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#Theon imagine
axelsagewrites · 3 months
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Can I please request a Dom!Theon with Sub!F reader smut!! Like the scene with Theon and Yara on the horse but continued later that night🥵 I love your writing!!
Theon Greyjoy*Give it Back
Pairing: Theon x f!reader
Word count: 1330
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Warnings: teasing, enemies to lovers, make out, f! receiving oral, smut, 18+
A/n: this does deviate from your request a bit but I just couldn’t figure out how I wanted to do it that way so hope this dom theon works instead lol
Masterlist Here
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You had arrived at Winterfell a couple of weeks ago with your family while they were conducting business with the Starks, but business was far from your mind. For some reason your mind had been taken over by some cocky, good for nothing, ridiculous, mean, pompous, gorgeous boy who somehow was so attractive despite his arrogance. You say this since the first time you met Theon, he tried to flex on who his father was and who he was and how great he was. You were half tempted to punch him in his very kissable face.
Instead, you decided to try ignoring him to curb your stares. “Look who it is,” Theon’s voice snapped you from your peace. You were sat at a table in the courtyard reading a book when you felt Theon’s arm fall over your shoulders, “Little lady sunshine,”
“Hello Greyjoy,” you said, refusing to take your eyes off your book.
“Leave off,” Robb laughed as he pulled Theon from you and moved to sit beside you. Theon quickly moved to sit across from you with Jon beside him. the three of them continued their conversation while you read, trying to ignore them all when suddenly.
“Hey!” Theon snatched your book. “Give it back!”
“Or what?” Theon snorted, “You’ll make me? I’d like to see you try,”
“Oh really?” you asked, standing up and pretending to be tough though you new it was a façade, “Give me it back,” you instructed again holding your hand out.
Theon laughed as he stood up, holding it out however just as you reached out, he snatched it back, “Or what?”
You sighed as you stepped over the bench and went to leave, “You are an ass Greyjoy,”
“Cmon,” he called after you. “Was only joking,”
You however ignored him as you rushed inside and decided to walk back to your room however you heard footsteps following you, “Hey wait!” you ignored Theon’s calls as you walked up the stairs with him coming closer to you. “Cmon I was only teasing,”
You turned round the corner heading to your chambers when you felt Theon grab your wrist, “Here you can have it back,” he said, holding the book out to you again.
This time you paused, sizing him up before suddenly trying to grab it but instead he just held it up out of your reach. You angrily sighed and went to storm down the corridor but Theon quickly caught back up, grabbing your wrist and turning you till your back was against the wall and he was stood in front of you, “You’re a feisty one,” he said and you hated the fact you were getting turned on by this asshole.
“Are you gonna give it to me or not?”
Theon smirked, stepping closer to you, “Well I could. If you asked nicely,”
“I’m talking about the book,”
“So am I,” he teased, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Though we both know you want something else from me,” his lips across your cheeks till they hovered over your lips, “Go on. Tell me to go away and I will. Unless you don’t want me to that is,”
You felt your breath get caught in your throat then suddenly your lips moved up as if with a mind on their own as they pressed against his. Theon was shocked at first but soon melted into the kiss. His hand moved to hold himself up against the wall while yours moved to his shoulder, trailing down his arm then…
“Hey!” Theon protested as you snatched the book and ran down the corridor giggling. You managed to open your chamber door but as you went to shut it Theon held the door open, “You took my book,”
“It’s my book,”
“Says who?”
“Tells me,”
“Oh yeah?” he said, pushing his way into your room not that you were trying very hard to stop him, “Why’d you kiss me?” His question however caught you off guard as you tried to stutter a reply, but he continued speaking cutting you off, “If I didn’t know any better id say you like when I tease you. think I don’t notice it when you blush?”
“I don’t blush,” you mumbled, realising the door was shut.
Theon laughed, raising an eyebrow, “No you do. I see you do it. I see that cute little face of yours get all embarrassed when I rile you up,”
“You’re an ass,” you tried to say but he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his chest making you gasp, “What are you doing?”
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his eyes searching your face. You tried to avoid his gaze, but he used a finger to make you face him, “I asked you a question. Do you want me to leave? Or do you want me to show you how a Greyjoy does it?” he asked, his hot breath fanning your face.
Your lips really must have a mind of their own cause they were suddenly pressed to his again. You dropped the book, no longer caring about it as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue ran over your bottom lip. When you didn’t open his hand suddenly moved to squeeze your ass. You gasped into the kiss and Theon took the opportunity.
Suddenly you felt him walking you towards the bed. Your knees hit the back of the frame and Theon only broke the kiss to push you to fall on your back on the bed. “What are you- “you tried to ask as he sunk to his knees in front of you, pulling you to the edge of the bed, “Theon- “
“Its my lord to you,” he instructed as he pushed up your skirts, “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” he asked, his hands wandering up your thighs, “Me in your chambers like a dirty little secret? Teasing you, touching you, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull?” he said before suddenly nipping your thighs making you gasp, “I asked a question,” he said with a pointed look.
“Yes, my lord,” you said though it was half a whimper when his head dipped down and you could suddenly feel his hot breath fanning your wet cunt, “Please Theon-I mean my lord. Please just fuck do something please,”
“That’s more like it,” he grinned, kissing your inner thigh, “Love it when you beg for me. Knew you were dirty, so I did. fucking love, it,” he said, his mouth moving further up till he placed a kiss to your clit making you moan.
He took this as encouragement however as his lips moved to lick over your clit, your hand shooting out to grab his hair as he did so. His tongue began to work wonders, massaging your bundle of nerves before moving down to your hole. You gasped when you felt it sink in, your legs moved to rest on his shoulders. Theon’s hands moved to grab your thighs, his fingernails sinking into your flesh as his nose began to nuzzle against your clit.
You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers that came from you especially not with a knot quickly tightening in your stomach. As you felt yourself come closer to the edge Theon moaned against your cunt, vibrations shooting down your spine as you felt your body tighten before you finally reached your peak while tugging on his curls. “Oh fuck, Theon,” you moaned, his tongue not stopping till you fell limp on the bed.
You were both panting as he came up for air with a grin on his now wet face, “So much for hating me,” he chuckled as he moved to lay on the bed beside you. he brushed the hair out your face as his lips moved to hover over yours, “Now where were we?”
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greywoe · 4 months
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pre-war cat, robb and theon
(+ how i imagined this convo)
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jeyneofpoole · 3 months
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modern theon is living out of his car (robb’s first that he crashed into mailbox and gave to theon for free) in the parking lot of asha’s apartment complex. sometimes she sends qarl down with a plate of food and a joint because she feels a little bad but not bad enough to let him enter her home. he’s effectively homeless because balon kicked him out for wearing eyeliner and the last time the starks went on family vacation theon lost bran and rickon in the disney world gift shop so they’re not feeling super charitable but sometimes jon will let him climb in through his window because he’s hoping theon’ll show him how to do tricks on his skateboard (theon lied about doing a kickflip once) and theon’s not about to tell him he’s a fraud so he’s taking advantage of the whole thing because it’s january and his car is missing a door (cardboard duct-taped over the hole) and benjen gets jon the best weed in town so usually theon’s able to mooch if he’s annoying and/or persistent enough.
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tinfairies · 1 year
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PLEASE! reactions to sandor, theon, jorah, jon, tyrion, sansa and missandei for praising them during sex?
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I just did the men for this one, my character limit is 4 but I couldn't choose so I did all of them
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Sandor buries his face into the crook of his lovers neck. His face flushing at their words, his hips don't slow however. He opts to kiss at their delicate skin, trying to ignore the praise. It's not as though he doesn't like it, he just feels as though he doesn't deserve it. The praise keeps coming however, his lover keeps mumbling how good he feels and how amazing he is.
He sits up, bringing his lover with him. Sandor holds them close, their chests pressed together, then his lips find theirs. A desperate attempt to silence them as he keeps thrusting, bouncing them on his cock. Their arms wrap around him, as well as their legs. Clinging to him as he fucks them mercilessly. They make a note to praise him like that more often if this is how he'll react.
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Theon is cocky about it, smirks and thrusts into his lover even harder. "You like that huh?" his hands wander and he gropes at every part of their body. Even if he doesn't fully believe that he's the best man out there, he makes his lover moan and squirm and cum. That's all that matters to him. Theon makes sure they'll remember him even if they leave him, he's the best cock they'll ever have.
His fingers pinch at his lovers nipples, he loves the way they squeal at the sensation. His cock plows into them, the wet sound of their slick and his hot precum is downright selacious. He wants to hear more about how good he feels, how hot he is. If he had it his way, he'd never leave his lovers bed.
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Jorah can't help but get flustered when he hears the praise. His heart climbs up his throat as his lover moans and tells him how amazing he's doing. He leans down, his head resting against their chest. His thrusts don't slow down, in fact he angles his hips to go deeper. He opts to kiss their soft skin and hide his face from them. Jorah knows he shouldn't feel embarrassed, but how can someone so perfect love someone like him?
His hands roam their body, tracing down their sides and groping their hips. Pulling them against him and losing himself in their love. He believes that if he doesn't acknowledge the praise, he doesn't have to accept it. He can't accept it, not a man like him.
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Jon doesn't register his lovers words at first. He's so lost in them, wanting to make them feel as good as possible. When they repeat themselves, it hits him. He can't help but pick up his pace, he wants to hear it again. His hips angling in such a way that his cock goes deeper than before. Again and again his lover praises him, calling him a good boy and moaning that he feels heavenly.
He doesn't believe their words, not really. But it doesn't stop Jon from drinking them down like a deserted man. He knows that outside of this bed he isn't good, though he tries. No, the only place he's truly good and thoroughly skilled is right here between his lovers legs.
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Tyrion lives for praise, craves it and works hard for it. He knows he's good in bed, downright godly even. The words of his lover fuel his ego, he'd laugh and smile, asking if they want him to fuck them stupid. He loves to hear how good he's doing, how good his cock feels up inside them. He's thrusting his hips into theirs, hands roaming, he wants to hear more. Tyrion will keep going long after he and his lover cum, he doesn't want them to stop praising him.
He knows that when he pulls out, and they get cleaned up, that the praise ends. He doesn't want it to, perhaps that's why most of his free time is spent in brothels. Either way, he'll revel in his lovers words for as long as they can last.
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dear-bunnyboo · 9 months
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖
important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.
all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.
joe is finally heerrreeee!! that’s all i can say. enjoy!
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You are invited to the jungle.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, slight angst?, mentions of break up and cheating, drinking, new relationship?, joey b (he deserves a warning 🥵)
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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A few more months had passed after releasing your two breakup songs about your ex boyfriend Jack.
It’s officially been six months after pictures of him cheating surfaced the internet and you were proud of the little achievements you have achieved regarding the scandal— you are finally sleeping better, you ran out of tears to cry for your ex, you removed everything that reminded you of Jack out of your life and that sadly meant you distanced yourself from your mutual friends who thankfully understood your situation.
You were also satisfied of your album that will be out soon— thankful for the positive responses you have gotten from Selfish and Reckless.
And out of all, you were ecstatic to be working again after your break.
You were on your private jet with your team and best friend on the way to Cincinnati.
You were invited by the NFL to perform the National Anthem at the AFC Wild Cards against the Bengals and the Raiders— and of course you said yes.
This was not only gonna be your first public appearance after the breakup but also your first performance as well— the very next day after the game you were gonna have a concert at the same stadium the game is held— this kicking off your American tour.
You were nudge on the shoulder by your best friend Y/BF/N, taking your eyes off the plane window you turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows.
“Hey, you okay?” She asks checking up on you as you were lost in thought.
“I’m fine. Just the nerves that’s all.” You shrugged as you checked your phone to check the time, realizing that the plane was landing and you will be arriving soon.
Y/BF/N places her arm around you, “What is there to be nervous about, Y/N? You’ll kill it per usual.”
“It’s the National Anthem, Y/BF/N. I don’t want to mess it up and become the laughing stock of the entire planet— I don’t need to trend for a second time this year.” You muttered slightly confused as you watched your best friend pull out her sketchbook and pens out of her bag— she works for you as your head stylist and designs your outfits which is why she has drawing materials with her.
“First of all, you won’t mess up cause I believe in you. You’re Y/N motherfucking Y/L/N. Secondly, you are gonna trend and trend and trend even more this year cause you are gonna kill it per usual with this and your concert, your album, and all—”
You cut her off as you watched her write in big bold writing in her sketchbook.
“What are you doing?” You continued to stare at Y/BF/N who has her tongue poked out of her mouth in concentration.
“I’m writing the National Anthem lyrics. I will be standing right behind the camera so that you can see clearly–” she ranted before you threw a pillow at her laughing.
“Y/BF/N! Stop it!” You chuckled almost falling off your seat as you watch her still continuing her work.
“Is this how you spell perilous?” She deadpanned as she raises the sketchbook for you to see.
“Y/BF/N!?” You laughed clutching your stomach.
She continued to make you feel better even on the day of your performance…
Which is why as Y/BF/N fixes your outfit she talked to you as if she was a military enforcer.
“Seriously, Y/N— there is no one better to do this than you. It’s a short song, it will be over before you know it, and the offer still stands. Just say the word and I will be right there behind the camera with those cue cards.” She says as she rolled the lint roller all over your black outfit.
“I’ll pass but thank you.” You said to her gratefully before receiving a squeeze on the shoulder.
“You’ll do great.”
Taking a deep breath you waited for your cue— and just like that you were called onto the field.
You were greeted by the green turf that was laid out for the game. Thousands of fans from both teams yelling and cheering for their team, team colors of both orange and black and black and silver— the players on opposite sides of the field waiting for the game to start, the Raiders behind you while the Bengals were right up front.
You were directed to the center of the field where a small podium was placed for you to stand on, your mic on a mic stand sat on top of it— the American flag swaying behind you.
“Please rise for our National Anthem sung by Grammy winning artist, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!”
Taking another deep breath, you closed your eyes eyes and let the music take over your body.
As you were performing there was no thoughts in your head but the song, you said every word right, hit every high note you wanted to hit, and as you opened your eyes back up for the last line—
“And the home of the brave.”
You heard the roars and cheers, whether they were for you or for the game that officially started, you couldn’t find yourself to care after making eye contact with number 9 who was dead center in front of you watching you narrowed eyes— you knew who he was, you knew how famous he is, and how good he is at what he does— the Bengals’ star player.
You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the trans before being directed back backstage.
You and your team watched the game backstage, you weren’t much of a football fan but you understood the game— your father was a college football coach and with that a huge football fan so you grew up watching such games.
The game ended with the Bengals winning 26-16 which you found yourself highly impressed by considering you have been watching number 9 the entire time— you mentally scolded yourself for doing so, not understanding the sudden attraction.
You didn’t need this right now.
Right after the game you were invited to the after party by the Bengals and your team and your best friend answered for you— reasoning with you that you haven’t left the house to enjoy in a while which was true, so you decided to let loose and accept only if Y/BF/N came with— which she did considering she was a bigger party person.
This is how you found yourself cradling a glass of wine by the bar next to Y/BF/N who was gushing over something you couldn’t hear— you were too busy thinking about your concert tomorrow.
“Y/N!” She yelled making you snap your head towards her.
“What?”
“Joe Burrow is staring at you!” She whisper-yelled staring at someone from the corner of her eye.
“What?” Is all you managed to say still confused at how that made any sense.
“What do you mean, what? Joe fucking Burrow is staring at you— bitch he’s been staring at you this entire time.” She continued to gush while you refused to remove your eyes off of her.
“Wait, wait! He’s coming this way! He’s coming this way! This is your shot— it’s the universe’s gift for you, Y/N! After that bitch Jack! Take it or leave it.” She spat out really fast before leaving your side and going to the dance floor.
You stood there aghast, trying to digest everything she just said and before you could even understand what was happening, a shadow loomed from the corner of your eye.
fuck
“Hey”
You shut eyes and released a deep breath— you hated talking to new people.
Turning your body towards the voice you were met with the Bengal’s star quarterback in all his glory— standing with his incredible stature he towered over you wearing a simple black skin tight shirt and denim pants accompanied by a black leather jacket accompanied by the Cartiers over his eyes. the drink in his hand looking miniature by the size of his hand.
“Hi” you breathe out mentally scolding yourself for sounding awkward from the get go as you looked up at him, taking notice how you reach his shoulders with heels on.
Chuckling, he brings his drink up to his lips taking a sip, before removing his sunglasses, “I’m Joe— I am a huge fan of your work and I just want to congratulate you on singing the National Anthem at the game, you were great.” he almost yells over the loud music and the people talking.
“Thank you for saying that, I appreciate it— and shouldn’t I be the one congratulating you? It is your win we are celebrating this very moment.” this making him wave you off not wanting to make a big deal out of it that it already was.
“Well, congratulations anyway. You played great.”
You played great who the fuck says that you mentally scolded yourself.
“Thanks but it seems like you win over the amount of things to celebrate.” he leans down towards my ear as the music rang louder, “Don’t you have a show tomorrow at Paycor Stadium?” Joe continues.
You nodded mulling over the fact that he knew about your concert.
“Yeah I do, my tour starts here. I’m really surprised you know that.” you smiled at him, your body language more relax than it was before when you entered the establishment.
Joe simply nodded his head at you before replying, “I told you I’m a fan— was not lying when I said that. I tried getting a ticket and everything, no shot though it sold out in minutes.” Joe had a childlike wonder to him whenever he talked which made you chuckle as you listened.
“I have an extra ticket if you want.” You shrugged before a lump formed in your throat, remembering who’s the ticket was originally for.
From that statement, Joe looked at you with wide eyes— his ocean blue eyes staring at you as if you grew two heads.
“Really? You’re playing with me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m serious, why would I joke about that?” chugging the remaining contents of your drink.
“It just sounded like you were messing with me.” Joe shakes his head in disbelief.
“Well, think of it as a congratulation gift for winning.” you gave him a reason before continuing, “I love giving back to my fans.” you joked giggling.
“Oh, yeah— this can be my Make a Wish moment. Are there cameras?” he joined in before wildly looking around the club for the hidden cameras, earning a hearty laugh from you, Joe later on joining in as he watches you.
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to.” He says gratefully.
“You’re very welcome. I’m surprise the Joe Burrow didn’t get to pull some strings to get tickets.” you say teasingly, more comfortable than you were few minutes ago.
“Well, we are talking about the concert of the Y/N Y/L/N, I’m pretty sure even the Queen of England will have a hard time getting tickets.” Joe copied you slightly nudging you with his shoulders.
You gave the quarterback a playful glare making him chuckle at the look of your face— you found yourself genuinely enjoying your conversation and comfortable around him, not wanting it to end— and with that realization you were terrified, scolding yourself again for being cozy with another star athlete.
Why does this always happen to you? It never ends well— you pulled back from your thoughts, not wanting to over think— he could be genuinely just a fan or he could be in a happy relationship or he could be gay for all you know. You have no reason to overact— friends you can be friends with new people once in a while.
“Anyway, I don’t want to hog you any longer from your friend who has been watching us this entire time may I add.” Joe laughs nodding his head toward Y/BF/N who even under the dark could visibly be seen turn red for getting caught staring.
Turning away from Y/BF/N you gave Joe an apologetic look, “She’s just being weird cause I don’t normally talk to new people this long– being an introvert and all that.” you reassured him before pulling your phone out of your purse, holding it out in front of the both of you.
“Can I have your number please.”
“Woah, shouldn’t that be my line?” Joe joked before grabbing your phone out of your hand, adding his number to your contacts.
Rolling your eyes, you chuckled as you watched him patiently.
“I’ll send you the ticket tonight— 7:30 pm tomorrow but you probably already know that being my stalker and all.” you grinned up at Joe who was watching you with a glint in his eyes that you couldn’t or wouldn’t want to understand.
“Don’t underestimate me, I know your entire schedule.” Joe winks.
He winked.
Shaking your head, “I’ll see you tomorrow then– it was nice meeting you, Joe— and congrats again on winning.” finally bidding your goodbye.
“Thank you, it was nice meeting you as well and congrats to you too. I’ll see you.”
For the first time in months, you felt happy again— partying and making new friends, something you used to feel uncomfortable doing yet here you were with a wide smile on your face as you walked towards Y/BF/N, joining her on the dance floor.
It was Enchanting.
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dividers: @cafekitsune
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Theon leaving
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#asoiaf#theon greyjoy#asoiaf art#theon#asoiaf fanart#a song of ice and fire#ramsay's bitches#ramsay's dogs#winterfell#my art#i'm sorry i can't fix it more than this :/ Multiple details look wrong but yea too late#asoiaf what-if#theon frees/becomes the owner of Ramsay's dogs after the Boltons are defeated and they love him like a human could never do#all the stark kids + jon have a special bond with their direwolf pets now I want theon to have kyra on his side#i have a Theon and Jon and Kyra and Ghost fanart in mind already#i guess we can assume in this AU Ramsay was killed by Theon#imagine Ramsay orders the dog to attack theon and they go yea nope we ain't doing that#and they kill him like in the show or maybe it's theon shooting an arrow again#if that's even possible considering his fingers#but maybe theon wouldn't idk i can't understand new theon's personality after being reek#maybe he's the least vengeful person in the world maybe he's bloodthirsty af#i don't think he'd be happy if ramsay suffered his same way I think he's disgusted by torture at this point but i guess killing is ok? dunn#there's the cool AU where jon kills Ramsay while he's in ghost and that would be cool too but yea i'm a theon stan I want more theon scenes#ignoring the fact that if I stay awake for too long my brain goes into “Bolt-On is true” mode and I come up with deranged theories too LMAO#i think i said it somewhere but i wish a Asoiaf artists groupchat/discord would be amazing like guys I need to go on for hours about fanart#btw i'm making a youtube vid of this drawing which will also include my random mini art vlogs and pointless commentary of how i drew this#i should be studying for car license or my terrible grades or get some money somehow but nope i'm here typing a shit ton of tags#bye#i don't know human anatomy so IMAGINE DOG ONES PFF what are those four legged abominations i drew#tried using my doggo for reference but he's 23cm tall so yea maybe not the best reference for medieval hunting hounds
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spookyscaryfox · 9 months
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the stark sibs tendency for falling for traitors if you're willing to tweak interpretation and squint. oh, robb with his squid boyfriend who sold him out for possibility (!) of daddy's attention. oh, jon who fell for littlefinger's spy. oh, sansa and her dog who didn't stay when she needed him. oh, arya and her stubborn bull who sees the monstrosity of her mother and yet does nothing. oh, bran and meera who will have to choose between a friend and brother.
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valeskafics · 1 year
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"Your Eyes" - Theon Greyjoy x Reader
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A/N: my first theon one shot lfaksgjklas i love this little fucker sm, request from @angstycatthatlikestea 🥰
Summary: When Theon returns to the Iron Islands, you are there to greet him. And Yara is quite confident she's about to win a bet.
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, p in v sex, fingering, degradation, semi public sex
Word Count: 2,412
GoT Tag List (bold means I could not tag you): @poppyreader @ietss @ad-astra-again @hedahobbit98 @its-halleys-comet @not-a-glad-gladiator @bitchyglitterfox @disco--fairy @hwaillight @avaleineandafryingpan @foxyanon @rottingviserys @nyaaaaa008 @cumslutforaemond @watercolorskyy
As the youngest daughter of House Blacktyde, it is not surprising that in your shared childhood, you and young Theon Greyjoy were drawn to each other. Being the youngest in both of your families, you were often thrown together while the older children ignored you. The same feisty spirit lived within both of you and so, the pair of you were inseparable growing up, thick as thieves, with Theon always dragging you along into some kind of mischief. 
After both of you turned two and ten, everything changed. His touches began to linger on your body. His eyes almost seemed hungry when they eyed you. And he was always so very eager to go for nighttime swims with you out in the sea. Sooner than later, the feel of his skin on yours, even just his hand brushing against your own, began to send a thrill up and down your spine. Late at night, you found yourself thinking about him, what it would be like to kiss him. And when you learned what it is a man and woman do in the marriage bed, you began to imagine him doing those things to you.
But, before anything more could happen between the two of you, the war your people had waged for so long was over and it was declared that Theon would be taken to Winterfell, as a ward to Lord Stark.
The day Theon left the Iron Islands was the day Yara took you under her wing. She watched you as you waved goodbye to her little brother, looking completely dejected heartbroken. Life had torn you and your best friend apart, sending him leagues away from you. Yara, being a couple of years older and now without any brothers of her own, decided to make do with you. A scrappy ferocious thing, she has you taught alongside her as she learns the ways of reaving, the iron price. And soon? You are very nearly as fierce as she is, serving as the steerswoman aboard her ship. Her right hand and partner in crime, calling yourselves the Greyjoy and the Blacktyde, the scourge of the seas.
In Winterfell, particularly on days when he isn’t getting along very well with Robb and Jon, or those lonely nights when he misses home, Theon often finds his mind wandering to you. He wonders if you’re someone’s rock bride by now. He’s sure you are, you’re both nine and ten now. Though, he muses, you must be giving the poor bastard a hell of a time. His ravens to you when he first arrived in Winterfell went unanswered, and after a year, he gave up on hoping for any correspondence.
When you hear news that the young wolf, Robb Stark, declares himself King in the North, you and Yara are aboard the Black Wind, sailing off to the next village. Yara looks at you with amusement.
“I suppose Theon’s with him.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you shrug, keeping your gaze on the sea before you, “Doubt we’ll ever see the likes of him again. He’s not an Ironborn anymore, either way. He’s a little wolf pup now.”
Yara snorts out a laugh, “I’ll bet you two of your thralls that if he shows up, you’ll end up fucking him within a day.”
“Oh, do you? Fine,” you give her a grin, “Two thralls it is. Now quit distracting me, don’t you have some men to command?”
Then, that fateful day arrives when Theon comes back home as an envoy for his king. When Yara tells you of the news, she suggests you be there to meet him at the docks “since no one else gives a shit”. You scoff and agree, wondering what Theon looks like now. What he acts like. If he’s still the boy you remember.
You wait by the docks for Theon’s ship to come in. While you have absolutely no intention of losing your bet with Yara, you still dress your best. After all, if Balon is a king, that makes Theon a prince now, doesn’t it?
When Theon disembarks his ship, you see him before he sees you. And you’re pleasantly surprised at how handsome your childhood friend has grown. However, you notice his fine clothes and smirk to yourself. Your assumption was correct. Theon Greyjoy can’t be considered an Ironborn anymore. He’s grown soft. Soft and weak.
You decide to make your presence known and approach the ship, seeing him looking distraught at the lack of a warm welcome in his homeland, “Welcome to Pyke, stranger.”
Theon’s lips curl up in a devilish smile as he looks you up and down, his eyes focusing on your exposed cleavage, intently watching the rise and fall of your chest, “Welcome back to Pyke, you mean,” he puffs his own chest out proudly, “You’re speaking to Balon Greyjoy’s heir.”
“Oh, my,” you curtsy mockingly, though he doesn’t realize it and believes you are in earnest - clearly the man has been away from home too long, “King Balon’s heir. That makes you a prince now, doesn’t it?”
His eyes come alive with delight, “It does indeed. And who,” he grips you by the waist and pulls you into him, so close that you can feel his breath on your face as he speaks, “Might you be?”
“No one important,” you hum, resting a hand on his chest, “My, these are some fine clothes, Prince.”
“You should see me without them,” he chuckles, resting a hand on top of yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Now, why don’t you tell me what your name is.”
“Not important,” you repeat, “Do you need a ride to Pyke? I have a horse. I can take you there,” you gaze up at him through your lashes.
“Oh, I bet you can.”
Theon follows you to your mare and you climb atop her, leaving some space behind you, “Come on, Prince. Plenty of room for you on Nagga’s back, huh?”
Theon climbs on and takes a seat behind you atop Nagga, wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands settling a bit too close to the space between your thighs, “A friend of mine… Lord Blacktyde’s only daughter. Her mare’s name was Nagga.”
“Aye, my mare shares a name with Lady Blacktyde’s mare.”
“Does Lady Blacktyde have a husband? Do you know?” Theon rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering in your ear, “Has anyone made her their rock wife?”
The feeling of his lips so close to you makes you shiver slightly, but you maintain your composure, “Not as far as I know. Lady Blacktyde remains free. She serves as a steerswoman to your sister.”
“Oh, does she?” Theon hums, slipping his hands under the fabric of your tunic, moving up to cup your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh in his warm, rough hands, “Fuck, so soft…”
He continues to grope at your skin as though he’s never touched a woman before. He finds your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, making them pebble under his touch, pinching them lightly when they do.
“Were there no women in Winterfell, Prince?” you ask, moaning slightly at his touch, “You act as though you haven’t seen a woman in years.”
“You’re right. I haven’t seen a woman like you in years,” he pauses before nipping at your earlobe and whispering your name, “I know it’s you.”
“Don’t know,” you let out a sigh as he slides one hand down your lower stomach, stopping at the waistband of your breeches, “What you’re talking about. I’m just her thrall.”
“The first time I made myself cum while touching my cock was to the thought of you,” his voice is husky in your ear as he slips his hand inside your breeches, stroking you over your underclothes, “I imagined it was your pretty hands touching me.”
“I’m not who you think I am,” you insist, keeping one hand on the reins, the other moving back to run through his hair.
“I’d know your eyes anywhere,” Theon’s hand slides beneath your underclothes and he pushes two fingers inside of you, letting out a low groan of pleasure, “Always imagined how wet your little cunt would be for me. Always wanted to touch it, to taste it.”
He curls his fingers and begins moving them in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. You let out a moan of pleasure, attempting to continue riding to Pyke, but Theon isn’t having it.
“If you’re still trying to hold the reins, I clearly am not doing enough, love.”
Theon increases his speed, fucking you with his long, skillful fingers, moving deeper inside of you than you’ve ever been able to. Then, you let out a yelp as he hits a certain spot inside of you that sends an even more intense spike of pleasure through your body.
“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” Theon coos in your ear, chuckling as you pull on Nagga’s reins, making her stop, “I guess I’ll just have to do that again.”
And he does. His fingers continue moving in and out of you, the wet noises they make sounding altogether sinful, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it’s Theon, and not when he’s making you feel like this.
As you feel your peak coming closer and closer, Theon begins moving faster, which you are almost unable to believe, adding a third finger, filling you up in a way you’ve never been.
“Spill yourself on my fingers,” Theon growls in your ear, “Come on, sweetheart.”
He pinches down on your clit, chuckling when you nearly scream his name, your arousal soaking his fingers. He removes them from your cunt and you let out a groan of frustration at the feeling, missing his touch already. Then? He’s pushing his fingers against your lips.
“Clean your mess up for me, love.”
You take his fingers in your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around them, tasting yourself, enjoying the little groans Theon lets out at the feeling. You suckle at his fingers greedily, showing him exactly what you plan on doing to certain other parts of him, making him chuckle at your enthusiasm. After you finish your task, he hops off of your horse, then helping you down. You grin up at him and push him down to the ground, much like you used to when the two of you were younger, straddling him.
Theon grins up at you, his hand moving to brush your hair out of your face.
“Missed you,” you say, finally admitting your identity.
“Missed you too,” he echoes your sentiment, leaning up to kiss you, one hand caressing your cheek while the other is wrapped around you, holding you as close to him as possible.
You break away from his lips a moment too soon for his taste, only to begin undoing his breeches, pulling them down just enough to reveal his already hard cock, already leaking for you. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you lean down and lick at the tip, spreading his pre cum with your tongue. Theon lets out a low moan.
“Fucking stop teasing,” he says through gritted teeth, throwing his head back.
“Fucking stop talking,” you retort cheekily.
You move to fondle his balls, massaging them before taking them into your mouth, surprising him slightly. You mouth at them while your hand strokes up and down his shaft, your forefinger applying the slightest bit of pressure along his vein. Your name spills from Theon’s lips over and over as you continue your actions, until he’s spilling himself on your hand. Your eyes never once leaving his, you lick your hand clean of his seed, giving him a wicked little smile as you do so.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, before Theon breaks the silence, “You’re more beautiful than I ever thought you could be.”
“Pretty words from a soft mainland boy,” you tease, running your hand over his cock, feeling him beginning to harden again.
Theon chuckles, flipping the two of you over so you’re laying beneath him, giving his cock one slow pump with his hand, “I’m quite the opposite of soft.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the double meaning behind his words, only sliding your breeches down ever so slightly to expose your cunt to him, “Well then? Are you going to show me just how hard an Ironborn you are?”
He grins, moving to rub the head of his cock against your folds, teasing you, “Beg me for it.”
“I don’t beg.”
“You will.”
He pushes inside you, both of you letting out a gasp at the sensation. All these years later, the moment you’ve both thought of for so long is finally here, and it feels so perfect. He lays above you, leaning on one elbow, the other moving to hold your face.
“I’m going to be the next king of the Iron Islands,” he says as he pulls out and thrusts back into you, making your back arch off the ground, “And I’ll fuck my heir into you right now.”
He sets a breakneck pace with his thrusts, his hips slamming against yours over and over, the only sound for miles being skin against skin, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. Your mewls are obscene and he adores the sound, coaxing more out of you with every movement of his cock inside you.
“You’re going to be my rock wife,” he growls in your ear, speeding up his movements, “Never going to need a salt wife when I have a cunt this good waiting for me.”
You move your hips to try to meet his frantic thrusting, bucking up against him, urging him deeper inside you. When he hits your sweet spot again, you let out a scream of his name, making his eyes go wide with excitement at the sound and at your pleas for him to fuck you right there.
“Told you you’d be begging.”
A few hours later, you and Theon arrive at Pyke, disheveled and entirely satisfied. Yara takes one look at the two of you and walks off.
“Where’re you going?”
“To acquire my new thralls.”
Theon looks between the two of you questioningly; you sigh and give him a mischievous grin, “Long story.”
“I’ve got a long time,” he kisses your forehead, “Because now that I have you, I’m never leaving you again.”
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daenystheedreamer · 1 year
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theon is the worst roomate you could ever have never cleans always late on rent steals your shit literally roomate from hell. robb is a bad roommate but only because hes dating theon which means theon freeloads at the apartment hes like actually an okay roommate its just his boyfriend is the worst. jon is a nice roommate he facetimes his dog and always wears headphones. sansa okay roommate but shes living out a small-girl-in-the-big-city fantasy and is romanticising literally every aspect which means she’s always sighing and staring dramatically out the window and she’s annoyingly nepo wealthy. arya second worst roommate cos she listens to music on full blast and sneaks her dog in and fights with the landlord but she knows all the cool places in the city and will beat anyone you want up no question and will never snitch. you would never see bran if he was your roommate hes like a ghost one day you get up at 3am for a glass of water and hes smoking bog swamp weed in the dark with the two identical haunted-eyed bohemians in frog bucket hats
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h3llrac3r · 9 months
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˗ˏˋ For all eternity ´ˎ˗
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Theon Greyjoy x stark!reader oneshot
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
Warnings: angst, veeery briefly mentioned light smut, death, hurt no comfort, violence, lil bit of gore/ blood ? kinda cringe honestly, Horrible writing, 08x03 spoilers but I changed the episode's plot a little
Summary: I guess there’s nothing more romantic than dying in your lovers arms <3
Word count: ~ 2.6k
A/N: my first fanfic!! English is not my first language so excuse any mistakes. enjoyyy the angst babies <3
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧
The Godswood. Considerably the most beautiful place in all of Winterfell. It had an almost calming effect on you. The beautiful weirwood tree with its blood red leaves, surrounded by more trees and bushes. It’d look even more serene in winter. The painting worthy beauty of the snow silently falling from an endless gloomy sky, coating the world in a small layer of cold white. Sometimes you’d sit on one of the center tree’s branches with a paper and feather in hand, painting the snowflakes that landed on the back of your hand before they would melt away on your warm skin in a matter of seconds. You also loved the stillness of the forest. If you ever felt like you needed space from everything and everyone around you, you’d simply go out and sit with the trees. You’d see your younger self running, chasing your siblings around the tree in the center and laughing together when one of you would trip.
Theon would always know to find you there. If you’d let him, he’d sit with you and just listen. You knew he really cared. Theon was the only person, other than your siblings, you could trust with anything. He truly loved you with all his heart and you loved him. You tried hard to hide it in the beginning, knowing your Father would not be happy if you married Theon rather than a successful, rich king like the other noble girls did.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.
Robb and Jon knew the second they saw Theon and you talking together in the Godswood. They knew by the way he looked at you and how his eyes would linger on yours. They knew by the way his hand would brushed against yours or how he would blush every time your name came up. Jon especially knew when Theon stopped bedding every woman that stepped foot into the Winterfell castle. He only had eyes for you and he made sure you knew that every single day.
'The prettiest Stark' he would call you. Robb always acted dramatically offended every time he’d overhear Theon say it. It was no use trying to hide your feelings from another. So you didn’t.
You still vividly remember the first time you kissed him. It was the night of your 19th Name day. He took you back to your room and wanted to say goodnight as you leaned into him, lips meeting. His eyes widened in surprise for a few seconds but he melted into you right away. God, he’s been wanting that for a very long time. His hand cupped your cheek as the both of you stumbled into your chamber. He started messily taking off your clothes and gently laid you down on your bed, continuing to kiss you. Looking back, that night feels almost like a hazy dream. Like something you wanted for so long and then you finally got it.
Theon taught you how to fight, even though your father strictly forbid it, saying “it isn’t Lady like to wield swords and fight men”. Theon didn’t care about what other people thought of him, as long as he was yours.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.
Now everything seemed like a distant memory. What once was, can never be again. You knew you would die tonight. You knew and you were prepared. Your last night with your Ironborn lover was filled with nothing but love. You made sure every inch of his body knew you were grateful for him. Kissing him everywhere from his head down to his neck, hips and thighs. You didn’t want a single inch of him to not feel worshipped and longed for.
After hours and hours of fighting for not only your life but that of the people you loved, you were now standing back to back with Theon, trying everything to protect your brother Bran from the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead, who you were completely surrounded by. They took small steps towards the two of you, slowly caging you in further. Frantically looking around, you swung your sword in a way of trying to tell them to stay away.
They all suddenly stopped.
Your wide eyes looked back at Theon confused, your brows furrowing.
“What are they doing?” He asked you with a two thousand yard stare,
You shrugged your shoulders at his question.
Then all of a sudden there was movement. Some of the Dead opened the circle they surrounded you in to show you who was leading the attack. The White Walkers. At least a dozen of them. This was it. This was the moment your entire life led up to… your death. It seemed almost ironic that it was in the Godswood. A place you've cherished ever since you were a little child. Oh how naïve you were then, you thought. Little Y/N would never understand what was about to happen but neither would you, probably.
You stared at the Knight King only a couple of feet away from you, him staring back at you. He didn’t speak, determination set deep in his cold, blue, piercing eyes. He wants to kill Bran and everything that stood in his way; to erase everything that had to do with the past. Everything that you were or ever will be. You couldn’t let him. You had to win this fight or die trying.
Theon was close by your side. You shared a look. It spoke more than thousand words or thousand languages. A look that said 'You know what’s coming next. Please, don’t be scared, I’m here with you.'
“Thank you.” You heard Bran say behind you, both Theon and you turning around.
“You are a good man, Theon. Take good care of my sister.” Theon nodded at him, his eyes welling up.
“In another lifetime.” You turned to look at Theon with teary eyes to see him already looking at you. “What a time it has been with you”
All you wanted to do now was crash your lips against Theon’s and give him a kiss that would last all eternity. A loud selfish voice in your head told you to just grab his hand and run far, far, far away from here. Leave everyone behind to be with Theon.
‘Run. Run now, before it’s too late. You’re not dead yet.‘
The voice spoke again and as much as you might’ve wanted to, you couldn’t. You couldn’t break now. Thousands of men gave their life to protect Bran. It wouldn’t be fair to either them, nor your beloved brother or your other siblings. Hell, you didn’t even know wether they were still alive. They might already all be part of the Dead, long forgotten and coming to tear you apart and make you join them. To say that you were scared was an underestimation. You thought you were prepared to give your life but now standing face to face with death, everything felt so helpless.
“My heart is yours forever, Theon Greyjoy” you said as you turned your face away from him and set your eyes on the White Walkers before you. You wondered if that right there was the last time you’d ever look at Theon. You didn’t want to think about it, it hurt too much.
Your grip around your dragon glass sword tightened, as you gritted your teeth and began to walk towards the Knight King with big strides. Time seemed to slow down as Theon watched you leap at the Leader of the Dead. He whispered silent prayers.
"Let her be okay and let them take me instead." He repeated it like a mantra.
You let out a scream as the blade of your sword came inches from piercing his icy blue skin. He looked deep into your eyes, as his hand found it’s way to your neck, before your weapon could ever come in contact with his skin. Your body was dangling in the air, your feet kicking wildly like a deer caught in a trap, desperate for an escape. A small smile of triumph appeared on the White Walkers lips when you dropped your sword. You let out a strangled choke as his second hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your air. You tried clawing at his hands and face but no use. You were soon to join his Army of the Dead.
Theon watched frozen in horror as the Knight King slowly but surely started suffocating you. Without one more moment of hesitance he charged at the creature that was about to take you from him. Everything happened in the matter of seconds. You were roughly tossed aside and immediately took a deep breath as you felt the cold winter air enter your lungs again. A feeling you almost thought forgotten in the previous moments. Having hit your head while being tossed to the side, you were feeling disoriented and dizzy for a few short moments. The metallic taste in your mouth made you spit. The red seeping into the white of the snowy forest ground.
A loud squelch sound snapped you back into reality. Your head shot up as your eyes widen in horror. You watched as the Knight King plunged Theon’s broken spear into his abdomen. A place where your body rested on top of, only a few hours prior. You let out a gut wrenching scream as your tears spilled freely from your eyes. Theon’s eyes locked with yours. You could see his trembling lips parting, trying to tell you something before blood spilled from his mouth.
He started coughing and you didn’t waste a second in picking up a dragon glass dagger from one of the dead soldiers around you and running up to the King once more. This time you managed to catch him off guard and sinked the dagger deep into the left side of his neck. You twisted it, before pulling it out and ramming it back in his throat again. The Night King roared in pain, which almost sounded like a wounded animal. But no pain of his would ever compare to losing Theon. You, along with every soldier of the Army of the Dead fell to the ground. You watched as every single White Walker turned into icy shards, perishing completely.
You killed the Knight King, all the other White Walkers, the Army of the Dead and saved Bran. You did what you were supposed to. You saved the seven kingdoms. But you couldn't think about that right now. Not when Theon was bleeding out just a few feet from you. None of it will ever matter if he’s not by your side.
He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die.
You kept repeating those 3 words in your head over and over, trying hard to convince yourself that everything was just a cruel nightmare.
You called out his name as you ran to his side, gently picking up his head and placing it on your thighs.
"I'm here with you. Don't you worry, You'll be alright" You told him as you caressed his cheek. He looked up at you through teary eyes, knowing his end was near. His brows scrunched up in pain and he coughed up more of his blood. You started applying pressure to his stab wound, just like Brienne always taught you. Her words rang through your head 'Y/N, if you ever get hurt, you need to stop the bleeding, as best as you can. Stop the bleeding, stay awake and get help.'
"HELP ME PLEASE. SOMEONE, oh god- I NEED HELP!!" you screamed as loud as you could, hoping someone- anyone would hear your desperate cries.
"You need to stay awake for me, okay? We'll be alright, i just need you to hold on a little longer. I promise you will be okay, i promise you..." But your words rang hollow. You felt Theon's bloody hand on your cheek and you looked at him. Really looked at him. He is tired. His face pale, his eyes glassy and his hand shaking. He just smiled at you and gripped your face a bit tighter, fearing he would lose the feeling in his hands soon as they slightly began to tingle. Your face, now covered in his blood from his hand, leaned into his touch. You kissed his hand.
"I don't- I can't lose you, Theon. I can't."
"shhh. It's alright Y/N. I promise you I’ll find you in every lifetime…"
“No, you don’t need to. You have me in this lifetime-“
His smile never faltered.
“I love you, Theon.” You said, the world becoming a blur through teary eyes.
You leaned down to kiss him. You didn’t want it to be your last kiss. You thought about all the lasts you experienced in the past days without even knowing it. Yesterday was the last time you would fall asleep and wake up next to him. Two days ago was the last time you would ever draw him. Three days ago was the last time he would ever pick your favourite flowers for you. He would never attend another one of your Name days or train with you, sing, dance, laugh or cry with you. You noticed how short-lived your time with him was. If you wouldn’t have been so fucking stubborn, you could’ve told him how you felt sooner. You could’ve had him longer. You should’ve never allowed him to fight for Winterfell. He should’ve stayed on the Iron Islands with Yara. He should’ve left you to die here. You deserved it, not him.
He still held your face in his hands, tears falling down his cheeks.
“I love you. You are the best thing that has happened to me. I do not regret a thing- whe- when everything I did…led me into your arms.”
He was slowly choking on his own blood as he continued to cough violently, the red spilling from his lips.
You helplessly looked around, sobbing, screaming, waiting for a miracle to happen, but no god answered.
You cradled him in your arms, slowly rocking him back and fourth like a mother would with her child. You hand caressed his hair and his face and you forced yourself to smile at him
“It’s okay, it’s okay, my love. You can let go now. I’m safe.”
Every word broke you more than the last but that’s what he needed to hear. You are safe. You did it. You’ve won. Like Bran said, he’ll take care of you now, just not from here but rather from above.
You felt his body go limp in your arms. His eyes lost that little twinkle he always had, when looking at you. They were still open as he slowly grew colder in your arms. His usually rosy, warm skin turned into a soft blue beneath your fingertips. He no longer looked alive.
Your head sank into his chest as you sobbed your heart out. You screamed his name.
You faintly heard someone call out your name.
“Y/N? Y/N! Oh gods!” The voice turned into two voices. You jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around to see Jon and Arya.
“Jon?” Your voice hoarse from all the screaming. “Jon, he’s dead,” you said without any emotion. You felt numb. Jon took you into his arms. Sansa came running to you and stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth in shock.
Jon apologized over and over, crying for the both of you. Sansa and Jon pulled you away from Theon’s body and hugged you again.
Theon Greyjoy was gone for all eternity and nothing could ever bring him back.
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st4rstudent · 3 months
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tooning it up call that toontown (ba dum tss)
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axelsagewrites · 9 months
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it'd be cool to see some theon fluff :) maybe from the era after he escapes from ramsey bc that boy deserves some comfort omg (also if you could use he/him pronouns that would be cool too!)
Theon*Dream of Sweet Memories
Pairing: Theon x m!reader
Platonic: Jon, Robb, Sansa, x reader
Summary: Reader helps Theon recover from a nightmare and reflects on their past
Tw: Theon having ptsd
Word count: 1474
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Masterlist Here
Winterfell felt colder than before. The hollow halls of your childhood had been through so much the past few years. Now you were back, the war was over, Sansa was queen in the North, Bran in the south. Robb was dead, Jon was gone, Arya too. Sansa was kind but you had never been close. Your family was all but gone as well. There was one thing left though one thing that made all the pain, all the suffering, the war worth it.
Theon lay asleep on your bed, his face relaxed as he slumbered. The last candle that was burner illuminated a small portion of the room but enough for you to admire his features in the candlelight. His hair was soft under your touch as you stroked it gently.
Moments like this were rare. Theon was skittish, paranoid, quiet. He’d never been this quiet before. Robb was the loud one who knocked into everything and everyone, who’s barking laugh rang across the hall. Theon was the funny one, always a joke up his sleeve that he would loudly proclaim to anyone who would hear. Jon was quiet in public but when the four of you would hang out in the stables he was just as loud as Theon, and they would banter long into the night.
Theon had always joked you were practically a mute. You liked to listen and laugh along, adding in your own comments occasionally. Theon tried to drag the conversation out of you. He’d ask a million questions just to get you to speak. Tell jokes just to make you laugh. It was usual for you to be left out of discussions, but Theon had always made sure to drag you into them even when you didn’t want him too.
You opened up more in your chambers, laughing and cheering with him especially after a drink. You’d both gossip like it was nobodies’ business. Theon was shocked when he found out you were actually funny. He spent months, years, growing your confidence but even still you were always the quiet one.
Till now at least. Theon could barely look you in the eyes when you were reunited. He was ashamed. Ashamed of everything he had done, everything he had caused. Jon wanted to hate him, wanted you to hate him, but he couldn’t after he saved Sansa.  You wanted to hate him too, but you couldn’t. you had thought for months if you ever saw him again the first thing you would do was punch him. Then he walked through those gates.
He was meek, quiet, skittish. He looked like even walking was a battle for him. And gods were he skinny now. When he walked through the gates you weren’t angry. A warmth poured through your heart. Theon looked up and instantly away again when he saw you. he couldn’t face you.
You didn’t even realise you were walking, running even, till you had pulled him into your arms. Theon froze at first, stiff as ice but it soon melted. His head fell into your shoulder, his arms wrapping weakly around your waist. Your hand clamped against his head, holding it tight against you, “If you ever leave me again, I’ll fucking kill you Greyjoy, understand?”
He hadn’t left your side since. You had been so distracted by your thoughts you hadn’t noticed him stirring. You looked down at his face which was contorted with worry, his lips mouthing something you couldn’t fully hear. Leaning down, you tried to listen, “Please,” you managed to make out, “not please,” he mumbled, “no, no, no,” he began to rush out, you sat up about to shake him awake when a shrill shriek rang across the room.
Theon’s cried echoed around the cold chamber, his body stiff as a bored as his body flung himself up, backing away up the bed. “Theon!” you yelled, trying to grab his flailing arms, “It’s me! Its (Y/N)! You’re safe,” you said as you grabbed his shoulders.
Theon’s eyes danced crazily across the room till they settled on you, his hands grasping onto your shoulders, “(Y/N)?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s me my love,” you said as you held his face softly in your hands, “It’s just us you’re safe Theon,”
“No, Im not Theon im- “
“Reeks dead Theon,” you said, moving to kneel on either sides of his legs so you could face him straight on, “Ramsay’s dead Theon. Its okay. you’re safe I promise,”
Theon stopped for a moment, his eyes dazed as he stared into space before finally turning back to you, “I was so scared,” he whimpered, “it was like he was back,”
“He’s not coming back Theon,” you said, stroking his cheek, “I’m here sweetheart. I’ve got you,”
“You’ve got me,” he whispered, and you just nodded, smiling lightly at the terrified boy.
You moved to be laying on the bed again, bringing Theon into your arms as you cradled his shaking body, “Nothings gonna happen to you. I promise,” you said, kissing the back of his head.
Heavy sobs fell from his lips, shaking his body. The feeling brought tears to your own eyes but all you could do was hold him. “I wish I could be normal again,” Theon whispered.
“You will be,” you said as you began to stroke his hair, “but it’ll take time,”
Silence fell over the room for a moment, “Sometimes,” Theon began to croak out, “I wonder if I deserved it all, for what I did to Robb, to you,”
A heavy sigh fell from your lips, “No one deserves what Ramsay did to you. no one. It’s a fate worse than death but you survived it because you’re strong, because it’s your fate to go on. If things had went differently Robb would’ve forgiven, you. you know that”
“That just makes it worse,” he whispered, his voice horse from his whimpering, “I wish I had stayed with him. At least he treated me like family, he was my family,”
“We cannot change the past,” you said as you moved Theon to face you, stroking his cheek lightly, “But we can live for the future. You saved Sansa, you helped save Bran. Robb would be grateful for that. Now you must live for him, protect Winterfell for him,” you said, and Theon just nodded.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead and fell into a comfortable silence. Before the war Theon had just been a friend to you though you couldn’t help your stares after him. The way his laugh light up a room, his jokes never failing to cheer you up, how his smile curved. He fascinated you. he didn’t admit it, but he had always felt the same.
You grew even closer when you both rode off with Robb, sharing a tent to save on supplies. There had been a moment, one night after a particularly hard battle. The cold was settling in, and it was bitter.
******
“Your chattering so loud Tywin can hear,” Theon whispered from across the tent as he sat up beneath his thin furs. “Get over here,”
“I um but what if someone- “
“Get under these furs before we freeze to death,” he said rolling his eyes. You did as you had been told as slipped under the furs beside the boy. “See already better,” he whispered.
You rolled over to face the other side of the tent to try concealing the blush coating your cheeks. However, you were confused when you heard Theon shuffling then blushed even harder when you felt his arms reach around your body, “What are you doing?” you whispered back.
“I can’t have my best friend freezing to death,” he replied. At one point that night Theon had obviously figured you had fallen asleep, but you were still awake enough to feel the kiss he placed to your cheek, laying still as he settled back down until his soft snores filled the tent.
******
“We should visit the crypt tomorrow,” Theon said breaking the silence, “I want to see him again,”
“Okay,” you said, kissing his lips gently. He had visited Robbs statue many times since it had been placed in the crypts. Neither Robb nor Neds’ bodies had made it to the crypt, but Sansa had still ordered for their statues to be placed there. The last lord of Winterfell and its first king in this new dynasty. A statue of Catelyn and Rickon at either side. “We’ll go at first light but for now we must rest,”
“Okay,” Theon whispered as he placed his head on your chest. You had almost dozed off when he spoke again, “(Y/N)?” he asked, and you yawned a what. “I love you,”
“I love you too,” you murmured back as your eyelids grew heavy, “Sleep my love. Dream of sweet memories,”
General Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @fan-goddess @valeskafics
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greywoe · 3 months
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not so eager now, are we?
don't- don't touch me.
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dirtytransmasc · 3 months
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I need more selkie theon (and asha. I just think that would be a vibe. fuck the greyjoy sigil being a kraken for a moment and let them be seals) content.
like the opportunity to have theon's coat taken by ned when he's made his ward is right there and it is perfect and beautiful and tragic.
and you could build on that depending on the version of the selkie myth/story you're going off of (I personally love the song of the sea version of selkies for story writing). maybe he can't talk without it, maybe he gets sick, maybe his voice has magical properties of sorts.
I have this one concept in my head that I don't have the time to write, but it goes something along the lines of theon getting sick after years away from his coat and the stark kids have to find his coat and drag his slowly dying ass to the bay of seals (cause y'know bay of seals and theon's a selkie so he'll turn into a seal... I thought it was creative).
also, in a lot of versions of selkies, when they get sick, their hair turns white, which is on brand for theon. they're also pretty, their stories are typically soaked to the bone in tragedy, they're normally held captive/tortured, amongst other things, which are also very on brand for theon.
and maybe you get some selkie to selkie telepathy of sorts, so when theon finally enter the water a seal again, asha books it to come find him, cause its been years since she's been able to feel him (I'm soft for them, I will create the most improbable and ridiculous scenario's to bring them together and for them to have soft sibling moments).
all and all, theon being a selkie is something I need more content of, please and thank you.
#theon would be a harbor seal and asha would be a leopard seal. I don't make the rules.#I think theon being a selkie would just be cool#like. it would make him being a ward all the more interesting. there's the potential for him to be stripped of his *skin* and his *voice*#and to keep him from the sea would be even more cruel#then there's the different ways you could give him magical properties. he could be enchantingly beautiful. his voice could be magical. he-#could bring good luck to ships. he could have a song that held a specific power of sorts.#there's just so many possibilities and I have many thoughts#also just imagine the starklings. at the very least robb and jon (who barely wants to be there but went for moral support) stealing theon-#and going on a 'roadtrip' to the bay of seals. theon's looks about ready to keel over. robb's panicking. jon's sulking.#the whole of the north is currently hunting them down. cause y'know. the heir to winterfell suddenly dissapeared into the night with the-#ward and the bastard. it would be chaos.#and asha reuniting with her brother in their seal forms. it'd be cute. cause they're chubby little blops and they'd boop each other.#and theon having to decide if he wants to stay with his found family or escaping back to pyke with his sister now that he has the chance.#someone write this. take the idea. just tag me so I can read it#theon greyjoy#asha greyjoy#yara greyjoy#house greyjoy#throbb#vaguely. the potential is right there#got#game of thrones#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#selkies
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tinfairies · 1 year
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brat tamer hc's for robb, jon, Theon, jaime?
Robb hates it when your bratty, he wants you to be a good girl. His punishments are soft and usually involve edging and overstimulation. Robb doesn't like hurting you, even if you've been downright hellish towards him.
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Jon also doesn't like to hurt you, but when you've been absolutely horrible he will bend you over his lap. Also a fan of denying you an orgasm, this can last for up to a week. Just keeping you on edge until you've learned to be good for him.
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Theon loves when you're bratty, he's a fan of overstimming you and teasing you in public. He laughs when you get embarrassed, saying that you shouldn't have been so naughty. Will spank you if you talk back or mouth off to him.
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Jaime is mean when you're being a brat. He hates back talk and being told no. Will spend hours spanking your ass and cunt. He won't stop until your crying and apologizing for being bad.
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perkqularkreashions · 5 months
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UNCONDITIONAL | SANDOR X READER
Part 2: Take the Black
Sandor X Reader
Mature Content Warning
Requested: YES
Requested: OPEN
WARNINGS: Please check your triggers; SMUT!!! (Always use protection) Mentions of Miscarriages, Homemade Abortions, and Slight mentions of depression. Word Count: 7k plus Slight Proofread :(
You gasped, taking his head in your hands. Pushing him further into your pussy, your hips slowly grinding against his flattened tongue and the bridge of his nose, which flicked against your aching clit. You mouthed oh’ed as you felt the euphoria blissfully wash over you, your heads, grabbing at the grass, digging your nails into the dirt as you quickly closed your legs. Pushing him away from you, you pleaded with him to stop as you felt overstimulated from his still kissing and softly licking at your clit. You moaned out in desperation, “Theon, please stop.” with weakened strength, you pushed him off you, yanking your body closer to yourself, as you moved to your bottom. Your eyes washed over the glistening boy as a smirk played on his lips. 
“I can’t help myself,” he moans lowly, moving on all fours before crawling closer to you, his eyes taking you in from the disheveled state of your hair as it was muddled with leaves, twigs, and bits of grass. From your redding face, your cheeks warm and full of color, your eyes wide and sporadic. Your mouth opened slightly, as you tried to suck in as much air as possible. His finger crawled on top of your hands, waiting to feel your warmth, and despite the crisp coldness of the air, you radiated furnacing warmth. Theon enjoyed these little moments with you, holding you in his arms, letting his hands run down your breast and throbbing pussy. Kissing you on your neck as you moaned out for him. He craved you, simply intoxicating. You spoke again, this time more certain of yourself, “Father will be looking for you soon; I know you have a ceremony to attend.” 
Finally, you started to notice how close Theon was and how the condensation of your breath mingled with the stillness of the cold air. You closed your eyes, sucking in the harsh atmosphere, and you felt his lips peck on yours. Something that he didn’t do often, you quickly cuffed his face, preventing him from turning away from you. Icy fingers caressed his skin for a moment; you dropped your gaze, removing your hand from his face. “Go,” you spoke in the stillness of the air, moving to feet and gathering your gloves. 
It didn’t take long to voyage back to the Winterfell, your eyes taking hold of Jon and Bran, his hair falling against his pale skin. Nervously, he petted at his pony, tugging on his lips as his eyes flickered to Jon, taking hold of every word that came tumbling out of his mouth, yet he still didn’t remember much of what was said. Jon's grey eyes finally captured hold of you as he waved you over, his smile rising on his lips. His dark hair, moving in the chilled wind, he was taller than he was before. Excitedly, you waved to him. He often enjoyed speaking with you; you were kinder than your twin brother, Robb, Theon, and Caitlyn, who put up with him out of respect for Ned. Robb barely talked to him. The conversation only culminated when needed; for Theon he wishes to avoid him at any cost. He thought everything was funny, and it always came off as insensitive and crude. The Stark girls offered him the kindness and a love he craved, but you were different. When thinking of family and thinking of love, he saw you.
Jon’s first core memory of you was when he was 11; you were skin and bones then. Your eyes were as dark as iron as you protectively stood before Jon. You bore no front teeth, yet your words were certain and robust. Caitlyn was scolding him for something trivial. She was harsh to Jon, her finger jamming into his shoulder before waving back in front of his face. It was the only time that you have seen Caitlyn interact with Jon when she was lashing out for punishments or projecting anger to Jon. You grabbed Jon’s hand, stomping past Caitlyn, offering him a toothless smile. “Don’t worry, Jon, I’ll always protect you!”
He drifted back to you, watching you make your way down to them. You smiled upon arrival, pressing your cheek against Bran; he cringed away, swatting at you with embarrassment and giggles. You returned to Jon, bringing him in for a tight hug, taking the smell of his natural aroma; he always smelled of pine and the outdoors. “Are you ready?” you asked in curiosity. You always wanted to go, but Ned forbade it, scolding you for wanting to partake in such boyish pastimes. His fingers danced to Sansa, explaining that you needed to mirror her likeness. Gentle and soft, like her mother. You glanced at Sansa with a faint smile, taking in her stern Tully features. The auburn color of her hair is lighter than our mother’s, paired with high-cheek bones and deep oceanic eyes. She was soft-smelling. You glanced back at your father, his hands cuffing your cheeks, mushing them together before chuckling. In sadness, he spoke, “You remind me so much of her.” 
Your thoughts were interrupted by Theon; you hadn’t realized you drifted off. You straighten your posture as he moves behind you. You never realized how lean and tall he was. 
“I best be going.” You finally uttered a soft farewell to Bran, taking hold of him once more before passing one to Jon. You could see Theon’s gaze on you; you passed a glance over your shoulder, seeing the dark expression on his face. Quickly, you turn around, returning to your attention ahead of you. 
You hadn’t realized how much time had passed; you heard their voices first—muddled with each other, arguing over silly names. Bran's voice you heard first, dismissing the statements as he entered the kitchen. Sansa, Arya, and yourself had turned to meet them, eyes wide with wonder and exhilaration, watching Robb, Bran, Jon, and Theon bring pups into the kitchen. Your eyes snapped to the albino pup, nuzzled in Jon’s arms. With a smile, you gently ran your fingers through his ghostly white fur, his wet nose sniffing at your fingers as he yelped out a yawn. 
“Where on earth did you find these Direwolfs? They do not travel this far up North,” You finally announced. Theon moved to you, a singular wolf in his arms, the color of a flaxen silver color, almost white blonde color. You gently ran your fingers through his dirty fur; you plunked out the crumbled soil, blood, and leaves. Slowly, your eyes moved to Theon, whose fingers had danced along yours, aiding you in removing the dirt and leaves. Jon hummed in dismay as Theon gawked over you, his teeth gritted in irritation. The color on your cheeks rose as you mumbled soft phrases to the pup in his arms. Unamused, he finally turned his full attention to the pair. He watched Theon brush his hand against yours, mumbling something that briefly caused you to look away. Jon’s eyes flickered to Robb, who seemed to have an unamused expression laced on his face. They knew Theon’s admiration for you has grown, significantly since you have grown into womanhood. 
Intensely, he voiced, “You seem to have taken a liking to Direwolfs now, huh, Greyjoy.” Theon laughed loudly, and his chest shook as he threw his head back. His eyes fell on the bastard. Rolling his eyes, he watched him. Theon grew tired of Jon; he always felt that he wanted to  fuck want belonged to him. You weren’t really blood anyway; what was stopping him from fucking you. He always finds his way into sacred moments, checking in on you before bed. You always calmed him, explaining that he was your brother, born from the same blood. Theon would scoff, shifting away from you in your bed. His back was facing you as he decided it was time to depart, leaving you alone. 
Your eyes flickered between the two, along with everyone else. “Jon…” you hissed in frustration; his eyes glanced at you just briefly to catch the expression drawn on your face. Nothing else needed to be said; he could read everything about you; you were his best friend…his sister. The way your mouth twitched when you wanted him to shut up, your eyebrows would raise when you were confused or curious, and your eyes deadlocked on him when you grew angry with him. Jon mumbles an apology before turning his attention back to his albino pup. You couldn’t help but notice the similarities in your pups, their vermilion-brown eyes, and their fur color similarities. You huffed, taking hold of the trembling pup, the chilliness of his fur burning your skin as you cooed gently at the monster. 
“Jon’s right; Theon seems quite interested in many new things lately,” Robb spoke out, eyes still trained on his wolf. Your cheeks burned as you continued to pike through the debris riddled through your pup’s coat. 
***
In preparation for the King, your handmaidens tug at your hair. You grimaced, swatting them away, cursing them for their roughness and prudence. They were appointed by your mother, Caitlynn, whom you were not so fond of at the moment; in a slight urge of deviance, you snatched your head away from them. Your eyes burn into her, your lips tight as you hissed them out. Hesitant, the older crow had stepped in front, her eyes pale brown, her skin riddled with wrinkles and crevices. She opened her mouth and tried to find the right words to say, but much to her expectation, she did not. “Lady-”
“You are dismissed! Bring in the lanky girl; I love her hair! She has a head full of dark curls, maiden of Sansa; she’s gentle and easier to withstand on the eyes!” Your voice was strong, commanding the room just as your father’s. You stood tall, watching the woman cower in obedience, and with a nod, they rushed out. You wiggled out the attire, a dull and lifeless color your mother had decided was appropriate for the King. You knew she wasn’t too fond of him nor the Lannisters. Hundreds would soon gather in Winterfell and make it their home, muddling our paths and haven with their people. The door's opening captures your attention; the girl slowly walks in, her eyes filled with fear as she watches your nude form shyly. 
She bows, longer than needed. “M’lady,” her drawl was different from the rest; she didn’t speak properly, nor did she try. She was burdened with discoloration and freckles, her arms extended and irregular at her side. Her teeth were askew and stained a yellowish color. Yet, there was something pure about her; she screamed, her body jolting to the door, as Luan slowly shifted to her, his nose hung low and his eyes stalking her. Your eyes shifted to the Direwolf, who lurked in the shadows. “Luan,” you hissed out. You turned my attention to her, slightly laughing as you waved my hand towards Luan. 
“He’s harmless, tries to act Ghost, and slightly like Greywind.” You laughed, moving to the girl as you grabbed her hand; she stumbled behind you, and a soft smile played on her lips. You plopped down, hair flying about as you looked up at her. You began to speak, slow and calculated, “Please, may you do my hair. The wolf is no harm to you.” the maiden’s eyes widened at your request, her cheeks dusting slightly pink. 
The maiden picked at her hair; insecurities flushed through her stomach as she tugged on the deep skin of her bottom lip. She was never complimented before by boys in her village and certainly not by the men or women in Winterfell. Her mother always complained of boyish looks, the irregularity of her nose and the harshness of her skin, the scabs, sunburn, and the bug bites that did not go away. Her hair was always hanging on her shoulders and in wild curls, which she tamed with a mixture her grandmother taught her. Her eyes returned to the Eldest Stark girl; she nodded excitedly. 
A small, drawn on your face, “Then it is settled, you shall be my new lady in wait! I grow tired of the old hags my mother tries to force on me.” Your voice boomed as you stood up, your hands clasping her shoulders, tugging at her. Her cheeks burned as she watched the pup and the surroundings of her chambers, hands glued to her side as you were still nude. Time had slowly passed, her hand taking each strand and coating it with a strange concoction she brought into the room; it smelled sweet, and a soft aroma of honeydew filled the air. Staring at your reflection in the copper mirror, you finally felt beautiful; your hair framed the fullness of your face, contrasting against your grey eyes. You often were referred to as Jon’s twin despite being Robb’s; Caitlyn curses quietly to herself as she watches you and the bastard play. She would believe you were Jon's sibling if she hadn’t birthed and watched you milk her teat. Your grey eyes, which people often confuse with a dark obsidian, were that of Father’s and Jon’s. Your dark hairs framed your faces. Jon’s face was strong like Ned’s, while your look was subtle and kind. Yet, as she watched you two grow together, she saw no trace of Tully in you. 
You arrived slightly late to the arrival of the King and Queen; you squeezed beside Robb and Sansa, out of breath and irritated from the festivities already. Robb stood tall next to Father and still mirrored Mother, his crystal blue eyes washing over the gathering visitors before landing on you; he was stocky. His hair was a soft auburn color, much like his mother’s. He smirked momentarily, his body leaning closer as he pushed his words against the winter’s air, “Mother is going to have your head.” Your eyes flickered to the visitors flooding through the gate’s castle, drawing us in their sparkling gold, illuminating silvers, and polished steel. Their banners and knight galloped on their steads, heads held high as they looked down on us.  
Ser Jamie was the first to stand out, his blonde locks falling against his shoulder, bouncing occasionally. Father would often refer to it as “beaten gold.” Despite being on his stead, you could see that he towered over everyone, his cat-green eyes scanning through the ground, laying hold on Winterfell in disdain. Shifting through the knights, your eyes fell on a huskily built man, his nose long and hooked. His long, ravenous hair covered his scar that took hold of half of his face, his flesh black and pocketed with craters colored a deep red. You noticed that much of his face was gone; he had a stump for where his ear was meant to be and a protrusion of his jawbone. You saw the scars running down to his throat. 
“Ah, Ned, seeing your frozen face again is great!” Robert proclaimed, his voice beating through the silence, echoing from the walls and settling in the nothingness. He grabbed him by the face, laughing intensely as he looked at Caitlyn, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Robert stopped when approaching you, his face sunken as he glanced at you; you examined him, taking in the redness of his face and nose and the darkness under his eyes. You recalled the tales your Father told you in your youth, the ones of a handsomely Robert Baratheon, “a handmaiden’s fantasy”; you would giggle feverishly at the thought. Now, beholding him, his thick black hair falling against his burly shoulders, you now see that it was all just a fantasy. If you were to ever ponder deeply on what a King would look like, Robert Baratheon fit the criteria. 
Robert's heart burned in his chest, and his fingers danced with anxiety as he closed his hands. He reframed from reaching out to you, grasping your hair and chin, and wanting to kiss your lips gently– wanting you. He hadn’t seen you in ages, and you were but a child when he did. Lanky with a boyish smile much like Ned, and now you were wildly beautiful, much like Lyanna in her youth. The fullness of your lips, the cheekiness in your smile. He fondly grabbed your hand, nodding gently as he pressed a subtle kiss against the clothed glove. He spoke with a gentleness Ned hadn’t heard in years, “You remind me so much of her, Lyanna; you’re growing to be such a beautiful young lady.” Once completing his introduction to all the Stark children, Robert inquired about her grave sight, eyes flickering to Ned, wasting no more time on other formalities. His heart yearned for her touch and yearned for her kiss. He needed to see her, and Ned admired that of his old friend. 
***
You found yourself isolated with Luan, and his head nuzzled against your leg, your eyes watching the river flow and the grass dance in the chilled wind that kissed over Winterfell. Night soon fell upon Winterfell, and your mother would soon search for you. To scold you for arriving late to the arrival of the King and Queen and for having my hair in such a wildling state. You wanted her to cool down as much as possible, praying to the old Gods and the new that she would only give you a chastising look. Without moving your head, your eyes cut to the left as you heard the soft rustle of the overgrowth and crunch of leaves. Luan’s ears perked, his eyes shifting about. You thought it’d be Theon, and he always finds you no matter where you hid. He stalked you, slowly walking behind you, towering over you. But the footsteps were heavier; the sound of steel filled your ears. Finally, you found your voice, lowly you said, “Whose there?”
His voice was firm as he spoke, “You should be out here alone, M’lady.” You didn’t turn to face him right away; your heart slammed against your chest as you tried to recognize the voice. You looked over your shoulder and saw the scarred soldier, his face tight with irritation as he moved through the brush. You offered a meek smile, taking his appearance in more. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he began to speak, “It’s not safe,” was all he managed to voice out. 
You chuckled, returning your attention to the rushing water; the puddles formed as the fish rushed to the surface, causing ripples to spread until they touched land. You could feel him; his presence was looming and dark, and his eyes ran across your body, wondering how a petite girl could survive the harsh weather. Once again, you peeked at the unfamiliar knight, “Sit.” It sounded more like a question than a command. You waited for a moment, and he didn’t move from his spot. Sighing, you lay back against the icy grass, letting the sun slightly warm you. “My name is-”
“I know your name,” The knight roughly hisses; he watched you in curiosity, taking in the fullness of your lips, the way your hair fell wildly around the fur that covered your shoulders. Your laugh kisses the air; he never a simple sound could hold much beauty. 
“Well, Ser, you have me at a disadvantage,” he watched how your mouth moved when you spoke; he watched you lick your lips, your tongue quickly out to coat your bottom lip. He suddenly felt nervous, an odd trait; his fingers tingled as he clenched them against his side. He was self-conscious, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, you would surely be in disgust, like every woman does, like the whores do, just like everyone does. 
“The Hound,” he finally pronounces; your eyes open slowly, body twisting to stand up, Luan following in her footsteps. You look at him with a softness he has yet to experience. Finally, a smile captures your lips, filling up your entire face. 
“Sandor Clegane, my father has taught me some things.” He watched you, not understanding your disposition; he was a monster and has always been treated as such. Now, this girl is treating him as if they are equals. “Come, why don’t you walk me back to Winterfell? We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” You spoke through your boisterous laugh that shocked Sandor; it was solid and full of life. His mouth twitched into a smile as he followed behind you. You talk about simple things, nothing that holds any particular interest to Sandor. Still, he listens, soaking in your words, the way you speak so furiously when passionate about something, the pauses in your speech to ensure that he wasn’t growing tired of your rambles. Every time you looked back to catch his eyes, they were focused on you. All you did was smile in contentment, turning back to the path. Silence soon fell over you both; it was tense, yet it was calm; the only sound that could be heard was your footsteps crunching on the earth and the sound of his sword slightly clanging against his armor. 
“Tell me about yourself,” Sandor pauses, halting in his footsteps, noticing you stopped before him. Your head is slightly positioned up to look up at him. You noticed that he was extremely tall, possibly taller than Ser Jamie but definitely taller than Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark. 
His voice was harsh and raspy when he spoke, “Let’s get you back to Winterfell, Little Wolf.” You let out a laugh, pressing your hand against his armor to prevent him from moving forward. Sandor quickly grabbed your wrist; you winced at his aggressiveness, slightly tugging away from him. Sandor loosened his hold on you but still held your hand against his chest. He repeated his statement, his hand letting go of her wrist as you nodded slowly. You watched him before turning around and returning to your trek back to Winterfell. 
You arrived a few moments later, thanking him for his company. You bid him farewell before parting to your chambers. 
Caitlyn's voice oozed with frustration; she thudded through the halls, grabbing your upper arm. “Where were you? Are you okay?” her face churning into one of concern; you nodded gently, tugging your arm away from her. She swallowed thickly. You noticed her eyes were a deep red, her face drained of color. Something was wrong. You could see the anxiety moving through her, her hand's shakiness and her lips tremble. Luan whined at your side, brushing himself against your thigh. His whine increased as they churned into a soft growl. 
“Mom?” you managed, “What happened?” She turned away from you, shutting her eyes as their tears flew down her collarbone. She choked back a sob. 
“I told him to stop climbing, I told him-” 
“Mom! Is it Bran? What the hell happened!” You screamed; you pushed passed her, rushing through the handmaidens, screaming out your brother’s name. You stumbled upon Jon and Robb; you frantically searched their eyes. You heard the howls of his unnamed pup, Luan, stir with anxiety as he began to howl. Jon stalked towards you. You shook your head, punching at his arms as they reached for you. “He’s dead? Is he dead!” 
“No” was all Jon managed to let out, his eyes fluttering to Caitlyn as she watched him comfort you. She hated him. You hugged him, and you cried in his chest as your legs abruptly gave out. Robb rushed to your side, gently placing his hand on your back and whispering comforting words to you. “Let’s go see him,” your words were getting caught in your throat, burning as they tried rising to the surface. All you could do was nod at his command.
***
The crisp morning burned your lungs, and the unnamed Pup howled all night. You were irritated with him; you tried silencing him and even tried to pry him away from Bran, but he wouldn’t leave his side, rightfully so. Now, you walked through the Winterfell with Luan in search of quietness and stillness. You hissed in frustration as Luan rammed his head against your leg, his whines falling from him. He grew more irritable and anxious as the days passed. The constant whine of the unnamed pup sent him on edge. He sat, looking at you through his vermillion eyes. He huffed in disobedience before lying down in the middle of the street. “Luan,” you hissed, pushing at his body. He huffed once more, shutting his eyes and letting out soft yelps and whines. “Luan, get up!” 
Outside, Tyrion stood, letting the cold morning air fill his lungs as he descended the library's stairs. Sandor Clegane’s voice, raspy in nature, kissed his ears –he spoke, “The boy is taking a long time to die. I wish he would be quicker about it.”
“At least he dies quietly,” the prince replied. “It’s the wolf that makes the noise. I could scarce sleep last night.”
“I could silence the creature if it pleased you,” he spoke; his eyes shifted to you, and he instantly regretted his words. He watched you move to your knees, hands tugging him to his feet as he fell limp against you. His squire placed a longsword in his hand, and he sliced through the morning air, testing the weight of it. He returned it to the boy, shaking his head gently. His eyes fell back to you, hearing you beg the pup to get up. “Luan, please stop acting like a brat!” Luan, that was his name, an odd name for a Pup. Luan bared his teeth at you, growling loudly as he captured everyone’s attention; it was a deep guttural sound. As he followed you, you rose to your feet in anger, his head tilted low. Yet, you stood firm, watching the pup testing his dominance against you. 
“Luan!” you shouted. Sandor hated to admit the heaviness and authority in your voice sent chills down him, prickling at his skin; it was harsher than the frigid winds. Your voice reminded him of your father’s, stern and full of strength; it was so different from Sansa's and similar to Arya’s. Sandor watched you sigh, kneeling back down as you cuffed his cheeks. Joffrey flinched as his eyes turned to you; they all watched you in bewilderment. 
“Winterfell is so infested with wolves, and the Starks would never miss one… maybe two.” Joffrey snorted as his gaze fell to his Imp Uncle, who was hopping off the last steps in the yard.
“The Starks can count past six. Unlike some princes I might name,” Joffrey scoffed as blush dusted across his cheeks, and he became irritated with the drabble of his Uncle. His eyes flickered to his dog, who seemed infatuated with the Stark girl. You watched the expression change in the dog’s face. He admitted that the Stark held more beauty than the younger one. 
Joffrey let out a cackle, “Go speak to her!” his voice whined in a command; Sandor looked at him, face burning with frustration and embarrassment. “Go on, dog; maybe your presence might calm the mutt.” They watched as he approached you, nervously tapping his fingertips. You could feel his presence behind you, his long shadow casting over you and Luan. His presence was looming and heavy; you didn’t tear your graze away from Luan. 
“Sandor, what a pleasure,” you finally spoke; you turned to look up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you moved to your feet. The rush of air sucked into his nose, and you smelt soft and warm. His head rolled toward Luan, his words failing him as he stood there aloof. “Everyone’s going through a rough time, even the Pups. Luan took it a bit harder. He enjoyed Bran's company. Probably more than Jon’s and Ghost.” You stop, looking away as the mention of his name sends a frenzy of emotions through you. 
“Everything will be alright, Little Wolf,” he huffed as he felt you wrap your arms around him. His freezing armor pierced your skin to the touch, numbing you as you dug deeper into his rigidness. His hands gripped at your shoulders in shock, unable to do anything but hold them there. His eyes moved to her overgrown Pup; he stalked around them, his head brushing against the back of his leg affectionately. Pulling away, he noticed the red mark forming on her, her eyes swelling with emotions, and her lip trembled. His gloved finger brushed against her face in slight desperation and wonder; quickly, she grabbed his wrist, pulling it closer to her face, and soon his hand was cuffing her cold skin. She nuzzled into his touch as a dog would, tears soaking her skin and his glove. 
Softly, you mumbled a thank you. Sandor was cold again, the air chilling around him as he watched you walk away with Luan. He forced the emotions down as he hissed to himself; he knew this was one of Joffrey’s games; a woman as delicate and beautiful as yourself would never want him. His teeth gritted as he turned back around, seeing that Joffrey held onto his cheeks and the tiny Lord scolded him. In a hurry, Joffrey rushed off, leaving Tyrion and himself for just a moment. 
You headed to your chambers, allowing Luan to lay by Bran’s side with his unnamed Pup; you thought the gesture was sweet. Moving into your chambers, you began to undress, asking one of the maidens preparing your bed to get Lilly for you. They nodded, bowing before scurrying to fetch your Lady. 
Confused, you slowly watched the tall figure move into your chambers. You began to recognize the presence of Sandor; he towered over every object that cluttered your chambers. You were expecting your handmaiden. Gasping, you pulled the robe tighter against your body as you watched him in surprise. “Sandor,” you breathlessly called out, “What are you doing in here?” 
He shook his head, “You’re tricking me!” his voice bellowed; in a hurry, you rushed to him, shushing him gently. You noticed his attire was different, a dull red-colored tunic with a hound emblem stitched to his right breast. You could smell the stale wine; it radiated off him. 
“I know not what you speak of; please keep your voice down. My mother and father would kill me if they saw a man in my chambers.” Your hand reached up their face, wanting to calm him. You gasped as you felt him yank at your arm. “Sandor, what is the matter?”
“Is this one of insipid Prince’s jokes? Or what, you mocking me girl?” his voice low as he brought his face closer to yours; you could feel the warmth of his skin, his breath flushed against his face. Hesitantly, you let your other hand move to his face; he flinched at your touch, never feeling a warmth like this. You parted lips softly, trying to find some words to say. Your thumb traced against his scarred face, feeling the grooves and imperfections. “Don’t,” his voice laced with desperation as he shut his eyes. Anger washed over him, as he continued to glare at you.
Your lips parted again, as you tried searching for the right words, but how could you even explain it? Explain your fast-growing feelings for him. “I–I” your voice shaking as Sandor brought his eyes to you. You gasped as you felt his lips clashing with yours, his hands wrapping around your lower back, tugging you closer to him and bringing you to the tips of your toes. You gasped as you felt, grabbing his hand, gripping your thighs, hoisting you up, letting your hands rest against your ass. You gasped, as he tugged at your bottom lip. You yelp as you feel yourself connect to the bed; he towers over you; lust fills his eyes as he tugs at your leg, pulling you closer to him. He climbs on top of you, his lips pressing against your neck and chest. You could see him fumbling with his trousers, as he pauses. 
“Can I?” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze momentarily. In awe, you nodded, fumbling to remove your sleeping garment. Hastily, he grabs your breasts, allowing them to fill up in his hands before letting them go. You sucked in a deep breath as he flipped over, placing you on his stomach. His hand reaches your hips, forcing you to push your ass out, revealing your wet and dripping cunt. Rubbing his hand on his aching cock, he shoves it inside you without warning. Your hand clutches your blankets as you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you adjust to his size. He wiggled you slightly, letting your wetting spread through his cock. His hand grips your thighs as he begins to grind deeper inside you slowly, your body twisting in pleasure. You stifle a moan as you slap your hand against your lips. You struggled to breathe as he pounded himself inside you, the aggressive slaps filling the silence of the air. His free hand snakes around your waist, yanking you closer with each thrust into your tight pussy. Sandor groans in bliss, as he feels you clenching around his cock, the feeling of your hand clawing at his hands for some sort of release. 
Your whole body at his disposal, twitching from euphoria as he continued to pound his cock into your pussy. Your face contorts in pleasure, as his fingers move to your clit. You feel the heat building up to your face, gasping; you moan silently, stuffing your face in the pillows that decorated your bed. Pathetically, you moaned out his name, “Sandor,” a shudder traveled down his spine at the sound of his name being released from your lips. He finally opened his eyes, taking hold of the perfect ass bouncing against his cock and how you tried to contain yourself from being too loud. He never had a whore moan his name, nor did he like hearing it. But, it was something about the neediness in your voice, The way your hands tangled in his. He didn’t mind all too much; he didn’t mind your index finger and thumb tried wrapping itself around the palm of his hand. He didn’t mind the soft coos of his name falling from your lips. 
All mine, He thought.
Sandor snapped back from his thoughts as he felt a burning sensation rise in the pit of his stomach, his cock twitching as he felt himself becoming sloppy and desperate to cum. His breaths are heavy and shaky. His body twitches as he spills his seed into you, spewing against his cock and your pussy. He pulls you up, your back pressed against his chest as he continues to fuck you, his grunts filling your ear, as his hand travels to your nipple. Sandor didn’t want the bliss to end; he didn’t want to be outside you—outside this room. You lay your arms on him, feeling the heat radiating from his dewy skin. Your breast bounced harshly, slapping against each other as he mercilessly fucks you. Your pussy clenched against him, your head falling into the crock of his neck, as you moaned out his name once more. Desperately, trying to find more words. Your head moved to his face, gently stroking his cheek in admiration and passion. He shrugs you off, moving his head back to avoid your touch. 
He felt himself climaxing; he couldn’t contain his moans, as they fell through the room's silence. He filled you up, jutting as he thrusted weakly into you. You fell to the bed, your arms weak as you pushed yourself to watch Sandor. He was fixing himself, avoiding your gaze. In a daze, you called out his name. He continued to dress himself, his back facing you. Now confused, you moved off your bed, stumbling towards and touching his back. He left the room; the cold air breezed against your naked body as you stood in the middle of the floor. You open to mouth to call his name, but nothing comes of it. 
“M’lady!” Your handmaiden spoke, slamming the door as she wrapped you in your robe. “Everything alright?”
Still in a daze, you nod. The emotions were building in your throat as you choked them down. “You reek of sex, M’Lady… let’s clean you up before people notice!” Lilly whispers, her hand gently pressing against your back as she tugs you further into your chambers.
It has been months since you last felt his touch; you knew he was avoiding you. His eyes never met yours when you were trapped in some isolated corner in Winterfell. His voice was harsh when he spoke to you, and his eyes were dull and emotionless. You tried grabbing his hand, but he pulled it away, huffing in annoyance before moving around you. You couldn’t breathe, your eyes swelling with tears as you sucked in a slow breath. Theon noticed the sudden change in your behavior, how you curled away from his touch and avoided his kiss and sexual advances. 
You watched as Lilly packed your chest. “It’s gonna be lovely! You’ll certainly find a suitor in Kings Landing!” 
“I’m not searching for any suitors.” You responded shortly; she nodded, understanding that she might have upset you. Shaking your head, you mumbled out an apology. “I instead want to stay here with Bran, not travel with my father and sisters to watch my sister marry that little boy,” Lilly laughs, rolling her eyes at your stubbornness. You two had become close, and she would often teach the ways of the “wild,” as she would like to put it simply. The burning of herbs masked the smell of sex and other odors—the concoctions she made when you felt ill. Lilly first noticed when you became increasingly irate at the same things, screaming and fussing at her as the months passed. She would hurry and remove the sheet, swapping them with that of her own. She then noticed that you weren’t bleeding, the sheets stained with a slight pinkish hue but nothing deep enough to be considered. She undressed you one night, letting the smoke engulf you as you lazily let her. Your mind was gone, and your happiness drained. She knew you weren’t the same after your night with Sandor…much less any of the following nights with Theon.
Lilly bathed you, your head against the tub as she watched you. She knew; she sensed it. She scrubbed your leg, sighing as she pleaded you wouldn’t think less of her. “I can help you, M’Lady, but you must trust me.” You nodded, closing your eyes and opening yourself to her. You hissed as you felt her insert something into you. It was hard, and you felt as you clenched and adjusted yourself. Lilly let you lay there, unmoving in the bath, as she gently combed your hair. The following days, you gruesomely bleed.
Lilly whispers a response as she is brought back to reality. “Mm, maybe it’ll do’ya some good to get away from ‘ere” 
It did not; you traveled with your sisters and father back to Kings Landing, the carriage jolting at any little divet in the road. Ayra’s head rested on your lap as she tried to lull herself to sleep for the majority of the voyage, but she always failed in her efforts. “We need to stop!” You finally shouted, your voice carrying throughout, your eyes shut in irritation. “I need to breathe; I am suffocated!” Ned laughed, his head waving to the coachman, signaling us to stop. Arya rose gently, her dark grey eyes watching you intently; she was always suspicious after confiding in Jon that you would cut off your and join the black. Jon laughed, tossing his hand against your shoulder, saying that you were too beautiful ever to be considered a man. 
You tugged on the inside of your cheek. “I need a moment’s peace.” Hurriedly you removed yourself from the carriage, sucking in the fresh air- you coughed slightly. It was nothing like the frigid crisp air in the North; it burned at your throat and nose, leaving you numb. You moved deeper into the surrounding forest, stumbling over stumps and shallow holes. You pressed your head against a tree, shutting your eyes tightly. No matter how far you ventured, you could still feel the carriage walls surrounding you, beating closer and closer. You licked your dry lips, gasping as you felt a hand wrap around your shoulders. With wide eyes, you were now facing Sandor. 
“What?” You grumbled out, snatching your body away from him and finally getting a good look at him after weeks. You wanted to hold him… no, slice his throat open and beat him until he lay bloody on the ground. He used you.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Rolling your eyes, you snatch your dress into your face, moving deeper into the forest, your exposed skin snatching on thorn-ridden branches. You could hear the branches cracking under his weight, and he called out your name low and needy. He hated seeing you upset, the way your round eyes scanned his face, searching for something. He was behind you in one stride, grabbing at your arm and tugging you against him. You kept your gaze ahead, watching the leaves swirl in the wind, the branches dancing briefly. It was eerily quiet, and you loved it. It was filled with silence and not with Sansa mentioning for the hundredth time her plans for the future, Arya not needlessly picking at your dress, and Father not snoring. It was peaceful. Sandor dipped his head down, taking in your scent, his lips nipped at your escaped next. 
“Don’t,” you whispered, unmoving. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping to create some friction. Your breaths are uneven and heavy, your fingers twitching to hold his unto his. His other hand shifted slightly, fiddling with his armor. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before pulling away. “No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to fuck me when you’re feeling needy” Your back still faces him. 
Sandor never knew the right words, so he didn’t speak much. “Mm,” The silence of the forest grew; it engulfed you and burned your ears. You spun around. 
“Leave me. Tell my father I will return soon.” Your voice barely above a whisper, Sandor reached out for you, his hand wrapping around your upper arm, snatching you closer to him. You felt his lips against yours, and he kissed you harshly. Lips molded against each other as your arms snaked around his neck, pushing yourself closer. He ran his fingers over your waist as gently as he tried to be, dancing back to your ass. 
Your lips unexpectedly separated with a smack, “If I wanted to be in some cunt, I would get some.” You stood there, flustered and confused. The words did not yet make sense to you as he watched him through a daze. He pulled away slowly, letting your hands fall against his armored chest before smacking to your side. 
Getting to Kings Landing took a few more weeks; you were not excited about it. You hated how the people dressed and looked at you, gawking at the Starks. On the other hand, Sansa was rather excited; with wide eyes, she took hold of Kingslanding and marveled at the tall structures and beautiful castles. Arya stuck by your side, her hand wrapped around yours as you both moved through hesitantly. Your eyes caught hold of Sandor’s; quickly, you looked away, following the progression into the Red Keep. You felt a hand gently touch your back; you flinched casting your gaze to your left as you saw an older woman gazing at you. “Why don’t I show you to your chambers, Lady Stark,” Your eyes flickered to your father, who gave a quick nod of approval. You tugged on your bottom lip, praying that he would take him with you to indulge in his political affairs. Ned could see that you were hesitant, and he pressed a sympathetic smile on his lips. His rough hands fell against your shoulder, bringing you closer. You smell him; you inhale powerfully, taking in the familiarity. He smelled of the walls of Winterfell, the crisp and coolness of the North’s air. 
“Go, I will check on you soon,” He spoke lowly, his thumb quickly brushed against your cheek before shooing you with one of the handmaidens. 
Just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone.
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