but focus on these three dorks towards the end.
A/N: There's an utter lack of for our Kings of the North and Kraken, so this is my attempt to add to it. These might be a bit lengthy.
Here's the general dynamic of you, Robb, Jon, and Theon. I put in Hogwarts House Terms, but I in no way support JK Rowling.
Robb - Gryffindor
Jon - Hufflepuff
Theon - Slytherin
You - Ravenclaw
In the simplest terms, you hold the only brain cell.
-> Let's say you were a low-born girl on a trek to Winterfell so you could learn under Maester Luwin. You were a rare kind of low-born who knew how to read, and you wanted to learn more. Your parents didn't approve and tried to sell you off, so you ran away with a small travel sack of your journal, clothes, and some food. You cut your hair and wore breeches to look like a boy.
-> It took many days and nights, but you eventually made it to Winterfell and refused to leave until you met with Lord Eddard Stark. Needless to say, ol' Ned Stark was shocked to find the person demanding his presence was a four-foot-tall dirty child with feet caked in mud and steely eyes. He asked if something happened to your family and you immediately deeply bowed and asked if you could learn under Maester Luwin before fainting from a high fever.
-> While treating you and finding out that you were a girl, Luwin looked through your tiny journal and was shocked to find you knew your letters and could write better than his lord's children and ward. He read the passages you wrote while traveling. You drew pictures of different plants and animals and wrote your observations of them. Luwin decided right then and there that he would take you in as an apprentice. When you woke up, he told you the good news, and you were so happy you jumped in the air with a loud "WHOOP" before tackling the old man down with a hug.
-> Ned was a bit unsure, but he trusted Luwin's judgment. If his oldest advisor told him that he believed that you had great potential as a scholar, he believed him. When you were brought over to meet Lord and Lady Stark, you were shocked at how tall and imposing Ned looked. "ARE YOU A GIANT? DO YOU OWN THIS CASTLE?" were your first words to the man as a huge smile spread across your face. After being shocked for a few moments, Ned threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in ages. He patted your head and ruffled your hair. "No child, I'm no giant. But I am the lord of this castle, and your lord, too."
-> Catelyn was much more skeptical because what kind of low-born child learned how to read? When she led you to your new chambers, she asked you this, and you proudly answered her. "I taught myself! There was a traveler passing through my village one day, and I nicked his books and charcoal!" At her horrified expression, you made sure to clarify that he was already dead and you didn't take his money. That didn't really calm her down, but her husband already decided to let Luwin take you in as an apprentice, so you might as well learn how to dress and speak like a lady.
-> Jon was the first Stark child you befriended. Luwin ordered you to take a break from your lessons since you've been holed up reading and writing nonstop. You found him practicing alone in the courtyard, hitting a training dummy with a wooden sword. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you shouted to him. Your voice startled him so much that he dropped his sword to the ground and jumped like three feet into the air. "I'm training," he answered, and when you asked if you could stay and watch, he agreed. He was shy at first, but you and he built a quick and strong friendship after a couple more times you watched him train. There would be times you convinced him to take a break from his training, and you two would explore Winterfell's nooks and crannies. Jon didn't expect to like you so quickly, but you made it too easy.
-> Strangely enough, Theon was the second boy of the trio you would meet and befriend. It didn't go as smoothly as you meeting Jon. Theon thought you were one of the new maids-in-training and decided to tease you by tugging your hair and trying to scare you with stories about his Ironborn family coming to raid and burn keeps and steal rude pretty little girls. You just shrugged and told him, "I'll just cut my hair and pretend to be a boy. I'll even not bathe to smell like one - not the first time I did that." You then asked him if he knew more stories about mermaids and if Nagga's bones really made up the Grey King's Hall on Old Wyk. From there on, it became very noticeable to everyone that although Theon was Robb's shadow, he was only really soft with you.
-> Robb was the last to meet you. His mother didn't like the idea of her son meeting and befriending a low-born girl. But one day, he got hurt and went to visit Luwin. Imagine his surprise to see a girl his age sitting with Luwin as she read from books too hard for him to read. Luwin introduced the two of you, and you asked if you could help treat Robb this time since you felt ready. Very quickly, you treated his wounds. From then on, Robb would see you before seeing Luwin. He liked how close you got when you told him what you've learned under Luwin. He liked being close enough to you that he could smell your hair. It upset him to know that Theon and Jon knew about you before he did, but his ire quickly went away when you agreed to be his friend.
-> Ever since you began your lessons under Septa Mordane, you learned the benefits of knowing your stitches since you could use this skill to treat wounds and lower the risk of infection. You didn't care so much as the other stuff, but you quickly learned the most complicated and intricate stitches, which got the septa's approval. Whenever you had time to play with the boys again, you would always carry some needle and thread with you. You'd also carry boiled vinegar if you needed a disinfectant and a balm for wound care. This proved to be EXTREMELY useful as you four continued to play and grow older.
-> Because you were learning lessons under Luwin and the septa, you had to learn how to stitch, dress, act, and talk like a lady. Lady Stark grew very fond of you, as you were surprisingly complacent and took to acting more ladylike very quickly. This was not going unnoticed by the boys, and soon, it was very quickly becoming apparent to everyone but you that the three eldest boys of Winterfell were utterly besotted with you. At this point, Luwin thought you were like a daughter and his family. He loved you very much and warned you to be careful around your friends. He encouraged you to spend more time with Sansa, Arya, and other girls your age.
-> It frustrated you, but you still listened. You didn't know what the fuss was all about. Theon, Robb, Jon, and you were friends. Yep. Just friends. No hormonal teenage feelings emerging.
-> When Bran and Rickon were old enough, you quickly became as involved in their lessons as Luwin had been for the boys. You made their lessons fun and memorable for the young boys. Luwin looks at you with so much love and pride when the boys tell him about your lessons and how happy and excited they always act whenever you teach them something new. You've even made sums and history seem fun! You were also very involved with Sansa and Arya's education. They had Septa Morgane, but they also wanted to learn under you, and before you knew it, you were teaching four children - all younger than you.
-> Rickon and Arya absolutely worshiped you. You always had time to play with Rickon and never sent him away if you were busy like his mother and father had to sometimes. For Arya, she loved how you never thought her strange and weird for being so different from Sansa. These two followed you like ducklings whenever they had free time. The sight greatly amused Ned and Catelyn, as they thought it was the funniest thing to see how two young wolves are so dedicated to following you. And you being close doesn't go unnoticed by the boys.
-> Robb and Jon would stare at you with so much longing whenever you carried Rickon in your arms and sang him lullabies. They'd grow stupidly jealous that you could kiss Rickon and Bran's cheeks and foreheads to wish them goodnight or ease their pains if they tripped or fell. They would fantasize what their lives would be like if they could court you and take you as their wife. But it could never be.
-> Robb must marry a highborn noble lady as his father's heir to continue House Stark's legacy and ensure the North's safety. He knew this fact his whole life, but knowing that you couldn't be the one he took as a wife hurt him so much. To him, you embodied all the necessary qualities to be a Lady Stark: your kindness, beauty, wit, and intellect—just to name a few. Robb would try to impress you by escorting you to feasts held in the Great Hall and remaining by your side to joke and dance with you. After every dance, he'd take your hand and lay a gentle kiss on it as you would laugh and playfully shove him. Sometimes, when the feasts got too noisy and loud, he and you would sneak to just hang out in the kitchens. He would always get a stern talking-to with his mother for not talking with other ladies, but he only wanted you. Besides, how could he regret spending the entire feast beside you with your body pressed so close to his?
-> Growing up with Jon, you obviously knew about his bastard status. But you always told him that his name "Snow" didn't matter because he was among the most wonderful and sweetest people you've ever met. Sometimes, you'd successfully manage to take his mind off it, but there were days when it felt like the entire world was staring at him for it. Either Lady Catelyn said something very cruel and hurtful to him, or Theon poked too much fun at him. On these days, you'd take a few pastries or fruits from the kitchens that you stole, grab his hand, and hide away in the Godswoods. You would share your treats and talk about everything you've learned under Luwin. Sometimes, you'd have a book with you and read him your favorite stories about magic and dragons until the sun goes down. Jon won't really have much to say. He'll nod and smile and laugh, and sometimes he'll sneak glances and wonder how could someone look so beautiful and perfect in the sunset?
-> Theon decided it was better to go about the Ironborn way and "steal" you from whatever you were doing or whomever you were with. He'd go get you whenever you were with Septa Mordane and say that Luwin had called for you or if one of the younger Starks was asking about you. He'd get you out, and two seconds later, he and you were taking walks in Winter Town and goofing off. He'd also pull some dumb teenage boy pranks to get your attention. He'd tease you by asking you questions when you're off guard and make you say embarrassing answers. When you finally realize what you said, you would get insanely flustered and whack him while he laughs. But unlike with others, he'll actually apologize to you and make it up to you by showing you how to shoot an arrow. But honestly, it's just an excuse for him to get close to you. He likes to "help" by positioning your arm and standing extra close.
A/N: I got tons more planned but I didn't want to make it too long! But please comment or reblog to let me know what you think or if you have ideas you want to drop in my ask box!
#robb stark x reader#jon snow x reader#theon greyjoy x reader#got x reader#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones imagines#a song of ice and fire#game of thrones#robb stark imagine#jon snow imagine#theon greyjoy imagine
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
NSFW Alphabets
Jon Snow and Robb Stark
Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader
Length: 17.5k
Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, discussions of various kinks, mentions of past sexual assault and trauma, talk of pregnancy, hard dom/soft dom/sub dynamics explored, bdsm related content
Notes: The dynamics are based off of pairings from my series Heart of the Great Wolf, but can be read on it's own for the most part. Broad strokes for it being read without my fic series context: the relationship timeline was the reader secretly seeing Jon pre start of show/books, then married to Robb in an arranged marriage during the Kings visit to Winterfell, and then back with Jon post his resurrection hence why his sections are split into two parts. Might contain some spoilers for part 3 and a bit of part 4, for my fic in some places.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
You two had never gotten far that normal aftercare was ever needed. Jon might be teasing, but he was gentle and slow, and that went right through start to finish.
Sometimes, all you had was the alone silence of the middle of the night, and whatever you two had tentatively done with one another always ended with a struggle to let the other go. Jon simply didn't have time or the freedom to take care of you after making you cum. Even when it was something more simple, kissing the other on his bed, his back against the wall and you perched in his lap, as the closest you got as a grind against his covered cock. Jon would kiss you gentle once on the lips another to your forehead as he held you tight until he was sure you were alright to be on your own.
The last thing he wanted was to send you off to your own chambers, feeling as if Jon had just mindlessly kicked you out.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
There is very little Jon takes more seriously then caring for you after sex. He knows exactly what he is, intense and overwhelming, and he knows he is rougher with you then he sometimes realizes in the moment.
As soon as you both settle from your peaks, Jon will pull you quick into his arms. Some nights he will keep you on his lap, tucking your face into his neck as he runs a hand over your hair and the other gentle along your back and waist, until he feels your breathing return to normal. Or Jon moves to lay you out, normally somewhat on your side so he can turn to face you, tucking you into his chest. His own face buries in your hair as his voice is low and rasping, soothing words to you of comfort. Praises of how well you did as he tries to convince himself to be gentle if he kisses you.
Jon will always ensure you feel safe, and loved before anything else, and he will keep running his hands gently on your skin and murmur comforts in your ear until he feels you fall asleep. Even then, he normally continues to stay awake, watching you until he finally feels his eyes beg for sleep of his own. The rougher he takes you, the more gentle and soothing Jons touch and words are after as he coaxes you back for him.
Robb Stark:
Robb is fully aware of how hard he goes with you. You have minimal experience outside of him, and he brought you into this sort of thing with rough thrusts and a dominating nature. But it also means he knows how much he needs to make up for that when it's all over.
He will check up on you, ask if he went too far or if you didn't enjoy something and the next time he pays close attention to how far you've dropped and when. Which with him, is often. But Robb switches when it's all over, and the second he looks at you, all he sees is the love of his life and he wants to bring you calmly back to him. He'll hold you, speak soothingly to you with tender touches along your skin and many times he tries to get you to talk. The more you talk, the more clear your head is, and if he can make you laugh then Robb knows you're alright.
Much of the time, you often end up falling asleep together in the same position your aftercare was spent. Robb usually on his back, his arms wrapped around you as he tucks you into his side and your head drapes comfortingly on his chest. For all his talk, Robb loves nothing more then to just lay in bed and cuddle with you when you're done, and he adores that you are just as needy for a loving touch.
If anything, aftercare that Robb needs from you, is to just let him hold you and keep you tucked into his arms as much as you need his touch to calm you down as well.
B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you were to ask Robb, his brother would joke that it's his hair he likes best about himself. But in truth, Jon never really thought much of it in that way. Of himself. He looked how he looked, and he didn't really care about much of it.
Robb was more handsome and Jon didn't really care what girls thought of how he looked because as long as you liked how he looked, that's all that mattered.
On you? Jon had two answers, if it were blatantly sexual Jon would say your breasts. Soft, seemed to be made to fit perfectly in his hands and you were sensitive as all hell, that simple touches could work you up in an instant.
Not sexually though, it would be your smile. Not just any, but that soft, gentle one you'd give him when no one else was looking, beacuse you just wanted him to know you were paying attention to him no matter what. You were so stone faced all the time, but whenever you'd give Jon that smile? It could make the worst of his days better in an instant.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Easily that would be his hands. He did much with them and despite the amount of which was death and bloodshed, Jon knew he never did it beacuse he liked it. Jons hands were to him, a reminder of the man he had become, someone who at their core, was a protector. Of you, of the innocent, fighting for what was right when no one else would make the sacrifice.
But they also were the same hands that calmed you down. Your worst moments, trapped still somewhere in a hell of Ramsay Boltons making, they were the same hands that would cup your cheeks, run along your soft skin until you looked at him with those eyes.
Eyes that were something he could never get enough of. Soft and wide, you held so much more emotion in them now then you ever did before, and Jon adored it. You almost couldn't hide from Jon as long as he could find your eyes, and read whatever was in your head in seconds. They were beautiful to him, and they were the same eyes he kept dreaming that your children together would have, and that made them the thing he adored the most.
That, and Jon knew he had a tendency to make you look him right in the eyes when he was inside you, and he was weak to how needing they always looked when you did.
Robb Stark:
Robb easily loves his hands. How since you've been married, since you escaped Kings Landing and came back to him, all hes wanted to do is use those same hands to protect you. It's easy to tell, Robb almost always has a hand on you if he's near and it's heavily rooted in how he knows your safe and he can protect you, if he feels you right beside him.
He also knows how much of a mess he makes of you with them in so many ways. Those hand go quickly from innocent and protective all the way to perverse in seconds. And he knows exactly where to put them to make you melt to him.
On you, his favourite more innocent part of your body is your hips. They're perfect to him, shaped just right to the way he can so easily imagine you with his child right in your arms, a son perched near your hip as even then, you still speak to his lords and knights with command. He has a hand on them a lot, likes to move you with hands on your hips, they're just soft and perfect for him.
More on the filthy side, Robb fully can admit he is utterly obsessed with your ass. He knows it, you know it, there's no question. He wants you in pants all the time just beacuse of how well they shape your ass, the harder he smacks them the more he watches your cheeks jiggle and he gets worked up aggressively when he can see the red outline of his hand print after he's slapped and groped your ass as much as he can get away with.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Call it insecurity, but Jon almost didn't want his end to be part of the equation with you. If he could make love to you and not have to worry about that, he'd have been ready a long time ago.
To him, sure it felt good, but when he was with you he was always plagued in the back of his mind. Getting you pregnant was truthfully his biggest fear, and so he spent a lot of time learning what felt best for you when he touched you, and not wanting to let you do much back. Jon loved learning what made you cum, but he was almost strict in not really letting you reciprocate. He liked making you feel good, and he didn't ever want to risk ruining your life by getting you pregnant, and he certainly refused to force his own child to be born a bastard.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon knew as soon as he slid inside you for the first time, it was different. Not a shred of that insecurity was in his mind anymore.
He fucked you against the wall that night steady and slow, and there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Pressing you tight against the wall and sinking as far as you could take him, all Jon wanted to do after, was do it again. And again. He dreamed about it, he craved it, he loved cumming inside you and he didn't have the sensibility or willpower anymore to stop himself.
He was quick all on his own to have everything to brew you moontea, he wasn't about to get reckless. Until you were both in the right place together, Jon would make sure part of taking care of you after was to make you some as you rested. Easing whatever parts of both your minds would worry if you became pregnant before either of you were ready.
But really, Jon wanted only to spill inside you, and when you couldn't take anymore then he'd paint your beautiful skin with whatever he still had left.
Robb Stark:
There are only two places Robb wants to cum, down your throat or inside your cunt. If some gets elsewhere then you look like a dream painted with his seed, but if he isn't cumming inside you, he wants it down your throat.
He would watch you swallow his seed and the man could almost orgasm again just from that sight and feeling. The knowledge that even just your stomach is filled with him, as much as he fills you with his cock, makes him lose his mind. And you swallow him so happily too, as if you love the taste of him and he suspects you are too embarrassed to admit you do.
But he also loves cumming inside you. At his core, Robb is a man dedicated to family, it means everything to him. And he wants every and any chance to start one with you, so he always wants to cum deep inside you as many times in a night as he an get away with. The more he does, the sooner likely you may find yourself pregnant.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
It's not dirty, nor is it much of a secret really, but Jon sometimes wondered if you truly understood just how long he's been in love with you.
He knew Lord Stannis Baratheon's daughter was coming to serve as his fathers ward, but he didn't think much of it until the day you arrived. He and Robb were 10 and had been in the training yard. But his memory was so striking and vivid when his father had come by with this small 8 year old girl with scared eyes looking everywhere with uncertainty.
Robb was swinging a practice sword at him, and almost accidentally smacked him in the head, beacuse Jon had stopped paying attention since he was staring so much. When he realized who you were, he almost wanted to throw up at realizing he was going to have to spend months in the same home as you, beacuse he thought you were the prettiest thing he's ever seen.
When you had been introduced to Robb, you looked at him after and asked what his name was. He was nervous telling you he was a Snow, but as soon as you asked simply if he was the other son of Lord Stark which your father mentioned, he realized you had barrelled right past the fact that he was a bastard and just lumped him in the same place as Robb.
Jon hadn't ever said it, but he was pretty sure he fell in love with you then, and it never stopped for even a second after.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon sort of has two secrets. One is more blatantly filthy, one is a little more serious. The serious one is something you think is only a joke.
He had told you once, that he had previously wondered when he was thinking of taking the black, if he should just take you far north instead. Leave, and build you a nice, warm home there where you could just be together. But in those dreams, Jon genuinely wanted children. He could see at least five, in that memory. Four little ones running around, and you swollen with his fifth child, beacuse who you two were didn't have to matter.
It was a sensitive subject for you now, and he would never even consider pushing before you were ready. But by present day when he would joke that his dream was up to ten children, Jon didn't know how to tell you that he wasn't really kidding. He never thought he would have a family, and now that he could with you, he wanted as many as you both could possibly have.
His second was blatantly filthy. Jon loved your breasts, perfect size for his rough hands and they were so sensitive. But Jon heard something from one of the free folk once, and now he held this dirty image of marking them up. Bruises and indents from his mouth and teeth until they turned colour, marking them right up until they were so sensitive you could tear up.
Then he wanted you to lay out on his bed, and he'd climb up over you and fuck them. Slide his cock in the space between your breasts and fuck them like he was inside you.
Then, just to finish the image, right when he was about to cum he'd pull back enough to make sure he coated both of your breasts in his seed, before grasping you again roughly to spread himself all over them.
Not in any life would Jon want to ask you for that, but it didn't stop him from thinking about everytime his teeth ran over the small buds on your breasts.
Robb Stark:
Robb has done it in small doses, tying up your wrists behind you, but Robb dreams of you letting him go a little more feral with it.
He wants you tied up all the way, at nothing but his mercy, can't move on your own, tie your pretty legs to the bed posts to keep you spread and your hands together up above your head. He'd blindfold you, too.
He wants to be so in control of everything that happens to your body in that scenario, without you even being allowed to see what he does, he wants you to trust him to such a degree you give up all your control left.
He won't ask you for that, he knows he'd be asking for something that's too extreme, so he does it in small doses. Makes you keep your eyes closed, ties only your wrists, only drags a small blade down a shift to expose your breasts when really if he could, Robb would do so much more. Maybe keep you standing in the middle of his bedroom, hang your arms up above your head with rope and cut off all your clothes like they're nothing to him. He has no idea where this desire has come from, but gods does he ever come up with new and inventive ways to ease you into every bit of it.
Maybe one day, you'll let him be enough of a animal, to just let him treat you like a pretty little slab of meat he can do whatever he wants with. Just once.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Not a shred of experience to be found. But Jon wasn't embarrassed about it.
He didn't care what others said about him, they didn't know Jon had you. Jon had been in love with you since he was 10, he never wanted any other girl that entire time, and he couldn't convince himself to look at one long enough to even try for a kiss. You and Jon were each others firsts. He was 18 by the time he kissed you that night in the wolfswood, and he was so happy he saved it for you.
After that, he dreamed of learning what you both liked together, and he enjoyed discovering all of it. You never went that far together, you both enjoyed taking it slow, but it was always at the exact same speed as the other.
So he'd let Theon make his jokes about him not being with a girl, Jon and you would get there when you both were ready.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon knew his approach to physical intimacy with you was different now, but he didn't like thinking about why.
On one hand, he knew you had much more natural experience. You married Robb, he took your maidenhood, and he taught you everything you had learned of sex in the three and a half years you shared. But then you were the Boltons captive, and every single bit of confidence, every part of you that was growing comfortable with sex was destroyed, taken away from you by force at the hands of Ramsay. And in a horrible way, whatever confidence Jon had spent 6 years building with you, was taken away from him too.
Calling his time with Ygritte “experience” made him feel unwell. It wasn't that. It was survival. Jon knew in his time travelling with her, he had tricked himself into thinking it was normal. Pretended it was normal to never want it, pretended it was normal to actively feel such deep self hatred if his body even remotely enjoyed the physical sensations alone, pretended it was normal to actively find ways to avoid letting her near him if he could. He didn't want any of what Ygritte took from him, but that was all the experience in terms of sex that Jon had.
It was why he pushed so hard to do certain things, like putting his mouth between your legs, with you as often as he did. If he consumed his mind with doing it with you, it negated the force in which made him learn about it in the first place. It wasn't easy, and he still knew he was avoiding talking about the worst of it with you, but Ramsay had hurt you more then Ygritte forced him, and so Jon preferred to focus on taking care of your safety.
Robb Stark:
If he were to summarize it in simple terms, Robb would say girls liked him more then he liked the girls. He wasn't stupid, he understood it. Robb knew he was handsome. He was the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark, and he was also the heir to Winterfell. Robb knew he had a charm to his attitude that swooped in the easy giggles from girls.
But Robb more enjoyed that in a playful manner then he did serious. Sure he had sex with some of them, a few of them more then once but he never really had feelings for them beyond surface level affection. Never enough that his father or mother even would've really met any of them except in coincidental passing. Hell, compared to Theon the two men used to joke, Robb may as well have the experience equal to that of a septa.
By the time he married you, he hadn't been with a girl physically in years, and even if he did, all it meant was he knew how a girls body worked a little better then most guys. He knew your body better then you did before he ever touched you though, considering how overwhelmed he made you on your wedding night.
You were always so innocent compared to him, that he knew it made you feel as if he had hundreds of girls before you. But in truth it had only been a handful. And more importantly, he had never been anywhere near in love before he married you, and so you were the only experience he cared about.
He didn't fuck you on your wedding night like he did other girls, he fucked you in a way he had carefully planned out that you would enjoy. His experience just meant that he went in with more confidence then not on your wedding night.
F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
You two had never gotten that far, so he never really had a reason to think about what he preferred.
Jon did enjoy standing behind you when you two were alone, his hands gently trailing along your skin or under the collar of your dress. His hands rough and pulling gasps that you would bit your lip to prevent when he would twist and pull at the small pink buds of your breasts. Jon would always press his lips lightly to your neck, beacuse he loved how you would instinctual lean back into him. Rely on Jons firm stature to keep you standing on two feet as he eased you into his touch.
Maybe he was biased too, but if he were touching you more intimately, he liked having you sit on a surface as he stood between your legs. It was the way you two were positioned when he touched you for the first time out in the wolfswood, and he treasured that day a lot. He loved cupping your cheeks when standing before you like that, knowing as soon as he'd let one hand drift down your arm, you'd almost tense up in wonder if you'd feel his hand jump to pull the skirt of your dress up. Or if he'd simply wrap it around your waist to pull you more into his kiss innocently.
It wasn't a position of sex he liked about it, he just knew you associated it with the same afternoon he did, and Jon loved to tease you with his touch so you could only wait and see if he'd once more grace you with the experience again.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
There was no question Jon didn't just prefer missionary, he adored it.
Not a single other way he's taken you has Jon liked more or even anywhere near close to when he simply hovers over you with your legs gently spread for his body. One large hand hoisting your thigh up onto his hip while he felt your other leg move to almost wrap partially around one of his legs as if needing him to keep you steady flat out on the bed.
He loved taking you when you were nice and comfortable, spread out on his bed or on the furs in front of the fire in his chambers. He'd hover over you and be able to see every inch of you, move your legs either apart or over his shoulders when his mouth watered at the thought of tasting you. He could kiss you anywhere that way, and hold you down, as his strength meant he could keep you there as he kissed his way down to your cunt. And it also meant he could follow that path right back up and force you to taste yourself on his tongue while his other hand moved to sink his cock deep inside you. All the while, Jon could watch you and your eyes perfectly and you never had to do the work if he held you there. Just the way Jon wanted it.
Jon loved being able to control the pace he would fuck you at, ensure you were nothing but in deep pleasure. He could reach his hands up, interlock his fingers with yours and press them into the sheets. He could watch your face twist in pleasure, and your hands would tighten around his own fingers too, the closer you got. Or he'd let them go free, and you'd unknowingly claw your nails down his back as you arched into him as you came. He could bury his face in your neck or hair and the position meant he could go as fast or gentle as he wanted.
There was not a single thing which would beat how much he could focus on you when Jon took you in simple missionary.
Robb Stark:
He loves taking you from behind, and there is no way Robb could deny it. Nor would be bother to. He was a gods forsaken wolf about it.
The second time he ever fucked you, he had been apart from you for months. Now back, you were both going to war, you had just escaped Kings Landing and hadn't been with him since your wedding night. But he had spent so much of that time, letting his mind drift to you during his days, that finally seeing you again he almost jumped into it as if you'd been with him all that time. Theon had once commented that he could've mistaken you two for being married for decades, the way Robb would bring you up more then he ever had in the eleven years the men knew one another.
But then he had you back, in his bed as you raked your small hands through his curls that so gently woke him up, and more importantly, woke his cock up. He flipped you over, and as soon as you were on your hands and knees he yanked your hips so you basically were only lifted off the bed only by your ass, so he could fuck you from behind. The way in which you so willingly submitted to him in that position, how Robb could pound into you like that as fast and rough as he freely wanted, and all you could do was cry his name and take it.
You soaked his cock like none other when he had you on your hands and knees, and sometimes he'd shove a hand in your hair and hold your face down to the pillow and all you'd do was clench tightly around his cock.
He knew he was acting nothing of a gentleman, and his mother would be utterly ashamed that Robb would take his wife like a complete brute. But when you were bent over in front of his cock, giving yourself over to his mercy or lack thereof and would beg for more even when he was rough about it? It made him lose his mind.
Besides, Robb was quite blatantly obsessed with your ass and from that position, he could smack and grope it all he liked. But when you really lost yourself to his cock? Your own hips bouncing back on him the whole time he fucked into you? Well it would just make him run his mouth even filthier towards you for it.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Goofy was not a word anyone had ever used to describe Jon Snow.
He was brooding, intense, he felt things very raw and that extended to you entirely. Jon would tease or smirk at the start when he'd kiss you, but the second it got a little more serious he dropped the act. He took your pleasure seriously, your mood seriously, and he didn't want his time with you to turn into a laugh when it was such limited time in the first place to have with you.
He loved to hear you laugh, don't get him wrong, but his physical time with you was limited, and it just wasn't the place he wanted to do that.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If Jon was not a humorous man before, he was even less so now.
Both in life and sex, but it was more obvious when he was with you physically. Jon didn't even smile when he fucked you, not beacuse he didn't like it, or love you, but he felt nothing to be amused by. Sex was very serious to him, your safety and your well being couldn't be watched if Jon was goofing around or making you laugh.
He dedicated every ounce of focus to taking care of you, and he didn't like humour being involved there. Your safety was not funny to Jon. Sex with him was never goofy. It was intense, raw, and overwhelming for both of you. He had time to make you laugh later, that's what his words of teasing were for.
Not for the bedroom, though. Not now, not ever.
Robb Stark:
Robb would chuckle dark in what he know was a bit of a sadistic tendency towards you.
Would chuckle as you were a crying mess for him, or sometimes he would laugh at how you sounded begging for him, or gasping out that you love him. It meant you had him comfortable enough to drop the dominance enough to show the cracks of the mischievous boy underneath the rough man.
Even better was if he could make you laugh after sex, that was even better then during. He loved hearing you laugh, it was a gorgeous sound so many men would never hear in their lives. Robb loved that he was trusted enough with you, that you would let him hear you giggle like a little girl in the most venerable of moments of intimacy. He loved seeing you relaxed enough to feel that amused at anything.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)
Jon Snow:
If there was a place in Westeros which that kind of personal grooming for men was common, the North wasn't it.
He didn't let it get out of control, but it wasn't as if smooth, clean cut men were the norm here, and Jon was not that anyways. His hair atop his head was long, wild, black, and thick and it was around his cock as well. Coarse and rough, more like his facial hair.
But at the least Jon did enough to ensure it was fair to you.
Always clean and trimmed enough that it wasn't out of control, but Jon didn't exactly put time into it. He didn't really care, only enough that was to treat you right.
Besides, if Jons cock was deep inside you, he knew when it was on the longer, wilder side, that coarse dark hair could brush against your clit and he knew the sensation was enough to make you grasp tightly around his shoulders and back. Once he learned that, he trimmed far less often.
After all, he knew you liked how much his facial hair could burn against your sensitive skin, so why would the hair around his cock be any different.
Robb Stark:
He won't lie to himself, Robb is sort of a classic Northern man in that sense. Body hair didn't feel like something he should be ashamed of. He wasn't a wild man around his cock, but he didn't trim as much as what he assumed fancy Southern men would like to do.
Tons of them in the Kings visit were clean cut, no facial hair to be found, and groomed all fancy, and Robb hated that his mother had his curls trimmed and face clean cut. She said it was for the Kings visit, but he knew it was supposed to be for you, even though Robb knew you liked him with facial hair. You had told him as such more then once before. But at least during the Kings visit, Jon had to suffer with him on that one.
The hair by his cock was dark, coarse, and unlike the hair on his head which tinted a Tully red in the sunlight, below his hair was as dark as it ever was. It was trimmed only enough that it wasn't obscene for you, but you also clearly didn't care that much. You sucked his cock no matter what state the hair around his cock was in, so as long as it was manageable he didn't think much of it.
Robb knew he fucked you like a wild beast, so maybe it made sense he kept himself groomed only slightly above one in return.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon doesn't have much of an active physical relationship with you, mostly due to the nature of keeping things secret.
The biggest part of what he can give you, is simply romance at its core. Gentle touches, soft hands, doing little things for you and always with low tones and comforting murmurs in your ear. Sometimes if he had you in his lap, then he could feel his heart tearing at him a bit, insecurity yelling as he doubts whether or not he's treating you well.
He wants you to be loved, no matter what he's doing and even though you both hadn't reached having sex, he's just as romantic about all the rest as he is when you're both innocent and fully clothed.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon is as romantic in the moment as he is utterly intense.
His emotions are at an all time high when he's fucking you, and yet he feels almost terrified of letting you think he's anything but obsessed with loving you with all his heart. His touches are tighter, rougher, words harsher as they come out, but Jon will cling you to just as much as he knows you do him.
Sex is intense with Jon, and making sure you feel loved, safe and cared for is his biggest priority.
You've both had your share of being forced on by another person and Jon will do everything to ensure you never come close to that again with him. Jon knows he's addicted to you, worships you, he'd go to the ends of the earth and back for you. And if you don't feel that and more when Jon is inside you, then he would consider that a failure on his part.
He's raw and intense, but romance and intimacy is what he treasures with you now and he would do anything to ensure he never gives you less then that.
Robb Stark:
If Robb was aware of a massive problem he struggled with, it was that he tended to forget the romantic side of sex with you.
He loved you, he adored you in every single way, but Robb definitely was a bit on the rough, and hard dominant side when he fucked you. Rough attitude, degrading words, harsh and controlling touches and he didn't kiss you a lot during sex.
He wanted to hear you whine and beg and he couldn't do that if he were gentle and sweet. He could be the meanest parts of himself knowing that he would take gentle care of you the moment he was done.
You were the love of his life, he wanted to take you home and treat you like the actual Queen you deserved to be with him in Winterfell, but at war it was different. He wasn't always like that during sex, but it was common enough that he had a heavy heart knowing you trusted him to truly take care of you when you handed your obedience over to him like that.
Robb knows he is more of a man that thinks of sex as fucking rather then making love.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you were in Winterfell, no, he didn't masturbate.
Jon wanted to spend time with you, treasure every chance he got to feel your soft skin, your beautiful lips against his. If you were in the North, Jon had no thought of it, beacuse he had everything he would be fantasizing about anyways. You slowly explored things together, so if you were right in front of him, that was enough. But you weren't always there.
He hadn't started touching himself thinking of you until nearing fifteen. But really, what else was a teenage boy, with a crush on his best friend, supposed to do? It happened more after he kissed you though, he was eighteen and exploring more of an appetite for things sexual in nature anyways.
When you weren't there he would try and hold off, but sometimes you were gone for so long that he couldn't help it. It wasn't ever as satisfying as even being near you like that, but it was all Jon had when you'd be away from him for months.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon has you. He doesn't want anything else.
He came back to life, and only minutes after that did Jon slide his cock deep inside you for the first time, and he lost all interest in doing it himself then and there. He wanted you, your touch. Your wet, warm, and tight walls that clenched around him.
The only time he came close to masturbating anymore, was if he would bring your hand to his cock, covering it with his bigger one and help guide you to stroke him. But only ever until you felt confident to take over, otherwise any touch his cock got, he wanted it to be with you.
Masturbating just didn't interest him now. Jon had you, and he wanted you. Why settle for less then when he knew you wanted him as well?
Robb Stark:
Never once since you came back to him after escaping Kings Landing, did Robb not have you right there at his side. So in truth, Robb hadn't masturbated since you came back. What would he want that was better then his pretty little wife right in front of him?
When he was acting Lord of Winterfell, he admits he masturbated a bit more in the very dead of night then he used too. Partially the stress of everything, being away from his new wife after one night messed with his head on top of everything.
Robb would end up kneeling on the bed, grasping rough at what was supposed to be your pillow and stroke his cock. Through gritted teeth Robb would mutter as he did so how much he missed you, how much he wanted you back with him and how much he wanted to teach you beyond your first night together.
But then you were finally back, and Robb once more found no love for his hand when he had his pretty, needy little Queen ready to do whatever he said.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Without ever actually having sex, Jon didn't really have much of a concept of that kind of thing. He knew what he liked when you two were physical, but that level of sexual interest hadn't existed yet.
He had things he liked of course. He adored when you would run your hands through his hair, nails scratching along his scalp and giving little instinctual tugs when Jon would be a little more bold. He also knew he liked to take care of you, he liked making sure you felt good, and he loved to tease you until you might just pass out from a flustered embarrassment.
It was never in a context of genuine sex, but you and Jon learned together what you liked. You just didn't have the chance to take it that far.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you were to ask Jon directly, he'd say he didn't really have any kinks. But the more he'd think about you, the more he touched you it was clear there were some major ones.
Always making sure he was soft about it, and gentle as to not push you too far, but Jon loved being dominant with you. His entire life was at the bottom, out of his control and lacked any choice. But now? Now things were different, and you trusted him with your well being during sex and Jon took charge of that with immense responsibility.
He didn't like feeling not totally in control when with you, and dominance was the most natural way Jon presented himself during sex.
Jon didn't admit it to you, but he was obsessed with cumming inside you for a reason. He wanted to fill you with his seed constantly, over and over, keep it deep inside you until neither of you had anything left.
Jon would genuinely dream about keeping you tied to his bed, fucking you over and over, until you were with child.
Gods help him when he was with you, and his mind started to think about getting you pregnant. Because Jon didn't stand a chance of composure after that, all he dreamed of was you letting him spill inside you again and again until you swelled with his child.
And if that was a kink, then Jon absolutely had it.
Robb Stark:
Robb knows he can get a bit mean during sex.
He's dominant, very dominant. A strong, controlling weight on top of you that knows exactly how to order you around in the most pleasurable way for you. He gets off on being controlling dominant, and he also really gets off on how insanely obedient he's taught you to be.
You trust him so much that he could ask you to anything and you'd do it because you trust him to take care of you. It drives him mad how much you submit to him.
How he adores you with all his heart, but Robb degrades you like you're a whore in some brothel he's paying a copper for. And how much you love it. He so easily calls you a needy little slut, his whore of a Queen and you will whine everytime he hisses those things in your ear.
He also admits, that perhaps what helped him get used to being called a King, was hearing you say it as he fucked you. Having his Queen beg for her King to fuck her certainly made Robb learn he enjoyed it, at least as long as it came begging out of your pretty mouth.
L = Location (favourite places to do the do)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
One might think his favourite place to be with you was the privacy of his own room, but it was really the opposite.
Jon had five siblings, three of the youngest which liked to barge in on him at any moment during the day, meaning anything he and you did in his room like that had to be very easily hidden.
Most of the time, you and Jon liked to just go for a ride on horseback for a while, and wherever in the wolfswood you would end up was where the most exploration you two had with the other. No one was around, the likelihood someone would find you exactly there was so minimal in the vast, large expanse of the not very populated North.
You both loved being outdoors like that, where no eyes would find you and you could be as close and affectionate with the other with total freedom.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon has two similar favourites, and a guilty pleasure.
Mostly, he loves taking you in his room. Either he wants to lay you out on his own bed where he can climb over top of you and take you as many times as he wanted, or Jon would do so as you were both bare on the fur in front of his fire. His room always ran cold, but between the heat of the fire he diligently would tend to, and the quite warm temperature of Jons own body heat, even on the coldest nights he could have you sweating if he fucked you in front of the fire for long enough.
He loved the intimacy, the freedom of fucking you where was the most personal to you both, and now his position and title meant being barged in on was unlikely. Jon would pull you into his arms, and let you tuck into his chest bare as anything as you fell asleep. If in his bed it was easier to cover you up. But if he laid with you after out on the fur, if someone walked in now, that was their fault.
He did however, have a more perverse pleasure in fucking you up against the Weirwood tree in the Winterfell godswood, the night sky all around. Jon loved taking you deep for only the unjudging eyes of the old gods to bear witness to his need for you.
Robb Stark:
If Robb is a traditional man in any way it's how he has no interest in fucking you anywhere but in his room, in his bed, or at least what tent acted for your room out in his army camp.
He's fine with people hearing you, if anything he hopes his men have had a few good nights with their own hand listening to the degree to which you whine and beg when his cock is pounding into you. But he never once would let them see even a glimpse. Not a chance.
One time Theon had walked in, and Robb got so mad at what he almost saw that the Greyjoy later swore Grey Wind was about to rip his head off. After that, Robb would have Grey Wind guard right outside your tent together, as long as he was there, no one came in for any reason.
The direwolf would come in to sleep when it was all over, but he kept guard so Robb could fuck you into the mattress as hard as he wanted without any more risk of someone seeing you so pretty as you took his cock over and over.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
For a man who was terrified of getting you pregnant, Jon knew it was strange to get worked up watching you with children. So much of the time you were stoic and serious. But you were so soft and easy to smile with children that he couldn't get enough of it.
Much more specific, the first kiss you shared after each time you would return to Winterfell would work Jon up. You two always having to wait until the dead of night, and finally when he was able to kiss you after however many months it had been, it inevitably turned into you both kissing passionately for quite a while.
Jon had to learn how to be very controlled when he wanted you, knowing neither of you had the freedom of just being able to express that whenever you desired.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Were you to strip Jon down to his bare essentials, he would honestly just be turned on by you at any time. It took mostly, for you to even be a thought in Jons head for him to want you.
Your soft eyes gentle smile and even more gentle and caring touches worked him up. Worse so, the more innocent your kiss, the more genuine your touch that wasn't sexual, it would make Jons cock the hardest the quickest.
You two were together and had the freedom to show it, Jon had no more reason to want to hide how much you made him want you. It definitely wasn't always sexual, but sometimes it was a struggle for Jon to not let it turn sexual.
He didn't want you thinking he saw you as an object to fuck, sex was something he trusted so much between you both that it was an extension of how much he loved and adored you. But it also meant, you made his cock stir more often now then Jon had likely even been hard in his entire previous life.
Robb Stark:
Jealousy was one of Robbs most blatant traits. He was so jealous of the way other men looked at you or spoke about you to the degree that it made him noticeably possessive.
But what made it so strong as a need to fuck you, was how little you noted or cared about any attention that didn't come from Robb. You ignored or didn't know what men were leering at you like, but the second Robb came over with rough touches and a strained voice he was so jealous, you'd ease it by instantly going to him with gentle words and a soothing, innocent touch.
He wants his men to hear you, because none of them with their whores visiting their own tents get from them, sounds anywhere near what Robb pulls from you for free.
You are the love of his life, and what turns him on too much is how easy it is for you to remind men of that just by your innocent dedication to his love in public. He would keep a hand on you, kiss you, be sweet with you in front of his men and you would get flustered over it but let him do it because you knew that's how Robb liked to treat you.
Robbs own jealousy was a motivator, but he also knew he was easily turned on by your continued ability to be so damned innocent.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
You would tell him it's ironic, considering half of the time he spent with you in the training yard over the years was him knocking you into the dirt, but Jon would never do anything that would hurt you.
His touch was sure to always be gentle no matter what, and never too rough or demanding. He also knew that he didn't want to treat you the way he knew a lot of men treated women they were with. Or if he were honest, the way Jon reluctantly knew Theon was with women. You shared a stretch of corridors with Theon where your own chambers were and thus you and Jon spent much time when in your chambers, coping with what was inevitable to hear.
Jon didn't want to be harsh and vulgar, treat you in a way that would make you feel as if you were just like a whore in a brothel he paid for. You had brought up, or tried to nervously bring up something you'd heard about from one of the girls around and Jon shot it down.
He knew somewhat of the girls you meant, and a few of them worked the brothel just outside the castle walls in Winter Town. And Jon just didn't want to treat you the way most men treated those women.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
A lot of his previous turn offs remained the same. Only now, Jon had to work on his own intense possessiveness versus his needs. He was a lot rougher with you now, and he had to consciously remind himself that he didn't want you to feel used.
He didn't fuck you hard like that beacuse he wanted to treat you that way, Jon would just lose himself in how you felt around his cock. But it all tied into not liking to feel out of control. He struggled to let you suck his cock, beacuse he would too easily lose control and overwhelm you by going too rough.
Jon didn't like being out of control, but he knew he was lucky that you did not want to be the dominant one in bed, as much as Jon did not want to be the submissive one. It worked well, you trusted to hand your safety over to Jon and he got to be the one to take care of you entirely. He wasn't really much interested in the opposite, he didn't want to be ordered around or told what to do, not for this, not with you.
He knew he had to work on how intense and rough he would get, but Jon sometimes just didn't realize how rough he was getting. You never seemed to dislike it, but he didn't want you thinking you were just here for someone to fuck. He loved you, he adored you, and he wanted to be the one to take care of you.
Anything less then being in charge, Jon just wasn't interested in anymore. If he ever really was in the first place.
Robb Stark:
Robb really only had two hard limits for himself. He didn't want to fuck you with any risk that someone was going to see you, and he refused to do anything that would genuinely hurt you.
He went rough and played dirty but not once did Robb like the idea that you could get hurt by his hands. You trusted him with your safety in bed and Robb would always take that responsibility with the heavy weight it deserved. He knew your limits and would never push you, if he thought he was at risk he would stop.
Check in with you, gauge what kind of response you gave and decide if he needed to ease up for your sake or not. Robb would slap your ass until it was red and painful, but only beacuse you liked when he did it. That smacking would never go anywhere but your ass, and maybe your cunt when you were being particularly needy.
Otherwise his biggest no is having anyone see you. Again, he ended up having Grey Wind stand guard outside his tent anytime he intended to fuck you, just to make sure the King in the North was given the proper time with his pretty little wife that he needed without interruption. You were his, and he wanted none of these men in his camp to have a chance at seeing you no matter what he teased with.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
It was ironic that you ended up being the one married with more experience, considering that Jon knew you had so little idea about sex it almost was endearing.
He had joked once that if your chambers were by Theons, how did you still know so little about sex. And you'd shove him all flustered, muttering that just beacuse you could hear sure as hell didn't mean you listened.
You had come to him one day about taking his cock in your mouth, and Jon knew you had learned it from those girls who worked in and around the Winter Town brothel. You weren't a whore he was paying for, he didn't want you on your knees like they would for any brute who had a copper to spare.
He had known somewhat about tasting a girl between her legs, but by the time he heard about it, you weren't graced with enough time for him to even try and bring it up. It was a story Theon had told when he, Jon, and Robb had a little too much wine one night. Robb had shoved the man and gotten up to find a tree to piss on, leaving Jon to listen to a drunk story but he was far too unconfident to ask a single question about it. By the time Jon might have wanted to bring it up to you, you had to leave for Kings Landing and wouldn't return until you did with the royal company to marry Robb.
And that was the end of anything he assumed.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If Jon could abuse his new title, and simply order you to not suck his cock anymore, he might have. But that was too authoritarian, and way too controlling.
The issue for him was, Jon didn't like being the one not in responsible control, and he was too wild and unpredictable when you took his cock in your mouth. Jon would much rather live and die between your legs.
It was one of the first things he did when he had come back, and maybe that turned it into an addiction. Jons mouth watered at the very thought of tasting you, and he a time or two had done it for a few hours continuously beacuse he truly couldn't convince himself to leave. He never tasted something like the wetness he would drink from you, and he never would anywhere else. It was like an oasis crafted for him alone.
Sure, it felt unbelievable when you sucked his cock, but if he was going to lose control he'd rather it be with his mouth attached to your cunt where the most pushing he could do was shock you from too much pleasurable stimulation. Rather then pushing your safety and your anxiety too far, with his cock in your mouth when he knew it could go from enjoyable to unpleasant for you in a second.
Robb Stark:
There was no point in lying about it. Robb lived for you sucking his cock.
It was one of the first things he fantasized about still during your wedding night. He imagined guiding your mouth over him so often when you and him were separated after the wedding, that when you came back to him, it was the first thing he properly did with you. Had you suck his cock like a good girl, and ever since he was obsessed.
How well you did, how much you truly, desperately wanted to be able to take all of him, how you'd close your eyes and barley realize you were letting out hums of moans and needy whines the more you sucked him. He'd guide your head at his own choice of pace, and he loved filling your stomach with his seed as if that was all you needed to live off of.
He'd known somewhat about putting his mouth on you, but by the time he had wanted to try, you two were at war and there just wasn't a whole lot of places to figure out what he'd be doing properly, and he wasn't about to go asking whatever whores his soldiers hired, to ask how to taste his own wife. That, and Robb didn't want to make you feel nervous by introducing something so intimate, and so brand new to you so suddenly.
He desperately wanted too, but it was just something he didn't know quite how to bring up to you yet.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Without ever having sex, pace wasn't exactly something Jon payed attention to. The rate in which your actual relationship developed was slow.
You had known each other for fourteen years, been together for six by the time you both wanted to try having sex, and even then you both realized neither of you were ready.
Everything he did with you was slow, he didn't rush, he didn't push, and he made sure everything he did do, was gentle. Exploring exactly what you liked, and making sure you felt loved when doing so. Something more of an urge in him sometimes whispered in his ear to go faster, or rougher with you but he could push that down easy. In your minds at the time, you both had all the time in the world.
If it all took a slow, loving pace to get there, then so be it. Or so you both once thought.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon tries to be gentle, he really does.
He often starts out slow. A loving gentleness rooted in how heavy you make his heart feel, but the more into it Jon gets, the more of something of a darker animal inside him does he let out.
He never contains himself the entire time, it's impossible. At some point, even if just right at the end, Jon will end up pounding his cock into you fast like a true wolf with his mate . Whatever dark, needy filth locked away in his head accidentally pours out in a deep husk in your ear beacuse he can't stop it.
Don't get him wrong, its passionate, intimate, and always ensuring you feel safe, loved and protected, but once Jon can hear how wet you are each time his cock sinks into you, its the beginning of the end. That's music to his ears, and he returns such a harmony right back. Fucking into you rough enough that anyone within 50 feet can probably hear how loud and rough of a slap Jons hips rutting into yours becomes. If the slap of your skin together echos in his ears, hes likely already too deep into the darker part of his mind to slow down.
He would never push you too far, never once. But Jon is unpredictable. He can start slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out before pushing himself back in as deep as he can, all the while you feel every inch of him beacuse he's just going that slow. But eventually, he picks up the roughness, and right near his final orgasm, that slap of skin becomes a steady smack as he rushes himself towards being able to cum one last time deep inside you.
But Jon knows his limits, and he is always hyper aware of how close he's getting to pushing you to yours and never once in his life will Jon ever actually cross that line. He'll get right up to it as close as can be, but never will he even slightly tip over into pushing you too much.
Robb Stark:
If there ever was a man who was a real wolf in the bedroom, it was Robb.
Slow was saved for when he used his fingers on you, and that was it. As soon as that man gets his cock inside of you, it's done. He is fucking you rough and fast until you are soaking his cock around him in a desperate cry.
Hes slow when he's in your mouth, beacuse he knows that's something you both enjoy, and he doesn't want to hurt you by pushing you too far, but your cunt is another story. Robb will fuck you fast to the point you can barley catch your breathe before he's pounding back inside of you.
The slap of your skin together is telling of how rough he goes, and the men have sometimes joked they're shocked you can ride a horse the next day, let alone bloody walk. Sex with Robb is fast and dominating, and he is happy to slow down and take his time doing everything else with you, just not when your warm cunt is clenching around his cock.
He knows if he could take you home to Winterfell, he'd be much better. He'd take you slow, take his time with you, but you were both out at war and he didn't have the luxury no matter how much Robb wished he could take you gentle and slow.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
When Jon thought about in in retrospective, it might have been the perfect time for you two to have quickies.
Always in secret, never having as much time as you both deserved with the other. Were you two actually having sex, fucking you fast and quick would have been optimal. But as it stood, you never had sex. So you two never did anything even close to that.
But, in Winterfell? With his father, the household guard, Lady Catelyns judging eyes, and the varying rambunctious nature of Jons five siblings, having you quick like that would have been risky.
Someone would catch you. Anything you did had to wait until you knew you were alone. Hell, Jon once got a little too eager to gently kiss you one evening, and as it turned out, Arya had spotted you both in the stables, and that's how she found out. Jon trusted her not to tell, but he never took anything of that risk again.
In total private where he could take his time, or not at all.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you went to Jon right now and asked if he liked quickies, he'd say no. He would say he hates them. And that would be the biggest lie he's ever told in his life.
It's possible he was abusing his status as King in the North to do so, but if he were a little late to the meeting, no one was going to say anything. And he was far better at pretending everything was fine then you were, so if only Jon walked in, no one would know. Except Tormund. Somehow Tormund always could tell, and Jon would spend the next 20 minutes actively ignoring that prideful but amused glint in the mans eye.
But he loved quickies. Jon loved fucking you needing and fast. Finding an empty wall to shove you against, sinking deep inside you and overwhelming you in seconds to the point you were powerless to do anything but let Jon take you. The way you'd cling to him in those seconds after, knowing this was all you had for now when normally Jon would kiss and hold you tenderly. It just made you needier for that later.
He never would admit it, saying he only wanted you when he could take his proper time and care. But the amount of times Jons almost gotten you both caught, beacuse he desperately needed to fuck you out of nowhere, was starting to stack up quickly.
Robb Stark:
One man truly and honestly hates quickies with all his being, and his name is Robb Stark.
If he has to fuck you quick, he's not going to do it and that is without exaggeration, the end of that. Robb wants to take you apart, he wants to ruin you for hour and hours until you have nothing left but his cock inside you, and then he'll build you back up like the Queen you are. That takes time, and patience.
Robb almost gets more worked up the more he cums, he hates the idea of fucking you quick in the middle of the day. Robb has things to do, he can control himself long enough to just get over it if he wants you. Part of it goes hand in hand with not wanting anyone to see you or come close to catching you, since Robb has no shred of privacy to touch you outside the isolation of your tent at night.
You're the love of his life, he wants to make sure you never question that fact. He may whisper in your ear like you're a whore in a brothel, but he won't fuck you like one. Not like he's here to throw a copper at you, cum and then leave. He hates that idea, it doesn't even appeal to him.
Robb wants you proper, in a bed, where he can fuck you hard, and then show you how much he loves you. He can't do that if he just ruts inside of you like an animal, roughly against a wall in the middle of the day.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Technically, Jons entire relationship with you was the risk. He was a bastard, you were a highborn girl and niece to King Robert of all people. You were supposed to be courted by men like Robb, not a bastard with nothing to offer you but his heart.
He didn't try any experimenting or risk taking in sexual terms beacuse you two didn't have that freedom. The risk, was what Jon already did.
The risk was that night in the pouring rain in the wolfswood. He was 18 and you were nearing 16, he and his brother would hunt you and Theon in the wolfswood and see who could make it until midnight without being caught by the two wolves who knew this land like the back of their hands.
It was close to the end, Theon had been caught and Robb had given up once the rain started, so it was only Jon and you left, and Jon had finally caught you. Grabbed you from behind and held you to his chest with a low rasp of his victory, teasing in your ear.
He didn't know at first if you understood why the air changed. You were younger and certainly more innocent then him, but you were suddenly nervous enough that Jon felt confident it wasn't just him anymore. You tried to run, escape the way the air between you two changed to something heavy you didn't understand, but Jon didn't want this to stop. If you left now, he may never be confident enough again. So he grabbed you once more, tossing your back against a tree to make you stop running. You were soaked from the rain, eyes so wide and bright with lips just slightly parted in confusion, and it was too much for him to hold back.
It was the biggest risk Jon ever took, but he moved quick. Cupping both of your cheeks and leaning down to press his lips to yours. But the fact that you arched right up into him? Kissed him back eagerly and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck?
Jon knew there was no risk of him getting caught being with you that could outweigh how much this one payed off that night.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Risks were half of what Jon took now. Risk this fight, risk that battle but none were more worrying then every risk he took with you.
At every turn since having you back, it felt as if something threw a new test between you at every opportunity. Put on question how much Jon could protect you, and too many times did he not know how to stop it.
But, if there was a solace, it was that risks were only not unwilling to be taken when it came to taking you. Neither had done much and Jon fantasized about more and at every turn, he was fairly certain you would want what he wanted. He worried about it, worried that he was too rough, was too demanding, his intentions too forward but each time you came back to him with as much eagerness as the first time.
He knew he was gaining advice from either the best or worse sources, as the free folk around him all spoke rather blatantly about the sexual things they had done. Some of which Jon barley heard of, most of which Jon knew you had never known existed. And it took some work to tell himself not to try everything, but he certainly thought about them. Would hear the men go on about it, and just as he wondered why do it if it wasn't good for the woman, he'd hear just that other side from them and suddenly Jon learned far more about ways in which he could take you that you might enjoy, then he ever imagined. And he was willing to do them all, as long as you liked the idea, and it didn't harm you?
Jon might never say that he wants those things, but if they came up between you, he'd want to do it in a heartbeat.
Robb Stark:
One may think Robb would be a risk taker considering the degree to which he can fuck you any and everyday with his dominating mind and desires. But in truth, he doesn't like to take risks with you. That scares him, no matter if it's innocent or sexual in nature.
You're his wife and he came so close to losing you the way the Lannisters murdered his father, should Ser Barristan Selmy not have helped you to escape Kings Landing.
Taking new risks with you, while can be fun to playfully bicker about when you are naked in his lap as he keeps his cock sunk deep with a silent hope he's helping his seed take, he rarely will introduce anything that would be considered one.
You both are at war, you fight by his side in battle, that's more risk then Robb ever wanted with you, and he won't do any more beyond what you two already have.
He wants you home in Winterfell, swollen with his child before the proper start of Winter, he doesn't want to risk you in anyway that delays that anymore. He knows it's a big paranoia considering how much you trust him with your body, but Robb knows what your limits are and what his limits are and he refuses to go beyond those in any capacity.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon didn't have much way of gauging what he'd be like with you, at least in that manner. Much of what you two had done could've taken of their time and wasn't too taxing on either of you.
He'd draw it out as much as he could for you, and on the nights he managed to be weak enough to have you perched on his lap in his bed, he wasn't really aware of the time which passed. Of course, the time that passed sometimes went well over two hours without realizing. Sometimes he'd cum, but he could keep going after, likely the most he had in one night with you was three, but again, it wasn't quite direct touch and he had no way of knowing what being inside you might be like.
On his own, where he'd have too much of you he missed and no way to see you? It depended on how worked up he was. If he was mostly just horny, he could look to a memory of you and not last long and be satisfied.
But on nights he really missed you, he'd take out a stashed article of clothing of yours that he kept close. Grey eyes drifting to a letter of yours, and trying to read it and hear your voice in his head. Bracing a hand on the stone wall near his window, and the other on his cock, Jon could keep himself that consistently worked up for at least an hour straight on those nights.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Whether it was always in him to be like this with you, or if something about returning to life changed aspects of himself, Jon didn't know. But he could last for longer and stay hard so much longer then most men.
Jon could cum four times in a row and still be as hard and desperate as before the first. As long as something of his cock was inside you, Jon seemed to be able to last as long as it took to wear you out. His cock having that aggressive drive to fill you until he was empty just so he could do it all over again the next night. Hours it would last.
That night in the Ice Cells of Castle Black, Jon had no concept of how long he had been fucking you, but it was certainly past the hour mark by the time he pressed your back into the floor.
Again, Jon knew there was something not normal about the degree of his stamina, judging by the fact that he could spend hours fucking you so much that you practically would pass out in his arms, and Jon still would lay you down under the furs of his bed, telling himself that he can't just take you when you're this sensitive and already falling asleep.
If you truly tested his resolve, Jon would start at sun down and still be taking you by sun up. He'd need good few rests of a couple moments in between, for you and him, but it wasn't as if he needed much recovery time. On a good night, Jon wouldn't even get anywhere less then still more then half hard when pulling out of you until you two were fully exhausted.
Robb Stark:
Gods be good, the more Robb cums, the longer he can go it seems. You'd think he actually gets more hard after each time he cums inside you.
He has to rest in between, normally beacuse he knows he is rough on you and he doesn't want to accidentally push you from sensitive to in pain, but once the dust has settled? He's ready to go and Robb will tell you to just lay there and take it like a good girl if you're too tired to do the work.
He's perfectly content with doing the heavy lifting in bed for you, doing the hard work beacuse this is nothing compared to the hell outside your tent.
There are some nights his men are fully aware neither their King nor Queen got a wink of sleep, beacuse the guards near his tent could hear you both all night without exaggeration. If something could magically give Robb more energy when it made no sense, Robb had found that magical source in sinking his cock deep inside you.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon hadn't even gotten his cock inside you for the first time, he certainly wasn't about to let some pleasure toy get there before him.
He didn't really see the point as well, but he considered that maybe since he's a male, he might be unfairly overestimating the ease in which women would pleasure themselves. Men were a no brainer, but Jon had to take his time learning to fine tune your pleasure like a delicate instrument and toys might help in that capacity alone.
But he knew you didn't even realize such a thing existed, and he wasn't about to introduce that to you when he himself didn't like the idea.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Not a chance.
You had a significant amount of trauma behind you now, and thus you trusted Jon to take every step of the way to ensure you were safe and alright. Jon had no interest in using anything like a toy on you, he wanted to feel you, he wanted you to feel him.
Neither of you liked fucking in a way together with little physical contact and using a toy felt so lacking of intimacy. So lacking of passion. He couldn't gauge how you were feeling, or if you were close with a toy. Jon knew where you were at by the tiniest of clenches of your cunt around his cock or fingers and he'd never know with some toy inside you.
You wanted him, not something just used by him. And Jon wanted you, he wanted to feel you not just watch you get that feeling alone.
Robb Stark:
He wouldn't consider them toys, but he has tied you up before. Not much, just by the wrists but he wouldn't say that was a toy.
He knows what toys are out there and he dismisses that idea. What would something not real do for you that Robb couldn't give you himself in droves. He already has a cock that drives you insane, he has long fingers that reach your sensitive walls beyond what any toy could provide you.
Robb wants to tie you up more, blindfold you even but that was more of a, he wants you to trust him even more, sort of thing, rather then he wants to get wild with what he fucks you with. He wants what he introduces into sex to be a tool to help make the sex more pleasurable for you, not something to act as the sex itself without him.
Robb recalled once asking Theon what the point of them was, and having a good laugh between them that it's probably just what some Southerners invented beacuse their too boring with small cocks to actually pleasure a woman with what they barley have themselves.
And judging by how much you are utterly weak for Robbs touch, he would consider that to be likely more true then not.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon had to be subtle about it, but he was relentless.
Knew the exact look to give you to make you stiffen up and hide how flustered you could get. Knew just how briefly of a touch of his hand across your lower back as he passed in public to make your breathe hitch. Jon of course, also teased you just in words. He was quite good at teasing you at all stages of your friendship together but he was sadistic once you were were involved.
Some teasing was normal, others sounded more biting and mean to people around when you knew he was just trying to get you worked up. Get you annoyed, so that he could feel you melt against him later when he finally kissed you at your most irritated at him, and tease more that you were quite predictable.
This passed to touch as well, the first time he pleasured you was simple. A nice, exploration of his fingers on your clit as he worked out what you liked best, and just as he payed attention to what it is you about to cum looked and sounded like, did he pull away. Then he worked you up and did it again as you almost whined.
He loved it, he loved keeping you on an edge that had you not being able to do anything but rely on his touch, before he took it away at the perfect moment.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Gods be good, he is one of the seven hells sent directly to torment you. Jon no longer has to be subtle or secret, he can just tease you. It doesn't matter.
He doesn't act that way in public, no. But he doesn't need to hide his wants, desires, intentions. No, Jon can work you up in seconds and just keep you dangling over a free fall all day long. It's in his words, they aren't filthy, but they are needy. He wants you and he tells you, but he won't take you. He saves it, and torments you with his own patience.
He some days, won't let you cum. Gets you right there, and takes it away. Sometimes more then once in a row, and many times, he will keep you like that for days. Some times he teases you all the same the next night, sometimes Jon takes your orgasm away at the last minute in one overwhelming night and will just leave you like that for a week.
He loves it. He loves keeping you that way, keeping you needy for him, that the second his voice rasps low in your ear, you shiver for him.
If teasing you in and out of the bedroom could be a feat worth crowning one of, Jon would've been a King months earlier.
Robb Stark:
Robb wishes he had the patience to tease you, he does. But he doesn't.
He does it in small doses, will yank you to him and whisper that he wants you naked in his bed when he returns or that he expects his good girl to show her king her appreciation later that night. But it doesn't tease beyond that really.
He prefers to take his time with you, and teasing you like that doesn't really fit into that mindset for Robb. If he wants you, he wants you then so why would he tease you for later? Part of it stems from how much you are by his side. Robb constantly has you beside him, often with a hand on you somewhere. Leaving a kiss to your hair, or a gentle kiss as he runs his thumb along your cheek in front of his men beacuse he needs you to breathe more then the air around him.
Robb doesn't want to tease you more then the little bit he does, he just wants you. And out in a war, there isn't a worse place he could think of to be a tease. He will work you up as much as it takes for you to know he wants you in his tent that night before it got too late to take care of you, but he has no patience for teasing beyond that. He already has you, he doesn't want to waste that time.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
If he and you are in the castle in Winterfell? Jon tries his best to be very quiet. He wasn't loud, more of a growl or a hiss at the sensation.
But sometimes a deep gutted groan could leave him, and that certainly was not common enough of a sound from Jon to pretend it wasn't for something filthy.
He had one trick though once he and you got comfortable enough. Jon would yank down the front of your dress, usually pulling your arms from it or unclasping it enough so it pooled around your waist, and occupy his growls or grunts with his mouth on your breasts. It was the most perverse thing the two of you would do, but it kept Jon quiet, while his other hand honestly? Well if his mouth wasn't hiding your high pitched, beautiful gasps and whines in his kiss, he'd reach a free hand up and roughly cover your mouth as you grasped at his wrist with both hands. Burying in each other to hide the sounds of your sinful secret together.
If you two were out in the wolfswood alone, it was a bit easier. Jon would let himself rumble deep, and freely encourage your breathless gasps with a gentle press of his lips over your cheek, forehead, neck, whatever he could reach.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Take that growling and grunting, and multiply it by a hundred. Jon once more, knows he no longer has any need to hide what you two do. No one cares that he has you in his bed, and so no one who could even hear through the thick stone walls that muffled much noise, would think twice.
They knew you two were together, it didn't matter now.
Jon could growl and hiss as you clenched tight and soaked around his cock, bite at your neck until he could rasp deep and strained in your ear, as he spoke the first things on his mind usually much more needy and filthy then he intended.
If he was trying to be discreet, he would bury his mouth into your neck with kisses, licks, bites, sucking rough bruises into the skin and it would cover the deep noises from within. But in turn it made you gasp and cry for him so loudly that everyone would hear anyways.
Jon wasn't really a talker, not with sex especially. The closer his orgasm got the more his heart rambled, but it wasn't intentional. He spoke from his deep desire for you with raw intense honesty. All in between rough breathing to keep him collected, only to feel that hiss or growl in his chest at how beautiful you felt around him.
If no one heard you two in low tones though, many would simply be able to hear the smack of skin as he fucked into you rough, or the hard bang of a table slamming against a wall, if he took you somewhere more public.
Robb Stark:
At the most dense, Robb has had an army camp of almost thirty thousand men at the start of the war, when he had joined with the River Lords. If someone had told him that all thirty thousand men had heard Robb and you fucking at night, he'd smirk with pride and say he hopes they got off nice and hard to how perfect you begged and pleaded for your Kings cock.
Robb is a talker in bed, he runs his mouth as filth pours out. In return, you cry and moan and beg for him, and it all is a harmony of filth that he knows so many men by now have heard from you and him.
Robb doesn't moan, he growls and he groans rough when he's deep inside of you, his voice normally warm and soothing dropping to a strained roughness that scratches at your ears as much as it soaks you between your legs as well. Robb knows just what to say to make you an obedient little mate, and he takes full advantage of that the entire night.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Jon Snow:
If the only thing Jon was allowed to do for the rest of his life was kiss you, he'd never have a single thing to complain about. Last life or this one, Jon was addicted to your lips.
The way they were so soft, moulded to his perfectly, how sweet they tasted and how much you let his tongue explore your mouth with strong desire. He adored having his lips on you somehow, and the only thing that changed one he came back was he could now do it without fear of being caught. But the love for it stayed the same.
Kissing foreheads was something he always did with everyone, his brothers and sisters and you, but what was different is how rare it was that he gave you any passing kiss alone. A brush of his hand, lingering too long and getting too close to your lips when he pulled back.
To Jon, kissing you is practically a hobby. He finds his lips to you in some way constantly, and if he's inside you then he adores keeping your lips pressed to his. He loves to cum deep inside you, keeping your lips trapped against his kiss. Jon wishes to hear your moans, and swallow them into his own mouth, just so he can lick into yours and demand more sounds gifted into him.
If Jon would be able to say he has one talent, he was confident enough to say he's quite a good kisser. And he wants all of that to go to none but you. Jon kisses you more, then an entire brothel of whores will kiss all their paying men in their entire lives.
Robb Stark:
Telling you now would be so unfair, he knew. If he said it now, the man wasn't there to defend himself or refute it, and beacuse of that, he didn't want such a comment to change your view of your best friend.
But Robb was not stupid. Robb was more observant then he was likely given credit for on this one, but it didn't bother him so he didn't bring it up to a soul, not him, and definitely not you.
He didn't know the true extend of how strong it was, or if he had feelings, or for how long he felt this way. Robb didn't know those details, but he knew without any doubt, that in one way or another, Jon Snow wanted you.
He had suspected it for a while since your last visit. The way Jon would look at you, was so much more then the man thought he was giving off. He was so brooding and grouchy the month before you arrived with the Kings company, and Robb truly felt bad. Here Jon was, desperately wanting to fuck you, his best friend, only to now watch you get married to Robb.
But now, Jon was at the wall, and you were Robbs wife. Telling you now would just be rude, and a breach of trust that Jon didn't know Robb had been holding onto. But the real thing that he wasn't saying, was that if for some miracle, Robb won the war, and brought you home to Winterfell, he had seriously considered it.
Either Robb would get lucky enough to find a way to bring his brother home where he belongs, or Jon would simply come visit, the way their Uncle Benjen came to visit their father. There was no harm, you were Robbs wife after all, that wasn't breaking a vow.
But Robb couldn't help but wonder, if he could at the least get Jon to come visit from the wall, he wondered how easy it would be to convince his brother to fuck you. Now, Robb wasn't just handing you over to his brother, but just maybe, Robb wondered, Jon might be open to sharing at least some parts of you, if just your body.
Robb held out hope he could bring you home one day, and just maybe, find enough in his jealous heart to share at least something of you with Jon. He was at the wall after all, and you were his best friend.
It wouldn't be much, but maybe the wall would be a little less lonely for his brother, if Jon were to go back with the freedom to know what it felt like to slide his cock into his best friend's sweet, soaking cunt, and more perversely, how it felt to willingly fuck his brothers wife.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Jon Snow:
Jon had an ongoing joke with Tormund, just taking any opportunity the free folk could find to make some comment about how small Jon was.
It had stemmed from a nickname which Tormund called him all of his own choosing anyways. The tall, lumbering man with wild orange hair, thick beard and loomed over most. He would joke and call Jon "Little Crow", and that turned right into jokes about his size. But in honesty, that was the furthest from the truth.
He didn't quite realize at first if he was well endowed, Jon having little to no interactions that would end up at discussing cock size, all he knew was the nights he'd help guide your clothed self over his covered cock, at his most hard Jon knew he would sometimes feel you shake, hold tightly onto his shoulders and try to hide the nervous exhale at the feeling. Well, if the free folk were anything, it was not shy about that sort of aspect of them. Only realizing internally that there weren't quite many who matched up to him.
He was long, yes. And it showed even when he wasn't at all hard, how long he was. But it was how thick his cock was that was the intimidating factor, at least in terms of fucking you. His cock was long, but adding just how shockingly thick his girth was, he always left a stinging burn when he slid inside you.
Jon was just lucky that you craved that very feeling as much as he wanted to give it to you.
Robb Stark:
Robb has a distinct memory of when he had sex for the first time, how the girl afterwards when getting dressed, made a comment that for someone whose never been inside a woman before, Robb knew how to use a cock like that.
At the time Robb just wanted to put his clothes on and leave, but she then kept going. Saying that most men with a big cock were idiots, and that Robb fucked like a man who was compensating for a small one but without the small part. He didn't care about that until he married you. Then suddenly, Robb was all too aware that yes, he was well endowed and knew how to fuck.
Because now you were his little innocent wife about to take her first cock, and it was long and thick. He had kept your eyes on his when he finally undressed so you didn't get intimidated, only to then make you watch as he slid inside you for the first time, so you understood how much you were taking inside you.
He knew you would feel that sting the next day constantly from his size, but that just meant Robb knew he needed to work you up and make you wet as could be to reduce the chance of his thick cock hurting rather then being a perfect pleasurable amount of pain.
Though, Robb would admit, he got off way too much at how wide his cock stretched your pretty mouth when you sucked him.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Sex wasn't something he thought of all too often. Honestly, most of Jons sex drive in those days were also tied simply with how much he missed you.
He felt more worked up about being with you when you were in Kings Landing and he couldn't do a single thing about that. He never told you just how often he'd read your newest letter to him, sitting it on his desk, bracing one hand against the stone wall in front of him and stroking his cock with the other as he read it. Trying to hear your voice, pretend as if he knew what your hands on his cock would feel like, pretend he had any clue what being inside you could feel like.
He ruined a few of your letters with that habit, not that he ever said it to you. But it was just something desperate really. He felt lonely without you.
When you were in Winterfell, he wasn't that worked up. He knew his time with you had to be careful, and you two would enjoy the other to the fullest when you got away alone. But when you were gone, you weren't just the woman he loved. You were his best friend, and being in love with your best friend meant that a lot of how much he just missed you, ended up tying itself into how much he yearned to touch you.
You were so much more then just a woman he wanted to touch, but when you weren't there to calm him down with your mere comforting presence, Jon had no outlet but that.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If putting gold on it, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive. And if he did bet on it, he would wind up being the poorest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.
It wasn't out of control, Jon had a strong drive and focus as a leader, but he could take you any time of the day. He didn't ever not want you. Jon could control his want when he needed to, and that was easy but the moment he could find any excuse to take advantage of your alone time, Jon felt his need clawing at his chest like an animal desperate to rut.
He fucked you quick during the day all the time, beacuse he was always just that ready to take you, always wanted you even when he was skilled at never showing it. He didn't want you thinking he just wanted to fuck you like an object, you weren't a whore in a brothel he wanted to use.
Jon absolutely adores you, but both your pasts have made sex something a bit strangely tied to how Jon shows he loves you. A lot of sexual trauma sat between you two, you from Ramsay, Jon from Ygritte but together you and him were learning to move forward and find a healing together. That just meant learning that Jon was a wolf with a ridiculously large appetite, but it was always with love.
He didn't want to be without you, and sometimes the only way Jon, a brooding, stoic man of not many words, knew how to express that was to taste you, kiss you, and fuck you. It was a way to express his feelings as well as move together past something that still deeply haunted you both in your own ways.
But if you asked him, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive, and Tormund and Theon who have to stand there and watch how ridiculously turned on Jon would get around you constantly, would just glance at the other with an exasperated shake of their heads at Jons degree of denial.
Robb Stark:
It was a bit complicated, essentially, Robb only had much of a sex drive when he knew he had time.
First leading a war, then becoming their King and having so much of the Lannister regime fighting against him alone that he had to split his mind into two. If he was thinking about the war, he didn't want to distract himself, and you were a perfect Queen by his side and knew exactly when Robb wanted to focus.
But then at night, when it was quiet and Robb could have you all to himself, then he suddenly felt that drive come crashing through the walls of his tent and bombard him. Once alone, you worked Robb up to wanting to fuck you in seconds. You just had to look at him alone in your tent and Robb was already almost fully hard, you made it so easy.
Sun down to sun up, Robb wanted you again and again and he could think of nowhere else he wanted to be then with you, and inside of you. You were his perfect girl, and your drive matched his perfectly too. You always wanted each other at the same time, so once Robb wanted to fuck, you were ready to hand yourself over to his cock and his mercy or lack there of, depending on the day.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon never slept very well. Always would either wake up and be unable to go back to sleep, or he couldn't fall asleep in the first place. And in truth, it left a lot of nights where all Jon wanted to do, was leave his room, go down the stairs to the corridors your room was in, and find his way into laying in bed with you. He'd imagine how gently he'd crawl in beside you, gently guiding you onto your side so he could pull your back against his chest and hold you tight.
But he couldn't do that, no matter what you two did, sexual or otherwise, as soon as you and Jon were with the other, falling asleep in the others bed was a bad idea. You or him would gravitate into the others gentle embrace fast asleep too unplatonically to explain it away should one of his siblings walk in.
Which Jon hated, considering during your first visit to Winterfell, you sometimes had difficult nights you couldn't sleep or a windy storm would blow through the castle and more then once you'd find your way to Jons room asking if it was alright if you slept in there, you feeling a bit nervous being in that corridor all alone.
So now, Jon would spend his nights with you, exploring you, kissing you and he'd have to part ways to sleep separately and he never slept more then 5 hours at the most after that. He missed having you close too much.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon still didn't sleep well if you weren't there.
His bed too cold, his arms with nothing to pull tenderly into his chest, he couldn't lean over and press a tender kiss to your sleeping lips beacuse you were too beautiful to resist. He wanted you in his arms at night.
But when you two would fuck, Jon willingly didn't sleep for a while after as well. He'd run his hands gentle along you until you fell asleep, then he'd switch between watching you in more peace then you ever looked in your waking hours, or running his hands along your bare skin beacuse he loved how soft you were under his rough, large hands. On nights he wore you out particularly rough, you'd fall asleep so easily and he loved doing that for you.
You had nightmares now, more then you were ever willing to admit, and the more exhausted Jon made you with his cock, the better you slept after. And Jon liked to hold you, watch you sleep and ensure he was keeping you safe even now from the horrors in your own mind. And only when you had been quiet and peaceful for a good half hour to an hour, would Jon finally fall asleep.
You were the most vulnerable when you slept in his arms, and Jon was there to protect you. And he just liked staying awake to do that, getting some time to himself to admire you blatantly without you getting flustered over his loving gaze for so long.
Robb Stark:
Robb only slept well with you twice since marrying you.
Both of those times when you were in his bed in Winterfell after becoming his wife. Robbs room was decorative and the fabrics draped around kept the heat in well so it was always cozy in there, and under the furs of his bed. Robb never treasured a nights sleep more then the only two times so far he had in his bed with you as his wife.
He slept terribly in the war. Some nights he was so busy you couldn't even convince him to come and sleep at all, and you'd have to try again the next night. So when it was all said and done, Robb would lay with you asleep in his arms and be awake for a while. Longer then he was honest with you about.
He'd run through war strategy day after day, and at night try and piece together the life he wanted to bring you home to once this was all over. You didn't sleep well either, but as long as Robb fucked you, you slept better then he did and so he'd do it every night if it were that easy. When he did sleep, it was more what he wanted, being in bed with you in his arms, but Robb never got as much sleep as he would have, should he be able to bring you home safely to Winterfell.
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#jon snow#robb stark#game of thrones#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#jon snow x you#robb stark x you#jon snow imagine#robb stark imagine
517 notes
·
View notes
Text
Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Competition
Part two to Share (here) which is the rivalry before hand or you can read this as stand alone smut. Part three at bottom
Pairing: Jon x f!reader, Robb x f!reader
Summary: just smut
Warnings: dom robb, dom jon, p in v sex, fingering, oral m and f receiving, spanking, threesome 18+
Word count: 3551
Masterlist Here
“What exactly am I supposed to be choosing?” you asked.
“My lady we can explain,” Jon began to stammer, cheeks going their familiar cute shade of pink, “Robb and I well we- “
“We both have an affection for you,” Robb continued trying to sound confident, but his voice failed him, “And we have been uh debating,” Robb said causing you to laugh.
“Debating?” you questioned, “It sounded more like an argument,” this time it was Robbs turn to blush and turn his eyes away.
Jon continued for his brother, “We just were trying to figure out which one of us you liked. Assuming you do like one of us,” Both boys were struggling to meet your gaze at this point.
“I might,” you said with a slight smirk causing both boys heads to snap up, their eyes watching you intently as you smirked leaning against your chamber door.
“Well, which one of us is it?” Robb asked with eager eyes. He was internally praying to the gods to give him some luck or at least to have him swallowed up by the grounds if he was wrong about your affection. Jon was silently thinking the same.
You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Who said it was one of you?” you said with a slight smirk. Both boys looked confused at your words. You walked closer to the pair with each word, “Would it be so bad if I didn’t choose? Were you not taught how to share?”
Your hands moved to rest on Robbs chest, looking up at him with a smile toying on your lip. “What do you think Robbie? Are you good at sharing?”
Robbs eyes flickered to Jon who was watching all of your movements. You couldn’t possibly be suggesting what they thought you were. “My lady,” Robb said, eyes returning to you, “What are you suggesting?”
You laughed lightly, stepping back from the taller boy before turning to Jon, “I think Jon knows,” you hummed causing Jon to look to the floor, face flushed bright pink, “Don’t you Jon?” you teased.
“I think I do my lady,” Jon murmured.
You moved closer to Jon, lifting his head up by his chin. Jon gazed at you with desperate eyes. Slowly, your lips moved to close the gap, capturing his into a gentle soft kiss. Jons eyes fluttered closed at the soft skin of your lips on his. It was sweeter than any wine and his lips chased after yours when you pulled back.
Now you turned your attention to Robb who was silently stewing at his brother receiving all your attention, “Don’t pout,” you teased when you walked up to the taller man hands finding his strong shoulders again, “There’s enough of me to go around,”
Robbs strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, pulling them into his harshly and causing you to gasp, “I don’t pout,” he almost growled before his lips dove down to capture yours. His kiss was hungry as his rough lips moved against your soft ones as you tried to keep up with his pace. Your lungs were screaming but air did not seem to matter anymore.
When the kiss broke Robb span you around by your hips, pressing your back into his chest, to face Jon. You could feel Robbs hard on pressing into your back. Jon’s face was darker than Robbs, with lust and anger spread across his skin. “What do you say?” Robb said, his hands still firmly placed on your hips to keep you in place, “Think you can handle a little competition?”
“It’s not a- “you started but Jon cut you off this time.
“Oh, but it is,” he said, walking closer to you, his chest a few inches from yours but eyes on Robbs, “Don’t throw a fit when im better at this than you,”
A dark chuckle fell from Robbs throat causing shivers to go down your spine, “You wish Snow,”
Jons eyes fell from Robbs to yours, his hands moving to gently take your face into his palms, “Maybe we should let you decide,” he said with a low voice, “You want us to share? Take turns fucking you?” his warm breath fanned your face and made shivers go down your skin. All you could do was nod. Jon took that as his que and his lips crashed onto yours, his hands moving to push Robb back and pull you by your waist into him. You craved the warmth of Robb against your skin again, but Jons lips were so sweet.
It felt like a perfect eternity however a rough hand suddenly pulled your shoulder, forcing the kiss to break. Robb stood in your place looking down at Jon, glaring into his eyes before turning to you, “Lay on the bed sweetheart,” he said with a softness to his voice, “Jon and I need to talk first,”
“Why don’t you strip while you wait,” Jon said before walking with Robb to the opposite side of the room to talk in hushed whispers.
You did as you were told, stripping down to your thin under shift which did little to cover your shape. Laying down on the bed of soft furs, you gazed at the two men across the room to admire their features when Robb suddenly looked, and your eyes snapped back to watch the ceiling as you waited.
You didn’t have to wait long as you heard footsteps crossing the room. Robb sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to stroke your jaw, “Are you sure about this?” he asked, all anger from before gone from his voice, “We can stop at any point,”
“I’m sure,” you said with a soft smile as you leaned into his soft touch, “I want you. I want both of you,” your eyes flickering to Jon who stood just behind Robb. You sat up slightly, your hand moving to rest on the back of Robbs neck, “Please,”
That was all it took for Robb to join his lips to yours, soft at first but a growing neediness began as he began to nip at your bottom lip. You gasped as his teeth sunk into your soft bottom lip, but it soon turned to a moan as his tongue slipped in and his hands moved to explore your body. First, they went down your shoulders, his touch gentle to start, before they moved to your breasts, squeezing them firmly making you moan.
Robb broke the kiss but only to strip off his outer clothes and tunic, leaving him in just trousers and his undershirt. You could see the hair on his chest peaking out and moved your hands to feel his hard chest under the thin fabric, “Like what you see?” Robb said with a cocky smile when he noticed your gaze.
Your blush didn’t matter as he pushed you down by your shoulder to crawl on top of you, his legs settling between yours. He began to grind down his hips into yours, his hard bulge pressing against your thinly clothed cunt. A hollow spot began to grow in your stomach as his bulge rubbed against your clothed clit, moving at just the right firm but slow pace.
Robb moved his lips from yours to leave harsh kisses to your jaw, down your neck, and to your collarbones. “Do you still have that red dress? The one that goes up to here?” he asked, tapping at the bottom of your throat. You nodded, “You’ll need to wear it tomorrow,” his voice was breathy, almost panting but you could not care when he began to suck dark marks along your collarbone.
Your hands moved to tangle in his curly hair, making him groan at your touch. His hands still squeezing your tits in his hands, “You care about this shift?” he asked and this time you shook your head. You gasped when you heard fabric ripping and the cold air hit your chest. Robbs lips licked over your nipple causing it to harden under his tongue. He continued his assaults on your breast, one with his hand, rolling and pinching your bud between his fingers, the other with his mouth. You could not contain your moans as his teeth grazed over your hardened bud. “Robb,” you moaned.
He let go of your nipple with a pop, making a whine leave your lips, “Yeah me. It’s me who’s making you feel so good?” he asked with a smirk as he continued to roll his hips into yours.
You whined again when his hips stopped but held your breath when one of his hands moved down your body to move between your thighs, “Do I make you feel good?” he asked, his breath fanning your face, his lips so close but so far from your own.
You could feel his finger trailing up your already wet slit. “Yes,” you stuttered, unable to take your eyes off of his.
As soon as you said it Robb pushed a finger into you, his lips finding your neck again. He slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, “Please,” you whined, and you felt his smirk against your skin.
Robb added another finger, a slight burn growing at the stretch but quickly disappearing as his fingers moved inside you at a slightly faster pace. You moaned as he began to lightly suck at your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him more space.
As you did your eyes fell on Jon who had moved to sit on a chair across the room, his eyes locked on you. your eyes scanned down his body and a smile on your lips when you could so clearly see the outline of his cock from his trousers. He had stripped down to his own trousers and undershirt, but it did little to hide his body which was more toned than you had expected.
Your attention was drawn back when Robb moved his thumb to rub against your clit as his fingers began to curl. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you moaned from his touch, a warm feeling spreading across your body. Moaning his name only made him speed up.
Jon watched the sight, his eyes dark with lust. The sight of him watching you, already hard only made you want this more. Then Robb curled his fingers in just the right way. Your body tensed up before all the pressure released liked water from a burst dam. Robb moved his hand to cover your mouth when a loud moan began as you came around his fingers. You gazed into Robbs eyes as you finished riding your orgasm on his fingers. “Not too loud darling,” Robb grinned as he placed a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t want someone interrupting out fun,”
“My turn,” Jon said as he stood from the chair.
Robb rolled his eyes, “Speaking of,” he looked down at you, pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling suddenly empty. “I’ll be right over there darling,” Robb said before getting off the bed.
You sat up as Jon walked over and stood at the edge of the bed. “Hey,” you said with a soft smile.
Jons hands moved to hold your face, guiding you over to sit on the edge of the bed looking up at him, “Hey,” he finally replied, his voice low, “You look so fucking good,” he said before his lips crashed onto yours.
You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, your neck craning up to meet his lips. You felt him slowly move down to sit on his knees, his face now eyelevel with your breasts. Jon moved his hands down to squeeze them gently before trailing them down your half-torn shift to rest on your hips. His fingers dug into the flesh. “I want you,” he said, breaking the kiss with ragged breath.
“I want you too Jon,” you said.
His eyes scanned over your body, “You’re so fucking perfect,” Jons hands gripped your hips tighter, “I wanna make you feel good. Lay down for me,” When you went to move back onto the middle of the bed he stopped you, “No love, just lay down here,” Jon pushed your shoulders gently to make you lay down, confusion written on your face as you did.
Jons hands pushed up the remaining fabric of your shift to reveal you to him. Your breath hitched when you felt his hot breath against your wet cunt. a shiver went through you when you felt his face sink lower. Jon placed soft kisses to your inner thighs. You moaned when he sucked the flesh, leaving small hickeys into the sensitive skin. Finally, Jon turned to the part of you that ached.
The hot breath on you was already making the hair stand up on your body. Jon moved your legs to rest over his shoulders, his fingers resting on your hips. When Jon leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cunt you couldn’t help but whine. Your hand moved to gently rest on the back of his head as he licked a soft stripe up your slit. Then again and again till he was lapping up your juices like a starved man, his fingers digging into your hips. It was the only thing stopping you from bucking them as his tongue began to dive into you causing a knot to build in your stomach. “Jon please fuck,” your moans were breathier this time.
When Jons nose began to nuzzle into your clit you couldn’t help the loud whiney moan that fell from your lips. Jon pulled his lips off of your wet cunt for just a moment, “Can you do something Robb?” he said but the way his breath felt against your wet cunt was already making you whine again.
Robb crossed the room quickly to sit beside you on the bed. When Jons lips clashed back onto your cunt a moan fell from your lips only to be cut off by Robb crashing his into yours. He held you by your jaw as his lips danced with yours in a sloppy hungry dance. Robb couldn’t help himself when his hand moved to grab your tit, rolling your nipple in between his fingers.
Jon broke his downstairs kiss again much to your dismay “I don’t need help,” he said before diving back in.
“Its not for you,” Robb panted before capturing your lips again.
Nothing else seemed to matter as a hot knot began spiralling inside of you. especially not when Jon moved his fingers into your hole so he could free his mouth up to gently suck on your clit. If not for Robbs lips on yours the room would have been filled with your loud whines. It didn’t take long for the pressure to burst like a balloon inside of you especially when Jons teeth grazed your clit.
Robb had to hold you up as you rode out your orgasm on Jons face who didn’t stop until your body was twitching beneath him. Jon stood up from between your legs to look down at you, “Maybe we could share?” he said, eyes flickering to Robb.
“What were you thinking?” Robb said, eyes locked on you as you looked between the two men.
“I get her mouth,” Jon said, hand gripping your jaw.
“Good,” Robb grinned as he got off the bed and began to pull the rest of his clothes off, “I always wanted to be the one that fucked her,”
When Robb finally unlaced his trousers, you saw his cock spring free. It was hard, the tip was already red and leaking precum. You stared at it in a mix of amazement and fear when you realised its size. This was not helped by Jon pulling off his own trousers. Neither man was lacking in that department. Jons cock was thicker and slightly shorter but just as desperate as Robbs.
As Jon was pulling off his undershirt Robb moved to pull you across the bed, “Its not polite to stare,” he grinned as he moved you to kneel in front of him with your back against his chest.
“Sorry,” you stuttered as his hands moved to push the torn fabric off your shoulders before they moved to your breasts.
“Don’t need to be sorry love,” Jon said as he climbed on the bed to be kneeling in front of you, “Just need to let us take care of you,” he said caressing your face, “You wanna suck my cock while Robb fucks you silly?” All shyness had left Jons body by now as he stared down at you, hungry for your mouth on him.
The words were enough to make you shiver and you felt yourself grow wetter, “Yes please,” you murmured as Jons fingers traced your lips.
He pulled you in for one last brief kiss before moving back. Robb placed a gentle kiss to your neck before pushing you down to be on all fours in front of him, “If you wanna stop all you need to do is double tap my thighs,” Jon assured as you took your place, but you had no intention of stopping any of this.
“You look so fucking good right now,” Robb praised as he took his hard cock in hand, trailing its tip along your wet folds, “I’ve been waiting to fuck you for so long,” he said, his tip gently easing into your hole. His size caused a burn as he entered you slowly making you gasp. Jon held your face in his hand as Robb pushed himself slowly in, “You feel so good,” you heard him grunt.
Soon he was all the way inside of you, his length filling you complete. After a couple moments of easing to the pain you nodded up and Jon who did the same to Robb. Robbs hands found your hips, gripping the soft flesh gently as he began to pull out slightly before thrusting back in. you gasped as he began to thrust into you, moving slowly to begin with.
You looked up to see Jons cock staring back at you, its tip wet with precum. When you looked up at him through your eyelashes Jon almost came at the sight. “Please,” you whimpered as Robb continued his thrusts. “Please Jon,”
Jon did not need anymore instruction as he moved forward to put his cock into your open mouth. The feeling of your wet tongue under his cock and your soft lips wrapping around his shaft made him groan. You began to bob your head up and down his length, your mouth struggling to take him all in.
Meanwhile Robbs thrusts began to increase and which each thrust you found yourself taking more of Jons cock in your mouth. When Robb licked his fingers before moving them to rub sloppy circles onto your wet clit your moans vibrated up Jons cock. Jon couldn’t help his hips from bucking as he began to fuck your mouth back.
Their thrusts became synced and as Jon thrust into your mouth you were pushed deeper onto Robbs cock, his tip hitting new places. Jons hands moved to your hair, gripping it as he tried to steady himself so overwhelmed with pleasure.
Robbs hand went between gripping your hip to placing hard smacks on your ass to make it jiggle even more. The sight just made him want you more. His thrusts grew harder and faster.
You could feel Jons cock twitch in your mouth which made you moan once again on his cock. “I can’t- “Jon gasped when he suddenly spilled his seed into your throat. Robb did not stop his thrusts as you swallowed the seed, Jons face screwed up in pleasure before he pulled his cock out your mouth, leaving a trail of spit and cum behind.
When Jon moved back you couldn’t keep yourself up for much longer. Robb moved his hand to push your shoulders down into the mattress, your fingers curling up into the furs as Jon moved to lay beside where Robb continued to fuck you. however, this new position made Robbs cock hit new spots which caused a load moan to rip from your throat. Jon moved your head so that your moans were now muffled by the pillow Robb was fucking you into. You felt your last and most intense orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Robbs cock. Robb tried to ride out your orgasm but as your walls clenched around him, he felt his cock twitch before he spilled, eyes screwing shut as he gasped for air.
Robb knelt back onto his knees as he got his breath back. Meanwhile Jon had moved you to lay in his arms beside him as you were still panting from your last orgasm, unable to speak from all the pleasure.
“You did amazing,” Jon praised, leaving a soft kiss to your head.
Robb moved to fall beside you on the bed, rolling onto his side to face you, “Absolutely perfect darling,” he agreed, kissing your cheek. “We’ll have to do it again sometime,”
“Agreed,” you panted.
Jon nodded in agreement, “But next time I get to fuck her,”
“We’ll see,”
Part Three Here
Game of Thrones Taglist @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy
#robb stark angst#robb stark x reader#robb stark imagine#robb stark#robb stark smut#jon snow x reader#jon snow imagine#jon snow angst#jon snow#jon snow smut#game of thrones smut#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader#richard madden smut#richard madden imagine#richard madden x reader#kit harrington smut#kit harrington imagine#kit harrington x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Jon Snow x she/her!reader
warning: brief reference to attempted SA
part one can be found here
Yours - Part Two
Tension rose between the two hot-headed siblings as they discussed the plan for their future, where such a plan would take them. Sansa was set on starting a war with Ramsay Bolton and taking back their home, saving you in the process, but having already been aged by the ways of war, Jon stood to his feet.
“I am tired of fighting. It’s all I’ve done since I left home. I’ve killed brothers of the Night’s Watch, I’ve killed wildlings, I’ve killed men that I admire, I hanged a boy, younger than Bran! I’ve fought, and I lost.” He was exhausted, in mind, body and soul.
But when Sansa stepped toward her brother and held his gaze, she knew exactly what she needed to say.
“You have not lost, because she is still waiting for you. She will believe until the day she dies that you are coming to save her, because that is who you are to her. You’ve fought, and now you must fight for her.”
Something flickered in Jon then, a spark that only you could ignite. “I have always fought for her.”
“Then do it once more. This time, knowing she is on the other side. If we don’t take back the north, we’ll never be safe. I want you to help me, but I’ll do it myself if I have to.” Sansa raised an eyebrow, seeing the fire in her brother’s eyes and knowing that you have succeeded, as you always have, in bringing Jon Snow back to his senses.
It was only then, Sansa chose to disclose the nature of your capture. With every detail, Jon’s blood boiled in his veins. Chained by one wrist to the leg of a bed, forced to live each day and night on the castle floor, in complete darkness, save for when Ramsay Bolton decided to pay you a visit for a regular beating. That particular comment made Jon visibly flinch, fists clenching at the thought of getting his hands on the man that thought he had any right to touch you. While Sansa tried to free you, the door to the room you were trapped in was locked and she did not have time to search for the key, you would not let her, instead you had been shouting for her to go, to escape to the Wall, to Jon.
In that moment, Jon Snow knew he was ready to beat Ramsay Bolton to death. And that was only exacerbated by the raven he decided to send to the wall, addressed to Jon, regarding his sister and younger brother, Rickon, with disgusting threats. There was no mention of you in the letter, but Sansa assured Jon this was a good thing, because it meant Ramsay did not intend to use you as a bargain, he did not think you were important enough, so he would keep you alive as his plaything. Jon did not find that as comforting as Sansa had intended.
Following Sansa’s advice, Jon arranged a meeting with Ramsay Bolton upon gathering his forces. By no means did they have enough men to truly beat Ramsay, but Jon was certain that he alone could blaze through an army, knowing you were on the other side of it.
Naturally, Ramsay arrived late to their meeting, leaving Jon, Sansa, and their accompanying party of Lords and Ladies from the northern houses that had rallied behind them, waiting in the clear field that surrounded Winterfell until Ramsay Bolton approached on his horse with his own display of Lords.
Smiling at Sansa on his arrival, Ramsay addressed her first, then looked to Jon, seemingly bemused by the sight of him as he greeted him with far less respect, if that is what his greeting to his wife could be deemed as.
“Come, bastard, you don't have the men, you don't have the horses, and you don't have Winterfell - why lead those poor souls to slaughter? There’s no need for a battle, get off your horse and kneel. I am a man of mercy”
Jon smirked at him. “You’re right, there’s no need for a battle. Thousands of men dont need to die, only one of us. Let’s end this the old way - you against me.”
And Jon so wished the bastard opposite him would be foolish enough to agree. He could be the greatest fighter in the history of Westeros, and Jon would fancy his chances, for you.
Unfortunately, Ramsay laughed at that suggestion. “I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you, you’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don't know if I’d beat you, but I know that my army will beat yours. I have 6,000 men, you have, what, half that? Not even?”
Jon was thoroughly enjoyed taunting such a petulant child. “Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you, when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?”
Ramsay pointed to Jon, laughing. “He’s good, very good. Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you’re too proud to surrender?”
It was then, Sansa spoke up. “How do we know you have him?”
And with a nod from Ramsay, one of his men threw the severed head of Rickon’s direwolf in between their respective parties.
Trying her best not to show any kind of reaction on her face, Sansa nodded. “And what of my maid?”
Ramsay shrugged. “Well, dear wife, with you gone, I will have no choice but to turn to the others at my disposal, to…serve me.”
It took more strength than Jon Snow had ever had to conjure up for anything, to not launch himself from his horse and tackle Ramsay from his, beating him into the earth below. With everything he had, he held onto what was at stake, what Sansa had advised him would keep him safest, and held his ground, restricting his visceral response to Ramsay’s words to the slightest clench of his own horse’s reins. “I wonder, will your men want to fight for you when they find out the only women you can keep at your side are your prisoners? A man who cannot please a woman is hardly one to inspire the heart’s of men.”
Ramsay tilted his head to the side, his ego clearly pricked by the notion of being undesirable. “Do you mean to tell me, bastard, that you broke your sacred Oath as well as deserted your post?”
At that, Jon scoffed. “No man would ask such a question, but a boy would. Killing your father does not make you a man, neither does forcing yourself upon a thousand slaves.”
Ramsay composed himself, Jon only picking up on the tiniest flash of a tantrum behind his eyes. “I have heard of your righteousness, bastard. That, I suppose, is the one thing you must have received from your father, and look where it got him.”
Oh, Jon Snow knew he was going to enjoy dragging out Ramsay Bolton’s death for as long as possible.
For the rest of the day, following the conclusion of their meeting, Jon’s mind was spinning with the threats Ramsay Bolton had made against you and your virtue. He hoped to the Gods he had not given himself away in his fists clenched the reigns of his horse, but that was the most he could do to conceal the fury that raged within him. Even during the continued discussions of the battle plan he had formed with his men, thoughts of you tugged at the back of Jon’s mind constantly. Having once again butted heads with Sansa, she began to take her leave from the tent Jon was situated in.
Turning to face him one last time, she held his gaze. “If Ramsay wins, I'm not going back there alive. Do you understand me?”
Jon’s heart sank in his chest, immediately understanding what she was insinuating. “I won't ever let him touch you, or (Y/N), again. I’ll protect you both, I promise.”
In her angered, traumatized state, Sansa seemed almost offended at such a sincere promise. “No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone.”
He dared not argue with her, but he knew that she was wrong. Jon would protect her, and you, even if it killed him. To die for someone he loved would be a better demise than his first.
That night, Jon Snow laid in the bed of his tent and stared up at the ceiling. He knew he needed the rest, but could not quiet his mind in the wake of what the dawn would bring. A war like none he had ever faced, with you on the other side. Reaching into the shirt pocket that sat directly above his heart, Jon retrieved the folded, aged piece of parchment that was worn and faded by the countless instances of him rereading it. Huffing beside his bed, Ghost nudged the back of Jon’s hand, bringing a soft smile back to his face as he tore his gaze from the page.
“We’ll get her back, Ghost, we have to.” He whispered, and Ghost breathed deeply in response, agreeing in his own way.
Following suit, Jon took a deep breath of his own and closed his eyes, folding the parchment back into a neat square and slotting it back into his pocket, feeling a piece of him returning as he did. He envisioned himself as the boy he once was, lying in the godswood, under the weirwood tree, with his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. If he focussed hard enough, he could almost feel your fingertips against his scalp. That was the only sensation that could bring rest to his racing mind, on the eve of war.
The next morning, the sun rose high, illuminating the field of battle as Jon rode his men to their frontline. Seeing the army that stood between himself and you, Jon began to doubt whether he really could make it to the other side. That was, until a raven flew from one side of the field to the other. Upon one of the wildlings shooting it down, Jon was handed a small scroll of parchment tied with a torn black cord, a slightly crooked sword charm hanging from it, and a strand of your hair that fell with a wind that slowed time to a stop as Jon untied it with trembling hands. Seeing red, his eyes scanned the page, the words that were written on it, and the heart that he firmly believed still resided with you dropped to the field below him.
“She screamed terribly for you when I tried to take this from her. The bastard’s common whore screamed loudest for me, in the end. But fear not, she won’t be making a sound like that again, or any other for that matter.
I’ll let you watch her rot, if you like.
Come and see.”
The parchment fell from Jon Snow’s shaking fists, landing on the ground atop the hair that Ramsay Bolton had ripped from your head, but the necklace stayed clenched in Jon’s fist. It couldn’t be true, he told himself, he would feel it if you were no longer there, if you were not waiting for him anymore. As hard as it hammered in his chest, his heart felt the same way it did before, that it was not truly with him. It would have returned to him, were you not there to take care of it anymore, he thought. But deep within his soul, Jon knew that his heart would stay with you long after yours had stopped beating, for his heart had been with you when it had stopped beating in his own body. He truly believed that you were what had brought him back to this life in that sense. What would be the purpose in bringing his greatest motivation for winning such a battle, leading him to the field of war and then taking you from him. It did not make sense, Jon thought, and used that to rationalize to himself that Ramsay Bolton was simply lying for the sake of distracting him. Little did Ramsay know, Jon’s mind was solely on you regardless of such a threat.
And as he unclenched his fists to tie the black cord at the back of his neck, icy gaze fixed on the form he recognised on the opposite side of the field, Jon Snow knew that he would make it through any number of men to punish the one that dared to take a single hair from your head.
The short lived hope of being able to save his younger brother, Rickon, only set Jon’s resolve further into stone. Through a sea of arrows, Jon Snow rode his horse until he was thrown from it, and then he stood. Arrows at his feet that stuck upright, having failed in harming him in a way that reassured him the Gods were on his side once more. And as he faced the army that charged towards him, a single man serving as the front line, Jon’s life flashed before his eyes. He saw your smile, and over the sound of horses and men, he heard your laugh, your call of his name. For the briefest moment, Jon swore he could see you standing at one of the windows of Winterfell in the distance, but the version of you remembered so fondly was years younger than the one that he was here to save. The emotional weight of the sword charm at his chest and your first letter to him folded in the pocket over his heart, made it difficult for him to breathe, and he knew that this was it. Nodding to himself, he unclasped the belt of his sword and unsheathed it, standing to face the wall of men that charged for him, knowing that regardless of whether Ramsay Bolton was telling the truth, you were still on the other side. If Jon Snow could not save you, he would still fight for the right to rescue what was left of you and ensure you were laid to rest in the way you deserved, with his journey’s end being at your side when this was all over. The fury with which he would fight for you was unchanged, because it was still you he was fighting for, it would always be you.
And he fought harder than he had ever fought in his life, ending more lives than he could count without any regard for the men they were, whether he had known them once. If they were standing on the path that led to you, Jon Snow did not know them anymore.
Before long, the bodies had formed a wall at his rear and a living blockade of flayed-man banners at every other side began closing in on Jon and the men that had followed him into battle. His mind raced, every step and every swing of his sword accompanied by the mantra of your name, his very reason for being. For a fraction of a second, suffocating beneath the weight of his own army, he wondered if dying for you then was the best outcome, if you truly were not waiting for him in the land of the living, it would be his one means of returning to you at long last.
And then, the Eyrie’s horn sounded, with Sansa watching on from afar as they rode into battle for her, for you, for Winterfell. Many had told her the field of battle was no place for a woman, but Sansa would never sit back and let Jon fight for you on his own. She said she would finish this herself if she had to, and she did.
Bursting free from the trap that had been set by the enemy, with WunWun the giant on his left and his dear friend Tormund on his right, Jon Snow charged the field on foot with one deserter in his sights.
At the gates of Winterfell, WunWun took arrow after arrow, but crashed through the only barrier remaining between Jon and his home. Defeated and exhausted, the giant collapsed to his knees with a mighty yell, sharing a long glance with Jon at his side before falling forward. Wildlings rushed to surround him, protecting the giant from any further harm, and the blood soaked Snow stood before his greatest enemy.
“You suggested one-on-one combat, didnt you? I’ve reconsidered! I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Ramsay taunted, readying his bow.
And Jon lunged for a shield on the ground, raising it just in time to take the impact of the first arrow Ramsey fired, then the second and the third. None dared to break Jon’s stride before he reached Ramsay and slammed the shield into him, knocking him to the ground. Like a feral animal, Jon Snow jumped on him, the fury of an ancient dragon awaking from an age-old sleep burning in his veins, vision crimson with rage, knowing nothing except for your name, again and again and again, with every crunch of his fists against the red of Ramsay’s face.
It was only when Jon glanced up at Sansa that he was able to regain some composure, his chest heaving as he rose to his feet and stood over the sputtering Bolton bastard.
“You will never touch my sister again. And if you have harmed (Y/N) in the same way, if you have done her any disservice, if there is a fingerprint of yours on her, I’ll know, and I will relive the joy of your death in every dream I have for the rest of my days.” Jon Snow seethed, the flayed-man banner falling from the walls of Winterfell as its children finally returned home.
Running to his side, Ghost began licking at Jon’s palm, and Jon turned to him, crouching down and staring into the direwolf’s eyes.
“Find her, Ghost, take me to her.” He pleaded, not truly understanding how much his companion could comprehend, but knowing the second the beast took off inside the castle that Ghost understood exactly what had been asked of him.
With the spark of you reignited within him, Jon hurried after the white, blood spattered direwolf, your voice in his head calling out to him, growing more urgent with each whisper.
In the darkness of your cell, you rock yourself, your arms wrapped around your knees, attempting to tune out the noise from beyond the confinement of your cage. A large thud against the door sends a shock through your shivering form and you suck in a sharp breath, squeezing your eyes shut and focussing on the first memory you can grab at, deep in your subconscious.
“It was only a dream, (Y/N), it’s alright.” Jon’s hushed whisper reaches you, both so much younger than you are now.
“The fire, it was so-” Your younger voice was panicked, sobs catching in your throat as Jon’s arms squeezed you.
“You are safe, I promise. I’ve got you.”
Another thud at your prison door pulls you back to the present and you shake your head rapidly, desperate to lock yourself away in the memory of being in your best friend’s arms again, the safest place in the world that you had come to know. If you focus hard enough, you can almost feel them around you. Almost hear his soft voice in your ears, comforting you, lulling you back to sleep.
A final thud against the door sends burning light into the room and you squeeze your eyes shut harder, shaking your head and burying your face in your knees.
“It’ll pass, it’ll pass, it’ll pass.” You whimper to yourself, over and over again in an attempt to reassure yourself.
Large hands on your shoulders cause you to snap your head up, eyes wide and wild with fear and anger, but no tears blur them, you refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“LET GO OF ME, GET AWAY!” You scream, trying to back away from him, but already having your back to the wall beside the leg of the bed that you are chained to.
The hands leave your shoulders and raise in surrender, either side of a blurry, bloody face that your terrified eyes can’t yet focus on.
“(Y/N), (Y/N), it’s me, look at me, it’s your Jon.” A familiar voice reaches your ears, and your wild mind halts to a sudden stop, the fog clearing and allowing you to see the face before you.
Jon watches your rigid, frightened expression falter, before it softens completely, his fractured heart at seeing you so afraid, healing at the recognition now in your eyes.
Very slowly, he takes ahold of your hands and brings them to his blood spattered face, gently holding them there and staring into your eyes.
“It’s your Jon, it’ll always be your Jon.” He tells you, relief flooding through him at being able to say such a thing to you, alive and safe again.
And after everything, after the countless days and nights spent surviving in darkness, locking yourself away in memories to avoid being mentally present in the regular acts of torture you were forced to endure, only when holding Jon Snow’s face in your hands and knowing you are truly safe, do you finally let the tears you’ve been burying fill your eyes.
Without sparing a second, Jon shuffles forwards and pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and softly shushing you as you sob into his chest. Covering your ears to shield them, not wanting to scare you, Jon yells out for someone, a ginger haired wildling running into the room with wide eyes at the sight of his friend, reunited with the love he had only heard him mention in moments when it wasn’t too painful for him to do so. With a nod, Tormund leaves the room and passes the order given to him by Jon amongst the wildlings, and between them they turn Winterfell on its head in search of the key for your chain.
For the time it takes them to find it, you stay safely nestled in Jon’s arms, cries slowing to a stop, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat, a sound that you had not realized just how much you had missed.
“D-Did…” You sigh, humiliated by your loss of ability to talk after being silent or screaming in an act of survival for so long. Jon squeezes your form gently in his arms, encouraging you to try again, he’ll wait, he’ll wait forever if he has to. Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat.
“Did you kill him?”
Jon takes a moment to reply. “Very nearly. Had Sansa not stopped me, I think I would have broken every knuckle I’ve got before I could have stopped myself.” He pauses. “The two of you should decide what to do with him, but you don’t need to worry about that now.”
Removing his arms from you briefly, Jon moves his hands to the back of his neck to untie the necklace. At the loss of contact, you lift your head from his chest to meet his eyes, and upon him opening his hand out to show you the necklace that had been so cruelly taken from you, you gasp, holding the base of your neck where it had previously resided. Turning away from Jon, he smiles softly and moves the necklace to your front, carefully tying it at the back of your neck. Feeling it back in place, you breathe deeply and settle back into Jon’s arms.
“That was all he took from me, you know.”
Jon frowns. “What do you mean?”
“He tried to take more, but I bit him through his trousers, so he has been…out of commission, shall we say, ever since.” The subtle tone in your voice is one Jon is so certain he recognises as smug.
Kissing your temple, he can’t wipe the smile from his face. “I am sorry that you had to do such a thing, but I am so proud of you, all the same.”
Sansa enters the room then, Ghost at her side and key in hand. She gasps at the sight of you, running to you and falling to her knees. Taking ahold of your hand and passing the key to Jon, she closes her eyes in a pained blink.
“I am so, so sorry that I left you here, (Y/N). Can you ever forgive me?” Her eyes open then, searching yours and seeing only a smile on your face.
Freeing your other wrist from the chain it had been confined in, you twist and stretch it before placing your other hand over hers.
“There’s nothing to apologize for and nothing to forgive.”
Sansa shares a look with Jon, both of them with knowing smiles, as those had been his very words when Sansa had been apologizing for her treatment of him as a child when she had not long arrived at the Wall.
“You really are the best of us, (Y/N).” Sansa chuckles in disbelief. “It’s about time we got you cleaned up and out of those rags, too. I’m sure Jon will see to that, and I’ll get a room ready for the two of you.” With a teasing smile, she rises to her feet and all but floats out of the room, leaving you and Jon with flushed faces.
Busying yourself with greeting Ghost and rubbing behind his ears, you try your hardest to distract yourself from the butterflies that have burst to life in your stomach after so many years of dormancy.
Clearing his throat, Jon taps your leg. “She’s right, y’know, we’d best get you cleaned up. There’s someone I’d like you to meet, when you feel up to it.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, you shakily bring yourself to stand, Jon’s hands holding your waist to keep you steady. “Who?”
At that, Jon Snow gives you the first dazzling smile that you have seen in Gods only know how long. “All in good time, my Lady.”
In your attempts to take your first steps on wobbling legs, Jon swallows the lump that forms in his throat, seeing the strong person that he adores more than any other, reduced to such physical weakness. If his hands were not on your waist, they would be returning to Ramsay’s face in several more punches for good measure.
Sensing your frustration and embarrassment at your own lack of mobility, Jon doesn’t hesitate to swing you up into his arms, carrying you like the bride he had always wished was his.
“I take it I don’t have to ask you to retract the bedding ceremony from our marriage at this time?” You tease in reference to the thought that the two of you share in being carried through the castle in such a way, bringing a laugh from Jon that he feels he hasn’t heard from himself in as long as you have.
“Even in more ideal circumstances, I’d never let that happen. Wouldn’t be right to break a man’s jaw on our wedding night.” He says, eyes never leading yours as he traverses the winding staircases of the castle he has not ventured since he was a boy, but are etched in his memory regardless.
Giggling and patting his chest, you shake your heard bashfully. “Good to know the Night’s Watch didn’t remove your chivalry, Lord Jon.” You gasp. “Gods! That really is your title now, as Lord Commander, isn’t it?”
Having not had a smile on his face for this length of time in many years, Jon feels an ache forming in the corners of his mouth, but doesn’t care at all. “Aye, I was, for a time, but my watch has ended.”
It’s then, a confused frown that Jon remembers well returns to your face, years older than he had last seen it, but no less endearing to him. “But...your watch only ends as a dead man?”
Jon nods as he descends the final staircase and kicks an all too familiar door open. “It’s a long story, one for another time.”
You want to question him further, but when your peripheral vision registers where Jon has carried you, you turn your head to look around, your jaw dropping.
Though the room is dark, you recognise every corner enshrouded in the shadows. The large and ancient communal bath that sits atop the hot spring that is Winterfell’s source of heated water, that none use in favor of their own personal baths, but had been your preferred method of cleanliness ever since you and Jon had discovered the dark and “secret” room when you were children. Placing you back on your feet gently, one of his hands on your waist and the other cradling your elbow to steady you, Jon’s gaze stays locked on your expression at his side, remembering this place with as much fondness as you do.
“This is about to be a bath for the ages. I will stay in this water for a week, at least, ‘til I am but a shriveled prune and you will have no choice but to drag me out against my will.” You tell him, tone so serious and words so humorous they pull another hearty laugh from Jon.
“We’d best get that week-long-bath started, then. I shan’t keep you and your heart’s true desire apart any longer.” He plays along, making you smile as you step in front of him, nodding to yourself.
Taking his cue, Jon lets go of you and turns around, expecting to give you the privacy to strip free of the filthy rags you have been kept in and stepping into the water to conceal yourself, until he hears you hiss in pain.
“Jon, I…I don’t intend to make you uncomfortable, but I do not think I can take this off without help.” You admit, embarrassed for too many reasons to list.
“It would cause me no discomfort at all, but are you certain you are comfortable with me…assisting you?” Jon asks in a soft voice, careful with his choice of words.
“Of course. You could never make me uncomfortable, Jon.” You respond without delay.
Needing no further instruction, Jon Snow takes a deep breath and turns around. With your back to him, you raise your arms and wait for trembling hands to lift the hem of your dress - if you could call a ripped potato sack such a thing - up and over your head. Dropping the fabric to the floor, Jon immediately turns around again, face burning.
“Thank you.” Your voice is meak, filled with shame over your true love seeing you bare for the first time, filthy, bloody and bruised.
All the while, Jon Snow is trying to remember how to breathe while the mental image of your naked form imprints itself into his flailing mind. The dirt had not even crossed his mind. Your injuries, of course, brought him sadness and anger, but the triumphant emotion was one he is not willing to admit, even to himself.
Taking slow and careful steps, you reach the water’s edge and lower yourself to sit on it, slipping your legs into the water and breathing a sigh of relief as the heat envelopes you immediately, inviting you in until your body is completely submerged and at peace. Every ache within your beaten body is soothed and you are quick to scrub the dirt from yourself, to be clean of your days caged and the memories that clung to your skin like the dried blood of your wounds.
Hearing the gentle slosh of the water, Jon settles as he realizes you are no longer standing behind him. Standing up straight, he fixes his gaze on the closed door and decides that he will keep watch. As you raise your head from the water, you see his silhouette standing at the door and smile, unable to withdraw the connection your mind makes between this picture and the one you saw so many times as a girl, of a much younger Jon Snow standing as he is now, shorter then, but just as determined to keep watch while you were vulnerable in the water.
“Y’know, you could do with a wash, yourself.” You note aloud.
Jon chuckles airily. “Aye, you’re probably right.”
Smirking in advance of your devious plan to make Jon blush again, you glide over to the edge of the water and rest your arms on the cold stone. “Join me then.”
And you watch in absolute glee as Jon’s form turns rigid at your suggestion. He does not answer.
“Jon?” You call in a singsong voice.
He clears his throat. “Hm?”
“As grotesque as my body is in its current state, I did not imagine you would ever reject an offer to join me?” You tease, only half joking.
Jon’s reaction is visceral. In a second, he is standing over you with a harsh frown, having had no thought in the effect the sight of you below him in such a way would have on him, too focussed on his emotional response to the ridiculousness in what you had said.
“I cannot even bring myself to say such a word in association to you, the thought alone would be criminal. Do not allow yourself to think that I could see you as anything less than the most beautiful person to ever exist, as you have always been and will always be to me.”
You have never heard Jon so serious in all your life. His words and the sincerity with which they are spoken renders you speechless for a moment as you stare up at him.
“Won’t you let me share such a view, of you, then?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.
And after a moment’s eternity of silence, as though practicing some ancient dance, the two of you step apart from each other and turn your backs, neither of you able to face the tension a moment longer.
The sound of Jon’s armor hitting the stone floor sends goosebumps erupting across the tops of your shoulders that peak above the water, your heartbeats ringing in your ears almost in unison. Even when you hear the splash of his body entering the water, you do not dare turn to face him. As quickly as he can, he fully submerges himself in the water and scrubs the blood and dirt from a battle won. Then, Jon Snow stands, slowly wading through the water until he stands behind you. It is your turn to take a deep breath as you turn to face him, your eyes drinking in the sight of his clean face, the scars on his chest sitting distorted beneath the water, and to take his mind away from the pain of what you assume are his battlescars, your hands lift from the water to trace the line of his beard with an admiring smile.
“I always knew you’d suit a beard.” You compliment him, easing his nerves as he laughs, gracing you with another charming smile.
Your hands continue their journey around the back of his neck, feeling the wet, inky curls of his hair there and sighing deeply.
“Truly, you have the best hair in the seven kingdoms.”
And Jon laughs the hardest he has in longer than he can remember, throwing his head back and shaking it as though emphasizing the hair that you have never failed to shower in praise, making you laugh with him.
Taking ahold of your hands at the back of his neck, Jon brings them to his lips and places feathery light kisses against your knuckles, holding your gaze.
“I have missed you more than words can say.” He whispers.
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Is that your excuse for not writing me any, then?”
Jon sighs, closing his eyes and hanging his head in shame. “I am so sorry.”
Chuckling, you lift his chin with your finger until you can see into his eyes again. “Considering you won a battle for me today, I think I can forgive you for not having time to read my letters.”
Jon smiles at you gratefully. “I read them all before coming to get you, I swear it.”
“And I believe you, as I always have. I believed you’d read them, I believed you would rescue me, and both rang true in the end. It seems my faith is safe.” You beam up at him.
“Your faith in what?” He questions.
“My Jon.” You tell him, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world, and the moment he hears it, he agrees that it is.
Unable to resist you a moment longer, Jon’s arms wrap around your waist and pull your body flush against his, lips falling on yours in a kiss softer than a summer breeze. Briefly, he falters, wondering if perhaps he has acted on his instincts far too soon, but then he feels your fingers running through his curls, pulling him into a deeper kiss than he had assumed you would be ready for, but you have been waiting far too long for this.
Only when the two of you recall the human need to breathe do you have the strength to pull away from each other. But Jon’s lips chase after you, leaving a trail of kisses from the corners of your mouth to your chin, your cheeks, your temples, your neck, with pleading whispers in between.
“Will you be mine, my wife- my queen, should the north call for a king? I cannot lose you again, I cannot deny myself the dream of us anymore.”
And in equally flustered, desperate whispers, you answer. “Yes to all and yes to any. I have always been yours, Jon.”
For a time, it feels like the two of you are the only people in existence, the world having stopped around you, the Gods having paused time to allow you to hold each other for your own eternity. It is not the time for love beyond a passionate kiss, both of your bodies need to heal and rest after the battles you have fought and won, together, to get back to each other. To simply hold each other, after so many years apart, is the greatest joy either of you can ask for.
But, time cannot be slowed forever. Soon enough, there is a knock at the door of the bath and in a wild panic that has you in fits of giggles, Jon scrambles from the water and grabs his armor, holding it over himself to answer the door to the young squire that has kindly delivered fresh clothes and towels for the two of you to dry yourselves with. Nodding and thanking the squire, Jon takes the pile from him and closes the door, turning back to face you with a sheepish expression and only seeing the humor in it when he finds you wheezing against the side of the bath.
Once dry and dressed, the two of you make your way to the door, pinky fingers intertwined between you out of habit. Until your boot steps on something that does not sound like the stone floor and you frown, bending down to pick up a folded piece of parchment, worn at the edges and ink fading in the handwriting that you recognise to be your own as you unfold it. Turning to face Jon, you meet his gaze and know you do not need to say anything as you fold the parchment back into the neat square in which you had found it and slot it the pocket of his new, clean shirt. Holding your hand over it, you lean up to kiss his cheek and, intertwining your pinky fingers again, you ascend the stairs together and step out into the courtyard of Winterfell. There, your eyes immediately lock onto the sight of the immense form of the hunched over giant, sitting against one of the stone walls as some wildlings watch over him. The child within you gasps, your hands covering your mouth in delight as you look between Jon and the giant frantically.
Laughing endearingly at you, Jon gestures to the giant and walks you over to him. “(Y/N), I’d like you to meet Wun Wun.”
Unable to tear your gaze from the giant, you approach him slowly. “Hello, Wun Wun, it’s…it’s been a dream of mine to meet someone like you, ever since I was a little girl.” Looking over him and his injuries, tears immediately sting your eyes. “I am so sorry that you got hurt, are you in pain? I can fetch you some milk of the poppy, if you like? Or fix up some stew for you?”
Wun Wun watches you with a frown that seems to be etched into his features, curious of you. Taking a few seconds, the giant processes what you have said, looks to Jon and then back to you.
“Snow princess.” His voice is like a tumbling boulder, thunderous and without the human pitch-difference that is associated with asking a question, but Jon understands what he is asking.
“(Y/N) would be my queen.” Jon clarifies, and Wun Wun blinks slowly.
“Snow Queen.” He attempts to maneuver his large form, but roars in protest at his own injuries.
Raising your arms, you attempt to stop him. “Please, don’t hurt yourself further!”
Jon remembers how Wun Wun had acted towards the Princess Shireen and takes a step forward. “You don’t need to kneel to us, Wun Wun, you are our friend, our equal. You bow to no-one, not anymore.”
Your eyes widen in realization of what the giant had been trying to do as he slumps back down with a large thud against the ground.
Breathing deeply, Wun Wun looks at you. “Snow Queen.” He looks at Jon. “Snow.” Then lifts an arm and loosely gestures to both of you. “Friend.”
Jon scoffs playfully. “So (Y/N) is Queen, but I am just Snow?”
You grin at the giant, who acknowledges your expression with a thunderous laugh that is so loud it would hurt your ears, were you not enamored by the creature it comes from.
“If she is not my queen, who’s queen is she?” Jon asks, bemused and hoping to catch out the giant, who considers the question for only a second before responding.
“Wun. Weg. Wun Dar Wun’s.” And despite how long it takes the giant to speak his full name, the impact of his own punchline hits just as hard, sending you into another wheezing fit of laughter while Jon shakes his head in disbelief.
“Well, it seems both Wun Wun and I are yours, now.” Jon throws up his hands in dramatic surrender, causing you to laugh harder, the giant smiling at you fondly and Jon watching you with an adoring gaze, so relieved to see you relaxed and safe enough to laugh again.
When Jon asks you if you feel ready to eat, you nod, but request that you eat together, with Wun Wun, to ensure he eats and gains some energy to help his body heal, too. Naturally, Jon does not deny you of the endearing request and the two of you return to the giant with your own bowls of fresh stew and an extra large one for your new best friend. The three of you sit and talk, taking time to listen to Wun Wun’s responses, which take a lot longer than general conversations with a human would, but you don’t mind one bit. With every word he speaks, you are utterly mesmerized, having already pinned the creature as every bit as incredible as the giants from your favorite tales as a child.
Though it is not late in the evening by the time you finish your supper, you are too exhausted from the events of the day to stay awake much longer. Having not walked around for any length of time in so long, your limbs are too weak to stand on your own again, Jon having to help you back to your feet with an arm around your waist.
Waving to Wun Wun, you give him a tired smile.
“Goodnight Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun, I wish you pleasant dreams.”
The giant gives you a smile that Jon has not seen him give anyone else. “Friend. Sleep good.”
With that, Jon begins leading you back into the warmth of the castle, walking you along the path to what had been his bedroom as a boy, without thinking of what the room could be now, his direwolf trailing behind the two of you. Thankfully, it seems that Sansa was thoughtful in the room she requested be prepared for you all, as Jon’s old bedroom door is open, displaying the candlelit room and the freshly made bed. The two of you share a chuckle in disbelief as you enter the room, Ghost instantly finding a patch of rug on the ground to curl up on and Jon walking you over to the bed to sit down on it before he leaves you to close the door and draw the curtains.
Falling against the mattress, you groan.
“I think this ordeal has aged me 20 years and perhaps it is time we retire. I could finally let Sansa teach me to sew and you could herd sheep with Ghost, what do you think?”
At the mention of his name and in confusion at your suggestion, Ghost lifts and tilts his head to the side.
Jon laughs as he joins you, landing on his back beside you, the mattress bouncing slightly beneath you. “I think that sounds like a wonderful plan. Only, I’m afraid, my Lady, there is another war to be fought.”
You turn your head to face him, seeing the simultaneous amusement and seriousness playing in his eyes. “Surely, you jest. Against who?”
Jon sighs. “An ever growing army of the dead, unfortunately.”
Throwing your arms up and against the mattress above your head in a dramatic display of defeat, you scoff. “But of course! Winter is coming, I should have known.”
Jon smiles at you, having never felt so at ease when discussing the threat that looms over the entire world as he knows it and marveling at the wonder that is you. “Aye, but for now-” He stands to his feet, swings you up in his arms, kicks the bedcover from the mattress and lays you down on the sheet. “-we are free to rest.”
Shuffling to remove your boots and watching as Jon removes his to nudge them under the bed, you use the last of your strength to move over and allow space for him to slide in beside you.
Turning to face each other, you snuggle beneath the bedcovers and share a smile, like the giddy teenagers that had been lost in your memories until now.
“When is the wedding due, then, dear almost-husband?” You ask, amused but genuinely curious as to when the two of you will have the chance to arrange such an event.
“Whenever you like, dear almost-lady-wife.” Jon laughs airily, taking hold of your hands beneath the covers and staring into your eyes. “How do you feel?”
You take a deep breath, knowing that the time to set aside your humor would come soon enough. “It is…difficult to put into words. Deliriously happy to be with you and Sansa, to have our home back and to be safe again, of course, but there is still a dark cloud that looms over me and I cannot ignore it. At any moment, I feel as though the rain could start to pour and I could drown in it, lose myself to the fear. In truth, the thought of trying to sleep is terrifying.”
Jon nods slowly, understanding you completely, as he always has. “However dark that cloud gets, however hard the rain falls and however scared you are to sleep, I will be here. To show you the sun again, shield you from the rain and guard you through your dreams, I will be right here, and I will never leave you again. I swear it, by the old Gods and the new.”
Tears threaten to blur the perfect vision of the candlelit Jon Snow, but you are quick to blink them away, removing your hands from his to run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, until his forehead rests against yours. “And in return, I swear to protect you from whatever horrid memories plague you from the time when we have been apart, to hold you through them and remind you that no matter what, you are a good man, the best man, and the man that I love more than anything.”
Closing his eyes, Jon Snow takes a deep breath, and you do the same, sharing the silence and darkness in a peace that neither of you ever thought you would find again.
“Can it be that this night, I’ll dream of you and wake to find you here?” You whisper.
Jon sniffles, having not let his relief and love for you truly overwhelm him until now. “Aye, this night and every night thereafter.”
Gently tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb, you lean forward to close the space between your lips. “To be yours is to live nothing but a dream, Jon Snow.”
And for the second time since reconnecting to the rest of his soul, Jon Snow loses himself to you, falling into you and cradling every part of you with such care, having craved every second of these moments with you that he never thought he could have beyond the land of dreams. The two of you had lived separate lives for long enough, the Gods had no choice but to force you back to each other in an act of fate that defied everything Jon thought he could believe in, except for you. Every foe he fought, every task he took on, his first thought would be that in some distant way, he would be saving you from something, because he would be doing so from the frontline of your heart. To be yours was the only victory he truly felt.
——————
taglist: @otteropera @neymarjrrwife @oliviabelova @nyotamalfoy
#jon snow#jon snow x reader#jon snow imagine#x reader#game of thrones#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones imagine#imagine#imagines#fanfic#fanfiction#headcannon#headcannons
533 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just finished rewatching game of thrones and the Jon snow obsession has been reborn.
This is a long one!
TW: rape, abuse, crying, murder, etc, all normal GOT stuff.
Jon snow x reader.
:readmore:
Looking at the empty walls of the stone cell I’ve been trapped in for weeks I can’t help but feel that these walls of winterfell that I’ve known for so long are no longer the walls I call home. This is a prison.
I pushed myself back against the furthest wall as I heard the keys rattle in the door. The chain around my waist felt heavier than normal.
As the door opened I felt a tear escape my eye…Ramsey
“You’re not excited to see me?” He pouted and wiped my cheek.
I tried to hide my fear and pain and sadness but I knew he could see through my act.
“I’m going to meet with lady Bolton tomorrow.” He sat down in front of me.
I thought about Sansa….I thought about when we were little, how we would sneak into the kitchens after everyone was asleep, how we’d laugh and talk, how we would dance in the snow outside and go for long walks in the snowy hills. She was bigger now, more mature. The last time I saw her was at the wedding…she got locked in Ramseys room and I got locked in a cell. I heard people talk of her escape through the small widow towards the top of my cell, I’d never been that relieved in my life.
Sansa never treated me as her handmaiden, only ever as her friend.
“Her bastard brother will be there too…” Ramsey spoke.
I couldn’t help my reaction, I let out a gasp and tears fell from my eyes.
Jon was alive.
“I want you to come with me to meet with them tomorrow…”
I looked up at him and frowned, there was a catch, Ramsey was insane, he liked to play games.
“You see… I know that Jon cares for you…and lovers should always be reunited at the end of every story.” Ramsey smiled as he touched my cheek, I tried to move away but he held me still.
“But I’m afraid this story doesn’t have a happy ending…” he pouted. “Jon will have to see what I’ve done with you.” Now he smiled.
He began to untie my dress, I tried to move away but he held me down and the chains were too heavy. After not being fed for a week I could barely have the strength to push him off.
He grabbed my hands and held them high above my head as he sucked hickeys into my neck, and put bite marks all over my skin.
Eventually I stopped screaming, I just accepted him inside of me, I cried and looked away, knowing there was nothing I could do. I thought of everything that wasn’t Ramsey. Then eventually I didn’t think of anything at all, I didn’t even feel as though I was in the room anymore. I was somewhere deep inside my own mind, somewhere I couldn’t even place.
I felt Ramsey hit me and become rough but I just lay there in the cold cell…hopeless.
When he was done he had his guards unlock the chains around my waist and wrists, and lead me to a room in the castle….Aryas old room.
They locked me in there for the rest of the night I had a bath and scrubbed my skin till it was raw and red trying to get Ramsey off of me…
I put on the dress that was laid out on the bed, it showed off my shoulders and my sides, exposing the bruises and scrapes all over my body. I brushed my hair that had grown a lot since I last saw myself. I tied it back into a braid exposing my face and neck like Ramsay instructed
I looked at my thin figure, I could see my own ribs. I looked awful. I drank the soup that was left on top of the dresser.
And I waited…to see Jon again, to see Sansa.
I walked out of the dining hall to see Jon hitting a training dummy repeatedly with his sword.
“I think it’s dead.” I smiled as he turned around.
He smiled softly, something he didn’t do often. “What am I missing?” He asked gesturing back into the hall
“Ned’s angry because Arya flicked food at Sansa.” I spoke. He laughed under his breath. “So nothing new?” He smirked.
I shook my head.
It was quiet for a moment, the music from inside distant. The air was cold.
I had liked Jon since I was about 10, he often caught Sansa and I in the kitchens late at night and instead of telling Ned, like Robb sometimes did, he would join us.
But I’d never say anything, I couldn’t…technically he was a stark, and technically I was a prisoner, a Greyjoy. Although the starks had never made me feel like a prisoner.
“Why so frustrated?” I asked him.
He looked down at his sword and the blisters he’d caused on his hand.
“A lot on my mind, my lady.” He replied.
“I am no lady….just a handmaiden, My lord.” I spoke back, knowing he only ever wanted me to call him Jon.
He smiled to himself. “Just Jon.”
“Okay….just Jon, may I have this dance.” I asked as the band began to play another song that could be heard vaguely through the closed doors to the dining hall.
“Anything for you, princess.” He spoke slowly and made his way over to you. Putting his sword against the stone walls of winterfell.
“I am no-“ you were interrupted when his finger pressed to your lips. “You are to me.” He whispered.
He valued me, always. He never treated me like less, in fact he always treated me like more, like royalty, like a princess.
I smiled up at him. He placed his hands on my waist and i put mine on his shoulders.
“I must warn you, just Jon I’m not a good dancer.” I spoke.
“I know, I’ve watched you dance with sir Cedric Mormont a few years back, and sir Jamie earlier tonight.”
I playfully smacked his arm and he smiled.
“I’ll tell you what princess y/n Greyjoy…I’m not that good either.” He smiled.
We swayed and laughed when Jon jokingly spun me around, or when I tried to lead. We ran around the castle walls for about 3 hours before lady Katlin caught us.
We both froze when she saw us.
“Sansa was looking for you y/n.” She spoke firmly. Glaring at Jon.
“My lady- I-“ you stumbled.
“It was me! I wanted to try on Robb’s armor, see what it was like, to be a knight. I had lady Greyjoy assist me putting it on-“ Jon interrupted. He never lied, but he was protecting me.
I glanced worriedly at him.
“Typical.” She whispered under her breath, and shook her head. My blood boiled. “Y/n get to Sansa’s chambers immediately, Jon… out of my sight.” She spoke loudly.
I quickly walked off to Sansa’s bed chamber, thinking about Jon the whole way there.
“Where we’re you?” Sansa spoke.
“I’m sorry, I-I was with Jon.” I blushed.
She squealed. “Tell me everything.” She spoke, handing me her hairbrush as she sat down at the dresser.
It was like having a permanent best friend, I was only two years older than Sansa.
I carefully undid the intricate braids in her hair and brushed her copper locks.
“We danced…sort of.” I smiled.
“Was he any good?” She frowned.
“No.” We both laughed.
We giggled and spoke until she had to go to bed. Laughing about Jon and how she was to marry prince Joffrey.
You walked along the empty passages towards the servants quarters. Through the snow covered courtyard. 
I was pulled from the happy memory when the lock to the chamber rattled and Ramsey and two of his guards entered.
I dropped the soup onto the floor, my hands must have been shaking.
“Oh clumsy are we? You’ll need a new dress I suppose.” Ramsey pouted.
Tears filled my eyes.
“Luckily I have the perfect one for you.” He smirked and held out some purple material…open back.
He wanted Jon to see my pain, to see that I belonged to him. I shook my head and tears fell from my eyes.
His guards grabbed my wrists and shoved me onto the bed, i sobbed when they began to tie my hands to the headboard. They ripped away the gown I was wearing and I could no longer see Ramsey, and that scared me more than anything.
“This will hurt darling.” I could hear the smile in his voice. And I screamed and sobbed as a hard whip hit my back, digging into my spine, I felt blood pour down my back.
It hurt again and again, 20 times he hit me, 20 times I screamed and 20 times I did not prey for help, I wished for death.
He left me tied there, facing the wall, bleeding.
I cried for a long time until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Naked and beaten.
The morning was a rush, Bran had fallen from the tallest tower and hadn’t woken up. Lady Katlin was devastated and Ned had informed Sansa and I we were leaving for kings landing tomorrow. He had been offered the position of hand of the king.
He also informed me that Jon was to become a man of the nights watch.
I walked as fast as I could to his room, my dress blowing behind me in the wind. I tried desperately not to cry.
I shoved his door open and there he was packing his things.
As he turned to me I slapped him, hard.
“Were you not going to tell me!” I yelled, the tears began to fall.
He swallowed hard and looked down, and then at me…my face.
“I didn’t know how-“
“Lies!” I screamed, tears falling like snowflakes.
“I love you! And I didn’t know how to say goodbye to the one thing! The one good thing in my life! The only thing that matters!” He yelled too now.
You cried harder.
“You are the only thing keeping me from going! But I can’t love you, n/n….I can’t! I’m a bastard, and I refuse to force you to burden that name too. You are going to king’s landing tomorrow, you’ll meet a Duke of something there and you’ll grow old in a castle, and have beautiful daughters and strong sons.” Jon was crying too, he held my shoulders.
“No-“ I shook my head. “I don’t want that…. I love you Jon snow. I will never love anyone else. I want to run away with you, I want to carry your children, I want to grow old with you!” I sobbed.
He shook his head, and pressed his forehead to mine.
“I don’t care if you’re a bastard- it’s a stupid title. Like king or queen it’s just a name. But you’re so much more than that you’re brave and kind, loving, you’re funny and smart and-“ he kissed me, gently but passionately.
For a moment everything made sense. All the stars aligned and the puzzle fit together beautifully.
But then I pulled away.
“I love you.” We stated at the same time, we both laughed lightly.
There was a heavy silence after that. I knew I had to go to kings landing, and he knew he had to go to the wall, to make something of himself.
“Promise me.” I spoke slowly as he held my cheeks. “Promise me when I see you again you’ll kiss me, like you just did, promise me that someday we’ll grow old together. Promise me-“ I choked and he kissed my forehead. “Promise that I’ll see you again.”
He nodded. “I promise.” He knelt to the floor and kissed my hand, “ I promise I’ll come back for my princess.” He spoke.
I smiled through the tears as he stood.
“Promise you’ll write to me…every day.” He whispered as we hugged. I nodded.
“Promise you’ll write back.” He chuckled and nodded against my head.
That was goodbye.
I rode with Ramsey on his horse, my back aching and my lips blue. I was freezing in the revealing dress. Bruises, gashes, hickeys, scars and deep wounds covered my body.
We stopped after a long ride. I saw horses approaching in the distance. My heart sunk, I didn’t want Jon to see me like this. What if he had moved on.
I must have looked terrible because Sansa took in a sharp breath before demanding my release. There he was, Jon…my Jon.
I almost smiled when I saw him, almost.
He looked older, a fuller beard and darker eyes, he was taller. He was handsome.
He looked devastated when he saw me. I looked down at the floor, not seeing the tears fill his eyes.
They debated the war that was to come, tomorrow. And Rickons release.
I began to shiver.
“Give her a coat she’ll freeze!” Jon yelled. His voice was husky and sad. I looked at the anger on his face.
Ramsey smiled.
“Jon don’t-“ I tried to explain it was just one of his games but Ramsey hit me, across the cheek.
Jon’s horse jerked forward as he drew his sword but his men held him back.
And then we rode away, at the perfect angle for Jon to see my back.
Ramsey threw me back into my cell, I cried…I didn’t want Jon to fight- I feared Ramsey would win.
I felt my heart sink…I had imagined seeing him again for so many years and it broke me to know that might’ve been the last time.
Last I saw him he was 16, only a boy. I was 15, a young girl who knew nothing of the world outside winterfell.
I knew not of vicious fighters like sir clegane or horrible woman like Cersei. I wouldn’t have imagined such an unfair ruler as Joffrey. Or such an abusive leader as Ramsey.
I wouldn’t have ever imagined seeing Theon like that….like reek. Ramsey told me he’d to the same to me if I disobeyed him. Another Greyjoy to his collection.
I hadn’t looked death in the eye the last time i saw Jon and yet now I had seen so much of it, it all seemed insignificant.
I heard of Jon’s battles, I even heard of his death. Seeing him again was like seeing a ghost. I wasn’t the same girl he left at winterfell but I had the same heart.
“You’re going to take someone’s eye out.” I smiled across the courtyard as I saw Jon and Robb attempting to sword fight in the snow, they kept slipping on the ice.
“That’s the point my lady.” Robb smiled.
“It’s not that simple.” Jon huffed.
“Can I have a go.” I asked gesturing to their swords.
They both chuckled until they realized I was serious.
“The arena is no place for a lady.” Robb spoke, he looked a bit sympathetic though.
I frowned.
Jon was about to speak until Theon called them to lunch.
That evening when I was lying on my bed I felt something shake me awake.
“Jon?” I frowned in the dark. He nodded.
“Come on.” He pulled me out of bed.
“Where are we going?” I asked but he shhhhed me.
“You’ll see, it’s a surprise.” He whispered.
He dragged me out to the courtyard, where he lit a bunch of candles.
I smiled.
“Jon it’s beautiful.”
“Like you.” He responded, both our cheeks flushed.
“You sure you’re ready?” He asked me, changing the subject.
“For?”
“You’re greatest opponent.” He smiled and threw me a sword which landed on the floor in front of me. I smiled.
“Thank you.” I looked at him. He nodded.
He spent the rest of the night trying to teach me how to fight, and by 4AM I could have a basic spar with him.
He quickly blew out all the candles and lead me back to my chambers.
“Was I any good?” I asked.
He nodded as we walked.
“Are you just saying that?” I asked again.
He smiled. “You were better than Theon let’s put it that way.”
I smiled.
Ramsey chained me up and dragged me outside of winterfell with Rickon. We both got a bad hit when I hugged him, I was so relieved he was alright.
I watched as Ramsey explained the rules of his stupid little trick, how rickon had to run across the field to Jon. It was too easy. There was a catch.
I watched as he began to run and I watched Ramseys men began to load their crossbows.
I began to scream. “Nooo! Stop!” I screamed and they hit me, but I didn’t stop, I had to warn him.
Jon began to ride towards his brother… holding out his hand. But there it was, another stark gone.
My own scream was silent in my ears, I couldn’t hear anything as I watched him fall to the floor.
I sobbed. I watched Jon loose his horse and begin to take on an entire army by himself. I screamed again.
I felt Ramsey pull at my chains and drag me back to winterfell. Leaving the battle of the bastards. His war that he wasn’t even fighting.
Leaving the carnage. He took me to the courtyard. He put me on the execution platform and tied a rope around my neck. He explained how if Jon came to save me, the floor would disappear and so would I.
I waited, I saw the bodies pile up through the windows in the castle walls. I watched the giant break down winterfells gates. I smiled and cried when I saw him….just Jon.
“You’re too late.” Ramsey smiled and pointed at me. Jon’s face dropped he was covered in blood.
“No!” I yelled as I watched one of Ramseys men move to pull the lever.
Jon began to run towards me, as a red haired man threw an axe at the soldier. It killed him as he pulled the switch. I closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath.
I opened my eyes, Jon had caught me. I smiled as a tear ran down my cheek. He looked at me, examining my face.
His red hair friend cut the rope and jon put me down.
Ramsey began to load his crossbow.
“Jon.” I said and pointed at Ramsey.
His hands left my hips, and I almost missed his touch.
He used some debris as a shield as Ramsey fired arrows at him, he grew closer and closer to him.
I watched as Jon beat him up. A part of me liked that Ramsey would die here, today. A part of me knew it was wrong.
“Stop!” I let out. Jon looked at me and then at Sansa, still punching. And he did, he stopped.
He walked off into winterfell.
I ran across the courtyard to Sansa and we held each other. Tight.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. She laughed.
“Are you?” She scoffed.
We quickly decided Ramsey should be reunited with his pets. He didn’t deserve to live. Not even as a prisoner.
Later that evening I found myself in Aryas old bed chambers attempting to stitch up some of my cuts. I heard a knock at the door and looked up.
Jon.
“Hello.” I spoke.
“Hi.”
I slowly stood up.
It wasn’t long before his lips were on mine. We kissed for a long time, passionately. A kiss that made up for all our time lost.
We pulled away breathless, both crying.
“You stopped writing letters.” I spoke, he smiled.
“You stopped writing back.” He answered.
He hugged me, gently. I hugged him back as tightly as I could.
“You’re taller.” I smiled.
“You’re shorter.”
We both laughed.
He sat me on the bed and helped me stitch up my wounds. He held my hand tightly as he poured alcohol on my back.
We spent hours catching up.
We both sat on the end of the bed, my head on his shoulder.
“I thought you were dead.” I told him. “Twice.”
He chuckled. “You gave me a few scares too.”
“How was the wall?”
“Cold.” He looked down at me. I laughed.
“Is it true? The whitewalkers?” I asked more seriously now.
He sighed. “Unfortunately.”
“I’ve fought them, they’re too strong. I fear we won’t win this battle. But I’ll make sure you’re as far south as south goes-“
“No!” I interrupted, shaking my head.
Tears brimmed in his waterline.
“I’m not leaving again….I just got you back. We’re going to grow old together, remember?” My voice broke. “Even if you’ve found someone else-“
“There’s no one else.” He brushed his hand over my cheek.
“If you fight, I’ll fight.” I spoke.
“You did have a really good teacher.” He stated. I playfully nudged him as he smiled.
“I love you…just Jon, I always have.” I finished.
“I love you too, princess y/n Greyjoy.” He kissed me again gently.
“Snow.” I corrected and he frowned. “Queen y/n snow.”
A smile took over his whole face.
“If you’ll have me, that is? King Jon snow.”
#jon snow#jon snow x you#jon snow imagine#jon snow fanfiction#jon snow x reader#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones#ramsey bolton#sansa stark#winterfell
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
Home (Jon Snow x Reader)
A/N - Only took me, what, like three months to finish this request? I kept coming back to it and re-reading and changing it but I finally FINISHED IT! The wonderful @pastanest requested this one so shoutout to her, if you are thirsting for Jon Snow (like me) GO CHECK HER OUT!!! She is an amazing writer and a wonderful person <3
Warnings - blood, RAMSAY BOLTON, violence... its game of thrones tbh
Word count - 5.7k
The fire had gone out weeks ago. No one who came in bothered to replenish it with wood, and I wasn't exactly in a position to do it, with my wrists chained to the floor. I'd had a lot of time to think about things. About my past, about Sansa, about what led me to this moment, about Jon.
I found that my mind went wandering to him quite often.
Nineteen years ago, after Robert’s Rebellion ended, many reunions were had. Fathers saw their children and wives saw their husbands. It was a sigh of relief for people who had their loved ones taken away, forced to fight the Mad King. My mother waited with baited breath, staring at the horizon everyday for months, praying to all the Gods that she would see him in the distance, finally returning to her. She held her budding belly with tears in her eyes, refusing to believe that she was living in a world without him.
She later passed away on the birthing bed.
If it weren’t for the wet-nurse that was able to arrive so quickly from a town over, I wouldn’t have made it. When word got to Eddard Stark that I was in fact alive, and without parents, he was quick to get me over to Winterfell. I don’t remember my life before the Starks, and I don’t have much of a need to. I befriended the Stark children and was welcomed into their home with open arms. My father gave his life in service to the realm, they felt it was the least they could do. From what Lord Eddard remembered of my parents, they were utterly and wholly in love.
Sansa and I clicked when we were younger. Although I was a few years older than her, we got along very well. We would brush each other's hair and put it in pretty braids, we'd giggle when the stable boys would flirt with us, and she would tease me for my crush on Jon. Once the two of us were of age, I was assigned as her lady-in-waiting. It was sort of like being Sansa's ‘official friend’, which wasn't hard. It really didn't change much; we got to spend all of our time together.
Sometimes, if I closed my eyes hard enough, I could go back to those days. When we were younger, we'd help sneak Arya out of her room and run down the corridors to the kitchen to steal any lemon cakes that were left from dinner. I was almost certain that Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn knew what we were doing, but let us have our fun when they heard the laughter from the kitchens late at night.
"What are you doing?"
Jon stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. Arya, Sansa, and I stilled, crumb-covered mouths tightly shut. I wasn't sure if it was our lack of sleep or the definite sugar high, but Arya burst out laughing, spewing bits of cake over the table, while Sansa and I did our best not to copy her, covering our mouths and stifling our laughs. With my quick and shy glances to Jon, I could tell he was having a hard time keeping a smile off his face.
"I can't believe you guys," he said, shaking his head. "You're worse than Bran."
Bran was notorious for stealing sweets. I hoped that wherever Sansa had escaped to, she got to eat as many lemon cakes as she pleased. It had been months since she got away from Ramsay’s hold, and sometimes I wondered if she would leave me here for good.
It was an awful thing to think, I knew that, but Ramsey knew how to get under my skin (literally) and drill some awful things into my mind. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d done to Sansa. Thankfully, he could go days without bothering to torment me, which usually meant that I didn’t get to eat either, but I was more than willing to trade that for some time away from Ramsay. The room that I’d been confined to was small and drafty, from what I could guess used to be an extra storage room for food, with the old flour bags and rotting potatoes. They were my bed most nights. Though I have to admit, it’s a step up from the cell outside with the dogs. Ramsay had been keeping me there until Sansa found out and refused to eat until I was moved to an actual room. She even got me a makeshift fireplace in an old cooking pot.
I was convinced that the only reason I was able to stay sane was by staying in my mind. Thinking of ten years ago, when I was growing up here with Sansa, Arya… Jon. When I was safe and happy and took everything for granted.
There was some irony in it. The place that I grew up in, that allowed me to build the friendships and relationships that I had, that allowed me to be free of the pain of growing up without a family, was then the same place that kept me from being with mine.
The door creaked open, and in walked the man who had chained me here. Ramsay knelt in front of me, placing down a bowl of stew. One glance at it and I was salivating. Meat, potatoes, carrots, celery, all steaming gloriously in the bowl in front of me. That was… odd. I’m not one to turn down a hot meal, especially when I hadn’t eaten in days, but I knew the games Ramsay played. I knew that there was… something else to it. Ramsay sat on the floor across from me, with that sick little half-smirk.
“It’s rude to refuse food from the Warden of the North,” he commented, clasping his hands together in front of him.
“He didn’t put this in front of me. You did.”
Ramsay let out a dry laugh, not letting his smile fall. I only managed to get that look off his face once, and I paid for it. However, I still found myself accepting the challenge of knocking Ramsay’s ego down a peg.
“I see you’re in a fine mood today, that’s good,” he paused, “I have good news.”
That was saying something, coming from him.
“The bastard is coming.”
I froze at that. It took a moment to realize that that’s what he wanted, he always wanted to get a rise out of me. I refused to give him any satisfaction. I had to stop myself from meeting his penetrating stare.
“I’d spoken to him earlier, along with my dear wife,” his emphasis on the word ‘wife’ made me want to vomit. “They’ll be coming to Winterfell tomorrow to try to take it from me, with lesser men. And when they lose," Ramsay's voice got quieter as he leaned in towards me, "Sansa will watch me flay you living. She will watch me feed you to those dogs, she will watch as you die in that cell, screaming and bleeding. I will make her understand what happens to those she cares about when she betrays me." His pitch black eyes stared into mine as I tried to control my breathing. I didn’t think I'd ever truly, wholly, and honestly wished for someone to die a painful death as much as I wished it for that man. I swallowed harshly.
"Winterfell has never been yours. It never will be," I whispered. He leaned back, loosening up, but his eyes looked empty as ever. And he smiled some more.
“Jon sounded awfully concerned for you.” No. No. “I’m assuming Sansa had told him about your… conditions here.” That was a nice way to put being held prisoner in your own home. “I wasn’t aware that you two had such a history.” I shouldn’t have even looked at him. All the emotion that I was trying to hide, he saw right through. The more I spoke, or acted, or looked, the more leverage he had against me. It was an impossible struggle.
“Don’t worry,” he leaned closer, his breath hot and putrid. There was nowhere for me to go. “I won’t kill him before I let him see you,” he snatched my face in his free hand, his grasp firm and unwavering. I felt the cool tip of a knife rest on my cheekbone. “He will see just how you’ve been holding up.” He dragged the knife agonizingly slow down the bare flesh, I was sure I would pass out. “And he will see all that I’ve done to you.”
I didn’t eat the stew until after he left. The chains rattled as I reached forward for it, slugging from the bowl like an animal. I didn’t like eating while he watched. Something about it felt… humiliating. Like he was watching one of his dogs rip someone apart after not feeding them for weeks, like he was proud of the way he had starved me. I was sure he was. I was sure he would love to see me eating like it was the last meal I’d ever indulge in.
***
Jon was outside the banquet hall, in the courtyard, slashing away at a dummy with his sword. The mead sloshed in their cups as I stepped toward him.
"I think you won," I commented once I got within earshot. He turned around, his face lighting up at my presence just enough for me to notice, causing my face to flush. "I smuggled you out a drink," I outstretched one of the cups, which he took while catching his breath.
"What am I missing in there?" Jon questioned, referring to the dinner party with the King and Queen, taking a slug from the cup.
"Well... the King is drunk, Sansa's gushing over Prince Joffrey, and Arya just got in trouble for catapulting food at her," I explained. Jon chuckled at the thought of it. "So nothing new, as far as our dinners go."
Jon went quiet, surprisingly. He'd tend to have a lot to say when I was around. His gaze was fixed on the cup, lost in thought.
"Is everything alright?" I asked. I've known him to be a bit upset about being forbidden from dinners, but he was usually better at hiding it.
"There's something I've been thinking about, that I want to tell you," he breathed out. "I'm taking the black. I leave the same day as the royal party with my Uncle Benjen." His eyes were on mine. I felt... conflicted. I was happy for him, I knew he'd do well up at Castle Black, given his bravery and swordsmanship. I knew that we all couldn't stay in Winterfell forever, that we were growing up. However, something in me hoped that wherever Jon would go, I could follow. The bastard and the Lady's maid.
"I'm happy for you." Truly, I was. I knew he'd always been worried about making something of himself. He would never have lands or a title, so it made sense he would seek to prove his worth through service to the realm.
"Thank you." There was a hint of sadness in his voice.
"From what I've heard I'll be going to King's Landing with Sansa. Serving as her handmaiden."
Jon hummed in response. He seemed to have the same reaction to my news as I had to his.
"I'll write to you," he commented. I didn't even bother trying to hide my growing smile.
"I'll write back."
***
The days were cold, but the nights felt colder. Ramsay sent in a Maester to treat the wound that he inflicted. I was no use to him dead, of course. It was sore to the touch. Through the small, barred window in the room, I could see that the sun was setting, as it did every night, and as it will continue to do well after I die in that place.
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the throbbing pain in my face. It felt like it was on fire, which meant that my body was probably fighting an infection from the cut. Looking out my small window, the sunlight couldn't penetrate the clouds, leaving the sky a gloomy, milky gray.
Sometimes, when I was just waking up, I would forget where I was. I could open my eyes and be in King's Landing, with Sansa and Arya and Ned Stark. Or I could be waking up here in Winterfell, but in my own bed, in my own room, right across from Sansa's, how it used to be. Those moments were my favorite. When my mind was still fogged with sleep and I could swear that just yesterday I was reading in the Godswood with Jon. Sometimes I would see how long I could go before opening my eyes. It felt like when I did so, it cemented the pained reality of where I was, and who I was without. It's silly, really. No matter how hard I tried, I would still wake up surrounded by these four walls, in the same house that was no longer a home.
I must have dozed off again at some point, because the next time I rose I was awakened by the sounds of chaos outside. The window in my cell was far too high for me to see ground level out of, even if I wasn't chained. I had to use my hearing to discern what was happening.
The scrambling and shouting of soldiers, and a loud, rhythmic bang... bang... bang. It was coming from the front gate. Was... was it a siege? There was a shrieking of a creature that I couldn't name, and then more shouting and yelling, the clanging of swords. Then it stopped. I held my breath. It felt like ages until I could hear anything else.
Footsteps raced towards the door. I could hear muttering on the other side. There were two very different ideas of who could be coming to me at such a rush, one of which made bile rise in my throat.
"This has to be it, I know that he kept it locked and I remember it being by the kitchens," the sweet, feminine voice rushed out. I'd recognize her voice anywhere.
"Sansa?" My voice was hardly a whisper as I croaked out the name. I jumped when the door started shaking as though it was being kicked in. The chains clicked as I scrambled to stand up. Had they won? Was Winterfell back to the Starks? Was Jon here?
The door burst open and I locked eyes with the one who had been infiltrating my thoughts. He looked much more grown than I'd remembered. His dark, curly locks were pulled back with only a few strands in the front that had burst free. There were streaks on his face where dirt and blood had been haphazardly wiped away. Sansa engulfed me in a hug, pulling me in so tight I was sure she could tell just how little Ramsay was feeding me.
"I'm so sorry it took so long for us to get here, my escape wasn't planned, I would've never left without you if I'd known-"
"Sansa," I cut her off from her babbling, pulling back from the hug and holding her at arm's length. There were tears welling in her eyes, as well as mine. "It's okay, I'm okay." She let out a shaky breath, looking relieved I didn't resent her.
"Ramsay had the key on him." It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to, her and Jon's arrival had almost made me forget that I was still chained in the room. For the first time since she'd come in, she acknowledged Jon's presence by turning back towards him. He looked as though he'd just seen a ghost. To him, I guessed I might be one. He blinked a few times, seeming to snap out of his stupor and reached in his pocket, handing the rusty key over to Sansa. When the manacles fell with a clank to the floor, I felt like I could finally breathe. I rubbed the skin that was under them, it was red and irritated, which wasn't surprising.
"Are you hungry? I'll see what can be made.”
***
"It's for you." A boyish Jon stood at the foot of my bed, on unsteady feet, with a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. Even from the distance it smelled heavenly.
"You didn't have to, I was about to go to the kitchens," I complained, sitting up. Jon made his way around the bed, delicately placing the soup in my cold hands.
"Are you feeling any better?" I saw his hand start to move up as he asked the question, only to stop himself. Was he going to feel my forehead?
"A little," I lied, sipping from the side of the wooden bowl. The soup was hot and delicious; it had been prepared with herbs that were still growing outside. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me." He gave a small shrug but smiled anyway. "I'm just glad to see that you're eating again."
"Me too," I said, trying a spoonful this time. It was potato soup, my favorite. Had he known? Jon sat down next to me before continuing.
"I feel awful." I snapped my head up at his statement.
"Why? Are you feeling ill too?" I stammered, shifting under the furs. He chuckled through his nose.
"No," he sighed, "the stable hands warned me they were still training that horse, but I'd ridden her before and she was fine. I can't believe she threw you off like that, into the stream of all places." I had to suppress a smile, thinking back to the other day. Jon offered to teach me to ride a horse, as no one else would bother, and we'd spent the better part of a day out in the woods. It was the most fun I'd had in ages. Towards the end, my horse had gotten a bit fussy and, well…
Jon was quick to get my sopping wet figure back into the gates of Winterfell, but it wasn't quick enough to stop me from catching a cold. I truly didn't mind. Any time spent with Jon was valuable to me.
"Don't feel bad, it's part of learning... people fall. In streams, sometimes," I muttered towards the end.
Jon's face pulled into a smile at my comment. "Well, let's hope your second attempt at riding doesn't involve a broken bone or two."
***
Potato soup. I was sitting in front of a crackling fireplace, wrapped in furs, with a bowl of hot potato soup that conspicuously arrived. In that moment I wondered if I truly had passed away at Ramsay’s hand, if that was real, if I was just dreaming, still locked in the room.
I knew that I should eat, but the hollowness of my stomach made the food smell less than desirable. Sansa hadn't left my side since she'd unlocked the chains and brought me into the room, going on about the past few months. I hadn't said much.
"How do you feel? You’re quiet,” she bit her lip.
My throat hurt, it was dry. I swallowed hard, clearing it before answering.
“Okay. It's just so good to be warm." I had no idea how long I'd been cold. I often stayed balled up in that room, as tight as I could. I tucked my extremities into myself and dreamed of the sun. I took a breath and brought the bowl to my lips.
"Jon was shocked to hear you were still alive." I almost choked on the soup. Sansa smiled, one that looked devilish. "I knew you were close when we were younger, but I wasn't expecting him to react how he did," Sansa thought out loud.
"How did he react?" My curiosity got the best of me. I set the bowl down on the small table next to me.
"I'd told him soon after Brienne, Poddrick, and I arrived at Castle Black," I quirked my head at the names, but she was too consumed in her story to notice, "that you were still at Winterfell. He was furious, he wanted to come straight here, but I wouldn't let him." Sansa looked down, wringing her hands. "I convinced him to wait, to gather more men. Otherwise it would have been a slaughter."
I put my hands on hers, her glossed eyes met mine.
"You did the right thing," I reassured her. I knew she felt guilty for not getting here sooner, but she did what was best. I'd feel worse if they'd come sooner, and Ramsay's threats rang true.
"Rickon-" Sansa choked a sob, "h-he-"
I shushed her and put my arms around her shoulders. I'd seen some Winterfell men carrying his body through the gates on our way to this room. "I know," I whispered, shedding tears of my own. I didn't dare ask her how he died, I knew enough. That it was by Ramsay's hand, without a doubt.
We sat for a while longer, both comforted by the silence. The warmth of the fire and the contentment of the soup helped me relax. I realized that I'd been clenching my teeth, so I released them. I'd been in an awful lot of pain the past few months. The wound on my face would leave a plump scar, that I was sure of. Our silence was interrupted by a few maids entering with warm buckets of water for a bath. The mischievous smile on Sansa's face told me she had planned that. It wasn't until the maids had filled up the tub and left that I got the courage to ask the question that was lingering in my mind.
"Where's Jon? I haven't seen him since..." since I was freed from my cell? Since I saw him for the first time in years? Since he looked at me and his stare penetrated my being?
"I believe he's with some of the men of Winterfell, gathering up any survivors of Ramsay's men in the castle," she replied, giving me a look. She knew why I asked. I could only imagine what Jon was doing to Ramsay’s men "I'll leave you to it," she stood, her long furs flowing down to her ankles. It was then that I realized this room was intended to be mine. "I'm sure a bath is just what you need." I nodded in response, and she swiftly exited the room.
***
Jon hissed and pulled back slightly at the damp cloth I held against his temple.
"I have to clean it, Jon," I pleaded.
"I know," he breathed out. "It stings." I could see the pain in the way he scrunched up his face.
"I’m sorry." His eyebrows scrunched together at my apology, his eyes locked to mine. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.
Jon and I had a silent understanding of each other. While we had different reasons for being at Winterfell, we were both seen as slightly less-than the Stark children. Of course, I wasn't scolded by Catelyn nearly as much as Jon was. However, we were both instructed to stand behind the Stark's during the Royal family's arrival, never with them. While Jon was told not to attend the feast at all, I was tasked to stay at Sansa's side.
We noticed these differences, we saw them at a very young age, and we protected each other. We looked out for one another in an unspoken pact, that was shown by Jon walking me to my chambers late after the sun went down, and my defending him when Catelyn was always too harsh.
"Jon, I was fine. Those stable boys didn't cause me any harm."
"They were throwing cow shit at you," Jon blurted out. I had to suppress a grin, he was fuming.
"Well, they didn't have very good aim," I muttered. Jon returned his hardened gaze to the gloves that were clutched in his hand, he must not have found my comment very funny.
"Eddard and Catelyn will have an earful for you, you know. Especially Catelyn." He turned away from me.
"I know," he said quietly, "those boys didn't put up much of a fight," Jon pulled my hand down, and grasped it in his. "I'd do it again." My heart fluttered and I swallowed hard.
***
I recalled the memory in the bath. It was so vivid, his warm hand gripping my fingers, his eyes locked on mine and saw everything inside them. It was the first time he ever offered to defend me like that.
I had scrubbed myself too hard in the bath and opened the wound on my face. I stayed in the water until it turned murky and cold. I wanted to rid myself of every piece of Ramsay, though I knew it wouldn’t be possible. At least, not for a long time. My only motivation for exiting the bath was the small trickle of blood down my face. After drying off and dressing, I exited the chamber and made my way to what used to be Maester Luwin’s space. Surely, there would be a healer of some sorts there.
It was dark outside, the moon shone bright above. A chill breeze blew through the halls. I pulled my furs tighter against me and walked to the door, opening it. There was no one inside. The room was littered with medical supplies, my best guess was whatever Maester was here had been out tending to any wounded men from the battle. Though I'd patched up Arya's scrapes and scratches from playing too rough with Bran before. With the supplies here, I could fix myself up. It took me a moment of fumbling through the shelves and drawers to find a healing balm in a small wooden bowl. The smell of it reminded me of Maester Luwin. His hands were always covered in the minty salve.
The sound of footsteps coming down the hall startled me, and I nearly dropped the bowl. A soft knock sounded on the door, and I was almost certain I knew who it was. I didn't waste a moment, rushing to the door and opening it. Jon was standing in front of me, his dark hair smoothed back, the moonlight made shadows dance across his face. He wore a plain black tunic with his cloak over it. The air rushed from my lungs. It couldn't have been more than a few moments, standing there, gazing at each other. But I felt like I could spend the rest of my days looking into his warm brown eyes, and I would be content.
"You stopped writing back." There was a hint of amusement in his words, the type that only someone who'd known him well enough could pick up on. I did.
I didn't bother trying to hold back the smile and the tears as we engulfed each other. His arms felt strong and real. One of his hands held me at the back of my head, pulling me so close to him that there was no room for doubt. His breath felt warm on my neck, sending a dance of shivers down my back. I sniffled, holding onto him with every part of me. We stayed together like that for what seemed an eternity.
Finally, he broke our embrace, keeping his hand on the back of my head, holding it, holding me. "I've missed you."
My lips quivered when I spoke, unable to form the right words. "I... I've missed you too." There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many stories and so many people that I'd met, but he looked at me so intently that words fell flat on my tongue.
He held my gaze and I was sure I'd burst into flames. "How are you?" he asked softly. "Are you hurt anywhere else besides there?" His calloused thumb brushed just below the cut on my face. By the gods, I must’ve been a thousand shades of red.
He'd gained a few new scars himself, his face was littered with them. The little nicks in his skin and the dark shadows of his face made him look so... mature. He was no longer the boy who's cheek I'd pecked before he left for the Night's Watch. "No," I said quietly, wringing my hands. "Nothing serious. Just cuts and bruises."
"That's serious," he started analyzing me, trying to find any, "it's you." I smiled again.
"Come here." He dropped his hand from me, closing the door behind him. I immediately missed the warmth he brought to my skin. I turned to follow him, and saw that he was already holding the bowl of salve. With feather light touches, he began to apply to the wound on my face. It stung at first, if only for a moment, but once the minty coolness took effect, I let out a breath of relief. I hadn't realized I closed my eyes until Jon placed his fingers under my chin, tilting my head sideways to get better access to the cut. When I opened them, they found his. The downward curve of his brow told me something.
"What's wrong?" I asked. My voice cracked a bit, and I cleared my throat.
Jon shook his head, leaning back against the wooden desk. His gaze fell to the floor. "I wanted to come sooner, but we didn't have the men," his soft brown eyes followed the curve of the wound down my face, "I'm sorry." For a moment, I thought I saw a wetness in his eyes.
A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. "For what? Winterfell is back to the Starks. You did what you had to do."
His expression softened. "I know," he said quietly, "I don't think I can thank you enough for keeping Sansa safe the past few years." He reached out to brush the hair away from my forehead, and I could feel the heat radiating off his hand. "She told me everything. About Joffrey, Baelish... Ramsey." He spat out the last name with venom as his jaw hardened.
"Is he...?" I didn't need to finish asking the question for Jon to understand.
"Sansa put him with his hounds. I don't imagine he'll be there much longer."
I knew exactly what that meant, and a breath of relief left me, one I never knew I was holding in. Though I'd felt relieved, I knew that it wasn't the end of Ramsay's torment. He would continue to haunt the darkest parts of my mind. I would continue to have nightmares where his touch was everywhere, and no matter what I did or said, I couldn't shake him off of me. I'd only experienced a fraction of what Sansa had from him. I couldn't imagine what she'd been going through. She was stronger than me, that I knew for certain. I made a mental note to talk to her about, at the very least let her know that I was willing to, if that was what she chose. Jon's warm hand on my arm pulled me from my thoughts. He was looking at me, expectantly.
"What?"
"I asked if you'd like me to walk you back to your room," his voice was laced with concern.
I tried not to show how his offer made my heart squeeze. I nodded. We walked side by side through the castle halls, silent except for the occasional murmur of voices drifting around us. Once or twice, we passed another person, but neither of us acknowledged their presence. The silence was nerve-wracking. It didn't take long before we reached my room, a small smile tugging at his lips. I stopped short outside the doors, turning to face him. He was right behind me.
"Was the potato soup any good?" Jon asked, and it took only a moment before it clicked in my head.
"That was you?"
"So it's still your favorite, I take it?"
"I-... yes."
Jon smiled and nodded his head slightly, stepping back. He was starting to leave. A burning ache ran deep inside me. I felt myself longing for him, although he was right in front of me. "Jon..." I paused. His presence was doing that thing again where it made it very hard for me to speak. I needed him to say something. Anything. So when he said nothing, I continued. "Would you... stay, for a little while? Please?" I finished lamely.
It was all the encouragement he needed to step forward and set his hands on either side of my face. His thumb rubbed along my cheekbone and up toward my hairline, making me shiver. His eyes flew back and forth between mine, looking for permission that he always had. He nodded delicately, pulling me in and pressing a kiss to my lips. It was so soft, so gentle, so tentative. But even that small moment made my stomach twist into knots and my knees go weak. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on mine, letting the lingering feelings of the past few months melt away. It didn't matter that there was still so much to be said, so much to figure out and plan with the retaking of Winterfell. Things would melt into place, as I melted into him.
Ramsay had left his mark on me, literally and figuratively. And maybe he would continue to live in the parts of my mind that he clawed out space for, but Jon never needed to claim space for himself. He had it earlier when he kicked down the door to my cage, when he hugged me tightly goodbye the day he left for Castle Black, when he showed me that smile that always turned my insides to mush, and every time in between. All without having to ask for it. He was slowly filling it with warmth, with love. With life. So maybe Ramsay had some part of me, one that I may never get back... but those parts were all Jon’s, and I'd always treasure them.
As his lips moved against mine, I realized I’d made it.
I finally felt like I was home.
Tags: @pastanest @nyotamalfoy
#jon snow#jon snow x reader#jon snow fanfiction#jon snow imagine#got fanfiction#game of thrones#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones imagine#asoif/got#asoaif
413 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dixis-stuff
Senza titolo
here-and-n0w
here-and-n0w
creepyodd
⊚ Creepyodd ⊗
directaur-blog
ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ˡᵒˢᵗ ᶦˢ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ
corpsekiller
𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗