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House of the Dragon / Game of Thrones prompt list
I've finally made a prompt list for HotD and GoT! Please send requests 🐉⚔️🖤 The characters I write for are: Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Jacaerys Targaryen, Jon Snow (see my pinned post for request rules)
‘’My blood is not noble enough for a prince.’’ 
‘’Why must you always hate me? Can't we unite for the good of our house(s)?’’
‘’I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you.’’
‘’This was no decision of mine.’’
‘’They used to chant my name, now they’re screaming that they hate me.’’ 
‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ 
‘’The idea of you getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me.’’
‘’I really thought I lost you.’’
‘’Where have you learned to do that?’’
‘’Are you courting me?’’
‘’Stay with me.’’ 
''Don't ignite a dragon's fire, you'll get burned.''
‘’Teach me how to make you feel good.’’
‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife/husband.’’
‘’If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.’’
‘’This marriage wasn’t my choice.’’ 
‘’Be quiet. We don't want to get caught.’’
‘’I don’t want to marry my him/her, yet this is my duty my house.’’ 
‘’Why did it have to be him?’’
‘’The throne is mine! I will not let anyone take it from me.’’ 
‘’Love or duty. That is a choice I don't have the privilege to make.’’ 
‘’Our parents expect so much of us.’’
‘’Let me help you.’’
‘’My heart belongs to another, but my duty lies with our house(s).’’
‘’How could you betray me like this?’’
‘’I do not care about the suitors. I love you.’’
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cdragons · 2 days
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❄︎ House Stark & Spicy Food ❄︎ - w/ spicy loving reader
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Cries if there's too much pepper:
All of them, Sansa and Robb - these two will actually die if they have the slightest sense of heat to any food they try. Like their hair, they get it from their mother.
Robb will try so hard to pretend that he has any spice tolerance...he doesn't...he REALLY doesn't
This boy wants to impress you so badly while also dying and you are not being very helpful bc you keep laughing at how red his face gets
You didn't even put that much in, it was barely a dash of cayenne or one jalapeno seed and he will DIE
If you ever try to put spice in his dishes, he will look at you with the biggest look of betrayal
Redding Wedding what? Nope, the real, most unforgivable act of treason against this King of the North was putting a ghost pepper in his stew after he pissed you off and drinking all his water to make sure that there wasn't any left near him.
Are the two of you married? Does not matter - off to the dungeons with you.
Okay, not really, but he will be seriously pissed and have a huge pouty face for the rest of the week.
He feels even more betrayed when he sees Grey Wind sleeping next to you after you put the pepper in his food.
"Are you on my side or hers?" - Grey Wind is on Team Cuddles and Being Spoiled.
If you end up eating something too spicy for you, he WILL be the most insufferable person about it
Sansa is literally no different, if not worse, than her brother.
Everything that was written above -> multiply that by 10000 in terms of spice intolerance, and you get Sansa.
She does NOT care about impressing you with improving her spice tolerance.
You could try to convince her that spicy food is better for her body and there are a ton of health benefits, but you will FAIL
You once gave her a Cubanelle pepper (About 1,000 SHU) bc the only less spicy option was a bell pepper and bell peppers are only peppers in name and not in spirit
She did not react well
She RAN 🏃‍♀️ to the well and drank the water out of the pail.
...Was it bad that you laughed at her reaction? Yes
Would you do it again? Also, yes
Was it totally worth being banned from nighttime cuddles and kisses for an entire month?...Okay, maybe you won't do it again
You could make fun of her unseasoned potatoes and closer-to-water soup all you want. She is not interested in damaging her stomach lining and developing stomach cancer.
She WILL make fun of you if you end up eating something too spicy for YOU, and you let her because you love seeing her more childish smile and side.
Slightly Dying, but Otherwise Okay and Kind of Digs It:
Jon can eat spicy foods...theoretically.
He's eaten Wilding food and the rotten food from Castle Black -> compared to that, he can take a little heat.
He was wrong - He was so very, VERY wrong. Your level of heat and spice was something that only a demon could take.
Jon was convinced that you were part dragon bc he can't think of any other reason as to how and WHY you put yourself through this?
Eventually, he DOES develop a bit of spice tolerance, and you take full credit for it, especially because this means his taste palette is more on your level. You aren't as afraid of accidentally killing him with your cooking preferences.
But it ends up lowkey backfiring on him bc you won't stop sneaking spicy food into his meals, and sometimes Tormund and his brothers in Black will sneak a bite off his plate (no one died...everyone lives...shhhhhhhhh)
Sam is dead - he died, you killed him. Gilly is officially out for your blood, and little Sam is raised with the single goal of piercing you with a pointy stick bc you killed his dad.
Pyp and Edd are also lowkey dying. Still, they actually enjoy the heat and are always happy to taste test for your dishes...despite their bowels hating them for it
Grenn and Tormund fucking LOVE the heat. They can easily down bowl after bowl after bowl of your cooking.
Bran SHOULD not eat spicy food...but he does because it makes you so happy, and he will literally do anything for your smile and cuddles.
Like his love of climbing and scary stories, he honestly lives for the thrill of taking the heat.
All of his siblings are terrified he's going to get a stomach ulcer one day because he keeps adding more spice to his food, and they are ALL blaming you, and you're just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
While he's traveling with Osha, Hodor, Rickon, and Reed Siblings, it's your cooking that helps keep them warm.
When he becomes the Three-Eyed Raven and King of the Seven Kingdoms, he and you will go to the kitchens to make your favorite dishes from your shared past because it brings a little of the old Bran back.
It's only around you that he can still smile and laugh, and you love him no matter what.
Love Spicy Food and Can ACTUALLY Take it
Arya LOVESSSSS the heat - All Day, Everyday Baby
While she was in Braavos and training in the House of Black and White, she sampled so many dishes and spices from the markets.
This opened a whole new world to her tastebuds, and when she returned to Winterfell - she still loved the food because it was all the food of her childhood, but it just tasted...boring.
You and her actually met while she was training in Braavos, and your family ran a spice stall in one of the markets.
You were fascinated by the girl and always offered a warm meal and housing if she ever needed it. While cooking for her, Arya would tell you stories about Ned and Jon and all her other siblings.
When she reunited with her family at Winterfell, she thought it was adorable how happy and excited you were to meet them. She also highly encouraged you to share one of your spiciest dishes with them.
Bran didn't have much of a reaction save for a small cough, but Jon immediately reached for his water while Sansa just fainted from the shock of the heat assault in her mouth.
Rickon is the only sibling who can actually eat your food and so he automatically becomes your favorite Stark after Arya.
Rickon and you met while traveling with your siblings (Meera and Jojen) to find Bran. You carried many foreign spices with you (for whatever reason).
Immediately, he was smitten with you because you were the youngest sibling around his age. Shaddydog also loved you from the beginning, which helped your case.
A lot of the spices you carried also had medicinal purposes, so you were in charge of cooking while Meera handled the weapons and Jojen helped guide Bran to the 3ER.
It was during the coldest and most freezing blizzard nights, you used one of your hottest spices to make a stew. It was a miracle by fate that Rickon LOVED it.
Since then, he's always begging you to put hotter spices in the meals, but you refuse bc your spices are expensive and because you don't want to accidentally kill the rest of the "Save The World" Gang.
Shaddydog is a huge issue when you're making food because he's very curious about all the different smells and tastes, and you have to keep booping his nose out of the way because you love adding garlic, and it's not good for canines to eat garlic and salt.
*BONUS*
Catelyn - cannot eat anything spicy for the life of her
Ned - same as his wife, tbh lol
41 notes · View notes
rise-my-angel · 3 days
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Heart of the Great Wolf
42 - The Thing in the Night
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Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)
Length: 19.8k
Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, references to past rape, discussions of miscarriage and fertility, disturbing imagery, blood and violence, unintentional self harm, smut, voyeurism, guided masterbation, oral (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink, possessive sexual language
Notes: Who guessed it? Come forward, how long ago did some of you figure it out? Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here
Jon knew to some degree, he was making it obvious by asking. Or at the least, he was not subtle about his intentions. At the time he had respected your decision not to tell him, it was a sensitive subject for you and in some weeks time by then you were all sailing to a battle. You didn't want it plaguing his mind as he didn't want it plaguing yours. So you went to see Maester Wolkan about whether or not you any longer had the ability to bear a child, and didn't tell Jon the answer until the first night on Dragonstone.
Before this new life, the last time Jon ever saw you he was still firmly in the position of getting you pregnant as his biggest fear. Even if you were ready for him that day, Jon still wouldn't have been able to go through with it, how much he begun to panic over the idea of accidentally giving you a child. A girl in the royal family, having a bastard child with a bastard for a father. He also couldn't possibly find a way to get his hands on moontea or even any tansy. Luwin would have figured it out in seconds and it would all be over.
Going to Maester Pylos however, Jon hadn't quite yet shaken off that insecurity. He of course, didn't actually seem to give it much thought. He was a Maester not a Septon he had said, it wasn't his position to judge what a man does in his spare time. Asking if he'd prefer it made for his ease, Jon truthfully wanted to end it and leave. No Pylos didn't judge the conversation, but there was no doubt what it was going to be used for and he wanted to escape the awkwardness within him already. Telling him he'd take the ingredients needed and would brew it himself should it be of use.
It was a slightly more uncomfortable conversation for Jon, when he had to go to Pylos a second time for more.
But still, he knew it was important. He couldn't be reckless because of the noise in his head. No matter what it seemed like something inside him tried to claim, Jon was still a man. Not a wolf. He couldn't just take you as much as he wanted, couldn't carelessly spill inside of you with no plan because a darker instinct inside his chest growled at him to do it enough until it took. Jon knew it was a stroke of luck that he hadn't put a child in you that night in Castle Black. Twice he spilled inside of you and twice more the next morning.
Though, a large part of Jons mind was taken up by the wonder of what if it did take. By the time on Dragonstone when you and Jon finally made love again, his wondering fantasy knew that enough time had passed that you'd have started showing. By now, you'd have needed people to do even the simplest tasks for you, if you hadn't already given birth.
Jon felt like a mad man. Obsessing over the idea of you mothering his children. It wasn't something Jon ever thought was what he would be like by now. Once he decided he was taking the black, he thought he had all but killed any thoughts of a child of his own.
His Uncle Benjen had tried to tell him, warn him about what he would be giving up. Never marrying, never fathering any children. But, shut out that night in the cold, inside the royal company here to split his family in half across the country and knowing it would end in losing you to his brother? Jon saw not a single shred of future for him here anymore.
His father, sisters, and Bran would go to Kings Landing, leaving Lady Catelyn with Rickon, and Robb remaining as he would take on more and more responsibility as heir to Winterfell. Knowing that the only one which was guaranteed to come back in due time, was you, returning to your now permanent home to what would become your husband in Robb. Jon would be left with watching his brother do the duty of two things Jon could never have, and the remaining eyes of Lady Catelyn to hate him all the while. The two younger siblings he adored the most as well in Arya and Bran, unlikely to return as long as father stayed in Kings Landing.
There was no future for Jon left in Winterfell. So he told his uncle he didn't care about any of it. Didn't care about marrying or having children and he meant it. Only for the strange softness in his uncle's eyes that Jon couldn't quite read at the time.
“You might. If you knew what it meant.”
Jon didn't understand it then, but he was beginning to think he did now. Standing in Wolkan's study, Jon was finding anything meaningless for his attention and focus to fidget with. Pretending as if he didn't want to just find you and drag you in here to deal with this here and now. Trying to find the right way to ask how it was he was sure he determined you weren't without the ability to bare children without making it obvious.
“Ramsay had raped her for months, and that whole time there was never a hint she was ever..” The sentence felt atrocious on his tongue, but there was no reason to mince words here. Wolkan knew what had happened to you, he was there for all of it.
A morose look fell over the man's face, and Jon felt a familiar swirling in his gut. A feeling that you, Wolkan, and Theon were all keeping some of the worst from him. That no one had actually told him the extent of what was done to you. But an even tone fought through Wolkan's grim expression. “No, I can assure you of that. Roose Bolton was a cruel man, but he was also a smart one. Had there been a hint of her being with child, he'd have his men drag her out to the godswood to marry Ramsay then and there. He needed their child to be legitimate. But that doesn't mean he was not aware of what was happening.”
Pacing somewhat near the window, Jon slightly turned his head. Brow furrowed with a rougher tone then before. “He wanted his grandchild to be a trueborn son, but he still let Ramsay rape her knowing it could've happened at anytime.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Jons jaw clenched. “Doesn't sound smart if you ask me.”
Wolkan however, had an answer without hesitation. “No it would not be a wise choice. Which is why he had me brew just enough of the makings of moontea, that it's taste could be hidden in a drink with a strong flavour.” Jon turned to him fully, his eyes widened in something disbelieving but found no such lie in the genuity of Wolkan's face. “Wine was suitable for them to both ease her nerves her enough to attempt to dissuade any out bursting behaviour, and it quite successfully overpowers any taste when just the right amount is added to a mixture of mint, wormwood, and tansy.”
Jons arms fell to his sides as did a heavy weight in his chest. Stepping forward enough he braced his palms on the top of the chair across from the man at his desk. Exhale wavering, it was striking to him the extent to which he was relieved. The utter devastation he knew you'd have felt should the first child you become pregnant with after losing Robbs, being with Ramsay. Your heart was far more gentle then it used to be, such a thing might have ended every resolve you had let to keep yourself alive. But now here he stood, realizing it didn't happen because through no fault of your own body.
His voice hardly a strained whisper, “She doesn't know this, does she?”
Wolkan shook his head. “I am afraid not. Roose Bolton was the only one other then myself who knew about it, and by the time she had returned to Winterfell after escaping, you had in only a matter of days, taken Ramsay's head. After that, I didn't see it appropriate to bring up her time with him more then necessary.”
Sighing deeply, Jon wasn't quite sure how to approach it. Any of it. He was sure of the facts themselves, but his methods weren't quite what any would call traditional. He had always thought of it in a back and forth manner all his life and yet now that it was right in front of him begging to be dealt with, none of what he ever considered was the right answer.
In a fantasy, it was easy. You'd find out as normal, tell him, and nothing else could make either of you happier. But Jon couldn't live in a fantasy, and the truth in the real world he lived in was marred in far more blood and pain then what made it easier for you the first time he suspected. Fair was fair however. You withheld the information from Robb, and this time, Jon was withholding the information from you. Telling you gently that it was alright to find love in your life after Robb was one thing.
It was another to tell you that new life was growing inside you, underneath the scar that took Robb's son from you far too early.
But Jon was sure, because Ghost was sure. Ghost sensed it almost right away. Not even days after the first time the blue eyed stranger marked a place in your dreams did Ghost start acting different around you. It took over a week after that when Jon was inside his mind to figure out what his direwolf already knew. But now a fortnight passed, and he was no closer to an answer then he was when he found out, about how to tell you.
Wolkan's tone drew him from his mind, eyes wide and a genuity in how brightly innocent they were, it was more clear to the Maester that Jon had been asking questions not to speculate on trying, but to perhaps talk his way around figuring out how to handle what already happened. “When she came to see about her fertility, it struck me how dispondant she was about it all. Too calm, too even toned, as if any answer wouldn't phase her whatsoever. Presumed every worst case possibility and walked in ready to confirm what she already felt was the answer.”
Nodding, Jons face tried to tighten itself. Working to keep calm and steady, but any close eyes could see the workings and twitches begging to carry far more emotion then he wanted to show about it. His voice, a scratching rasp as if forced out. “She didn't just lose her son that night, she lost everything. Only to come back to something even worse, and all she has left of my brother is that scar on her stomach.”
If Jon couldn't bring Robb back, he wished there had been a way to protect Robb's from being taken from you too. Jon wouldn't have let that change anything. He'd still love you exactly as he does, and he'd love Robbs son like his own. Make sure he felt loved and cared for, wait until he was old enough and Jon could be able to properly tell him about his birth father, the charming trouble maker Robb was. That night in the cave Jon had seen a black haired baby in your arms, but Jon never wanted to trade Robb's son for his.
It was never supposed to be one against the other. He and Robb were each others closest companions their entire lives. Jon's jealousy was never about being better, taking from his brother. Just sharing equally what they both could be. Or have.
Jon could share your love with his brother even now, but Jon couldn't stop the fact that it would be his son you were having, not his brothers. He couldn't change that, and now, he was too selfish to not have that. From the study the two stood in, Jon could easily hear the muffled voices and yells from the training yard where he knew for a fact was where you were. He should tell you, he thought to himself. Before you all left, he should tell you. But once more, Jon wasn't sure how.
“How long until I'll be able to fight with two daggers in each hand the way you can?”
Dropping the blunt practice sword, you looked flatly at Arya. Your voice as monotone as it was with a sarcastic hint of dryness. “When you've been doing it for over a decade then maybe you will be as good at it.” Swinging the sword in your hand almost in a childish wave, you beckoned her to find her form once more.
She had been vague about what kind of people she was with in Bravvos, but it seemed they focused her more on being sneaky and clever instead of physical training. Meaning you had plenty to pick her back up on in the training yards these past days. Finding both of you paired well together. Both smaller and quicker then normal soldiers, both fighting with an emphasis on your left hand alone, and knowing not to try and overpower an opponent, but rather work around them to find a weak spot.
Better then her last days in Kings Landing, but your father had taught you that if you get too comfortable with your skill, then it eventually will worsen compared to those around who aren't as confident. Arya, seemed to feel an impatience at the idea. “I'm already fighting with a sword, how different can two knifes be?”
Dodging your quick moves with ease, you did however feel the breaking need to smother a smile at how proud Ned would have been to see where she is today. Your eyes shifting away from her own form, “Very different. If you think we're fighting quickly now, you need to be able to move much faster with a knife. Most of the time your opponent will be far better armed then you in such cases.”
Many men could fight with a sword in hand, not many could yield two knifes in a respective hand each and keep up against a sharp, long blade. You had against Aegon, but even then you took a good amount of a very painful beating to gain that upper hand. And more then a few words and very close calls you'd rather not think of which were traded as well. But neither you nor Aegon had spoken on that one after the fact.
“When do you think I'll be ready then?” Your eyes dropped in a lack of amusement and for a moment Arya dropped the advantage her pose previous held to whine at you with far more of the tinge of a jesting sister. “Come on, I'm not ready for that but I can't know when you think I will be?”
Your eyes only narrowed, and your words would not speak as well as your answer could be. Only a few quick paces forward, and her distracted form was thrown off balance enough to send her own practice sword to the ground. Her eyes narrowed at you as you finally let a smirk out, gesturing with your own blade to where hers lay limp. “Learn how to not let your guard down so easily first.”
The moment she crouched to grab it, you stepped forward and kicked it a few feet behind her. Her brows annoyed as was the scrunch in her face, moreso at the mischievous brightness in your own smirk. “If I turn around to go get it, are you going to stab me in the back?” Your head only tilted to the side slightly as if to challenge her to find out.
Your smirk forming more to a grin at how instead, Arya kept eye contact and walked backwards rather then turning. Her voice once more piping back up as she returned to a proper position. “Kicking a weapon away from someone doesn't sound very hounrable.”
“In that case, you'll be the most honourable dead girl a swordsman has ever beaten.” She came at you far harder for that one. Sparring with Arya certainly was a little more fun then it was her older brothers, at least there wasn't two of her to gang up on you and spend an hour toying with you until they knocked you into the mud.
It wasn't until you both were a bit more on the side of out of breath when she brought it back up. Her arm reaching across the weapons hold to hand you hers with an ask hoping to sound causal. “If I'm expected to use the dragonglass to defend myself, shouldn't I know how to use it properly?” Her eyes rose in a brightness hoping to look innocent but alas, she was more transparent then she assumed.
Head dropping a bit with a narrowing of your eyes before you turned back to putting things back with a huff. “It's there to protect you. You're not using it to fight them, Arya. It's there to keep you alive, that's all. You don't need to know more then just how to shove a blade into something.”
Something distant sat on her tone, which you couldn't quite pin. “So, stick 'em with the pointy end?”
You nodded your head slightly to the side, more a mumble on your lips then a real response. “That's the essence of it.” Not looking, you missed the easy smile forming along Arya's face before she covered it up soon as you looked back up to her gaze.
Your eyes a bit as distant as hers had just been, only without hiding whatsoever. Hands braced against the wood as you leaned against it somewhat. “It really was the Hound you were with?” Nodding, your jaw clenched as you turned slightly away, voice dropping more to a mutter. “Difficult to imagine he was fit to care for anything more then running down boys.”
It had been a long time since any had brought him up to her. You could still recall that night, walking the path from the Inn with Lord Stark. The Hound walking his horse in the opposite manner, the poor boy hanging across it. Beaten, bloody, and limp. Not an easy task it was imagining that sort of man would ever turn out to be different for the good.
Arya's voice was quiet, and you knew it still sat heavy in her heart as much as it did when she found out the next day. “No one even remembered his name-”
“Mycah.” Her head shot up with wider eyes, your tone softer as you leaned your forearms across to look at her more on her eyeline. “The butchers son. His name was Mycah.”
Neither of you said a word for a moment. Struggling in her throat to find the right emotion to let out, and you with the patience to watch her get there on her own. She didn't see it happen or his body, but it was still the first real violence she was exposed to. If you were to judge now, you'd say it led her down the path to where she stands now. Walking not a few feet behind her, Arya found a small platform to sit down against.
Or, more like collapse down onto. With a deep exhale, all her weight was tossed in one go as she landed heavy like the far away look in her gaze. Slowly, you worked your way around until you sat next to her, giving a fair amount of space for her mind as she finally spoke. “I wanted to kill him. The Hound. We travelled for almost a year and the entire time I wanted him dead. But then..then he really was dying and there was nothing either of us could do. I could have done it then, he told me to do it. Told me all about the day he killed Mycah to convince me..but..he didn't mean it.”
Your eyes narrowed, but only silence followed.
Arya wasn't unlike Jon in that way. Sometimes you needed to let her get it out before saying anything otherwise she might talk herself out of being open or vulnerable. “It wasn't about revenge. Not really. But people kept doing horrible things to innocent people and never were punished for it. The Hound killed my friend and he got to walk free and no one but me remembered his name. I wanted to kill him because otherwise Mycah would never get any justice. But that day, he was dying and I realized killing him then would only be for revenge. Because killing him didn't feel like justice. Not by then.”
She had been somewhat vague about that day. You didn't want to pry, but it led to her getting on a ship to Bravvos. It felt important to know regardless of not liking the idea of invading her privacy. “You don't have to tell me, but what happened? You said there was a fight with someone, but I knew the Hound a long time. Winning against him in a fight isn't exactly simple.”
It was a name you hadn't thought of in years. You only properly met the woman for a short time an only spoke directly once, and it was not quite an interaction you'd throw yourself at to relive. Out of everyone to run into Arya Stark and Sandor Clegane, it was Brienne of Tarth. Carrying shiny new armour and a sword with hilt made from Lannister gold, given to her by none other then Jaime Lannister himself.
Even if you didn't know the information that you did, you still wouldn't have gone with her either. But you did know her. And now you knew that as strange of a guardian as the Hound would be, Arya wasn't alone when she was with him. Wasn't in such constant danger, wasn't across the bloody Narrow Sea because she thought there was nothing left for her. One fight with Brienne of Tarth however, and it took years for Arya to return to Westeros to her family.
You didn't care where she was now, but you had a rising stack of reasons to wish to never see her face.
Inhaling deeply, you knew better then to let your own bias interfere with Aryas own story, and kept everything of your grievances with her from the statement of facts. “She was the one who helped the Kingslayer escape.” Her head whipped over to you, but all you could see was how infuriated it had made you and Robb. “Your mother was manipulated into thinking you and Sansa both were in Kings Landing. That returning Jaime Lannister would mean you both would be returned to her, so she had Brienne of Tarth help him escape against Robb's own orders.”
Surprisingly, it was anger which followed from Arya. “She tried having the person she was with chase me, but I hid from him. Both of them until they left. Wasn't long after that I got on a ship to Bravvos. The only person I knew I had left was Jon, but I was in the Vale and Jon was all the way at Castle Black. I knew I wouldn't be able to get there on my own. Not alive.”
If she had expected the gesture, she leaned into your hand running gently along the back of her head in an instant. Merely a mutter coming from you, “You're here now, Arya. You're back with him, that's what matters. If all we do is think of what differently we would do in the past, you're not going to get over what actually happened.”
Arya nodded, something held back in her chest from how much she put in to appearing not upset, but you both sat there until she came back on her own to the present. Her voice rough, but forcing itself out regardless. “You're sure I can't come?”
Eyes wide and hopeful, but yours not rejecting or harsh. “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Until Jon returns, that will be you.” Her brows narrowed as her head looked to the ground but didn't argue. Your hand slipped across her shoulders comfortingly. “You know this place, and these people. Jon needs someone he can trust beyond doubt to take care of things while he's gone. And he'll never trust his men more then he trusts you.”
Inhaling shakily, her voice actually spoke out as if now nothing had been weighing on her. “Would have been nice to meet your father, though.” Your sudden laugh surprised most nearby.
“That may be the first and only time someone has ever said meeting Stannis Baratheon would be nice.”
You had all in previous days debated what exactly to do, how to go about solving one of the largest problems that had plagued the Nights Watch for centuries. Suggestions came from every corner of the room but the simple fact was that the North alone did not have enough to man the Wall. Not the way you were all beginning to realize was going to be incredibly vital to whatever was coming. Each time a new idea came about, you and Jon would look at the other and still once more find reasons to disagree with it's sustainability.
At one point, it hadn't gone anywhere long enough that Tormund had stood with his own suggestion. “We're used to dealing with the Crows, you want us to man the castles?” But Jon disagreed.
He quickly shut it down in truth. “Even if I get every single free folk, that still isn't enough to guard and restore sixteen forts. I opened the gates for your people to find land and lives, not to make you guard the Wall for us. You're people need time to prepare for winter as much as we are.”
Debates of numbers and manpower had come about for a bit. It was never an easy subject, even in peace times. The Wall hadn't been properly manned in centuries, to find a way to do so now with such limited people and resources felt near impossible. A losing battle more then it already was. The weight wasn't easy on Jon when he was Lord Commander and it continued to be a difficult problem as King in the North.
“We would need at least double what we can spare, most castles need significant restoring, most tunnels before being abandoned were plugged with rocks and ice. Flooded to freeze over before it was left to ensure nothing could get through.” Leaning somewhat with his palms braced against the wooden table before him, you could see Jon trying not to tense up the muscles there more then they already had been.
Voices piped up from more spots around the hall. “We'd need more men then we can spare to handle that, most of us are busy ensuring our own homes and lands are prepared for winter alone.” From your seated position, you could see the workings inside Jons head spinning. Something was forming in his head, but he would keep it until the answer was a clear to present as possible.
Your own voice agreeing with the majority. “If you're right, and each castle would need hundreds of men to properly restore and man, we would still have to sit here and debate which ones are the most important, and which we keep abandoned. And having five or six instead of three is hardly giving the Wall proper defences.”
Jon's head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing somewhat as he glanced to you. “Between us and the free folk we still don't have anywhere near the numbers for nineteen castles. It's more men then we have in our entire army.” Only, his eyes drifted the moment such words left his mouth.
Lips parted somewhat as he refocused them to you, then the lords attending as soon as your own eyes brightened just a bit. He was right, what the North needed was an army to man the Wall. Not anywhere needed once but desperate now that the storms drew closer. There wasn't an army that size willing to spare it's fighting to help the North. Except one that already had.
Your voice barley a mutter, almost a grin asking to breath itself out with it and you looked up to where he stood. “He likes you better, might actually say yes if you propose it to him.” Jon only turned once more to look down at you, close to a twist in his face as if to tease you for it in his expression alone. Though, it was one which you both knew wasn't a bad idea regardless.
Jon couldn't stand and wait for an answer though, even if such help would not come, there was still one place that begged to be looked at. One which had an answer which potentially, three separate people had parts of a puzzle to. Plans had to be made regardless. Even if only one place needed to be looked after, Jon would find a way to make it work. Sam had continued to underestimate his use for this cause, and every time he was the one stumbling upon answers.
He had seen the army of the dead. He had been the one to prove his father wrong, and show a bravery few men could ever have and shoved a dagger of dragonglass into the back of the creature coming for Gillys son and watched it shatter it to pieces. He discovered the old manuscripts and runes in the citadel, and he had been the one to leave with them stolen away on his person knowing the answers in there were more important then not stealing them.
Though, when returning to Winterfell, Jon had asked him where he had gotten a Valyrian steel sword, and that confession had made Jon laugh quite a lot. The first thing Jon truly learned about Sam, was that his father had forced him to take the black or otherwise threatened to take his life for not growing up to his standards. From what he could gather from you, you knew Lord Randyll Tarly by reputation as a commander not a father, but you had it on good authority that the toughest commanders were too the toughest fathers. So it seemed fitting that the last thing Sam did before leaving his family home a second time, was take the families sword Heartsbane with him.
This time, it wasn't a direct new answer Sam had provided Jon with, but a place. Something which by his description, held more of a key then anyone alive currently knew a thing about previously.
Organizing a small group to head out first, look the place over before anything else was done about it in particular, but one thing seemed to come to Jon. An idea as uncomfortable was it was logical, after all, he still wasn't quite convinced Lord Beric had been wrong. The only other two people who knew what both returning from death and bringing the dead back to life felt like, were also the ones who saw fit to travel North for their own cause of what was to come. Even if they disagreed on all else, perhaps the four of you were not in the same place as only a coincidence.
“Isn't it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?” At least you thought to yourself, Tormund was still willing to speak the truth. You didn't quite feel exactly as they were, it certainly came across as risky, and uncomfortable even if you followed Jons logic.
Walking to his side further down into the undergrounds of Winterfell you tilted your head briefly to the side in almost dismissal. “If you've got a better one.”
Mumbling a bit almost in amusement, knowing full well Jon could hear you both. “Three dead people, two dead raisers and me. Starting to think I'm missing out on something.” Eyes almost glaring to the side without any meaning that Tormund would take offence.
Jon held the most calm in his own words, turning somewhat to wait for you both to catch up. “They know things most people don't. Been through things only we,” Jon gesturing to yourself, “have been through. I don't care if I like or even trust them. They're apart of this, somehow.”
Looking up to him, you added in a plain simpleness. “Thoros knows how to fight, Beric knows how to fight. If they're going to be in the North regardless, may as well put them to use instead of keeping them in our home.” Tormund looking doubtful asking in what seemed like a bit of a condescending jest that they were the ones who kidnapped you in Barrowton. Your eyes found Jons, tense and on edge as you settled the same feeling growing in your veins. “In a manner of speaking.”
Nodded for the two to keep going, you could hear as you passed the not so subtle whispering towards Jon of, “You two are made for each other. Both morons.”
You had never seen Thoros this sober before. He looked as miserable as your worst days felt anymore and just as it always did now, such a shared attribute shivered unsettlingly in your blood. You would rather not know how he felt. Beric held himself together a bit more, not unlike the manner in which Jon could be unreadable some days.
First it was only you, then Jon, now four stood in the same place and you couldn't comprehend what the point of any of it led towards. It seemed more on the side of sober however, Thoros did not come to a dissimilar conclusion. “I'd say I haven't been feeling like myself, but quite the opposite it really is. If you wanted to torture him,” gesturing to Beric who watched just as carefully to you both as Jon did him. “You did a wonderful job. Quite tedious my company becomes in sobriety. Tell me my Queen, you don't strike me as a drinker like King Robert. How do you handle it, I've always wondered.”
Thoros's eyes on you was unsettling still further, but in a worse way, you understood it. You saw the lure to drinking with this sort of weight. One no one else understood but the ragged priest with far too flowery language for your liking. Jon however, answered for you with not a shred of patience for the direction of the conversation.
“You said you came North to fight what was coming. That you wanted to be part of this.”
Beric Dondarrian however, remained as even toned as he ever was and it grated on you. “We don't want to fight this fight, your grace. We have to. Same as you. War is coming and our Lord needs us here more then in the South fighting against Kings.”
Shifting between them you found barley a breath to spare, hissing out to them. “The last thing your Lord told you to do, you sold Gendry to the red woman, who was taking him to slaughter like a lamb. What should we care what your Lord tells you?”
It wasn't the reason Jon was here, but in an instant he found a stronger argument brewing between you and Beric. Who was steadfast yet defensive as he stood. “We do what our Lord bids, no more, no less. It isn't up to us to question what he wants. If the boy was meant to die, he wouldn't be alive now. But he is.”
Both of you a step closer to the iron bars, your tone seething as did the sharpness in your eyes. “He's alive beacuse only one person stood up to do the right thing. You promised he could stay with you, and then you sold him for gold, because all your talk and still you're nothing but an outlaw.” You think perhaps Jon warned you in your name, but you heard it little in your actual mind.
And Beric found no reason to hold back as such. “Outlaws banding together to protect the innocent-”
Another step and more anger flooded in you almost unusually strong. “You killed those innocents just to draw me out-”
Cutting through both of you, Jon came close to a yell. “Enough.” Your eyes watched Berics sharply and he you, but still felt the slight pull at your back to draw you away from him and closer to Jon behind you. “We're not down here for this.” Tearing your gaze from Beric to Jon, did the guilt follow with it.
The sharpness in your eyes softened almost as soon as you found his grey ones, and with but a nod you felt you shrink a bit in on yourself. You didn't like nor trust these two, but you didn't come down here with any intention on such an outburst. Nor did you know really where it came from.
“We're all here for the same reason. It won't matter who did what when the army of the dead come, what happened in the past stays in the past from now on.” You knew he was right, this was what he was always trying to do. Throw away the fighting and direct everyone on the only path that would matter.
Jon and Beric both watched each other carefully as you looked at none. You should be calmer then this, what was wrong with you?
Speaking low behind the bars, Beric sounded in agreement. “There's a greater purpose at work, and we serve it together. Whether we know it or not. I can't change the past, but we came here to ensure there can even be a future. We may take the steps, but the Lord of Light-”
Tormund however, had no qualms of being exhausted with this rhetoric. “You southerners never know when to shut up, do you? He's giving you a chance to make up for being piece of shit, either take it or stop talking about your damn god. It's only us men down here.”
In the quiet only the crackling of torch fire was heard until it blended in harmony with Jons low rasp. “You tell me you're on our side, you need to prove it.” Thoros asking from previous he only watched it play out, how they were do to that. Jon with keys in his hand, found the unlocks of the cell door. “You come with us, fight for the living where it matters.”
Still on a side akin to somewhat pathetic, Thoros's expression twisted to a morose jest. “As long as it's more interesting then sitting in a freezing cell all day.”
Yet as you watched Jon and Tormund both unshackle them, you couldn't stop the wonder. Coming down here, you knew why and agreed why. Anger in outbursts weren't like you anymore, it came out of nowhere when you had faced far worse opponents without the blockade of iron bars with more of a firm hand. Though, a brief glance shared between you and Thoros, it seemed he did not question it the way you were.
Bringing one back changes something inside you he said. The months passed was beginning to make it feel like that cost was your sanity. Your sense of stability in a well mannered, stoic demeanour when it mattered. But that wasn't the only hold on your mind either. Bringing dead to life in one direction, and visions and green dreams in the other.
How much longer could you even hold yourself together?
A few stories always stuck out in your mind, or at least, it was the ones not as intriguing as the others. But the ones which instilled a chilling in your lungs when you first heard them. The thing that came in the night. That was the the first you remembered hearing.
Your first visit in Winterfell, told to you by Old Nan, who even then seemed to be as old twenty years ago as had been the last you saw of her. She held all of those stories, and it was the scary ones which you found yourself always drawn to. The first was that story which stuck out in your mind.
Many years ago it was said, four apprentice boys went to their Lord Commander spinning terrified stories that something came for them in the night. Each boy however, gave different accounts of what had happened, and each described its appearance vastly different then the other. As a result, the Lord Commander found no reason to take their ramblings seriously. Within a year it was said, three of the boys had died and the fourth had gone mad. A century later it was said to have returned, but few lived to speak of what it had done once more.
Robb had snuck up on you when you heard that story, and you could still recall the laughter from he and Jon when you nearly jumped out of your skin with a shriek.
Another you never forgot was that of the seventy nine. It was said that seventy nine men had deserted their posts from the Nights Watch, running South. One of the men, the youngest son of the Lord of House Ryswell had taken them there hoping to seek shelter. Instead, Lord Ryswell had called upon the Nights Watch to his home and the outlaws all captured. Including his son. Dragged back, holes just big enough for a man were carved into the Wall and each and every deserter was forced inside. Spiked in with spears and horns before sealing them all back up with ice. That they had left their posts in life, and so their punishment was that their watch never ended even in death.
So many passed through the years, the Rat Cook serving a King his son in a prince and bacon pie. The ghost of Danny Flint, brave and young and how the songs sung about her were sad and pretty but what ended her life was not. The blind knight of Symeon Star Eyes, sapphires in place of where his eyes were both lost and somehow still saw the figures of hellhounds fighting before him. The Mad Axe who walked the halls and butchered his brothers in the dark. Many stories all surrounded this one place, and yet as you rode upon the destination it looked nothing of the sorts.
The Nightfort was indeed the largest of the castles manning the Wall. It was the oldest as well, first ever built by Brandon the Builder himself, and where everything of the Nights Watch truly begun. Built on slanted land of rolling hills, surrounded by snow and ice it looked unassuming in every way. It was only a series of large buildings, made of stone and metal but nothing which told you it matched such stories you listened in great fear as a child.
The main building itself was large. Broken towers and paths and tunnels leading around to the many smaller sections sealed from the cold outside. Some places had only one wall standing, while others remained as if never touched. An octagon of stone, walls carved like steps sat much like that, mostly put together with nothing out of the ordinary, it's dome room as strong as ever.
It's outside however, was unique. Time had turned it into that of a small forest. Lush with fauna and flora surrounding thick trees that hid the castle well from prying eyes. The twisting branches of white poked through buildings and around others down to the ground again as if time had bound building and bark together.
All sat on your horses looking to it in the distance, Jon next to you with piercing eyes scouring every corner he could see from here as if searching for danger even this far away. The only other one as close to you both was Sam, his voice breaking the only noise of blowing wind around you. “Doesn't look quite as intimidating from out here, I admit.”
Jon's tone breath filled but still heard as he looked with wide eyes, as bright as the snow around him. “This was where you met him, Bran?” Sam confirming it only to watch as Jon let that breath out in a noticeable exhale. The cold around you all visible on the way out. Spoken to himself, knowing both by his either side would hear. “What were they doing, two teenagers bringing a crippled boy beyond the Wall?”
He heard it all before, but still it didn't sit well with him you knew. Sam couldn't get from the two Reed children nor Bran what they were doing here or why they needed to go North, but claimed they had to do it all the same. Sam had given them some of the cache of dragonglass he had found as his only way of protecting them best he could, but he could not convince them to come back to Castle Black if they truly didn't want to.
But you looked upon the vastness of the Wall and wondered, what was it Jojen Reed had seen? What did Lord Bloodraven show him that needed Brandon Stark so desperately for? Why any of it? Why you now?
You could hear Sam to your right, “They said they were needed. That they could only try and stop the Others by heading far North.”
Jon made the very point which came to your mind. “No one's ever survived as far north as they say these things live. No normal person at least.” Finally did his gaze catch yours from the very corner of your gaze to the side.
Not anything normal, but walking in the minds of a dream? You both had done that now.
The main gate was already prepared to be opened, likely from the first time Bran had arrived with the two Reed's getting here. The main yard was as overrun as it looked from the outside, but a chilling wind blew through the winding branches of white bark sticking up and around from the earth. Eyes all finding one way or another to something as eeiry as the next. Out of the entire group which came, Jon insisted a short few ensure its safety first.
Climbing off your horse, once more only Jon spoke and with a command as quiet as it was without room for question. “We'll split into groups, make sure it's empty. But be careful.” It was a large place, and even as you found your eyes on Ghost, the direwolf looked as not comfortable as Jon did. Both glanced to you, but for once did not make a fuss about you walking out of his sight. Not in front of the group of nine within the yards now. “Tormund, Theon, go with her. You two, with me.”
Thoros and Beric looked as many did coming to the Wall for the first time. A strange awe. The greatest structure ever built, and the unusual feeling which came with being near it. Ser Davos in another direction with Maege Mormont. Olly beside you, sharing a not so insignificant glance at being back in such a place.
Not holding the same conflicting memories which had that of Castle Black, but the Nights Watch a reminder all the same.
Every room which was held within four walls looked identical. Dark without fire light, only the outside peering in to give any hint of what was there. Empty, more empty, and a space that told it was far larger then the last fort you had been in. Was easy to understand to you, how this was the first built. It was grand, but too grand to maintain with dwindling men and resources.
You supposed the creation of a united Seven Kingdoms did not help such a matter. Considering this very place was abandoned after one visit from Queen Alysanne Targaryean. It was said she found it dour and depressing, and used her precious jems to build a newer, smaller castle. Another which later was abandoned too.
The four of you walked with little words shared. Something about this place felt off. As if it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end with no explanation as to why. Wherever Ghost went, you weren't sure, he seemed to not like this place as much either. Sensing what you all could or more but you ventured further into the creeping dark.
Out of the three men walking together on the other side of the castle, two voices were quiet, but the same pair which tended to always speak with such a cadence regardless. “If the dead were here, there is no use in biding their time hiding in shadows.”
Jon's eyes peeled from every corner to give somewhat of a glare to Beric. The entire journey here he had tried to enlist Jon in this cause for a god he didn't believe in. Wars had been fought over single individuals before and always ended in one side with far too much blood spilt. This wasn't about one god or another, it was about survival.
Many times including now, he let him speak and said nothing in return. Jon had found great skill in the ability to let others talk endlessly at him without uttering a sentence. On the opposite end, he sensed that normally it was Thoros who was the talker and yet he had been quiet. Quiet with attention trained much on you, whether you noticed or not.
Not attraction or malice but something Jon sensed he could not understand. Thoros was to Beric was what you were to Jon. The one his new life was in debt to. The one who brought him back. However desperate Jon could feel looking at you, it was not the same he knew, to the trepidation you had spent months looking at him like.
Jon would feel lost without you, but he also had wondered if you truly would be lost without him.
He couldn't even understand death in the same manner. His mind attached itself to Ghost. The second the cold begun to seep deeply into the wound in his heart, Jon's gaze was in the stables. Lower to the ground then normal and sharper to the point it wasn't quite as pitch black. At the time, he almost wondered if it had been a dream. Only to finally realize where his mind was. When Jon made his way outside, he found the blood. His blood.
Drenched in the snow and his senses picked up it's path instantly. By the time Jon was looking down at his own dead body, he was fairly sure he lost part of his mind. You though, it was nothing of the sort for you. You had seen the world fade, and as soon as it was gone you opened them up once more.
You compared it to waking up from a dreamless sleep. Groggy and heavy, no actual recollection of the seconds before you fell asleep and if you dreamt anything you had already forgotten. Only that feeling was even worse in death. Jon didn't know what that felt like. His mind was awake from every second he was dead to the moment he returned in his own body.
Only Beric would understand exactly how you felt in one way, and only Thoros would understand in another. But not both. Your returned from the dead, already something Jon knows drastically changes part of a person. Then your new life brought Jon back from the dead. Another thing Jon now knew drastically changed a person.
You were the link between all four of them. Five if he was including what used to be Catelyn Stark.
An amalgamation of them all in a mind too traumatized to handle it. Jon once thought you were the only two who understood each other, but not even that was true. In a painful honesty, he thought to himself, there isn't a soul on earth who understands what is in your mind. No one could. Death haunted you in every facet of your existence, how deep did it run? How often were you trained on the thoughts of death the way Jons was tethered to his obsession with you?
Their voices around him spoke as they traversed the empty, grim halls. Thoros the one speaking when Jon found it in him to pay attention to their conversation, and wishing in an instant they'd stop. “Anything still hiding around here, it'd be old but if there is one which doesn't care about it's age, it's rum.”
Beric to the side of Jon responding in jest, “Would make you more bearable, my friend. I do admit.”
The whispering hiss from Jon was far more fed up with both of them then any previous words had given off. “Or you could stay sober and handle your problems the way the rest of us have to.” He elected to ignore the glance both men gave one another. They were right, Jon did not think you were all in the same place for no reason, but good company remained rare in Southerners clearly.
Raising an eyebrow, Thoros gave a look assuming Jon could read the jest in him. “Do me a favour, your grace and ask your lady if she thinks handling our burden is more bearable sober, or good and drunk and uncaring?”
His jaw clenched. If that wasn't a good option for you before, Jon would forbid it now of all times. That time, he openly glared. Anything which might have come impulsively from his mouth by then, was stopped by a faint sound somewhere in the outside.
Ghost had begun to bark and growl in great volume.
“Old Nan used to tell stories about this place.” Glancing over to Theon, he looked a bit less on edge then you felt walking through these halls. Turning away your eyes looked to the dark unlit by fire and felt nothing but the same bitter cold floating around you. Olly turning to look at him asking what kind of stories.
You could hear the smirk on Theons face. “The scary kind. The kind that would scare the hair on your head right out.”
Tormund rumbled with his own amusement. “Somewhere on the North side of the Wall here there's an old tunnel one of my own tried carving to get through to the other side. The Crows caught him and buried him back into the wall. Some say you can hear the sounds of a pick through ice if you're quiet enough.”
Olly glared at both of them. “Those aren't scary, they're just stories.”
You admired it a little, you knew he was tense but refusing to let the men in his company make him appear just the boy his age was. Mumbling mostly to yourself, “Leave him be.” They caught it, but your eyes followed a white branch poking through the floor, stretching and twisting around a pole and reaching up to the sky.
It was everywhere, these branches. From the earth and white like a heart tree but without one standing tall where it would seem to make the most sense.
Still they bickered behind you like boys. “You're scarier then any bed side story.”
Tormund's voice almost amused as his attention was now directed at Olly. “Aye, boy. I probably am. Carved up more Crows then your Axe Man ever did I bet.” You'd roll your eyes if you didn't still feel that strange creeping just under your skin.
A gloved hand reached out and carefully pushed a creaking wooden door open, one strong looking companion sat on the other side of the room you stepped into, looking almost as if it had been barred off before being left. Glancing somewhat behind you, the sight of the much smaller Olly continued to bicker with the very large Tormund. Catching Theons gaze, his narrowed at likely what was your tense frame. Unsure as to what was on your mind, but alas you were not sure either these days.
Some you felt fine, others you felt as if you flared a great temper from nothing, others your emotions ran you a true mess from teary eyed to the chilling paranoia sat with you now. It was erratic how wildly you were beginning to swing in how you felt these days. But explaining that now was of no use, and you both walked into the room all the same.
The cold in here was striking, as if whatever wind flowed in, was captured and stayed due to it's layout with not a single window to the outside world. Only the light pouring in from under both doors the rest of the room remained hidden.
Nothing seemed to stand out to you, and as you pressed against the barred up door you tried instead to give it a shove to no avail. If it led somewhere else, it would have to be seen to be accessed on the other side. Coming to your side, Theon looked it over with the same thought. “Whatever's on the other side is empty most likely, been abandoned for hundreds of years anything that might be in there's long dead.”
Sharpness sat on the edge of your tongue, “Easy to say that when you've never been the dead thing.”
His eyes rolled as yours shined with almost a bratiness as you paced further into the cold, darkness of the room. Catching your eye only slightly, you looked to what almost might be that of a bedroll. Splayed out in the darkness by the end of the room. Kneeling down by it, you looked with wide eyes and your lips parted in a slight confusion. Scattered things laid about as if someone had been here not so long ago. Standing up, you turned to Theon.
Nodding behind you to the same sight, his voice with the same curiosity. “What is it?”
You didn't answer, because as soon as he was finished, something seemed as if it crept from the dark behind him. The door slammed shut, and this time the hand which did it was cold and grey and almost blue.
But not as blue as it's eyes.
A figure with ragged hair and a snarling mouth stomped it's way right to Theon in the same instance those very sounds emerged from the darkness you stood within as well. A hand fighting against Theons defences, the thing finally slammed him into the wall in the same instance two pairs of hands grabbed you.
One almost jumping from behind as another snatched at your legs and dragged you down with your head slamming hard into the floor. Both figures captured your sight instantly, one knee bending upwards as if to push back the one most over top of you, while your hands were fighting to grab at the other wrapping his own cold ones around your throat.
Yelling behind the door was barley heard over the inhuman growling of the blue eyes around both of you. You think Theon might have yelled your name but you couldn't even sense anything the closer the one by your head leaned in, almost drooling on you from it's snarling.
Your other leg pinned down by the larger figures weight you could only push against with your knee enough that you could barley try and slip your other leg free with each jostle. Yet every movement your lungs burned inside your chest as the tighter the cold hands around your neck got.
One, two, almost five rough kicks and finally you managed to shove it off of you enough you could reach what was hidden under your cloak from your grasp. The cold was like glass in your touch and it was enough. Barley managing to reach up to shove the dagger into the eye of the one above it let out almost a gurgling with wide eyes, before the sight of black drenched your vision, stinging your own eyes.
Knowing the other was coming right back you flung yourself to the side in just the right time the blue eyed figure crowded you. Back against the wall in a somewhat sitting position, but you shoved one forearm against his neck to keep you from him as his own hands grabbed at your other to fight against the hold of weapon.
There was nothing in it's eyes but blue and nothing from it's sounds but such snarling. A sound of sinking flesh filled the air beside you and then you heard Theon call to you much more clearly. As if it could focus on two, it's other strong hand came out and grabbed at the wrist holding the dagger in Theons own, keeping both ends at bay.
Just as Theons other hand came around to roughly grasp at the thing, you thrusted your head forward against its in a painful slam. Theon then pulling it almost behind him using the force pushed back. Hauling yourself up, you and Theon looked to the other for only a second before more of snarling came out from it, and both of your daggers sunk into different parts of him. Theon's in the forehead and yours deep in it's neck, a vicious black smothering both of you in splashes.
Collapsing to the ground, Theon grabbed your arm with concern on him before more blue found your eyes. A fourth opening just as it screeched to fling itself right at you both and it seemed far smarter then either of the others. Leaping through the air as if a performance and flung Theon to the side with no thought.
Raising your dagger up it grabbed your arm and shoved you back against the wall as felt it tighten so much the dagger twisted in your very grip as your hand twitched.
The force sinking it deeper into your skin until it sliced through and blood pooled against your gloved palm and soaking the dagger. Only in the same instance, did the blood against your palm grow hot, so hot it felt extreme and it only got worse each passing moment. Not even a single second went by before it was so hot you cried out at the burn until it inflamed whatever it soaked.
Following the path to the dagger and the sensation seemed to shock the blue eyed creature for enough moment you shoved the rest of the blade into his own hand. Stumbling to the ground flames swam from you and now flooded the creature until he was engulfed in inhuman screeches on the ground. Writhing as Theon ran to your side and hauled you to the now empty side of the room.
Stopping with a grasp on the other, eyes wide as the creature finally stopped. The fire burning through what moulting skin it had touched before sizzling out on it's very own. Both you and Theon stood there as the silence finally came about the room.
The sounds outside the door no more as if you were left together alone in the cold, but perhaps it was truly just the ringing in your ears of blood muffling anything to your shocked senses looking to the four corpses now dead without question.
It was only as Theon tried calling your name did you begin to fade back into the world, looking over at him. Both of you covered in..something. It covered both you it felt thick like molasses and a murky black colour unlike the blood on your glove. Theon had grabbed your wrist, yanking it up for both of you to see.
Nothing was burned, nothing was burning. The leather sliced through and torn from the force, showing the skin underneath and the cut deep within your palm. Blood soaked the area. Perhaps against the black covering you both, made your blood appear as if it stained itself such a striking red it almost glowed the way those creatures glowed blue in their eyes.
Panting in the feeling rushing through you both, and yet your eyes slid from the blood on you to one another and what was there to say? You couldn't think of words, you weren't sure any existed.
Only did the world return to you did your heart feel as if it was leaving your chest. Almost leaning against his side, Theon did the same as you both collapsed against the wall. You sinking in a shock to the ground. If it didn't feel real before, it did now.
His grip never left the wrist attached to your bleeding palm so red the colour was terrible. But your eyes all looked to the creatures before you. Only somewhat in the distance, did you register the sound of barking. But against the numbed shock, you and Theon only sat there, you with a vague awareness that anything outside this room had ever existed before.
Whatever short time passed you did not know, only that sometime later did the door once too sealed closed to open, burst. Thrown against the wall, it swung on it's hinges with aggression. Ghost barred in first, his own barking and growling matched by the hostility he stood with looking at the bodies now on the ground.
Everyone else followed, but you hadn't noticed until two hands grabbed you and the world came back once more as it was the urgent rasping of Jons voice and the desperation in his panicked grey eyes that pulled you out of such a state. His hands on your upper arms as if he had been shaking you to snap out of it, until your eyes found his and he moved to grasp your cheeks. “Are you hurt?”
He didn't actually let you answer, pulling back to find out for himself but you didn't even know what was there. You felt the sting of cold air against the slice in your palm and the pain along your neck that had Jons eyes darken and his face twist in an anger. Only, there was no one left alive to take the feeling out on.
Moving to force the black moulted substance off from where it splattered against your face, his thumb ran over your cheek before swallowing harshly. Pulling you up to your feet without needing a single bit of effort from you, but not actually letting you stand any further away from him then right against his front.
Turning you both to the rest of the room, one arm on your waist tightly, the other running smoothly up and down your bicep as if trying to soothe himself rather then your still quiet, shocked self. Theon sat against a crate, hands braced against his knees watching the bodies in a silent uncertainty as Olly sat close to his side checking on him.
Somewhere in the back of the ringing in your head, did you hear the faint sounds of talking. Hardly finding it easy to attribute one voice to another unless it came from the rasp directly behind you into your ear. A shortness on Jons voice every time he spoke, but another one now rumbled as if shaking the earth.
“Probably shacked up here after coming through the Wall. Some of my people are shit at trying to work together. Thought this place was big enough no one would find them.”
Your eyes trained on the burned corpse, your hand clenching as it continued to sting. Slowly you could feel Jon reaching to grab it, unfurling the fist you had made only to keep your palm free. No doubt his eyes now trained on the gash in your palm, the red slightly more normal then it had been in the moment Theon did the same.
Jaw clenching looking from it to the corpse, you felt a pounding in your heart trying to recount how it happened. It was sudden, quick, and you barley could register anything until it was already off you and on fire. Somewhere in the distance you could hear Maege asking, “How'd that one end up like this?”
You and Theon glanced to each other, an unknowing in his eyes but yours slid from him to the entryway where Beric and Thoros stood. They on the other hand, only looked right at you as if telling you something you should already have known.
Jon behind you roughly finding his voice, “We'll bring them out into the courtyard. Let the others in, and burn the rest. It'll be dark soon.” With a mumble of your name, you didn't notice Jons touch trying to pull you with him. Eyes trained unblinking on the dead, on the burned body. And it was not just one body charred in black from fire you couldn't stop looking at.
First the wildfire, now this. You were no better then her. Good people shouldn't be capable of creating things like this. Letting Jon pull you out of the room to wherever it was he intended to bring you, part of you wondered if she felt as sick as you did looking at the things she's burned away.
Only, you had no reasonable way to know, that she didn't.
You knew you were a little more dispondant then normal when you explained what happened, but for once Jon understood entirely. He had you perched on the edge of some crate, Olly having run down to the horses to get him something to at least wrap your hand up in for now. Jons voice was quiet, only loud enough for you to hear him inside what otherwise would be the echo of the corridor. “Couldn't use my hand for days. The whole palm was burned.”
Eyebrows almost raising as if an attempt to be amusing passed you by, your voice a little strained from the nerves inside you settling. “You grabbed a lantern with your bare hand, that's a little different.”
Having cleaned most of the strange black blood from your face, and then cleaned your hand as must as he could of your own, Jon started to gently cover the cut with the cloth slowly. Not quite looking up to your eyes as he focused. “And you set him on fire with your bare hands.” You tried to protest that you didn't do anything but Jon shut it down with your name as if in lecture. Looking up at you, blending an upset with frustration in his twisting expression. “It attacked you, cut you. You said it felt like it was burning and then it catches fire?”
Your voice was short as it was a mutter. Brows narrowing looking away from him. “My apologies if I'm not jumping at the opportunity to boast I can set men on fire at will.” Jon argued that isn't what he was saying but you only shrugged a shoulder halfheartedly.
Sighing out, silence sat between you as he finished caring for your hand. Letting it move down to rest on your lap, Jon didn't yet move away or help you down. Instead he stood there, a hand trailing on your upper arm and the other on your thigh next to where your wrapped hand lay. Not forcing you to look at him either, Jon only spoke in a somehow, even softer quiet then before. “We'll discuss it later.”
Moving more to try and catch your eye, he repeated your name. That time getting you to nod, flickering a glance to his. Bright and grey and shining wide at you with none of that frustration from moments before. You weren't quite sure it was an appropriate time, but you did it anyways.
The uninjured hand reaching up, tracing your fingertips along his jaw before letting it slide tenderly to the back of his neck. His hair up giving you the opportunity to better prompt him to meet you half way, as your eyes slid closed. Lips meeting each others, Jons hand on your arm moving to cup your cheek, keeping you there against a soft kiss until he heard you sigh lightly into it.
Before you could pull away, he pressed two more chaste ones to your lips. Moving to press a final one to your forehead before he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you up onto your feet. “You don't have to be brave when we're alone. It's alright if what happened back there scared you.”
Almost a soft smile formed, your hands perched still on his waist as you steadied yourself getting onto the ground. His eyes painted over with something almost adoring as you spared no care this time to spin a falsehood. “Good. Because it did.”
His face tied between soft and serious, Jon sighed out with a heavy weight behind him. “It should scare you. It scared me.”
Raising an eyebrow slightly, you found yourself returning a bit to something more normal on the inside at least. “Stupid and scared. We are made for each other.” That had Jon trying to pull back a mighty smirk right away, causing you to smother the same in yourself.
Guiding you away from the halls you were in, Jon muttered lowly as he pulled the hand on your lower back away. “Wouldn't want anything else.”
If you were feeling well enough to laugh, you might have. But not quite yet. Ice and fire still haunted both sides of you and each one radiated the looming threat of death. A threat which had followed your entire life, a shadow. You only hoped it all happening around you so rapidly now was always meant to happen this way, and not the things you brought to them.
The fire burned high and bright, eyes all watching intently as whatever conversations happened in the now larger group, you barley could hear a word. Watching the already dead burn once more, you couldn't stop the wonder all the same. Things the red woman did, things the Targaryean was whispered to be doing. What was the line between them and you?
Why when you used fire does it make you a good person and them not? Is it guilt? Is it the pit inside your gut of what a horrific manner to die that separated you? Even already dead, your eyes were dark and expression cold but disturbed as you watched. When did it stop being about survival and start becoming the actions of a monster?
A voice trickling in beside you, and it was likely the only one who had anything to say that was an answer for something of the many questions passing through you. “Through one manner or another, the Lord raised us both. And it's his power which runs through us, through our blood. I have discovered the same, blood which set something around you alight.”
Your arms crossed over you, not bothering to dress any warmer in the dark night sky overhead. Still your clothes were covered in the same black substance. Your eyes on the flames before tearing away to Beric beside you. “I've bled since coming back. Why now, why this time?”
He thought for a moment as the pair of you remained ignorant to the ones watching and listening to your conversation. “That I don't know, but both instances of the Lords power showing in you happened here, somewhere along the Wall. Perhaps it is a way of telling you, your fate lies here, more then anywhere else.”
Little patience in your words but tone was kept even. “Your god didn't need to force me into lighting a man on fire to know that, my lord. I've known that far longer then today, that my place is in the North.”
A chuckle on his breath didn't sound anything comforting, but little did to you anymore. “I didn't say it was the North your fate lies with, your grace.” Finding his gaze, you followed with an unblinking path to that of the dark grey ones not so far off with Ghost on one side and Sam on the other.
It wasn't unlike many years ago. Just on the outside of the gates at Castle Black did Jon stand by Sam as the corpses of wights burned before them. Only that time, there were far less dead in his memory and far more the fear of the unknown sat between the group that day. “I translated what I could about them, and it sounded as if the dead didn't rise back up like that until the the Others came through. Their presence was enough to bring them back as wights.”
Lost in a thought for a moment, Jon considered the idea. “If they were this close we'd have known by now. And they weren't anywhere near Castle Black when Othor came back.” Both men stood there looking at the bodies, both with more understanding of what was coming them any of the rest did in a way, but still there was something missing. Something that they weren't privy to it's information.
Sam glanced passed Jon, his own eyes finding the narrowed, troubled ones you sported across an expression just as disturbed as the rest of you looked. “She's a lot more like you then I thought.”
Jon's face turning to a confused one before he realized what was being referred too. Inhaling deeply, he shook his head slightly in a mutter. “Not if you say that to her.” From the side of his vision he could tell Sam was looking at him. “She'd tell you it's insulting to me, putting me at where she thinks is down at her level.”
Sam only huffed a laugh out. “Oh now I know she's really like you.” Jon's glare not angry but more of a jesting irritation as he said Sams name in warning. “If I told you that you're just like her, you'd get angry at me for that all the same.”
Jon knew he had a point. “Well I don't want her to be like me. I only want to keep her safe.”
He knew it came out of his mouth without much thought to it, but it truly stuck out the moments the words left Sams mouth. “Nothings killed her yet.” Both slowly turned to look at each other, Jons face almost twitching to laugh at how quickly Sams widened ready to dive into an apology. “Really though, Jon. You're doing fine. All things considered, everything bad that's happened to her isn't your fault. We can't protect the women we love from everything, no matter how much we want too.”
It was the wrong time to feel it, but something possessive in Jon begun to growl at that idea. The wolf in him did not accept that, would not accept that.
You were fairly certain it would've been easier to have tossed the material right into the fire then getting out what was left on it. Washing what was left on your face, hands, and arms you had turned your attention to trying to scrub out whatever bled on your clothes. To no avail it seemed, whatever it really was it was coated thick on there like dried paint by now.
All but tossing it against the floor, you stood with a huff trying to will away the dizziness from the fast movement off the ground. Hand pressed to your forehead, you knew it wasn't really the clothes bothering you. It didn't matter, that was trivial. It was everything else. The way they attacked you and Theon but it was as if you were the one they wanted to get to.
Armed with the same things, but it wasn't Theon that three out of four had focused on ending. A glance of the wrapping on your hand, and you dropped it down to your side. Mystery upon mystery, they added up with such speed it seemed.
“Do you wear this little because you're stubborn, or because you like making me go mad?”
Jon's voice easily accompanied the sound of the door opening, and only then did it occur to you that once you had stripped down the offending articles of clothing, you left the shift on without anything else to accommodate. Looking down then back up to him, who admittedly looked very warm, you found a bit of a bashful fluster travelling up your chest.
You tried to cover it up with something clever, but you knew Jon saw right through it. “That's assuming I could wear too much that would stop you from having that same reaction.” The charming smile you adored slid onto his face with ease, but the second he made any move to dress down he almost switched right into lecture tone to stop you.
Only, your hands reached up to his front, slowly taking things off for him with a gentle care you paid no attention to the look on his face he always had when you'd do so. Doing the bare minimum to pull off his own gloves, Jon let his hands now rest on your waist, watching you in quiet attending to him as if it was so natural for you.
Even though it was, you sometimes could forget that this was not something Jon was used too. It came easily to Robb. A highborn, trueborn son, heir to Winterfell, he was used to people wanting to do things for him, but Jon still struggled even all these months later together.
Too much of his life you knew he wanted to rely on himself, his own skills, survive all on his own if need be. Jon was still a bastard and thus maids and servants never quite clambered to attend to him quite the same way. Not that Jon would want them too. But you knew he let you now, due in part as an excuse for his large, warm hands to trail along the thin material covering what little it did of you.
Muttering lowly as you worked away, “Sometimes I can't tell if you're looking at me like that beacuse you want to take the rest of it off or not.” Jon only replied, voice deep and rasping that he always wants to do that. Warmth bubbled up in your chest and Jon caught it in your eyes, his own smile far easier coming. “Had I known when I met you that you would be this insatiable I might not have been so polite.”
Your hands stopped the moment he said it. “You don't remember the first time we met.” Eyes slinking up his chest to his face, the more yours dropped the more his eyes blazed with a mischief. “The first time I met you was in the training yard the morning you arrived.” You had little memory at all of that first day, but you weren't sure if he was just trying to tease you.
Tearing your eyes back down you begun to move more around him, taking the heaviest layers off to the cold of the room. Your voice low as you worked. “My point was, you did a good job at hiding what an animal you are.”
To you, nothing was thought of it. Simply, kneeling down in front of him to once more undress his heavier outer layers. But, not quite the other way around. Jon wasn't a man normally tempted like this, were it to come down to a choice he'd much rather dine between your legs then ever choose you pleasuring him instead. And yet, he knew his voice husked out a lot rougher then he was mere seconds ago teasing you.
Eyes almost hooded a it looking down at you, flexing his hands to stay respectful off of you. “You didn't make it easy.” Your gaze tilted up at him, and it really did not help. Only an innocent curiosity on your face, but for whatever reasons Jon felt his blood rush hotter. “Probably was a good thing we weren't supposed to be together. Have the freedom to know I could've done what I really wanted and not been so afraid.”
The skip in your heart shouldn't have added so such a fluster, but it did. Your attention directing back down you swallowed heavily before responding. “And what is it you really wanted to do?”
He was silent for a little bit, the nerves inside you forcing the tips of your fingers to steady without sign of shaking. Only as you moved to his boots did you notice his own hands finally moved. The top of your vision catching how swiftly he pulled the last layer against his torso off as if the cold meant nothing to his bare torso.
Still, Jon said not a word. Waiting for you to finish putting them aside before reaching down. Gently a few fingers under your chin to tilt you to look up at him, Jon not sparing to let out a deep exhale as he looked down dark and bright and all seeing. His accent thick as it was rough, “Every night for years I spent wondering what it'd feel like to be inside you. But there's something I want to know. When did you want me?” Your brows narrowing in confusion, his hand sliding to toy with the strands of hair loose at the side of your head. “When did you first think about letting me take you to bed?”
The stammer in you without saying a word was almost embarrassing, the fluster flushed in your face so obviously but Jon didn't even give you the relief of a smirk. Just watched with dark eyes and a low hissing tone. “Be honest, if I asked you how many times in your entire life you've even touched yourself, could you count it on two hands?”
Your head turned away, the embarrassment mounting in drastic fashion all of the sudden. Mumbling, “Jon..” Without any words to explain what you meant.
He continued though. “Three hands? Four?” You knew right away by the falling drop of your face, how you almost shrunk away from him even kneeling like this that he knew. The embarrassment flowing down the river and finding itself replaced with a wide eyed humiliation. “It's not less then five times.” But you didn't say anything, and almost looked away from him more. Hardly able to ascertain his tone over the feeling in your chest of almost shame. “How many?”
You managed to get it out, but it was a mumble only Jon could've picked up on. “Twice.” He was silent and you felt that shame flare higher and higher wanting to explain yourself. “I didn't..I didn't know for a long time that was something I could even do..have..feel like that..”
Truly you were ruining him, he knew. This wasn't fair, he wasn't trying to dangle how innocent you were as a something to mock but Jon knew he was so unbelievably hard. Cock strained against the only thing left covering his body and once more that perverse feeling returned. Even all these years later you were too innocent for your own good, and that was a dangerous mix.
Jon stood there, knowing you shouldn't be kneeling so beautiful and telling him just how truly innocent you've been your whole life, when he knew far too intimately how it felt to spill so deeply down your throat. That it let tears fall from your eyes at how overwhelming he could hold you there. He knew he shouldn't want that, he didn't want it because he didn't want to risk being too rough or unsafe with you.
But still he thought, never once did you ever do anything but swallow every drop of his seed as if you needed it.
He was tied between two things, but he knew he couldn't act like that with you. He had to be gentle, show you love instead of making it all about him. Mumbling your name, Jon held a hand out, prompting you to stand up properly, before he could pull his cock out to slide deep in your mouth.
One hand at your hip and the other tilting your jaw to look up at him, your lips parted, lungs almost burning in anticipation for what he wanted. Days when something risked your life, Jon was wild and unpredictable those subsequent nights. He lacked any other way to cope with almost losing you, but to be the one rough with you himself when alone. Brushing his lips against yours, your hands at his waist tightening but he only muttered with hot breath dancing across your skin. “Lay on the bed for me.”
Bracing yourself with your palms back against the sheets, one knee somewhat bent keeping you propped up, unsure of how to even attempt to give him something to look at. But as Jon turned to face you, attention was grabbed from where you were looking with ease. Rough hands undoing the laces at the top of his breeches before uncaringly shoving the rest of it off.
Already his cock stood hard as could be, begging to take what he wanted from you. One knee he climbed up onto the bed and the next, all but crawling over top of you like he had his prey exactly where he wanted. Only his hands grabbed something along the way.
Pulling your shift up and off you, Jon tossed it without a single care. His eyes black as the night outside but he only watched you, chest breathing heavily as he looked you over. Top to bottom trailing down as if he had every inch of you already memorized.
The air was heavy, tense as you both were perched on the bed until Jon once more stole your breath with ease. Grasping at your legs, Jon pushed them wide, yanking you down the bed before slinking down so that his broad shoulders kept you from being able to close them. Hovering just where he would torment you for hours, only the hot breathe you felt tracing along your skin spoke what you didn't expect.
“Why didn't you ever try it more? Touching yourself?” Your head fell against the sheets, turning into the pillow somewhat with that same embarrassment. Your name coming from him with another prompt, hands resting along your outer thighs soothingly. “It's alright, I'm not trying to embarrass you. But I need to know.” All you did was barley breath out an ask of why when he smiled too gently for the way he was between your legs. “Because I spent a lot of nights spilling into my own hand pretending it was you. Did you not know you were allowed to think of me?”
You wanted to be anywhere but here, you didn't understand why this mattered. Not a shred of confidence was found in your mutterings. “I tried but then I'd remember when my Septa used to tell me girls shouldn't do things like that. Then both times I tried it never..it didn't really work so I stopped. It felt good when you were doing it, I thought that meant that only you were supposed do that.” Were you not bare, you would have made your way to the top of the Wall by now and flung yourself from the edge.
Jon only soothed his touch against your thighs. Breath warm as his voice was soothing, no judgment not even desire, just comforting. “Try for me.”
“Here?”
A grin cracked at how your voice snapped against the words. “Right here. Show me what you think it is you weren't supposed to be doing.” The Queen of one word answers you were and asked why, and once more Jon was there not to pressure, but to alleviate the suffocating fluster in your lungs. “You're in the North, you married a Northman. You belong to the North now, not the new gods always trying to convince you wanting to feel good is something to be ashamed of.”
It was cruel how well he knew you. How he could rip down your walls in seconds and expose the shivering insecurities underneath. “Are you going to laugh at me if I say I don't know what to do?”
Instantly. Jon laughed instantly.
Trying to pull away from him, you didn't want to do this. You didn't want everything today to end with Jon making fun of you for something you spent years thinking you were sinful for trying. It was easy for him, he was a man, he followed the Old Gods. No one cared what Jon did or wanted like that, but you were taught your entire life. Marry, breed and repeat. Pleasure wasn't part of such lessons.
“Woah, woah-” Jon reached up, grasping at your waist quickly and pushed you back down into the sheets, hoisting himself up to see your eyes a little better. Now mostly hovering over your stomach. “Darling, I wasn't laughing at you. Not like that. You..” His eyes were admittedly wide, and earnest. The grey far less black and more light once more. “You're just..cute.”
Mumbling as you wanted to squirm away, the tickling his breath on your stomach causing. “Isn't that a seductive way to be seen by your husband.”
In response, Jon let that same smile sit on his lips before pressing it down to your stomach, almost kissing a non existent path to something before pulling a thigh up, and somewhat over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh there as well. “I want you to understand it's okay to feel good, it's okay to do things just for yourself. But you're not good at doing nice things for yourself, so we're going to stay right here until I've taught you that properly.”
The strength to say anything still was a little too on the embarrassed side, but when Jon wanted to make a point about something sensitive, you had long learned to trust the way he delicately chose to do so with you. Nodding, you still didn't really look anywhere but the stone wall to the side of the room whispering, “I don't know how to start.”
In another world that may have come off as petulant, but you didn't want to be in charge of this sort of thing for yourself. Being so open, so raw, and so vulgar in front of Jon felt like he'd judge you for it but he encouraged it with the most gentle eyes he always held towards you. “Give me your hand.” Smartly choosing your luckily uninjured left, he opened the fingers right in your palm before sitting it flat against your stomach. “I'll lead, you just follow along for now.”
Barley nodding, you felt him trail your hand down your stomach, tracing just barley over your mound without the courage to even slightly look at him. Fingertips of his over top yours on the opposite sides, Jon gently dragged your hand down slightly until just barley did you feel that slight jolt of pleasure fluttering across your clit.
Biting roughly into your lip, you felt rather stupid as if you had no idea what any of this entailed. You had been touched this way before, but here on your own in front of Jon? You felt as nervous and lost as you did that day in Winterfell on his bed, bare for the first time in front of him. Trying to apply a little bit of pressure, Jon's voice was soft. “Come on, darling. Find out what feels good.”
You were trying, really you were. But everything felt wrong, you felt stupid and not looking his way at all did not help the worry Jon might think you were incompetent. Jon always took the lead, Robb always took the lead. You didn't want to be in charge, you didn't want to do all of this yourself for yourself, you'd much rather Jon have let you stay on your knees earlier instead.
Small touches he would try and guide you to something a little better, but no doubt he could see how tense and unrelaxed you were. “If I take my hand away, would it help you to explore more on your own?”
Your response however, was as mumbled and embarrassed as before. Any movement stopping, the moment Jon wasn't actively leading. “Couldn't we do things the way we always do..”
Quiet for a moment, you feared the sigh Jon let out was either disappointment or defeat. Not helped by the sudden feeling of him gently laying your legs out more comfortably and rising up. Only to have him climb back over you, hands pressed on either side of your head as he nudged you gently to look up at him. You were sure the embarrassment was striking on your face.
Before any words were spoken, the moment you looked to him, Jon captured your lips. Nothing feirce or deep or urgent, just a gentle kiss until you settled to something more calm. Enough so that you naturally raised your hands to run along his shoulder and upper back. Pulling away more then once, Jon would reclaim your lips until he found the strength to pull back enough to speak properly.
Nudging your nose gently with his, “Whenever we were separated, I'd always wonder late at night if you were touching yourself the same time I was. I wanted you to be.” Resting his forehead against yours, the gesture rather sweet for the spoke words rasping from his mouth. “I'd pull one of your letters out, reading it trying to hear your voice, try to imagine what it'd feel like to finally slip inside of you. Hoping you were on the other side of the country wondering what it'd feel like to be filled that way.”
Ever so slowly, Jon while keeping your eyes on his the entire time, removed a hand from around his shoulder. Dragging it right back down. Instead of prompting you himself, he only held your hand in the position, knowing the command was already understood. Do it yourself right now.
The jolt of pleasure almost made you jump, the moment Jon knew you obeyed him, let that hand press back into the sheets as he stayed over you. Eyes forcing you to look up at him as he kept going. “Then you were standing right in front of me, after a year of thinking you were gone. I know I was too rough with you, I should've been gentle, should've taken my time, ease you into it.”
Ever so slightly you felt more of a pattern grow easier and easier to follow. Breath increasing as it would then hitch trying to keep steady underneath him, but your bloodstream flowed warmer and tighter as that feeling grew in your core. Trying to recall what Jon would do at this point but he kept talking, kept distracting your too focused mind.
“I was afraid after, if you didn't want it. Beacuse it was all I kept thinking about. Every moment I was looking at you, all I could think about was how you felt around me. How beautiful you looked under me just like this.” A whimper in your throat swallowed itself back down, but that warmth from Jon above was starting to compare to it deep in your core. Fingertips a little firmer, finding a pattern almost to match the cadence of Jons voice.
Nudging your nose with his again, barley brushing his lips against yours to speak. “Even when I woke up, you bare against me like that..” A rough exhale blew across your skin. “I had yanked you down onto my cock before I even knew what I was doing, I was obsessed. I'm still obsessed, I'm addicted to being inside you. You have no idea the things I want to do to you, things you'd never imagine two people could do with each other..”
Your eyes almost fluttered shut as a weak gasp left you, fingertips slightly down just slightly only to let out the tiniest of cries at just how wet you felt yourself getting. Tracing just some of that back to your clit, you nodded. Wanting to find a voice, but Jon was here to do all the talking for you, hovering over you as you breathing grew erratic, as your muscles begun to shake.
“I can't do half the things I want to do to you, I'd get sent to every hell there is for how much I want to keep you locked away, tied to my bed, making you beg for me every second I'm not inside you.”
Oh that faint whine did Jon in. His cock already throbbed terribly, but now it was enough to make his heart race, his hands tighten into fists against the sheets. Your eyes almost struggling to stay open like a true beauty in his eyes, losing yourself to a pleasure he was desperate for you to find. More and more the embarrassment left you, remaining only a burning white hot desire.
A gentle kiss to your cheek, once more the contrast captured your lungs. “The worst part is? You'd let me wouldn't you? You'd let me do anything to you, because you trust me to take care of you.” Nodding you tried to meet his dark eyes, but wave after wave of something tingling passed through you as you kept on your clit just as he wanted. Groaning over top of you, Jon hid his face in your neck, keeping enough of his body off of you to give you the space still. “...fuck, I'm nowhere near an honourable man for what I want to do to you, not even a good one..”
Shaking your head, you tried turning slightly into his close proximity, breathless and weak, “You are, I promise you are, Jon. Always have been.” His own breathing growing harsh against your neck, he was trying to keep from indulging himself in touching you but the edge of that cliff of self restraint was drawing near mighty fast.
Creeping right up on you, your free hand reached up, grasping at Jons shoulder as stuttering breaths found you as you almost arched up into him. Something like sparks of a flame smouldering through you with a swiftness finally had him pull back to look at you. Barley managing to meet his eyes as yours kept fluttering shut, any tension within you left.
That fire burst into a proper flame and spread across your core and through your every nerve, arching up to him even more as Jon forced himself to stay propped up to watch. Your head thrown back with a desperate gasp of his name. It wasn't nearly as powerful as any another had given you, but feeling Jon so close against you had only helped keep it properly strong. Riding out that wave, something needy forced itself into your mind.
Forcing your self upward your hand left without thought as you met his lips. Jon sensing what you wanted right away, shifting his position to grasp at your waist and keep you firmly under him as he bit at your bottom lip. The very start of what might have been a gasp and Jon impatient as anything used such an opportunity to glide his tongue into your mouth, brushing against your own as he leaned over you more.
A far more dominant position then he held previously, one hand as Jon tasted you as such with a greed, did he shift onto his knees more. Suddenly pulling away, the saliva between you snapping as he looked down with something almost authoritative. Yanking your leg up into his hold, grasping by your thigh you were jostled further down the bed as he all but hooked your leg up over his shoulder. Far more on display then he'd ever previously positioned you.
Dark, heavy eyes raking down your bare form until he reached your soaking core. As if he worked himself up, Jons breathing was heavy as he clenched his jaw trying to keep composure and utterly failing. The aggressive look almost could be mistaken for anger as he sent his other hand down between you.
Much more knowing, rubbing tightly at your clit until you cried out, not even noticing the volume of your voice, not that he cared by now. Sinking down he shoved two fingers deep inside you, soaking to the point even just such one small action you could hear how wet you were. A cry biting against your tongue at the differences.
You with that sense of shame, Jons chest heaving all the more as he slid his fingers in and out of you deeply until he pulled from you, impatient. The press of the leaking tip of his cock teased against you, but Jon let that hand drift up. Running between your breasts, grasping not even in greed, almost tenderly to get your attention before running it what he could reach through your hair. You knew you looked a mess already, but Jon truthfully looked no more put together then you felt.
Rasping far more tenderly then such a lewd position had any right being spoken in tandem with, Jon looked with something overwhelmingly adoring. Letting his hand trace down to the bruises forming where the wight grabbed at your neck he swallowed with something far too close of watering to the surface. “I'm so sorry, darling, that never should have happened.”
Shaking your head you felt confused by the juxtaposition. His cock teasingly prodding at slipping right inside of you, and the desperate look as he looked down at you. “Jon, it's not your fault,”
Cutting you off, you stuttered a breath as just barley an inch more slid inside of you, but Jons eyes and voice no less heavy. “It doesn't matter. I need to protect you, both of you. Especially here.”
Jon wouldn't realize until far later into the night then he should've been awake, exactly what he had said. You didn't notice, your mind far too high in the clouds as you tried to find anything of him to grasp at in need. Barley a voice, more of just a weak high pitched breath as your core burned for him. “We protect each other, no matter what.”
Dropping his head, Jon without prompt sunk deep inside of you. The gasp pouring out of your mouth with a needy cry of his name, Jon for once couldn't convince himself to smother it with a kiss. He could barley look at you as you no longer could keep your eyes open.
Instead, his eyes dragged themselves down to watch his cock sink slowly inside of you, every slow pull almost leaving you showing off how soaking you were around him, made worse each slide back as deep as you could take him. Running against something sensitive that had your nails dig into where of his waist you could reach. Still, he only watched.
Again and again Jons cock slowly disappeared into you, made just for him. Your cunt made to fit his cock like a fate, and you were as tight as you somehow also gave him no resistance. You had worked yourself up perfect for him. “Oh fuck, darling..” A rougher thrust and one hand of yours reached mindlessly to the sheets below to grasp at.
More of a slap of his hips pounded into you, pace picking up rougher and rougher until the obscene yet telltale slap of skin against one another gave away what truly taking place in the hour of the wolf. The stretch of his cock never got any better, you always lay there feeling such a stinging burn that you might have cried without. Fucking deep into you rough, and thick and so much of you was only filled with him and you couldn't live without him.
The floating in your heart travelled down your chest between your legs and bloomed within your core as your cries found themselves shameless into the air, yet was nothing against the smack of Jons hips pounding into yours. Back arching as he dragged along your walls as if to torture you with how every sense was overtaken with his touch, his deep growl, his cock too thick to handle and yet he sunk as deep as you could take every time without the agony such a girth should give.
He couldn't take his eyes off watching your cunt take his cock like you were born to do only this. Your eyes shed tears at how little breath you had left each time he pounded harder. His head somewhat leaning against your leg up on his shoulder, other hand grasping tightly at your hips to bruise the skin with just more imprints of him. Forcing you steady as with a grunting growl in his chest did he fuck into rougher.
Pound after pound hardly a word was spoken not prayers for the others ears only, begging for mercy and none yet for how much he filled you over and over and how much your insides twisted like a tight coil edging itself to snap with a violence. You wanted Jon close but he couldn't tear his eyes away, and every few thrusts he watched did Jon pound rougher.
Teeth gritting Jon rambled swears under his breath watching you take him, watching how soaked his cock was every single time he managed to pull himself out of you even a little bit, and how little Jon ever wanted to be anywhere but so deep inside you every drop of seed he'd fill you with could never leak out. Leaning as much as he could over you, the leverage tore the growling from Jons chest out of his mouth as his harsh slam of hips pained you.
He was too rough with you, but you wanted more and more. Wanted Jon to treat you however he wished but you also wanted him close to feel and kiss. Begging his name, only it came out as tiny pleas of need in the slapping skin around you. “Jon, gods, Jon you're perfect..please, you're so good..”
Eyes rolling into the back of his head Jon shoved the leg of yours off his shoulder and forced them both wide to make room. Both hands pressed beside your body again, the slapping of skin fucking rough inside your soaking walls would've sounded too rough had it not been the only music you desired to hear the rest of your life.
Grasping his waist, your chest lurched and your core burned once more and yet the feeling inside twisted and fogged your head to the point not even the bed below you existed. Only the touch Jon gifted you. His forehead falling against yours, accent thick as anything as he slurringly rambled with the pace leaving a cruel pound, switching to an overwhelming slap as he thrusted into you faster and faster.
“Cum for me, darling. Please, I-” A groan leaving his mouth had you lurch up to kiss him. Deep and messy and he bit at your lips as he did so before he yanked back from that to ramble more. “Cum around me, I need to feel you, please..cum for me and I'll fill you just the way you like I promise.”
Nodding you met his lips in a kiss just as rough, Jons cock just as fast and unrelenting as he carved a place for his cock deep in your cunt made for him alone. The air between you both left how cold it was, the sweat covering both of you, a fire would have nothing on the heat now.
Gasping into his kiss, Jon slipped his tongue inside you once more just as you clenched around him. Muscles screaming as they seized, the coil inside snapping with such a roughness the tears once more fell from your eyes, but Jons kiss and tongue refused your begs and pleads for mercy. Jon had none anyways. Not the speed in which he kept pounding into you with no reprieve.
Your mind high in the clouds, just as Jon almost snarled into your kiss, spilling deep inside of you, making it feel like his seed was thick but burning hot as he pumped it all deep. Hips not relenting a bit, Jon shook in keeping himself propped up but more and more his seed filled you.
Almost falling, Jons forehead met yours again, one hand reaching up to grasp at the headboard above and pounding into you still. His own breaths as unsteady and stuttering as your own, but his hips never gave up the slapping into you he created. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders and back of his neck. Letting him hide more in your own neck as your nails dug into the free skin not yet covered by whatever strands fell from their pull up.
Jons other hand holding at your hip still rutting into you despite the overstimulated cries singing into his ears, he needed more. Jon craved more just as he needed to spill inside of you again, and again and as many times as he could give no matter what.
He knew now too, that if you passed out, if Jon wasn't done, you wanted him to fuck you anyways.
No rhythm or pattern followed this time, just the desperate fucking of a great wolf who needed to fill his mate at any and all cost. Nothing existed but Jons touch, his voice, all of it. Only him as for Jon it was only you. Only you two. That's all there was for him nothing outside mattered as long as he had you two in here and with a cruelty forcing a groan to pour from his mouth of your name, the thought had Jon spill inside you again. The thickness of his seed made fucking you over and over afterwards obscene, the sounds humiliating for you but Jon would willingly loose his sanity if it was this which would take it from him.
It hurt, how much cumming around him hurt, the burn he stretched you with but Jon would pull back and kiss you and you'd let him hurt you just like this for the rest of your days. Only with him did you feel as if you craved anything he could give you.
Looking up to his eyes, grey and bright and the only thing that mattered to you, barley a whisper you managed to breath out, “I love you.”
Jon couldn't say it back beacuse he lost the words for anything. Nodding, Jon rutted into you harder and kissed you deeper with such a greed the new gods would've been ashamed should he have cared. Spilling inside you once more, you weren't sure if he stopped. For the second time in over three weeks, your mind slipped into sleep at the pounding of his cock soaked inside you.
Once your eyes had slipped closed, the hand at your hip slid up to your stomach. Pressing down to feel nothing, not yet. But Jon knew the second that changed, he was going to feel no better about how desperate he was to fuck you. If he could give you a daughter right now too, he would stay inside you until he did just that.
You were long asleep, and shamefully filled with his seed by the time Jon slid out of you. Even in your sleep you whined. A tender kiss to your lips, and another when Jon pulled back to merely look at you first. He turned you in his arms, holding you close into his chest and one hand pressed at the back of your head to keep you tucked into him.
Jon almost failed you today, he arrived too late, they were all dead but it was still his fault he wasn't with you in the first place. You could take care of yourself, but Jon wanted you to let him do it for you, he'd do anything for you.
But something he knew, wanted him and you deeply involved in the winter storms of the far North. What that role was just yet he didn't know, but he would stake a high bet on it that the true answers to that lay here. In the North, the cold and the Old Gods. It all connected somehow, and for whatever reason, it seemed like the gods were saying that Jon and you together belonged right in this mystery alongside the Others.
High up on the Wall, the reports had been growing more and more every night but he had to be sure before he said anything.
He was given this responsibility and what led to this being his position meant he wasn't messing around. He wasn't taking it for granted with a snarky comment or dismissal anymore, beacuse they all knew better now.
Black fur barley doing anything in the high night wind but he walked up to the ledge the others stood at regardless. They called him up here for a reason, and as he stood by the ledge he saw just what the men had been whispering about for days. Only now it was close enough he could see with his own damn eyes.
Jon would be at the Nightfort by now he estimated. It wasn't far, it was close enough, and he wasn't willing to wait for an army he wasn't sure would come to their aid a second time to pick up the slack, and he didn't trust sending a raven to get across the seriousness of what this meant.
It would be unlikely he didn't know, but they all had to be on the same page now more then ever. The Nights Watch was no longer an exile stuck at the end of the world. They more then ever had to be the shield that guards the realms of men. The North together. All of them, just like Jon had told them.
Turning to the others, he said without room for question. “Ready my horse. If I leave tonight I can get there before the new moon. If they're this close already, Jon needs to know now.”
Edd stood high up on the Wall at Castle Black, and in the distant night sky of the North did the stars and black night start to shimmer. Closer and closer it was drawing and now he could see it.
The dark was coming, and a strange glow of shimmering green light within the sky waved like water along with it.
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axelsagewrites · 6 months
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Jon Snow*Couldn't Resist
Pairing: Jon x f!reader (could be modern or not)
Kinktober Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end
Word count: 1114
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Warnings: over stimulation, multiple orgasm, fingering, f! receiving oral, dry humping, neck kissing, slight begging, needy Jon, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut 18+
Masterlist Here
Kinktober List Here
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Soft black hair tickled the skin of your cheek, rousing you from your slumber. As your eyes fluttered open a moan escaped your lips as you felt soft lips against your neck, sucking softly on the skin. “Jon?” You yawned, glancing down at the man who was already all over you before the sun had risen.
He hummed against your skin, lips never leaving your skin as he worked his way down your neck. “What are you doing?” you asked, noticing his hand softly running up your bare thigh. After a long night with your husband under the sheets last night you had fallen asleep bare, something Jon found to be irresistible apparently.
“Kissing you,” he said, his lips trailing along your collar bones, “Feeling you,” he murmured, his hand running up your inner thigh. You shivered when his fingers ran over your wet cunt, “Touching you,” he finally added, his lips edging farther down your chest, “Need you,” he muttered against your skin making you chuckle lightly.
“You had me last night,” you giggled, “over and over, and over again,” you teased, your fingers toying with his hair.
“Not enough,” he said, his lips moving down your stomach. You sighed in content as he made his way further down, moaning lightly as his finger rubbed over your clit in slow circles, his lips edging further down. “Wanna taste you,”
You hummed, figuring you had time for now, “Just once sweetheart. I know what you’re like,” you said, hands still holding his soft locks.
Jon laughed as your skin, “Have no clue what you’re on about love,” he said and before you could chastise and remind him of last night, he had placed a soft kiss to your clit making you whine, your back arching slightly, “Just wanna make you feel good,” he said, warm breath fanning your wet cunt making shivers radiate up your body,
His hands held your thighs, pushing them over his shoulders as he licked a stripe up your cunt making you tense in anticipation. His hands locked around your legs, keeping your hips steady as he began to lick greedy tongues up your cunt, devouring you like a starved dog.
Your hands twisted in his hair, toes curling as his lips moved up to suck your clit, his fingers edging in your hole. You gasped when you felt him ease two fingers in but moaned as he began to move them slowly, curling them with expert position like he’d studied your body for a lifetime.
Jon moaned against your cunt, vibrations running up your body making your skin tingle. Your heels dug into his back, and you could feel the way he was humping the bed, giving himself his own slight release as he worked on yours.
It didn’t take long in your sleep ridden haze for a warm feeling to spread through your stomach. “Fuck,” you whined, as you came to your peak. Jons tongue did not stop even as your body did, your legs twitching around your head, “Just one,” you whined, pushing at his shoulder.
“Cmon baby,” Jon whined, his face wet with your juices, “One more please? I’ll be good after this I swear,”
You whined before nodding, “Fine,” you said, and the words had barley left your lips before he dove back in. this time his tongue darting inside you making your body shudder. These moans were harder to contain especially when his nose moved to nuzzle perfectly into your clit.
Your second peak arrived even quicker than the first but as you reached this one you felt your hips bucking, hand clenching Jons hair tight, as you grinded onto his face. Your movements only spurred Jon on as soon his fingers had return, this time slipping three in with ease as he moved up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves again. His fingers were faster this time, his teeth grazing your clit, and no sooner had your second orgasm finished did your third hit like a fallen castle.
You could barley contain the moans, biting into your arms to try stop yourself as your body twitched under Jon. His movements didn’t stop till your hands began to push his head away, not feeling like you could face another as your legs continued to twitch.
Jon crawled up your body, his lips kissing your cheek and jaw gently as his hips rutted into yours. his hard cock rubbing into your stomach as he searched for friction, “Please,” he murmured against your skin, “Let me fuck you please,” he begged, kissing your skin desperately.
You nodded making him look up from the crook of your neck, his eyes searching your face for approval. You nodded at him, not sure if you were even able to speak yet. Jon knew your signal to stop, a double tap on the shoulder, but with your nod and no tap he waisted no time in lining his cock up with your ready hole.
As he sunk his cock in you gasped, your hole already so sensitive from before. Jon however was still desperate for release so as his lips latched to your nipple, his free hand playing with the other, his hips began to snap against yours setting a relentless pace. “Fuck Jon I-I,” you gasped, interrupted by your own moans as you felt another orgasm approaching.
Jon moved his hand to under your back, pulling it up to arch your back to hit a new spot which caused your eyes to roll into your skull as a fourth orgasm crashed down on you. his thrusts did not stop but the way your cunt squeezed him just made his pace quicken.
He was determined to milk one more out of you as his hand dropped your back letting you sink into the bed but now his hand slipped between your bodies till, he was rubbing fast circles into your clit. His lips left your skin as he lent up, allowing himself to fuck you deeper as his hand came up to cover your mouth as your moans probably echoed through the walls.
You looked up at him through hooded eyes, admiring his body for the few moments you had before your final peak arrived making your legs clench around Jon which only pulled him in deeper. You vaguely heard cursing as you rode out your final orgasm, but you released why as you felt Jon spill inside you.
After a few moments of him catching his breath Jon rolled to lay beside you, glancing at you with a sorry smile, “What happened,” you started to ask, panting as you looked to your husband, “to just one?”
“Couldn’t resist,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy  @valeskafics
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valeskafics · 10 months
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"The Lady of Crab Isle" - Dark!Jon Snow x Baratheon!Reader
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Summary: Jon desperately wants what Lord Celtigar has - you.
Word Count: 1,960 Words
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, infidelity, dark/yandere jon, breeding k*nk, degradation k*nk, f*ngering, p in v s*x, choking, loss of v*rginity
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
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When Jon Snow first sees you, riding into Castle Black alongside your lord husband Alton Celitgar, he’s not quite sure what to make of you. You’re quite different to any woman he’s met in his young life. You carry yourself with all the dignity of a queen, and in your own right, you are royalty, being the eldest daughter of who many deem to be the rightful king, Stannis Baratheon. You’ve arrived alongside your father and husband, seeking the loyalty of the Night’s Watch for your father’s cause.
You command the attention of any room you walk into, and Jon knows it’s not just because you’re the only woman these men have seen, some of them, in years. You just have that presence about you that makes people want to sit up and listen to what you have to say. Even your father seems to heed your counsel above all others, often taking walks with you along the expanse of the Wall during your time there. Jon’s heard it said that the only time the dour Baratheon ever smiles is in your presence, his beloved daughter.
Your husband, too, seems entirely infatuated with you. Lord Celtigar with his platinum locks and blue eyes, evidence of his Valyrian heritage, is quite the handsome man. And he’s the lord of Crab Isle. Jon knows that being Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch is nothing in comparison to the life your husband is able to give you, but he can’t help coveting what Lord Celtigar has. You. He watches you walk by every day in your furs, snow falling on your hair, your face, making you look almost like some sort of winter fairy.
Worst of all? You seem to adore your husband. You’re always smiling at the man, always intertwining your arm in his when the two of you are together, always pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jon hates the jealousy that burns in his gut every time he sees you with Lord Celtigar. Jon’s heard the rumors, of course. That you and Lord Celtigar have yet to consummate your union, you being too worried about bringing a babe into this world in the state of war your family finds itself in.
Jon’s quite sure if he’d been your lord husband, he’d have consummated the marriage the moment he got you alone. His dark eyes are always on you, tracing the shape of your hips, gazing at the bit of cleavage your dress affords, your elegant neck, your lips… He’s meant to take no wife and hold no lands. He’s the Lord Commander. But he can’t help but want you. No, not want you. Want is too weak of a word for it. He needs you in the most carnal of ways. His thoughts are consumed by you, the image of you beneath him as he takes you, your face twisted in pleasure, tears pouring from your eyes as you beg him for more. Jon knows you must look absolutely beautiful when you cry. Even more when you beg.
One morning, while on patrol, he passes by you, gazing out at the vast wintery expanse beyond the Wall, a pensive expression on your face. Jon decides to approach you, giving you a low bow.
“My lady.”
You turn and nod your head at him politely, the expression on your face betraying nothing of what you think of him, “Lord Commander.”
“We’ve not been formally introduced,” Jon says, “I’m Jon Snow.”
“Lady Baratheon,” you pause before correcting yourself, “Sorry. Celtigar. Not Baratheon anymore.”
“You’re Lord Celtigar’s lady wife then?” Jon asks, feigning ignorance as he smiles at you, “I did not know Lord Celtigar had been blessed with a wife so beautiful.”
Jon watches as you warm to him ever so slightly at the compliment, giving him a polite smile, “Thank you, but it is I who is blessed with a husband such as Alton.”
Alton. He hates the way you say the name with so much affection. Jon tries to shake off the feeling that threatens to overtake him, instead, taking a step closer to you, gazing into your eyes in an effort to convey his interest in you.
“Tell me, my lady, what are you doing here at the Wall?”
“My father, the rightful king, is here. My husband, one of his most trusted lords, is here. It’s my duty to be here as well,” you state.
Jon frowns slightly, attempting to hide his jealousy at the fondness you show your husband, “But why are you here, my lady? There’s nothing but snow and ice. I assume you were brought up on Dragonstone, being Lord Stannis’s daughter. Why not stay there or Crab Isle?”
“I follow my husband wherever he goes.”
You say it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And Jon hates it. He lets out a low chuckle before turning to you.
“I hope your husband is as devoted to you as you seem to be to him,” he moves even closer toward you, those dark eyes fixed on yours, a heated intensity behind them that sends a shiver up your spine as he questions, “My lady, are you happy? Do you see your husband often? Or is he too preoccupied with your father to spend any time with his lovely wife?”
You nod, looking away from him, “I see him often, yes, though less so than before. These are trying times, after all, and my father needs him.”
Jon closes the distance between you, moving a hand to rest against your cheek, his eyes nearly aflame with desire, “Your husband is a fool if he neglects a woman like you.”
You pull away after a moment of enjoying his touch, remembering yourself and speaking coolly, “He doesn’t neglect me, my lord. You needn’t worry about that.”
“My lady,” Jon’s eyes harden slightly at your rebuke, “Let me prove to you what your husband seems unable to show.”
Jon suddenly pulls you into his arms and kisses you. It’s not soft, or tender. His lips are hot and hungry against yours. You lose yourself in the kiss for a moment, hands moving to tangle in his dark curls. But when he bites down on your lower lip, you come back to your senses and push him away. You turn to leave, but Jon gives chase, taking hold of your hand, calling after you to wait.
“Leave me alone!” you demand, pulling your hand away from him, only to feel Jon wrap his arms around your waist.
His face is mere inches from yours. And the fact that he’s stronger than you, able to hold you in place like this, able to so easily dominate you, makes you feel that all too familiar ache between your thighs. But he’s not your husband. You shouldn’t want this. You turn your face from him, attempting to ignore the feeling of his hands on you.
“You might as well stop resisting, my lady,” he says, his voice a low whisper in your ear, “You know you want this as much as I do.”
You open your mouth, about to scream for your husband, but Jon captures your lips in another searing kiss. And this time, you don’t push him away. You let him kiss you, his hands moving under the fabric of your skirt, squeezing the flesh of your thighs. You let out a sharp gasp as he moves to rub at your core over the fabric of your underwear. You meet his gaze, so dark that its almost black, panting against him as he continues teasing you.
“Look at you,” Jon scoffs, “So desperate and I’ve hardly even touched you. Your husband is truly missing out on his sweet little wife. How desperate she is to have her cunny filled.”
You know he’s right. That’s the worst part of it. You’ve wanted nothing more for the past few months than for your lord husband to make you one flesh, but the two of you have come up with excuse after excuse for drawing it out. But here, on top of the Wall with Jon Snow, looking over your father’s encampment where your husband surely is, you find that this man of the Night’s Watch, Ned Stark’s bastard, is willing to give you the treatment you so desperately seek.
Jon moves your underwear aside, pushing two thick fingers inside you, groaning at how tight you feel around him, “That’s right, Princess,” he says, using your title from before your marriage, sending another thrill of excitement through you as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, curving them, hitting the spot deep inside of you that always pushes you over the edge, “I can feel how wet you are for me. Like a wanton little whore.”
His words awaken something inside of you. You enjoy the way he’s speaking to you, the way he degrades you, making you his little whore as he pushes his fingers inside you over and over. His thumb moves to rub at your pearl, causing you to let out a strangled gasp of his name as you reach your peak against his fingers. Jon pulls them out of you, pushing them into your mouth, a silent demand for you to lick them clean, which you very eagerly do.
“Your lips look so pretty wrapped around my fingers,” he says, his voice low and heady with want, “Next time we’ll see how they look wrapped around something else.”
He removes his fingers from your mouth, hiking your dress up to your waist and undoing his breeches. Jon turns you around so that he may press himself up against your backside, landing a hard slap to your rear. You let out a yelp, only to have him land another one, the sting feeling oddly pleasurable as he bullies the fat head of his length inside you, breaking your maidenhead. It hurts, but you’re so desperate to be filled at this point that all you can do is grip the wall before you and beg for more, beg for him to go faster.
“Do you want me to fuck you full of my seed?” Jon growls as he drags himself against your inner walls, pulling out before slamming himself back in, making you cry out, “Is that what you want? To feel my seed spilling out of your cunny down your legs as you walk back to your husband?”
“Yes, my lord,” you nearly sob as one of his hands moves around to squeeze your neck, slightly restricting your airflow, “Want you to fuck me full of your seed, want to be your desperate whore.”
“Every night while you’re here, I’ll fill you up,” he promises, or is it a threat? He growls in your ear, “I’m going to breed you, you pathetic, wanton little thing. I can feel you squeezing around me. Are you this close again already? Hm? Are you going to soak my cock, you pathetic little whore?”
“I am,” you manage to choke out as he squeezes your neck tighter, “Jon, please-”
“Come for me,” he murmurs, biting down on your shoulder, “Come for your lord.”
You spill yourself on him, Jon spilling himself deep inside you soon after, breeding you, true to his word. The two of you stand there, breathless, looking at each other, the realization of what has just happened hitting you.
“I should go,” you mumble awkwardly, “Good day, Lord Commander.”
Jon watches as you leave, smirking when you give a glance back at him over your shoulder before darting off, back to your husband. But Jon knows now that you’ve had a taste of the darkness that lurks within him, you’ll certainly be back for more.
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r-rizzo · 10 months
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dad jon snow headcanon with a targaryen!reader? i love that we have a new got writer and hotd! ♡
father's love. | jon snow
❝ pairing: jon snow x targaryen!reader.
❝ summary: what would jon snow be like having children with you, his beautiful dragon wife.
❝ warning: mentions of sex and innuendo, worried and scared jon.
❝ note: i really love the orders with targaryen!reader, thank you very much for leaving your request, i hope you leave one again and you like this. first post! ♡
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★, when you tell jon that you're pregnant.
at first you had your doubts, you didn't know if it was just a delay or you were with a child.
but when you decided to approach your dragon and this approached, sniffed and caressed your belly, everything became clear to you.
you were with a child.
you had talked to him before about the children, his children. jon was insecure, he didn't want them to do to his child the same thing they did to him.
but you always assured him that his children would also be targaryens, they carried the blood of the dragon and the wolves, son of the king of the north.
jon smiled and took you by the waist, kissing you and affirming that having three children with you would be a blessing from the gods.
so at night, when you were already taking off your clothes to sleep, you feel familiar hands undoing the strings of your dress while leaving kisses on your neck, you know that it is now when you should tell him.
"jon" you called him, and you felt how his inner wolf wanted to come out. you only called him that in two situations, when you were angry or when you wanted to have sex.
"yes, my beautiful wife?" he asked with his thickest voice, knowing what he provoked in you, you laughed at how his breath crashed into your neck and his cold hands went into your bare back.
"we can't do this right now, my love" you tell him as you turn around and place your hands on his neck, massaging it. a small smile appears on your lips when you see his confused face.
"i did something wrong?" he asked and you laugh, shaking your head and watching your husband's eyes widen at his smile, admiring your beautiful purple eyes. "nothing wrong, sweet husband. it's just not appropriate when i'm with a baby" you finally said.
you watch as he opens his mouth to say something but closes it immediately, the information reaching his brain slowly. his hands become lighter on your waist and his eyes become even smaller and watery.
"are you sure?" he asks with a voice that shakes, but his hands travel smoothly to your still flat stomach. "i didn't believe it until rhaegon proved it to me, i trust my dragon's judgment" you answered him and smiled, jon wasted no time in gently cupping your face and kissing you, his hands now caressing your stomach.
"i'm the happiest man in westeros, we're going to have a little pup" he says and smiles at you, showing you his beautiful silver pearls. "he'll be a dragon" you tell him, but jon shakes his head, taking now by the waist and sitting on the bed.
he crouches before you and brings his face close to your stomach, kissing him "you're a wolf, aren't you? you make me the happiest man in the world, my little pup" you smile caressing his curls, letting him call your baby a puppy.
★, when your puppy is growing up.
jon loves to see how his puppy grows inside you every day and considers that seeing you in this condition is his greatest adoration.
shamelessly caress your belly or look at it affectionately when he doesn't have much time for you and his son.
but he's always watching you, he knows you're a fighter, but you carry his son inside, and now you're more vulnerable. he would kill whoever touched a single hair on you.
when he has all his time or puts his duties aside to pamper his wife and son, he can't stop adore you.
"you are beautiful" "our wolf grows healthy and strong thanks to you" "my beautiful wife" "i hope he has your dragon eyes" things like that are whispered in your ear while he caresses your belly and kisses your neck.
jon denies it sometimes, but he would love it if his son had your eyes and his dark hair.
but sometimes it scares him too, the thought of his son being called a bastard makes his blood boil. he can take it, but when it comes to his son, never.
he already has people under his eye who dared to call his son a bastard.
he also thinks about the names, he knows that he wants to name it ned or robb, you suggest combining it with a valyrian name. he likes them but ned and robb are always his first choices.
if it's a girl, he would like you to choose the name, he loves valyrian female names.
you have always loved your mother's name, rhaella, and he would like his daughter to be named after the woman who gave him the love of his life.
he is not very interested if it is a girl or a boy, it is his and he will love it, with his being.
jon tries to always be easy on you when he's stressed, he never blows up on you. he already knows how your emotions are and knows that making you cry is his worst sin.
so, when some assembly goes wrong and some lord insults him for not responding to his request, he just enters his chambers and sits behind you, feeling how his wolf kicks in response to his touch and smiling on your neck. he loves that feeling too much.
it also comforts you when something stresses you out or makes you cry.
like your impossibility of being able to give a dragon egg to your son.
you've always dreamed of being able to see your child grow up with a dragon, but thanks to the disappearance of dragons and the fact that both your dragon and your younger sister's dragon, daenerys, are male, it prevents you from fulfilling that wish.
what makes you cry frequently.
and jon is there to comfort you.
"then he will have a direwolf, my love. don't worry, i'm sure that rhaegon will let our son ride him one day" he says and makes you feel good.
when he sees you standing, looking out the window, he always stands behind you and puts his hands under your belly, lifting it up to give you a rest. you love when he does that, it makes you overflow with love for him.
"i love when you let my poor back rest" you say as you sigh and rest your head on your shoulder, jon chuckles and lets your huge belly droop again. "jon!" you moan angrily and he lifts your belly again.
he only plays, but loves to give you breaks and massages, especially on your feet.
he is always protecting you, especially when it is time to sleep.
he has nightmares about how while he sleeps next to you, someone walks into the room and hurts you. you and his little wolf.
he couldn't take the blame.
that is why, when you sleep, he is always the one closest to the door. his chest against yours while one of your legs is on his hip, or your back against his chest while his hands cup your tummy.
he would rather something happen to him than to you, his loving wife and mother of his child.
★, when the time of birth comes.
the last time you approached the maester, he told you that the arrival of the heir to the north would come soon.
you and jon were looking forward to your son. the heir to the north and the iron throne.
jon was sitting in the weirwood tree one morning, thinking more deeply about the birth.
and if you died? or did they make him choose between you and his son?
he couldn't.
he couldn't allow someone to mercilessly cut you open and murder you. not in front of him.
so he asked, begged to the gods for your life and for his son.
"please give my son an easy birth, no pain for my wife, don't take her away, always leave her with me. i ask you to take care of my beautiful wife and my son. i lost her once and i don't plan to lose her again."
and when he finished asking for you and his son, a wind raised his curls, relaxing him immediately.
he knew that the gods had heard him.
his peace was interrupted by your servant, who ran towards him with sweat on her forehead and blood on her dress and hands.
"the queen is giving birth" he said in a rush, jon getting up quickly from the log. "is she in our room?" he asked and the maid nodded, he didn't even let her answer when he started to run to his wife.
the closer he was to the room, the more his heart beat, he was scared. he was scared for you. he loved you so much that the idea of your death only brings his as a consequence.
when he enter the room, he was already crying.
"jon" you said when you saw him come in, you were pacing around the room, trying to ease the contractions, your water had already broken, it was only a little more to start labor.
he came up to you and kissed you on the forehead, he walked with you by the hand until the time will come.
he knew his child was coming when you had to lean on him in pain. with the help of the midwives, he lifted you onto the bed and sat behind you, leaving your back with his chest while the midwives made you push.
it was the easiest birth he had ever witnessed, it was only three pushes and his baby came out.
his son began to cry and his eyes filled with tears, he watched as the midwives lightly cleaned him. "he's a boy, your grace. healthy and strong, like a wolf" said one of them, putting your son in your arms.
"ned" you whispered, caressing his cheek with your finger, which was almost the size of his face. "he's small" jon said and you laughed "my little wolf" Jon took your hand in his, reaching both hands towards ned.
ned's eyes widened at his parents' touch, jon didn't expect his eyes to be unique to a targaryen. purple eyes and perfectly black hair, small curlers were already visible.
"he's beautiful, just like his mother," he said, kissing the side of your head many times. "thank you" he said "why?" you asked, turning to look at him as jon took your hand and kissed your palm "for giving me a family."
★, what jon would be like with his son.
at first, he was afraid to touch him, that it would break.
but after his son took his finger in his little hand, he couldn't stop carrying it. he loved his little son ned and his wife.
jon walks ned through the gardens every day or takes him on horseback, he wants him to adapt to the environment that is winterfell.
but you always fill him with clothes that jon sometimes thinks his son even sees what's going on around him.
he introduced him to everyone a few days after his birth, naming him "ned, heir of the north"
you and he agreed that he should sleep with you, there are people who would harm their little son at the cost of everything.
so jon usually sleeps shirtless because he knows his son loves physical contact, he lays it on his chest while he strokes his head.
he loves to see how you fill his hungry son, and sometimes finds it funny how he takes so desperately from your breast.
"he's like his father" he says as he looks over your shoulder as his son desperately eats.
he protects his son with his very life, be it from people or words. he will not let his child be harmed or insulted.
jon is a great warrior with a sword, he knows how to use it with great agility, so he just lets his son ned watch him fight.
thanks to this, when ned was older, you found him several times imitating his father, leading him to be a better sword wielder than him.
he loves his family more than anything in the world, and having children with you is the best thing he has.
so, very soon, you will have a child in your belly again.
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masterlist | © vermithorider | do not steal, copy, publish my work without my consent, if you wish, ask and inform me about it, I am the one who should give you my permission.
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vampzyke · 6 months
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୨୧ , jon snow x FEM!reader. ( 1.7k )
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imagine... you, a young servant of house stark, teaching jon snow the sweet, yet innocent act of kissing. and finding out just how eager he is to learn.
tags making out, crush, innocence, first kiss, friends to lovers, season 1
AS NIGHT FALLS throughout Winterfell, lit lamps wither away along with the hushed whispers of winds. It's a melody you wish to hear more often as your stay here in the North begins to drag. 
More often than not, your ears tend to ache at the shutters of metal against one another when frequenting the Forge; or when tasked by one of the Stark children to fetch an apple, where you're greeted by a dozen women huddled together in secret, gossiping to one another about Winterfell's latest whore. You loved the girls dearly, but feared that maybe one day you would be the topic of their conversation. 
With a content smile, you inhale greatly and exhale with ease as you sit outside the kitchens back in the brittle cold. Your surroundings are empty of others, only the wind to keep you company. Even as you feel your chest start to tighten around your lungs at the cool air, you stay seated and grateful for the silence on this star-filled night.
Eyeing the various critters crawling about, you jump at the laboured breathing of an animal ahead of you in the depths of the forest,  before the small stature of a direwolf pup stumbles its way out of the ominous shadows and towards you. You hadn't noticed it at first, the thick white coat of fur complemented its snowy surroundings. 
As the wolf yields closer in clumsy strides, your eyes widen in knowing as those red orbs of it become clearer.
The name of his is faint on your lips, "Ghost?". And before your limble frame is aware, the pup has thrown his warmth onto your lap. You giggle in turn, scratching earnestly at the back of Ghosts' ear just the way he prefers it.
The way Jon does it.
As you busy your hands with the pup, your shallow breaths forgotten as the cold seeps into your skin, you glance around the woods in hopes of finding the brute man you dream off.
"Now tell me, Ghost. Just where is your broody friend?" You ask the pup, who in turn just laps messily at your face. Distracted, you fail to hear the large boots of the man you mustn't fancy, and the sudden dip of the floorboards beneath you.
"Behind," A gravelly voice huffs out against the back of your exposed neck. The finest of hairs stand on edge as you're suddenly aware of the warmth intruding in on your space, like a lone fire in the depths of Winterfell's worst nights.
You're yet to yelp in shock, accustomed to Jon's dire way of greeting you. He took joy in teasing the poor servant girl who never thought to send out a complaint to Lord Stark; to which the man took great advantage of, you were his only friend after all. Whom else could he mess around with other than his elder brother, Robb? 
"Y/N, you're practically naked with those kitchen rags on," he sighs, Jon is no longer crouched behind you, and instead stands tall in all his glory besides you. You still have not uttered a word to him yet, nor could you now. As you gaze up his length, your jaw slacks unwillingly at the sight of him. 
Some days you found yourself enamoured with House Stark's bastard son. 
You, along with a maiden of Lady Sansa's, spent your breaks eye-fucking him from across the courtyard as he trained with his brother. Jon would dorne tight clothing on those days which defined his toned arms in the sun's favourable rays. The sweat would glisten against his flushed skin; it was, oh so tempting to just lick off. The two of you girls would let out boisterous laughs at the dirty idea from where you sat on the courtyard's curb. And before long another servant would pull you by your ear angrily, complaining about time and whatnot as you would spare one last glance at Jon before tasked with yet another bore chore.
Only during his and Robb's spars would he acknowledge you in public. Robb was the only Stark who knew of his brother and your friendship; he was positive the people of Winterfell would talk if Ned's bastard son and a poor servant girl were out frolicking together. So Robb kept quiet. He never commented on it and never thought to spare a look at you. You were sure he hated you. 
Jon reassured you that the eldest Stark son just loved to be a dick, and was most likely jealous of the fact that he had another to call a friend; in Robb's words, 'a fine lady'. 
You had blushed at his words.
Robb Stark was a fine man, you along with all of Winterfell knew this. You would have to have your eyes gouged out to not see it. 
But now, as your eyes trail Jon's stoic form, your heart beats with a skip in its mellow thump. Jons face never gives away his emotions, though maybe that is exactly what you find endearing about the young man. He stares down at you with a look of tiredness, stripping himself of his fur coat. 
You raise an eyebrow at him, protesting, "I have no need of your coat Jon, it is fine!" You reassure all too easily, though the chattering of your teeth gives you away. Jon clicks his tongue, before draping the large warmth of his coat over your smaller stature. 
"It does not seem like it." He shrugs, avoiding your teary eyes from the cold. All you could do was hum in acknowledgement, mind hazy at the thought of him giving you his coat in worry. Your face flushes, though Jon is all too ignorant as he decides to sit beside you on the curb, watching off into the distance with a brief frown.
Suddenly, Ghost nudges you with a dirtied paw towards Jon, as if on purpose. You shake your head at the silly idea. Without realising, you let out a whisper of a giggle. 
"What is it?" Jon turns to face you now, and as you sneak a glance you catch the faintest of freckles gathered around either corners of his eyes and how his mess of dark hair curls to frame his pale face. You realise suddenly, just how close he is.
Jon does not seem to notice, or perhaps he does, but has no concern over it. 
With strained confidence and courage from a white paw, you shuffle ever so slightly closer to Jon. The man just stares at you with a look you cannot describe, and a terrible feeling gnaws within you. Why must he just stare? Is that a look of disgust? Oh, what am I doing?
Battling your inner turmoil, you miss the way Jon looks you up and down, biting his bottom lip as if instinct when he stares upon your beautiful face.
"Y/N?" He says it almost too quietly, but his breath fans your face with how close the two of you are now. It is silent all around, even the whistles of the wind do not interrupt this moment. You turn to face him fully now, though the bottom half of your face stays well hidden beneath the large heaps of fur. You are embarrassed yet intrigued to know what Jon chooses to do next. 
With his index finger, he tugs lightly at the fur beside your cheek, testing the water. You continue to stare dumbly, as he asks shyly, "May I?".
The words are stuck in your throat at the sudden vulnerability from him. You have never seen this side of Jon before. As you go to nod, he almost pulls back with a hitch in his breath with how long you take to respond.
Hastily, you shout out, "Yes! Yes." He does not look convinced even as you tug the fur down to reveal a timid smile. He returns it, though the ends do not meet his eyes.
You let out a sigh. You had ruined your chance with Jon Snow. 
Then, as if waiting for the drama, you felt a push from behind you. You did not need to see to know who exactly it was. Ghosts' tiny paw nudged you once more, as if the pup was irritated at this charade. 
With another ounce of confidence, you grabbed either side of Jons questioning face. You could feel the roughness of his beard, and that was all it took for you to regain your composure before looking up at him through glazed lashes.
"Jon," you spoke. He waited with uncertainty as your grip on his face loosened. "Is this okay?"
All he could manage was a slight nod, distracted by your enchanting eyes. 
"Okay." You repeated, before leaning down to meet his bruised lips. From the way he sat rigid against you, you were sure this was his first kiss. Soon you were worried though there was no protest from his end. It seemed as though Jon wanted you to lead. And as his tongue swiped over your top lip, you took that as your confirmation.
With not an ounce of shame, you shuffled to sit on his lap, wrapping your thighs around his fine torso. Now comfortably, you began to deepen the kiss with your tongue. Your hands moved away from his face and found themselves tangled within his hair. And with growing confidence, Jon soon wrapped his arms around the bottom of your waist, nearing your ass. His fingers teased at the fabric there, unsure.
As your tongues danced together, you dragged a palm down his front sensually, to which he let out a pitiful moan you could not help but swallow, before stopping atop of his uncertain hand above your waist. With loving guidance, you moved his hand ever so slightly towards the plump of your butt. His thick yet lanky fingers grazed against it, and with uncertainty he pressed down at the soft flesh. You were still clothed, but you could feel the heat emitting from his fingers. 
You gasped into the kiss, pulling back for needed air. 
"Was it something I did, Y/N?" Jon asked with worry. You could only laugh at the young man and his wary conclusions. With a shake of your head, inhaling the cool air to steady yourself, you whispered. "Not at all, Snow." 
The corner of his lips tugged upwards with ease; and all you could do was watch with a feeling of need sprouting within you. You were eager for this man to ravage you, though there was a lot to teach.
There was no sound of complaint from you, as you felt him knead your ass with certainty.
Jon was a quick learner, after all.
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sweeterthansammy · 2 years
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ONLY YOU - JON SNOW
Summary: After being accused of wanting another woman instead of you, he makes it his mission to let you know that he wants you…and only you.
Warnings: This is all over the place but it makes sense in my head :D. Completely made up the last name for the sake of the fic. Now for real warnings - One (1) quickie, unprotected sex (be smart y’all), vaginal penetration, fingering, oral (female receiving), face-sitting., love-making ig, overstimulation, basically porn, very light touch of breeding, one (1) use of the word ‘whore’, marriage (yes that is a fucking warning but it’s not that complicated in this fic), feelings (ew), mild language, cheating accusations, mentions of not being able to conceive, one (1) very brief mention of Jon crying (yes this is also a warning)
A/N: Hello my darlings! My laptop is still being repaired so please bear with my shitty typing as well as possible typos. I just recently started watching GOT and I HAD to jump on the opportunity the second I laid my eyes on Jon…… considering that I’m only a few episodes in, I did not follow anything too canon considering that I don’t want the details to be too off.
Word count: 4.2k+ (this is the most I’ve written in forever LMAO)
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not my gif!
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Daenerys Targaryen. The most wanted woman of all in any of the kingdoms. She was undoubtedly envied by many, you included. You were a very close runner-up, but it didn’t help much considering your family’s constant comparisons between you and the younger girl.
You were nearing twenty-one and you had yet to be set for marriage, your parents frowning upon the idea that you wanted different things in life. Sure it might be nice to carry on your family’s legacy and become the heir, being their oldest of seven girls, but it wouldn’t be all that nice when you’d get threatened by others to give up your title as queen.
You’d met Jon when your parents had gone over to the Stark residence for a ceremonial dinner. He’d been out front, swording away at a dummy. You removed the flask from the garter that sat under your dress, sipping the bitter whiskey. You’d leaned yourself up against the wall, eyeing the dark-haired alpha as he blabbered away to his uncle Benjen.
He stole several glances, his tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek when he realized your gown parted more and more to allow some air under the fabric.
“I shall go with you when you leave, Uncle Benjen. My father will say yes - ask him!”
Trying your best to not eavesdrop much more, you began to wander off. His uncle couldn’t stop the perverse words that fell from his tongue. You glanced over your shoulder, shooting the older male a wink, careful as to not show too much of your face as he’d only seen your silhouette. He took off, heading into the castle to rejoice with his brother and several lords, leaving you in the presence of the young man.
“Tisn’t quite the scene for a lady. You should be inside with everyone else.”
“Nor is it the scene for the son of a lor-“
“Lady Stark requested that I didn’t join them for the dinner.”
“Oh, right. Jon Snow, is it? The bastard?”
You finally turned to face him, his eyes widening in their sockets.
“Honorable Y/N Burke. You shan’t be in the presence of an unwed man, young lady.”
“There are many things that I ‘shan’t’ do,” you mimicked air quotes. “But, you’ll find very soon, bastard, that I don’t care much about the things that I shan’t do.”
He eyed you for a moment longer, his sword firm at his side. You had yet to conceal your flask, offering him a sip before taking one of your own.
You watched as his eyes glanced over the way your lips encircled the opening, a drop of the liquid dribbling down the side of your mouth before your finger swiped at it, sucking the digit into your mouth.
Then he lost it.
He pounced on you in just a matter of seconds, groaning as your tongue mingled with his. The exchange of tastes - the whiskey warm with a mix of whatever sweetness you’d treated yourself to beforehand, and his bare whiskey. You could almost taste his musk but it must’ve only been the way his scent overstimulated each of your senses.
His hands, which had made themselves up to your face, dropped to your waist, pulling your lower halves together as he felt up on your body.
“Goodness- we can’t get caught, Snow.”
Your breath picked up into heavy pants, his fingers dipping into your undergarments as he swallowed all of your moans.
“Just be quiet, darling, and they won’t know a thing.”
He teased your clit with a grin plastered to his face. He yanked your underpants down, mimicking the move with his own clothing.
“Jon-“
“Sh, sweetheart-“
He hoisted you into his arms, not hesitating to plow himself into you. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to fight each moan from leaving your mouth. A high-pitched squeal sounded from your throat as his hand accompanied his rather vulgar pace.
“Fuck-“
“Remember what I told you, sweetheart,” he grunted into your ear.
His arm circled itself around your waist, stabilizing your squirming figure. His head tipped back, a groan sounding from his throat before his forehead met yours.
“Jon, fu-“
Before you could finish your statement, you felt the pulsating of his cock, his seed dribbling down your legs. He fucked you through his high, dropping his thumb to your cunt so you’d finally come around his cock. Your body shuddered as your climax hit you, your hands clutching onto him for dear life.
He pulled his garments back up once he’d placed you on the makeshift railing. You remained silent for just a bit longer until you broke said silence.
“Look, Jon- Lord…Snow, I’ve heard of your desire to leave this land and become a Night Watcher. I just….”
For once you had not much to say despite wanting to spew so much out.
“I know of your oath and the things you must accede to.”
“What are you getting at, Hon Burke?”
“If…if I am to carry your child, and I know the chances are slim because it’s only been once-“
“As you said, it’s only been one time. Don’t speak nonsense. This never happened. Are we clear?”
“But-“
He turned to you, helping you redress yourself with a sigh. He couldn’t miss the way your demeanor faltered just a tad, his own softening drastically.
“It’d be in both of our best interests to pretend that this never happened, sweetheart.”
And so you did as he said.
Despite wanting oh so badly to miss your menstrual cycle that month, it’d worked out for the best - you’d told yourself. You’d only known the lad for a few minutes tops but he remained on your mind for years following.
Upon his leave, you were devastated. Watching with teary eyes as the man you knew you wanted so much more with was leaving. Your mother watched as you quickly wiped a tear from under your eye, sniffling quietly.
Two years down the line, it was nearly impossible to avoid the fact that you’d have to step up and become queen rather soon.
“Mother, I am not stepping into that role until I get a proper proposal!”
“You’re too picky, Y/N! We’ve been waiting - for years, we’ve been waiting. You’ve gotten thirty proposals, all of which you’d turned down for the darndest reasons!”
“I’m not picky! I am awaiting someone that will settle for more than what the stupidity of this society offers. My king-“
“Has arrived.”
That voice. His voice.
Immediate tears were brought to your eyes as you found Jon standing in your doorway.
“J- Sir Jon Snow. Am I dreaming?”
“No, m’lady. ‘Tis truly I.”
You resisted every fiber in your body that urged you to jump into his arms and snog him right in front of your mother.
“Lady Burke,” he bowed.
Your mother offered a tight-lipped smile before leaving the pair of you to catch up.
“I didn’t think I’d see you for another ten years.”
Your smaller arms pulled his body into yours, embracing his warmth despite his cool armor.
“Jon,” you hummed, nuzzling yourself further into him.
“Y/N,” he copied your actions, smoothing his hand over your hair. “I couldn’t do without you for much longer.”
“Really? That’s hard to believe considering how quick you left after fucking me,” you quipped.
“I’m sorry, darling. I truly am.”
You met his lips in a soft kiss, your fists clenching around his coat.
“How’ve you been holding up?”
“I’ve just been dandy.”
Lies.
“Sort of glad I didn't have your child.”
Lies.
“Tried to get back out there after you left.”
Lies.
His arm tightened around you at the last of your statements.
“Tell me, Hon. Am I marrying a whore?”
“‘Marrying a whore’?” you were flabbergasted. “One - never call me a whore again. Two - who said we are to be wed?”
“Me.”
The simplicity of his statement baffled your mind.
“You? My father would never let me-“
“Marry a bastard. But, darling, as I remember, you’d told me something two years ago. You don’t care about the things you shan’t do and that shall include claiming me to be your king.”
“Well, why do you wait, my lord?”
He held you tight to his chest with his pupils blown.
“Tell me you’ll be mine, sweetheart. This is my proposal to you. We shall leave this land and rule our own kingdom together.”
“I do accept your proposal, my dearest, but I believe it isn’t that easy.”
“Nothing is easy, especially this. If your father is to deny our marriage and your leave, we shall go nonetheless.”
You grinned up at him, shaking your head as you laid your head on his chest.
“Then I shall marry you, my king.”
As expected, your parents didn’t have the merriest of a reaction when it came to notifying them of your leave with the man who’d notoriously been known to be a bastard. They were disappointed you wouldn’t be running their kingdom but they were relieved to see that you were finally off to be married. They hesitantly approved of the young man’s proposal, sending you off with him.
On your ride to your new castle, miles from your parents’ kingdom, you couldn’t help but question your husband-to-be.
“Why did you leave?”
He eyed you.
“The Night Watch. Why did you leave, Jon?”
“I know my status as a bastard would’ve done me well over there but I couldn’t take it. Being away from you, my family. It was eating at me day and night.”
“Then…why’d it take you two years to come back?”
“I didn’t know how to tell them I’d be leaving. It took me a long time to muster up the courage for that.”
You allowed yourself to remain silent until he placed a hand on top of yours.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I regret ever setting myself up to be away for the rest of my life, but now I’ve got you and that’s all that I need.”
“You sure have a way with words, don’t you?”
His lip quirked into a gentle smile, his hand squeezing yours with tenderness.
In just a couple of weeks, you were settled into your new home with your husband. It was now time to host several dinners and welcome all to your land. You were beyond ecstatic but it wasn’t until the guests actually arrived that you became wary of those around you.
Daenerys had made quite the entrance into your home, every one entirely forgetting that you existed for a moment. The Khal trailed behind her, offering head nods to those that personally greeted him.
Your heart stammered in your chest beyond your control. You isolated yourself from the crowd, tears cascading down your cheeks as your breathing grew jagged.
Your husband seemed to be infatuated with the platinum blonde-haired girl. You couldn’t blame him but it was killing you. He hadn’t torn his eyes from her, nor did she. She seemed to eye Jon for a bit too long, keeping great eye contact with him as she bowed.
“No need for that,” he chuckled, greeting Drogo with a firm handshake.
He waited for you to greet the couple, not sparing a glance at your seat until he hadn’t heard your voice whatsoever.
“Y/N?”
Chatting and eating resumed, Jon’s leg bouncing anxiously. He watched like a hawk, eyes wandering about the crowd.
“Lord Snow, I don't think Lady Snow is feeling all that well.”
Upon hearing your name, you wiped the last of your tears, seating yourself at your husband's side yet again.
“Darling, what’s the matter?”
He held your face in his palm, eyebrows furrowing at your puffy and reddened eyes.
“Nothing, my lord.”
You spoke the words with such harshness that it pierced his heart.
“What-“
“Ah, Lord and Lady Snow! Why don’t you make a toast?”
“I don’t think-“
“Of course, Benjen. We shall give a toast!”
You stood with your goblet, Jon staring at you with confusion clear in his features before standing on his own two feet.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. Lord Snow and I are delighted to be sharing such a special moment with you all. We wouldn’t have wanted it to be spent any other way. Jon?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke.
“I’m sure I’m supposed to be thanking you lot but if it weren’t for my beautiful wife here, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you and for that, I thank her. I thank her for trying to understand me, for being the greatest human on earth, and for standing by my side regardless of what. I’ve known the shame of being a bastard for my whole life but she’s willing to bear the embarrassment of being wedded to me.”
His speech went on and on and on. It didn’t seem to end but your heart fluttered at his words. He grasped onto your hand when you turned away from him, your eyes catching Daenerys’. You shook those pestering thoughts from your mind, repeating ‘stop it, stop it, stop it’ over and over in your head.
That had only been the first of many instances, though.
You were distraught. It’d been months since you and Jon were lawfully wedded yet it seemed as if you couldn’t conceive. Your parents were applying pressure, sending ravens to your kingdom every day after, asking when you’d bear children.
After a dinner you’d put together at your castle, you lost it. Jon had spent nearly three hours lingering near the Khal and his Khaleesi. For only two minutes, he held you at his side while conversing with the couple. You’d shimmied yourself from his arms, entertaining the younger Stark children.
Robb had witnessed the way in which you embraced your inner child, chasing the kids around as they screamed their heads off. You shooed them away with a motion of your hand. With a hand on your hip, you watched them run off, your heart aching at the thought of never having children.
“Any luck yet, m’lady?”
Robb chuckled as you flinched in the slightest.
“My goodness, Robb. No, no luck yet. However, we already have names picked out, as well as runner-ups for godparents.”
“Oh really?”
You playfully rolled your eyes, spinning to face the brunette.
“If you’re so desperate to hear it, then yes, you are a candidate for our children’s godfather.”
He took your hand into his, landing a kiss on your knuckles as you giggled endlessly.
“I knew you always loved me,” he dramatically expressed.
You raised a brow, badgering him, “Say that with caution, Stark.”
“Or what? Lord Snow will behead me?”
“I might.”
The older boy wrapped his arm around his brother’s neck in a cub-like embrace.
“Goodness, Jon. Leave your brother be,” you scolded him, watching as his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.
The dinner was called to an end rather soon, but a few of your guests straggled about - Khaleesi Daenerys amongst the few. Your eyes were like daggers as you watched Jon converse with the younger girl. You were drawn from your thoughts the moment Robb placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Now, Y/N, I am well aware that you think my brother is mad over this woman - or at the least, having an affair with her. But I can assure you, nothing of that sort is happening at all. He’s only trying to make am-“
“I’d like to hear that from him, Robb. If he’s just trying to make amends with the Khal and everyone then that’s on me. But it doesn’t help that the Khaleesi is that fucking gorgeous. She has these big doe eyes that scream ‘help me’ or ‘fuck me’! I don’t know which one it is but I’m afraid that Jon will play the hero and be the one that fulfills any of her needs.”
You were seething in the corner with Robb at your hip. He tried assuring you repeatedly but you were quite a stubborn queen.
After everyone had left for good, you wasted no time in heading straight to bed. You wanted to avoid Jon to the best of your ability but you simply couldn’t outdo the king. Before you could step foot out of your bedroom with your things in hand, Jon stepped in front of you. He backed you into the room, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shut the door.
“What’s your problem?”
You tried to not break under his intense gaze, your eyes bouncing from his own to everywhere in the room.
“What is your issue, Y/N?”
His voice was too quiet for your comfort.
“Are you…having an affair with Daenerys, Jon?”
The words that left your mouth sent a genuine fit of laughter racking through his body.
“Are you being serious?”
“Answer the question.”
His laughter died down, his body gravitating towards yours.
“Of course, I’m not having an affair with Daenerys. What makes you ask this?”
“The way you look at her kills me, Jon. When she’s here, it feels like I don’t exist! Why do you think I disappear for hours on end- you know what - you don’t even realize that I’m gone because you’re too immersed in your interactions with her! It’s-“
His hands found themselves on either side of your face, forcing you to look at him, though gently.
“If I was having an affair with Daenerys or anyone else, do you think that I’d be in the same bed as you every single night? All of those things I said about you months ago were nothing but true. You were probably too busy being upset with me to hear most of it but I don’t want anyone else. I want you and only you.”
“Then why do you look at her the way that you do? There’s so much compassion and-“
“I look at her that way because I feel bad for her! She talks to me because she feels as if she can’t trust anyone else, not even her own brother. I’m sorry that I ever made you feel less important. You’re the most important person, the most important thing in this world. I care for Daenerys’ well-being but I don’t care about her the way I care about you. I love you and I know I don’t say it enough but I do!”
He panted as he read your face.
“So you’re not cheating on me?”
“No, and I never will! I only want you, Y/N Snow. Only you.”
His lips met yours, your shoulders falling as relief washed over you. You allowed your hands to get lost in his hair, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your lips moved in tandem.
“Tell me you love me.”
You hadn’t noticed the few tears that stained his cheeks until he spoke against your lips, your heart aching in your chest.
“Jon, my darling, I love you more than you will ever know.”
His arms tightened around you, lifting you from the ground as he pecked your skin.
“It seems as though I have to make up to you for the rest of my life,” he chuckled against your skin.
“Sweetheart, you loving me alone is enough of an apology.”
He laid you gently on the bed, undoing your bodice in an impressive amount of time. He held back no longer, suckling on the skin that was graciously presented to him.
“Jon,” you hummed.
He imitated your actions, putting a ministration to his movement once he’d reached your underpants. After kissing, biting, sucking on your skin, his lips were red and plump. They met yours again, the taste of whatever wine you’d been drinking just hours prior still lingering on your tongue.
He worked his hands into the sides of your underpants before pushing them down your legs. You whimpered against his tongue as his fingers stimulated your clit.
“Darling,” you gasped out, his fingers dipping in and out of your cunt.
He used a leg to pry yours apart, reveling in your angelic sounds. He propped himself up on his other arm, hand holding his head. With your hands tugging at his clothing, you pulled him in even closer.
His face disappeared into the nape of your neck. The way in which he breathed against your neck caused your skin to crawl.
His nose nudged at your jawline, a dumbstruck grin taking over his features once he felt your walls pulsating around his digits. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the next words that flew from his mouth.
“Lannister had told me he imagined you sitting on his face long before my proposal. I nearly slayed the son of a bitch until I realized you weren’t mine then. Why don’t you come on my face, sweetheart?”
“W-what?” You stammered out - half shocked at the proposition and half processing the fact that he was still fucking you with his fingers.
“My pretty girl doesn’t want to sit on my face?”
He jutted out his bottom lip, on which you pressed a kiss, uttering an ‘I do’. Your legs squirmed a bit more until you came. Your back arched off the mattress as you gasped and cried out. He slid his fingers into his mouth, his eyes locked on your blissful features.
“You taste heavenly,” he murmured, wiping his saliva-slicked fingers off on his bottoms.
His words made your cheeks heat up, using whatever strength you had to push yourself onto your knees.
“Are you sure about this, Jon?”
“A million times over - yes, I’m sure about this.”
He laid himself down, your legs trembling as your cunt hovered over his face. He brought you down in seconds, not being able to resist the temptation.
His tongue expertly worked your cunt as it’d done several times before. Sitting on his face, however, brought a new sense of pleasure to you - his nose bumping your clit every so often as the entirety of your cunt grew soaked. The mix of his saliva and your release sent you spiraling once more, the core in your lower half tightening before you could say anything.
His tongue softly fucked your desperate hole, a glass-shattering moan sounding from within. You couldn’t hold back any of it. You needed to let the whole damn castle know that your king was treating you right.
“Jon!”
One hand dropped to his hair, the other fondling your breast. Your eyes dropped to his, your body giving out at the sight of his disheveled hair and his eyes just begging for your come.
Your body shook gently as you came in his mouth, eyes screwing shut once your head had lolled back. You’d lifted yourself off to the side, your husband chuckling at your already fucked-out state.
“How was that?”
His fingers traced patterns on your skin as you came down from one of your many highs for the night.
“Fuckin’ amazing,” you breathed out, your arms reaching for him once he’d brought himself to his knees.
You watched as he undid his bottoms. The intense eye contact he held with you was a telltale sign that you needed to help him out of his clothes before he exploded.
“I won’t be rough tonight,” he whispered.
You bit your lip, feeling the burn of his gaze on your face as you undid the buttons of his shirt. Your insides grew fuzzy, becoming giddy at the fact that this was truly your husband. No one, nothing could ever take him away from you.
He stood nude before you, pressing his back to the headboard before patting his lap. You climbed onto him in a matter of seconds, your hands already stabilizing themselves on his shoulders. Your knees bent at either hip, legs akimbo to appease his girth. You pumped him a few times, running his tip up and down your fold before sinking onto him with a cry.
“Has it been long, my darling?”
You nodded, offering an airy chuckle as you struggled to take all of him.
“Gods, I’m beyond s-“
You hushed him with a kiss on the lips, your hips beginning to rock back and forth once you’d hit his base. His hands fell to your behind, your back arching as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. His name left your mouth like a mantra, chants of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ following right after. Your mouths found one another in a slobbery mess, a clash of teeth and tongue as the rutting of your hips became more desperate.
“Stop apologizing, my lord. I- holy shit, I love you,” you choked out.
“I love you, sweet girl.”
His forearms held onto your waist, using this as leverage to thrust himself further into you.
The pace of his hips, the words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces. Just outside your door, guards exchanged knowing glances, clearing their throats at the sounds that came from the both of you. They seemingly grew louder, Jon taking the opportunity to let the words flow from his mouth - “I shall put a baby in you tonight.”
And so the night proceeded. Jon didn’t let up until you physically couldn’t go for another round, making sure none of his seed left your womb.
It was a relief to know that your king, your lord, your love wanted you and only you.
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3K notes · View notes
angelltheninth · 3 months
Text
Jon Snow Urges You to Be Vocal
Pairing: Jon Snow x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, praise, cunnilingus, encouragement, pussyworship, gentle sex
A/N: Little drabble commission. I realized that despite him being on my list no one ever asked for Jon Snow writing before.
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It was understandable that you didn't want the soldiers outside to hear you being fucked. It was what you were here for, to be fucked by Jon Snow specifically. Still that didn't stop other soldiers from offering you money, or trying to talk their way to you, trying to lure you into their tents instead.
Jon was no fool, he knew their plans and he had a plan of his own.
"What did we agree upon? Should I remind you?" He spoke into your cunt from behind. "No covering your mouth. Those bastards need to know your my whore, and mine alone." His lips pressed back against you, tongue lapping at your sweet juices with gusto.
"It's embarrassing. Sir." You clung onto the sheets with one hand, the other keeping closed over your mouth as more sounds threatened to spill from it.
"Embarrassing? I am quite surprised you still have things to be embaressed about. This cunt has probably known more cocks then there are people stationed in this fucking hellhole." Yet he couldn't get enough of you.
Every night since you arrived he's been on you like it was his last day. It could have been. How long has it been since he's fucked someone, felt the warmth of someone else? You didn't need to know that, it was none of your business.
You were only here to be fucked. As far as that went he was pretty good at it, you'd wager almost as good as he was in battle.
"It appears a slut like you needs a firmer hand to listen when she's being spoken to." Jon bit his way up your thighs, your ass and your spine all the while aligning his hard cock with your pussy before sliding it all in without warning. You've had it a lot rougher before, he was actually being pretty gentle for now but you there was a reason for it.
You felt his firm hands grab both your wrists and pull you back, your spine tense as Jon began thrusting in and out. "Let them hear my whore be fucked. They should all know."
Little by little you let your voice out, combined with the rhythmic sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Everyone who passed by Jon Snow's tent knew from then on that he was the only man who would fuck you.
337 notes · View notes
vhagarsback · 1 year
Text
robb stark and jon snow thoughts
warnings: smut, masturbation, authority kink, slight exhibitionism, cheating, robb x you, jon x you
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Robb is a good man, he would never do something you did not agree with.
However, he has these urges.
He was already betrothed to another woman as a way to strengthen his alliances, and still, that didn't stop him from pursuing you.
"I only wish to know your name, my lady." Robb smiled directly at you, he was charming enough to make you not so hesitant anymore. You weren't highborn and didn't consider yourself worthy of having the king's attention.
"I am not a lady, your grace." You kept your head down, not daring to look him in the eyes. Robb looked amused and seemed to not care about your words.
"You are very pretty." And he would compliment you until you finally gave your name to him. He was enchanted, wishing to know more about you.
That was his mission as he would wait for his marriage to the Frey girl.
He would do anything to make himself seen trustworthy, to make you come to him whenever you needed advice.
Eventually, you started to fall for his charms and would agree to anything the prince asked you.
It started with small, innocent favors you just couldn't refuse.
"Would you be kind enough to bring me some water?" Robb asked sweetly, going through the papers on his desk once more. You didn't hesitate, failing to see the smirk on his face.
Once he saw how obedient you were becoming, he began to ask more from you.
"Could you run me a bath?" The king was visibly tired from planning his next war, it just wouldn't be polite to not do it.
But when you were preparing the water, Robb came unannounced, putting his hands on your shoulders from behind. You swallowed in a nervous action, feeling his fingers caressing your skin over the thin clothes you were wearing.
"You do so much for me, I can not thank your kindness enough." Robb continued to lower his hands, whispering in your neck as he inhaled your scent. He was dizzy, and his words were lazier and lazier.
"My purpose here is to serve House Stark, my Lord." You murmured trembling, sighing as he took his hands off you.
"I am forever grateful for that." He smiled, and you froze as he began to take his clothes off. "Care for helping me? I am just so tired."
He took full advantage of your loyalty, teasing you and making you embarrassed at every opportunity.
You caught him naked one day, you apologized profoundly and said you would never come to his room without knocking again. He only laughed and asked you to come closer. "You ever seen a naked man?"
You denied with your head, words failing you. He made a motion for you to step closer.
"Just look at me. Look at my body, dove." Robb finished and your eyes were on his chest, his hair dark and going all the way down to his crotch, arms and legs toned and thick with muscle.
You were blushing, cheeks burning, and he turned around before you could invade his intimacy and look at what you weren't supposed to. You saw his large back and shoulders, firm ass, and hands at the sides of his body. He smiled once again.
His nakedness became regular, you often found him reading bare in his room, muscles and legs all for you to see.
You were careful not to stare too much and to not let your eyes travel too far again, but you were eager to know more.
"Lord Stark?" Robb had called you to his chambers, and you came as quickly as you could. He took in your appearance, from the way your lips were plump and shiny to the way your thighs clenched at the mere sight of him.
Robb knew he succeed at making you want him, and that just made everything simpler.
"Sit at my feet." He ordered and your mind was quick to obey as if it were trained for it.
Robb always looked intimidating to you, he had the eyes of a true king, and having his presence so close and his attention solely on you made butterflies fly in your stomach. At his feet, he looked bigger, stronger, like he could break you into pieces with his hands. You thought he only needed his words.
You were itching to make a comment, to make him proud of you in a way. However, you were paralyzed.
"Unbuckle my belt." The king commanded as if he was talking to his soldiers, but his hand went to your hair and gently petted your head.
Your hands were shaking, you felt your belly ache and your breath was not as controlled.
He was just in his trousers, and even though you had seen him naked countless times, that seemed too intimate.
Your knees started to burn, you didn't mind and looked up at him. You almost didn't recognize Lord Stark, his eyes were darker, expression was almost haunting.
You didn't realize that was just how he always looked at you, starved.
"Suck my cock." He licked his lips as the words left his mouth with a certainty that was final, you just couldn't question him.
You did what you were supposed to, obeyed Lord Stark.
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Jon knew it was wrong in all the ways possible, but he didn't know how to stop wanting you.
He made a promise, took a vow and swore to take no wife, to not let women distract him from his duties. He knew it was going to be hard and he managed, until he saw you.
You were married to a southern Lord he didn't care enough to know the name, and you needed help from the people in the north.
The lord commander agreed on letting you and your husband stay for a few days, and Jon knew it would be his downfall.
He wouldn't be the only one to stare at you during dinner, the men in the castle couldn't handle pretty women, but his intentions were the clearest, he wanted you in a way he wasn't able to explain.
Jon would subtly avoid you, only speaking to your husband when he needed to, and would try to not meet your eyes. You thought it wasn't polite, but you were intrigued.
"I think this is yours, Jon Snow." A letter he was supposed to send that morning was now in your hands, waiting for Jon to take it with a gentle smile on your lips.
He seemed surprised and quickly took it from you after rasping out a thank you. His voice was hoarse, a little shaky, but he was brave enough to stare into your eyes.
It didn't last long, as your husband appeared behind you with a hand on your waist. Jon left, and you sighed quietly.
That night, he forgot about being a man of the Night's Watch and touched himself thinking about the way your fingers touched his, about how sweet you smelled, and the way you said his name. He spilled his seed on his hand and as he came down from his high Jon thought about how you'd look tasting his cum.
Jon felt guilty, dirty and promised himself to not think about you that way anymore.
"For some reason, I fear you do not like me." Your voice came as a gift when he was training alone, sword hurting the target as your steps were closer. He stopped, almost amused at how wrong you were.
"I do not know you enough." He spent enough time looking at you to know a few things, but his mouth wouldn't betray him.
"You could." You smiled and his heart beat fast, he was confused and a bit nervous. "Come to my chambers tonight, my husband will be meeting with the Lord Commander."
Jon blinked, still staring at you. His eyes travelled to your mouth and back to your eyes, you understood. Your mouth moved without your permission.
"See you tonight, then."
a/n: pls write more for my stark brothers guys </3
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pastanest · 1 year
Text
Jon Snow x she/her!reader
warning: brief reference to attempted SA
part one can be found here
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Yours - Part Two
Tension rose between the two hot-headed siblings as they discussed the plan for their future, where such a plan would take them. Sansa was set on starting a war with Ramsay Bolton and taking back their home, saving you in the process, but having already been aged by the ways of war, Jon stood to his feet.
“I am tired of fighting. It’s all I’ve done since I left home. I’ve killed brothers of the Night’s Watch, I’ve killed wildlings, I’ve killed men that I admire, I hanged a boy, younger than Bran! I’ve fought, and I lost.” He was exhausted, in mind, body and soul.
But when Sansa stepped toward her brother and held his gaze, she knew exactly what she needed to say.
“You have not lost, because she is still waiting for you. She will believe until the day she dies that you are coming to save her, because that is who you are to her. You’ve fought, and now you must fight for her.” 
Something flickered in Jon then, a spark that only you could ignite. “I have always fought for her.”
“Then do it once more. This time, knowing she is on the other side. If we don’t take back the north, we’ll never be safe. I want you to help me, but I’ll do it myself if I have to.” Sansa raised an eyebrow, seeing the fire in her brother’s eyes and knowing that you have succeeded, as you always have, in bringing Jon Snow back to his senses.
It was only then, Sansa chose to disclose the nature of your capture. With every detail, Jon’s blood boiled in his veins. Chained by one wrist to the leg of a bed, forced to live each day and night on the castle floor, in complete darkness, save for when Ramsay Bolton decided to pay you a visit for a regular beating. That particular comment made Jon visibly flinch, fists clenching at the thought of getting his hands on the man that thought he had any right to touch you. While Sansa tried to free you, the door to the room you were trapped in was locked and she did not have time to search for the key, you would not let her, instead you had been shouting for her to go, to escape to the Wall, to Jon. 
In that moment, Jon Snow knew he was ready to beat Ramsay Bolton to death. And that was only exacerbated by the raven he decided to send to the wall, addressed to Jon, regarding his sister and younger brother, Rickon, with disgusting threats. There was no mention of you in the letter, but Sansa assured Jon this was a good thing, because it meant Ramsay did not intend to use you as a bargain, he did not think you were important enough, so he would keep you alive as his plaything. Jon did not find that as comforting as Sansa had intended. 
Following Sansa’s advice, Jon arranged a meeting with Ramsay Bolton upon gathering his forces. By no means did they have enough men to truly beat Ramsay, but Jon was certain that he alone could blaze through an army, knowing you were on the other side of it. 
Naturally, Ramsay arrived late to their meeting, leaving Jon, Sansa, and their accompanying party of Lords and Ladies from the northern houses that had rallied behind them, waiting in the clear field that surrounded Winterfell until Ramsay Bolton approached on his horse with his own display of Lords.
Smiling at Sansa on his arrival, Ramsay addressed her first, then looked to Jon, seemingly bemused by the sight of him as he greeted him with far less respect, if that is what his greeting to his wife could be deemed as. 
“Come, bastard, you don't have the men, you don't have the horses, and you don't have Winterfell - why lead those poor souls to slaughter? There’s no need for a battle, get off your horse and kneel. I am a man of mercy”
Jon smirked at him. “You’re right, there’s no need for a battle. Thousands of men dont need to die, only one of us. Let’s end this the old way - you against me.”
And Jon so wished the bastard opposite him would be foolish enough to agree. He could be the greatest fighter in the history of Westeros, and Jon would fancy his chances, for you.
Unfortunately, Ramsay laughed at that suggestion. “I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you, you’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don't know if I’d beat you, but I know that my army will beat yours. I have 6,000 men, you have, what, half that? Not even?”
Jon was thoroughly enjoyed taunting such a petulant child. “Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you, when they hear you wouldn't fight for them?”
Ramsay pointed to Jon, laughing. “He’s good, very good. Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you’re too proud to surrender?”
It was then, Sansa spoke up. “How do we know you have him?”
And with a nod from Ramsay, one of his men threw the severed head of Rickon’s direwolf in between their respective parties.
Trying her best not to show any kind of reaction on her face, Sansa nodded. “And what of my maid?”
Ramsay shrugged. “Well, dear wife, with you gone, I will have no choice but to turn to the others at my disposal, to…serve me.” 
It took more strength than Jon Snow had ever had to conjure up for anything, to not launch himself from his horse and tackle Ramsay from his, beating him into the earth below. With everything he had, he held onto what was at stake, what Sansa had advised him would keep him safest, and held his ground, restricting his visceral response to Ramsay’s words to the slightest clench of his own horse’s reins. “I wonder, will your men want to fight for you when they find out the only women you can keep at your side are your prisoners? A man who cannot please a woman is hardly one to inspire the heart’s of men.”
Ramsay tilted his head to the side, his ego clearly pricked by the notion of being undesirable. “Do you mean to tell me, bastard, that you broke your sacred Oath as well as deserted your post?”
At that, Jon scoffed. “No man would ask such a question, but a boy would. Killing your father does not make you a man, neither does forcing yourself upon a thousand slaves.”
Ramsay composed himself, Jon only picking up on the tiniest flash of a tantrum behind his eyes. “I have heard of your righteousness, bastard. That, I suppose, is the one thing you must have received from your father, and look where it got him.”
Oh, Jon Snow knew he was going to enjoy dragging out Ramsay Bolton’s death for as long as possible. 
For the rest of the day, following the conclusion of their meeting, Jon’s mind was spinning with the threats Ramsay Bolton had made against you and your virtue. He hoped to the Gods he had not given himself away in his fists clenched the reigns of his horse, but that was the most he could do to conceal the fury that raged within him. Even during the continued discussions of the battle plan he had formed with his men, thoughts of you tugged at the back of Jon’s mind constantly. Having once again butted heads with Sansa, she began to take her leave from the tent Jon was situated in.
Turning to face him one last time, she held his gaze. “If Ramsay wins, I'm not going back there alive. Do you understand me?”
Jon’s heart sank in his chest, immediately understanding what she was insinuating. “I won't ever let him touch you, or (Y/N), again. I’ll protect you both, I promise.”
In her angered, traumatized state, Sansa seemed almost offended at such a sincere promise. “No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone.”
He dared not argue with her, but he knew that she was wrong. Jon would protect her, and you, even if it killed him. To die for someone he loved would be a better demise than his first. 
That night, Jon Snow laid in the bed of his tent and stared up at the ceiling. He knew he needed the rest, but could not quiet his mind in the wake of what the dawn would bring. A war like none he had ever faced, with you on the other side. Reaching into the shirt pocket that sat directly above his heart, Jon retrieved the folded, aged piece of parchment that was worn and faded by the countless instances of him rereading it. Huffing beside his bed, Ghost nudged the back of Jon’s hand, bringing a soft smile back to his face as he tore his gaze from the page. 
“We’ll get her back, Ghost, we have to.” He whispered, and Ghost breathed deeply in response, agreeing in his own way.
Following suit, Jon took a deep breath of his own and closed his eyes, folding the parchment back into a neat square and slotting it back into his pocket, feeling a piece of him returning as he did. He envisioned himself as the boy he once was, lying in the godswood, under the weirwood tree, with his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. If he focussed hard enough, he could almost feel your fingertips against his scalp. That was the only sensation that could bring rest to his racing mind, on the eve of war.
The next morning, the sun rose high, illuminating the field of battle as Jon rode his men to their frontline. Seeing the army that stood between himself and you, Jon began to doubt whether he really could make it to the other side. That was, until a raven flew from one side of the field to the other. Upon one of the wildlings shooting it down, Jon was handed a small scroll of parchment tied with a torn black cord, a slightly crooked sword charm hanging from it, and a strand of your hair that fell with a wind that slowed time to a stop as Jon untied it with trembling hands. Seeing red, his eyes scanned the page, the words that were written on it, and the heart that he firmly believed still resided with you dropped to the field below him.
“She screamed terribly for you when I tried to take this from her. The bastard’s common whore screamed loudest for me, in the end. But fear not, she won’t be making a sound like that again, or any other for that matter. 
I’ll let you watch her rot, if you like. 
Come and see.”
The parchment fell from Jon Snow’s shaking fists, landing on the ground atop the hair that Ramsay Bolton had ripped from your head, but the necklace stayed clenched in Jon’s fist. It couldn’t be true, he told himself, he would feel it if you were no longer there, if you were not waiting for him anymore. As hard as it hammered in his chest, his heart felt the same way it did before, that it was not truly with him. It would have returned to him, were you not there to take care of it anymore, he thought. But deep within his soul, Jon knew that his heart would stay with you long after yours had stopped beating, for his heart had been with you when it had stopped beating in his own body. He truly believed that you were what had brought him back to this life in that sense. What would be the purpose in bringing his greatest motivation for winning such a battle, leading him to the field of war and then taking you from him. It did not make sense, Jon thought, and used that to rationalize to himself that Ramsay Bolton was simply lying for the sake of distracting him. Little did Ramsay know, Jon’s mind was solely on you regardless of such a threat.
And as he unclenched his fists to tie the black cord at the back of his neck, icy gaze fixed on the form he recognised on the opposite side of the field, Jon Snow knew that he would make it through any number of men to punish the one that dared to take a single hair from your head.
The short lived hope of being able to save his younger brother, Rickon, only set Jon’s resolve further into stone. Through a sea of arrows, Jon Snow rode his horse until he was thrown from it, and then he stood. Arrows at his feet that stuck upright, having failed in harming him in a way that reassured him the Gods were on his side once more. And as he faced the army that charged towards him, a single man serving as the front line, Jon’s life flashed before his eyes. He saw your smile, and over the sound of horses and men, he heard your laugh, your call of his name. For the briefest moment, Jon swore he could see you standing at one of the windows of Winterfell in the distance, but the version of you remembered so fondly was years younger than the one that he was here to save. The emotional weight of the sword charm at his chest and your first letter to him folded in the pocket over his heart, made it difficult for him to breathe, and he knew that this was it. Nodding to himself, he unclasped the belt of his sword and unsheathed it, standing to face the wall of men that charged for him, knowing that regardless of whether Ramsay Bolton was telling the truth, you were still on the other side. If Jon Snow could not save you, he would still fight for the right to rescue what was left of you and ensure you were laid to rest in the way you deserved, with his journey’s end being at your side when this was all over. The fury with which he would fight for you was unchanged, because it was still you he was fighting for, it would always be you.
And he fought harder than he had ever fought in his life, ending more lives than he could count without any regard for the men they were, whether he had known them once. If they were standing on the path that led to you, Jon Snow did not know them anymore.
Before long, the bodies had formed a wall at his rear and a living blockade of flayed-man banners at every other side began closing in on Jon and the men that had followed him into battle. His mind raced, every step and every swing of his sword accompanied by the mantra of your name, his very reason for being. For a fraction of a second, suffocating beneath the weight of his own army, he wondered if dying for you then was the best outcome, if you truly were not waiting for him in the land of the living, it would be his one means of returning to you at long last. 
And then, the Eyrie’s horn sounded, with Sansa watching on from afar as they rode into battle for her, for you, for Winterfell. Many had told her the field of battle was no place for a woman, but Sansa would never sit back and let Jon fight for you on his own. She said she would finish this herself if she had to, and she did.
Bursting free from the trap that had been set by the enemy, with WunWun the giant on his left and his dear friend Tormund on his right, Jon Snow charged the field on foot with one deserter in his sights.
At the gates of Winterfell, WunWun took arrow after arrow, but crashed through the only barrier remaining between Jon and his home. Defeated and exhausted, the giant collapsed to his knees with a mighty yell, sharing a long glance with Jon at his side before falling forward. Wildlings rushed to surround him, protecting the giant from any further harm, and the blood soaked Snow stood before his greatest enemy.
“You suggested one-on-one combat, didnt you? I’ve reconsidered! I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” Ramsay taunted, readying his bow.
And Jon lunged for a shield on the ground, raising it just in time to take the impact of the first arrow Ramsey fired, then the second and the third. None dared to break Jon’s stride before he reached Ramsay and slammed the shield into him, knocking him to the ground. Like a feral animal, Jon Snow jumped on him, the fury of an ancient dragon awaking from an age-old sleep burning in his veins, vision crimson with rage, knowing nothing except for your name, again and again and again, with every crunch of his fists against the red of Ramsay’s face.
It was only when Jon glanced up at Sansa that he was able to regain some composure, his chest heaving as he rose to his feet and stood over the sputtering Bolton bastard.
“You will never touch my sister again. And if you have harmed (Y/N) in the same way, if you have done her any disservice, if there is a fingerprint of yours on her, I’ll know, and I will relive the joy of your death in every dream I have for the rest of my days.” Jon Snow seethed, the flayed-man banner falling from the walls of Winterfell as its children finally returned home.
Running to his side, Ghost began licking at Jon’s palm, and Jon turned to him, crouching down and staring into the direwolf’s eyes.
“Find her, Ghost, take me to her.” He pleaded, not truly understanding how much his companion could comprehend, but knowing the second the beast took off inside the castle that Ghost understood exactly what had been asked of him.
With the spark of you reignited within him, Jon hurried after the white, blood spattered direwolf, your voice in his head calling out to him, growing more urgent with each whisper.
In the darkness of your cell, you rock yourself, your arms wrapped around your knees, attempting to tune out the noise from beyond the confinement of your cage. A large thud against the door sends a shock through your shivering form and you suck in a sharp breath, squeezing your eyes shut and focussing on the first memory you can grab at, deep in your subconscious. 
“It was only a dream, (Y/N), it’s alright.” Jon’s hushed whisper reaches you, both so much younger than you are now.
“The fire, it was so-” Your younger voice was panicked, sobs catching in your throat as Jon’s arms squeezed you.
“You are safe, I promise. I’ve got you.” 
Another thud at your prison door pulls you back to the present and you shake your head rapidly, desperate to lock yourself away in the memory of being in your best friend’s arms again, the safest place in the world that you had come to know. If you focus hard enough, you can almost feel them around you. Almost hear his soft voice in your ears, comforting you, lulling you back to sleep. 
A final thud against the door sends burning light into the room and you squeeze your eyes shut harder, shaking your head and burying your face in your knees.
“It’ll pass, it’ll pass, it’ll pass.” You whimper to yourself, over and over again in an attempt to reassure yourself.
Large hands on your shoulders cause you to snap your head up, eyes wide and wild with fear and anger, but no tears blur them, you refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“LET GO OF ME, GET AWAY!” You scream, trying to back away from him, but already having your back to the wall beside the leg of the bed that you are chained to.
The hands leave your shoulders and raise in surrender, either side of a blurry, bloody face that your terrified eyes can’t yet focus on. 
“(Y/N), (Y/N), it’s me, look at me, it’s your Jon.” A familiar voice reaches your ears, and your wild mind halts to a sudden stop, the fog clearing and allowing you to see the face before you.
Jon watches your rigid, frightened expression falter, before it softens completely, his fractured heart at seeing you so afraid, healing at the recognition now in your eyes.
Very slowly, he takes ahold of your hands and brings them to his blood spattered face, gently holding them there and staring into your eyes.
“It’s your Jon, it’ll always be your Jon.” He tells you, relief flooding through him at being able to say such a thing to you, alive and safe again. 
And after everything, after the countless days and nights spent surviving in darkness, locking yourself away in memories to avoid being mentally present in the regular acts of torture you were forced to endure, only when holding Jon Snow’s face in your hands and knowing you are truly safe, do you finally let the tears you’ve been burying fill your eyes. 
Without sparing a second, Jon shuffles forwards and pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you and softly shushing you as you sob into his chest. Covering your ears to shield them, not wanting to scare you, Jon yells out for someone, a ginger haired wildling running into the room with wide eyes at the sight of his friend, reunited with the love he had only heard him mention in moments when it wasn’t too painful for him to do so. With a nod, Tormund leaves the room and passes the order given to him by Jon amongst the wildlings, and between them they turn Winterfell on its head in search of the key for your chain. 
For the time it takes them to find it, you stay safely nestled in Jon’s arms, cries slowing to a stop, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat, a sound that you had not realized just how much you had missed. 
“D-Did…” You sigh, humiliated by your loss of ability to talk after being silent or screaming in an act of survival for so long. Jon squeezes your form gently in his arms, encouraging you to try again, he’ll wait, he’ll wait forever if he has to. Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat.
“Did you kill him?”
Jon takes a moment to reply. “Very nearly. Had Sansa not stopped me, I think I would have broken every knuckle I’ve got before I could have stopped myself.” He pauses. “The two of you should decide what to do with him, but you don’t need to worry about that now.”
Removing his arms from you briefly, Jon moves his hands to the back of his neck to untie the necklace. At the loss of contact, you lift your head from his chest to meet his eyes, and upon him opening his hand out to show you the necklace that had been so cruelly taken from you, you gasp, holding the base of your neck where it had previously resided. Turning away from Jon, he smiles softly and moves the necklace to your front, carefully tying it at the back of your neck. Feeling it back in place, you breathe deeply and settle back into Jon’s arms.
“That was all he took from me, you know.” 
Jon frowns. “What do you mean?”
“He tried to take more, but I bit him through his trousers, so he has been…out of commission, shall we say, ever since.” The subtle tone in your voice is one Jon is so certain he recognises as smug.
Kissing your temple, he can’t wipe the smile from his face. “I am sorry that you had to do such a thing, but I am so proud of you, all the same.”
Sansa enters the room then, Ghost at her side and key in hand. She gasps at the sight of you, running to you and falling to her knees. Taking ahold of your hand and passing the key to Jon, she closes her eyes in a pained blink.
“I am so, so sorry that I left you here, (Y/N). Can you ever forgive me?” Her eyes open then, searching yours and seeing only a smile on your face.
Freeing your other wrist from the chain it had been confined in, you twist and stretch it before placing your other hand over hers.
“There’s nothing to apologize for and nothing to forgive.”
Sansa shares a look with Jon, both of them with knowing smiles, as those had been his very words when Sansa had been apologizing for her treatment of him as a child when she had not long arrived at the Wall.
“You really are the best of us, (Y/N).” Sansa chuckles in disbelief. “It’s about time we got you cleaned up and out of those rags, too. I’m sure Jon will see to that, and I’ll get a room ready for the two of you.” With a teasing smile, she rises to her feet and all but floats out of the room, leaving you and Jon with flushed faces.
Busying yourself with greeting Ghost and rubbing behind his ears, you try your hardest to distract yourself from the butterflies that have burst to life in your stomach after so many years of dormancy. 
Clearing his throat, Jon taps your leg. “She’s right, y’know, we’d best get you cleaned up. There’s someone I’d like you to meet, when you feel up to it.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, you shakily bring yourself to stand, Jon’s hands holding your waist to keep you steady. “Who?”
At that, Jon Snow gives you the first dazzling smile that you have seen in Gods only know how long. “All in good time, my Lady.”
In your attempts to take your first steps on wobbling legs, Jon swallows the lump that forms in his throat, seeing the strong person that he adores more than any other, reduced to such physical weakness. If his hands were not on your waist, they would be returning to Ramsay’s face in several more punches for good measure.
Sensing your frustration and embarrassment at your own lack of mobility, Jon doesn’t hesitate to swing you up into his arms, carrying you like the bride he had always wished was his. 
“I take it I don’t have to ask you to retract the bedding ceremony from our marriage at this time?” You tease in reference to the thought that the two of you share in being carried through the castle in such a way, bringing a laugh from Jon that he feels he hasn’t heard from himself in as long as you have.
“Even in more ideal circumstances, I’d never let that happen. Wouldn’t be right to break a man’s jaw on our wedding night.” He says, eyes never leading yours as he traverses the winding staircases of the castle he has not ventured since he was a boy, but are etched in his memory regardless.
Giggling and patting his chest, you shake your heard bashfully. “Good to know the Night’s Watch didn’t remove your chivalry, Lord Jon.” You gasp. “Gods! That really is your title now, as Lord Commander, isn’t it?”
Having not had a smile on his face for this length of time in many years, Jon feels an ache forming in the corners of his mouth, but doesn’t care at all. “Aye, I was, for a time, but my watch has ended.”
It’s then, a confused frown that Jon remembers well returns to your face, years older than he had last seen it, but no less endearing to him. “But...your watch only ends as a dead man?”
Jon nods as he descends the final staircase and kicks an all too familiar door open. “It’s a long story, one for another time.”
You want to question him further, but when your peripheral vision registers where Jon has carried you, you turn your head to look around, your jaw dropping.
Though the room is dark, you recognise every corner enshrouded in the shadows. The large and ancient communal bath that sits atop the hot spring that is Winterfell’s source of heated water, that none use in favor of their own personal baths, but had been your preferred method of cleanliness ever since you and Jon had discovered the dark and “secret” room when you were children. Placing you back on your feet gently, one of his hands on your waist and the other cradling your elbow to steady you, Jon’s gaze stays locked on your expression at his side, remembering this place with as much fondness as you do. 
“This is about to be a bath for the ages. I will stay in this water for a week, at least, ‘til I am but a shriveled prune and you will have no choice but to drag me out against my will.” You tell him, tone so serious and words so humorous they pull another hearty laugh from Jon.
“We’d best get that week-long-bath started, then. I shan’t keep you and your heart’s true desire apart any longer.” He plays along, making you smile as you step in front of him, nodding to yourself.
Taking his cue, Jon lets go of you and turns around, expecting to give you the privacy to strip free of the filthy rags you have been kept in and stepping into the water to conceal yourself, until he hears you hiss in pain.
“Jon, I…I don’t intend to make you uncomfortable, but I do not think I can take this off without help.” You admit, embarrassed for too many reasons to list. 
“It would cause me no discomfort at all, but are you certain you are comfortable with me…assisting you?” Jon asks in a soft voice, careful with his choice of words.
“Of course. You could never make me uncomfortable, Jon.” You respond without delay.
Needing no further instruction, Jon Snow takes a deep breath and turns around. With your back to him, you raise your arms and wait for trembling hands to lift the hem of your dress - if you could call a ripped potato sack such a thing - up and over your head. Dropping the fabric to the floor, Jon immediately turns around again, face burning.
“Thank you.” Your voice is meak, filled with shame over your true love seeing you bare for the first time, filthy, bloody and bruised.
All the while, Jon Snow is trying to remember how to breathe while the mental image of your naked form imprints itself into his flailing mind. The dirt had not even crossed his mind. Your injuries, of course, brought him sadness and anger, but the triumphant emotion was one he is not willing to admit, even to himself.
Taking slow and careful steps, you reach the water’s edge and lower yourself to sit on it, slipping your legs into the water and breathing a sigh of relief as the heat envelopes you immediately, inviting you in until your body is completely submerged and at peace. Every ache within your beaten body is soothed and you are quick to scrub the dirt from yourself, to be clean of your days caged and the memories that clung to your skin like the dried blood of your wounds. 
Hearing the gentle slosh of the water, Jon settles as he realizes you are no longer standing behind him. Standing up straight, he fixes his gaze on the closed door and decides that he will keep watch. As you raise your head from the water, you see his silhouette standing at the door and smile, unable to withdraw the connection your mind makes between this picture and the one you saw so many times as a girl, of a much younger Jon Snow standing as he is now, shorter then, but just as determined to keep watch while you were vulnerable in the water. 
“Y’know, you could do with a wash, yourself.” You note aloud.
Jon chuckles airily. “Aye, you’re probably right.”
Smirking in advance of your devious plan to make Jon blush again, you glide over to the edge of the water and rest your arms on the cold stone. “Join me then.”
And you watch in absolute glee as Jon’s form turns rigid at your suggestion. He does not answer.
“Jon?” You call in a singsong voice.
He clears his throat. “Hm?”
“As grotesque as my body is in its current state, I did not imagine you would ever reject an offer to join me?” You tease, only half joking.
Jon’s reaction is visceral. In a second, he is standing over you with a harsh frown, having had no thought in the effect the sight of you below him in such a way would have on him, too focussed on his emotional response to the ridiculousness in what you had said.
“I cannot even bring myself to say such a word in association to you, the thought alone would be criminal. Do not allow yourself to think that I could see you as anything less than the most beautiful person to ever exist, as you have always been and will always be to me.” 
You have never heard Jon so serious in all your life. His words and the sincerity with which they are spoken renders you speechless for a moment as you stare up at him. 
“Won’t you let me share such a view, of you, then?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.
And after a moment’s eternity of silence, as though practicing some ancient dance, the two of you step apart from each other and turn your backs, neither of you able to face the tension a moment longer.
The sound of Jon’s armor hitting the stone floor sends goosebumps erupting across the tops of your shoulders that peak above the water, your heartbeats ringing in your ears almost in unison. Even when you hear the splash of his body entering the water, you do not dare turn to face him. As quickly as he can, he fully submerges himself in the water and scrubs the blood and dirt from a battle won. Then, Jon Snow stands, slowly wading through the water until he stands behind you. It is your turn to take a deep breath as you turn to face him, your eyes drinking in the sight of his clean face, the scars on his chest sitting distorted beneath the water, and to take his mind away from the pain of what you assume are his battlescars, your hands lift from the water to trace the line of his beard with an admiring smile. 
“I always knew you’d suit a beard.” You compliment him, easing his nerves as he laughs, gracing you with another charming smile.
Your hands continue their journey around the back of his neck, feeling the wet, inky curls of his hair there and sighing deeply.
“Truly, you have the best hair in the seven kingdoms.”
And Jon laughs the hardest he has in longer than he can remember, throwing his head back and shaking it as though emphasizing the hair that you have never failed to shower in praise, making you laugh with him.
Taking ahold of your hands at the back of his neck, Jon brings them to his lips and places feathery light kisses against your knuckles, holding your gaze. 
“I have missed you more than words can say.” He whispers. 
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Is that your excuse for not writing me any, then?”
Jon sighs, closing his eyes and hanging his head in shame. “I am so sorry.”
Chuckling, you lift his chin with your finger until you can see into his eyes again. “Considering you won a battle for me today, I think I can forgive you for not having time to read my letters.”
Jon smiles at you gratefully. “I read them all before coming to get you, I swear it.”
“And I believe you, as I always have. I believed you’d read them, I believed you would rescue me, and both rang true in the end. It seems my faith is safe.” You beam up at him.
“Your faith in what?” He questions.
“My Jon.” You tell him, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world, and the moment he hears it, he agrees that it is. 
Unable to resist you a moment longer, Jon’s arms wrap around your waist and pull your body flush against his, lips falling on yours in a kiss softer than a summer breeze. Briefly, he falters, wondering if perhaps he has acted on his instincts far too soon, but then he feels your fingers running through his curls, pulling him into a deeper kiss than he had assumed you would be ready for, but you have been waiting far too long for this. 
Only when the two of you recall the human need to breathe do you have the strength to pull away from each other. But Jon’s lips chase after you, leaving a trail of kisses from the corners of your mouth to your chin, your cheeks, your temples, your neck, with pleading whispers in between.
“Will you be mine, my wife- my queen, should the north call for a king? I cannot lose you again, I cannot deny myself the dream of us anymore.”
And in equally flustered, desperate whispers, you answer. “Yes to all and yes to any. I have always been yours, Jon.”
For a time, it feels like the two of you are the only people in existence, the world having stopped around you, the Gods having paused time to allow you to hold each other for your own eternity. It is not the time for love beyond a passionate kiss, both of your bodies need to heal and rest after the battles you have fought and won, together, to get back to each other. To simply hold each other, after so many years apart, is the greatest joy either of you can ask for.
But, time cannot be slowed forever. Soon enough, there is a knock at the door of the bath and in a wild panic that has you in fits of giggles, Jon scrambles from the water and grabs his armor, holding it over himself to answer the door to the young squire that has kindly delivered fresh clothes and towels for the two of you to dry yourselves with. Nodding and thanking the squire, Jon takes the pile from him and closes the door, turning back to face you with a sheepish expression and only seeing the humor in it when he finds you wheezing against the side of the bath.
Once dry and dressed, the two of you make your way to the door, pinky fingers intertwined between you out of habit. Until your boot steps on something that does not sound like the stone floor and you frown, bending down to pick up a folded piece of parchment, worn at the edges and ink fading in the handwriting that you recognise to be your own as you unfold it. Turning to face Jon, you meet his gaze and know you do not need to say anything as you fold the parchment back into the neat square in which you had found it and slot it the pocket of his new,  clean shirt. Holding your hand over it, you lean up to kiss his cheek and, intertwining your pinky fingers again, you ascend the stairs together and step out into the courtyard of Winterfell. There, your eyes immediately lock onto the sight of the immense form of the hunched over giant, sitting against one of the stone walls as some wildlings watch over him. The child within you gasps, your hands covering your mouth in delight as you look between Jon and the giant frantically.
Laughing endearingly at you, Jon gestures to the giant and walks you over to him. “(Y/N), I’d like you to meet Wun Wun.”
Unable to tear your gaze from the giant, you approach him slowly. “Hello, Wun Wun, it’s…it’s been a dream of mine to meet someone like you, ever since I was a little girl.” Looking over him and his injuries, tears immediately sting your eyes. “I am so sorry that you got hurt, are you in pain? I can fetch you some milk of the poppy, if you like? Or fix up some stew for you?”
Wun Wun watches you with a frown that seems to be etched into his features, curious of you. Taking a few seconds, the giant processes what you have said, looks to Jon and then back to you.
“Snow princess.” His voice is like a tumbling boulder, thunderous and without the human pitch-difference that is associated with asking a question, but Jon understands what he is asking.
“(Y/N) would be my queen.” Jon clarifies, and Wun Wun blinks slowly.
“Snow Queen.” He attempts to maneuver his large form, but roars in protest at his own injuries.
Raising your arms, you attempt to stop him. “Please, don’t hurt yourself further!”
Jon remembers how Wun Wun had acted towards the Princess Shireen and takes a step forward. “You don’t need to kneel to us, Wun Wun, you are our friend, our equal. You bow to no-one, not anymore.”
Your eyes widen in realization of what the giant had been trying to do as he slumps back down with a large thud against the ground. 
Breathing deeply, Wun Wun looks at you. “Snow Queen.” He looks at Jon. “Snow.” Then lifts an arm and loosely gestures to both of you. “Friend.”
Jon scoffs playfully. “So (Y/N) is Queen, but I am just Snow?”
You grin at the giant, who acknowledges your expression with a thunderous laugh that is so loud it would hurt your ears, were you not enamored by the creature it comes from. 
“If she is not my queen, who’s queen is she?” Jon asks, bemused and hoping to catch out the giant, who considers the question for only a second before responding.
“Wun. Weg. Wun Dar Wun’s.” And despite how long it takes the giant to speak his full name, the impact of his own punchline hits just as hard, sending you into another wheezing fit of laughter while Jon shakes his head in disbelief. 
“Well, it seems both Wun Wun and I are yours, now.” Jon throws up his hands in dramatic surrender, causing you to laugh harder, the giant smiling at you fondly and Jon watching you with an adoring gaze, so relieved to see you relaxed and safe enough to laugh again.
When Jon asks you if you feel ready to eat, you nod, but request that you eat together, with Wun Wun, to ensure he eats and gains some energy to help his body heal, too. Naturally, Jon does not deny you of the endearing request and the two of you return to the giant with your own bowls of fresh stew and an extra large one for your new best friend. The three of you sit and talk, taking time to listen to Wun Wun’s responses, which take a lot longer than general conversations with a human would, but you don’t mind one bit. With every word he speaks, you are utterly mesmerized, having already pinned the creature as every bit as incredible as the giants from your favorite tales as a child. 
Though it is not late in the evening by the time you finish your supper, you are too exhausted from the events of the day to stay awake much longer. Having not walked around for any length of time in so long, your limbs are too weak to stand on your own again, Jon having to help you back to your feet with an arm around your waist.
Waving to Wun Wun, you give him a tired smile. 
“Goodnight Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun, I wish you pleasant dreams.” 
The giant gives you a smile that Jon has not seen him give anyone else. “Friend. Sleep good.”
With that, Jon begins leading you back into the warmth of the castle, walking you along the path to what had been his bedroom as a boy, without thinking of what the room could be now, his direwolf trailing behind the two of you. Thankfully, it seems that Sansa was thoughtful in the room she requested be prepared for you all, as Jon’s old bedroom door is open, displaying the candlelit room and the freshly made bed. The two of you share a chuckle in disbelief as you enter the room, Ghost instantly finding a patch of rug on the ground to curl up on and Jon walking you over to the bed to sit down on it before he leaves you to close the door and draw the curtains. 
Falling against the mattress, you groan. 
“I think this ordeal has aged me 20 years and perhaps it is time we retire. I could finally let Sansa teach me to sew and you could herd sheep with Ghost, what do you think?” 
At the mention of his name and in confusion at your suggestion, Ghost lifts and tilts his head to the side.
Jon laughs as he joins you, landing on his back beside you, the mattress bouncing slightly beneath you. “I think that sounds like a wonderful plan. Only, I’m afraid, my Lady, there is another war to be fought.”
You turn your head to face him, seeing the simultaneous amusement and seriousness playing in his eyes. “Surely, you jest. Against who?”
Jon sighs. “An ever growing army of the dead, unfortunately.”
Throwing your arms up and against the mattress above your head in a dramatic display of defeat, you scoff. “But of course! Winter is coming, I should have known.”
Jon smiles at you, having never felt so at ease when discussing the threat that looms over the entire world as he knows it and marveling at the wonder that is you. “Aye, but for now-” He stands to his feet, swings you up in his arms, kicks the bedcover from the mattress and lays you down on the sheet. “-we are free to rest.”
Shuffling to remove your boots and watching as Jon removes his to nudge them under the bed, you use the last of your strength to move over and allow space for him to slide in beside you. 
Turning to face each other, you snuggle beneath the bedcovers and share a smile, like the giddy teenagers that had been lost in your memories until now. 
“When is the wedding due, then, dear almost-husband?” You ask, amused but genuinely curious as to when the two of you will have the chance to arrange such an event.
“Whenever you like, dear almost-lady-wife.” Jon laughs airily, taking hold of your hands beneath the covers and staring into your eyes. “How do you feel?”
You take a deep breath, knowing that the time to set aside your humor would come soon enough. “It is…difficult to put into words. Deliriously happy to be with you and Sansa, to have our home back and to be safe again, of course, but there is still a dark cloud that looms over me and I cannot ignore it. At any moment, I feel as though the rain could start to pour and I could drown in it, lose myself to the fear. In truth, the thought of trying to sleep is terrifying.” 
Jon nods slowly, understanding you completely, as he always has. “However dark that cloud gets, however hard the rain falls and however scared you are to sleep, I will be here. To show you the sun again, shield you from the rain and guard you through your dreams, I will be right here, and I will never leave you again. I swear it, by the old Gods and the new.”
Tears threaten to blur the perfect vision of the candlelit Jon Snow, but you are quick to blink them away, removing your hands from his to run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, until his forehead rests against yours. “And in return, I swear to protect you from whatever horrid memories plague you from the time when we have been apart, to hold you through them and remind you that no matter what, you are a good man, the best man, and the man that I love more than anything.”
Closing his eyes, Jon Snow takes a deep breath, and you do the same, sharing the silence and darkness in a peace that neither of you ever thought you would find again. 
“Can it be that this night, I’ll dream of you and wake to find you here?” You whisper.
Jon sniffles, having not let his relief and love for you truly overwhelm him until now. “Aye, this night and every night thereafter.” 
Gently tracing the line of his jaw with your thumb, you lean forward to close the space between your lips. “To be yours is to live nothing but a dream, Jon Snow.”
And for the second time since reconnecting to the rest of his soul, Jon Snow loses himself to you, falling into you and cradling every part of you with such care, having craved every second of these moments with you that he never thought he could have beyond the land of dreams. The two of you had lived separate lives for long enough, the Gods had no choice but to force you back to each other in an act of fate that defied everything Jon thought he could believe in, except for you. Every foe he fought, every task he took on, his first thought would be that in some distant way, he would be saving you from something, because he would be doing so from the frontline of your heart. To be yours was the only victory he truly felt. 
——————
taglist: @otteropera @neymarjrrwife @oliviabelova @nyotamalfoy
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danytherelentless · 6 months
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They Will Suffice
Jon Snow x fem!reader
summary: a pleasurable moment during your pregnancy with your husband
warnings: smut, illusions to sex, fingering, sweet talk, a little bit dirty, pregnancy, slight pregnancy kink (if you squint really, really hard)
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The wind is howling and furious outside, it rattles the shutters of the windows and whistles through the gaps it manages to slither through the walls creating a chill in the air in spite of the warm pipes within the walls of the castle.
You lie in bed with your husband, a quiet and comforting moment between two lovers. Basking in the afterglow of love-making leaning back into his strong arms as they wrap around your front and caress you belly.
His bare knuckle grazes where your child kicks. A budum rhythm over and over again.
"It appears we have awoken them," you muse, looking up to see him. His handsome face is wrought with concentration, dark brows furrowed close.
"He," he corrects you.
You huff a laugh, "he? So sure are we?"
"Yes. I dream of our son in your arms. Of him playing in the Godswood with Ghost," he presses a kiss to your brow.
"Every man wishes for a son. But dreams will not make our child grow a cock if they do not already possess one," you warn. You can't help but feel a little nervous at his surety of a son. What would happen if you birthed a daughter instead?
"I would not be disappointed with a little daughter, my love. I just know that this..." he strokes the underside of your belly where there is another thump, "is our son."
You hum in acknowledgment, a small smile curling at your mouth.
"And what shall our son's name be?"
"Edric," his response is instant.
Your eyes soften, "for your father?"
"Hm. Little Ned," he is smiling now, a small, beautiful and oh so rare thing. It makes your heart swell and tears well up in your eyes.
"When we have a daughter you shall name her," he tells you, as if it is a certainty.
"And what if we shall only have sons? Or only this one child?"
"Then you can name them too. You're the one doing all the hard work," he tells you.
"I suppose you are right. Though you certainly take care of me," you respond with a teasing grin.
"I do now, do I?" he teases right back, one hand going further down to your .
"Mhm. I find myself quite satiated in your presence."
"Careful, I might become unbearable with all this flattery," his teeth graze at the side of your face. You sigh as you sink further back into his arms.
"We can't have that now, can we?"
His hand slips between your thighs, your knees parting some more to allow him better access.
"I find myself not fully satiated tonight, however," you continue, a stir in your lower belly, an urge to squeeze your thighs tightly together.
"Oh. We can't have that now, can we?"
His fingers slide between your folds, already slick once more. He had already cleaned you up after your previous bouts of love-making quite nicely, though is appears it was for nought as you would soon be a mess again.
"I'm not sure I have such energy as you," he admitted as he slid a curled finger into you, thumb circling your nub. A moan broke past your lips as he moves much to slowly.
"Well... your fingers will have to suffice," you let out another broken moan as he gathers your wetness and slides in a second finger.
"Hmm, so wet. So warm," his lips are pressed against the side of your face, teeth grazing the flesh as he whispers his sweet praises into your ear.
His practiced movements speed up, your knees part wider. His cock is hardened somewhat against your back, though not nearly at full mast.
"I can't believe I have you, so perfect, so tight, right in my arms," he speaks, lips dragging across your jaw as you throw your head back against his shoulder.
His fingers curl further, rubbing along that soft spot inside of you which had your thighs twitching and your eyes rolling back as your nails dig into his flesh.
"Right there," you moan, breathless, "please."
"Please what? What do you want?"
"I want to cum. Please make me come," you let out a louder moan.
His movements speed up, "come for me, wife. Finish for me."
You reach your peak, your third that night, fingers curling into the flesh of his thighs, a high, broken keening sound passing your lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut and mouth forming an 'o'.
"So pretty," he strokes your thighs and swollen belly, "so perfect."
You don't hear what he says next as you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, howls of the wind distant to your ears as his warmth envelopes you whole and drags you down to the depths of rest.
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comments are greatly appreciated, don’t be a stranger :)
you can find me on Wattpad and AO3 by danytherelentless
let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for any of my works (character specifications and smut or not)
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taytrashmouth · 7 months
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Just finished rewatching game of thrones and the Jon snow obsession has been reborn.
This is a long one!
TW: rape, abuse, crying, murder, etc, all normal GOT stuff.
Jon snow x reader.
:readmore:
Looking at the empty walls of the stone cell I’ve been trapped in for weeks I can’t help but feel that these walls of winterfell that I’ve known for so long are no longer the walls I call home. This is a prison.
I pushed myself back against the furthest wall as I heard the keys rattle in the door. The chain around my waist felt heavier than normal.
As the door opened I felt a tear escape my eye…Ramsey
“You’re not excited to see me?” He pouted and wiped my cheek.
I tried to hide my fear and pain and sadness but I knew he could see through my act.
“I’m going to meet with lady Bolton tomorrow.” He sat down in front of me.
I thought about Sansa….I thought about when we were little, how we would sneak into the kitchens after everyone was asleep, how we’d laugh and talk, how we would dance in the snow outside and go for long walks in the snowy hills. She was bigger now, more mature. The last time I saw her was at the wedding…she got locked in Ramseys room and I got locked in a cell. I heard people talk of her escape through the small widow towards the top of my cell, I’d never been that relieved in my life.
Sansa never treated me as her handmaiden, only ever as her friend.
“Her bastard brother will be there too…” Ramsey spoke.
I couldn’t help my reaction, I let out a gasp and tears fell from my eyes.
Jon was alive.
“I want you to come with me to meet with them tomorrow…”
I looked up at him and frowned, there was a catch, Ramsey was insane, he liked to play games.
“You see… I know that Jon cares for you…and lovers should always be reunited at the end of every story.” Ramsey smiled as he touched my cheek, I tried to move away but he held me still.
“But I’m afraid this story doesn’t have a happy ending…” he pouted. “Jon will have to see what I’ve done with you.” Now he smiled.
He began to untie my dress, I tried to move away but he held me down and the chains were too heavy. After not being fed for a week I could barely have the strength to push him off.
He grabbed my hands and held them high above my head as he sucked hickeys into my neck, and put bite marks all over my skin.
Eventually I stopped screaming, I just accepted him inside of me, I cried and looked away, knowing there was nothing I could do. I thought of everything that wasn’t Ramsey. Then eventually I didn’t think of anything at all, I didn’t even feel as though I was in the room anymore. I was somewhere deep inside my own mind, somewhere I couldn’t even place.
I felt Ramsey hit me and become rough but I just lay there in the cold cell…hopeless.
When he was done he had his guards unlock the chains around my waist and wrists, and lead me to a room in the castle….Aryas old room.
They locked me in there for the rest of the night I had a bath and scrubbed my skin till it was raw and red trying to get Ramsey off of me…
I put on the dress that was laid out on the bed, it showed off my shoulders and my sides, exposing the bruises and scrapes all over my body. I brushed my hair that had grown a lot since I last saw myself. I tied it back into a braid exposing my face and neck like Ramsay instructed
I looked at my thin figure, I could see my own ribs. I looked awful. I drank the soup that was left on top of the dresser.
And I waited…to see Jon again, to see Sansa.
I walked out of the dining hall to see Jon hitting a training dummy repeatedly with his sword.
“I think it’s dead.” I smiled as he turned around.
He smiled softly, something he didn’t do often. “What am I missing?” He asked gesturing back into the hall
“Ned’s angry because Arya flicked food at Sansa.” I spoke. He laughed under his breath. “So nothing new?” He smirked.
I shook my head.
It was quiet for a moment, the music from inside distant. The air was cold.
I had liked Jon since I was about 10, he often caught Sansa and I in the kitchens late at night and instead of telling Ned, like Robb sometimes did, he would join us.
But I’d never say anything, I couldn’t…technically he was a stark, and technically I was a prisoner, a Greyjoy. Although the starks had never made me feel like a prisoner.
“Why so frustrated?” I asked him.
He looked down at his sword and the blisters he’d caused on his hand.
“A lot on my mind, my lady.” He replied.
“I am no lady….just a handmaiden, My lord.” I spoke back, knowing he only ever wanted me to call him Jon.
He smiled to himself. “Just Jon.”
“Okay….just Jon, may I have this dance.” I asked as the band began to play another song that could be heard vaguely through the closed doors to the dining hall.
“Anything for you, princess.” He spoke slowly and made his way over to you. Putting his sword against the stone walls of winterfell.
“I am no-“ you were interrupted when his finger pressed to your lips. “You are to me.” He whispered.
He valued me, always. He never treated me like less, in fact he always treated me like more, like royalty, like a princess.
I smiled up at him. He placed his hands on my waist and i put mine on his shoulders.
“I must warn you, just Jon I’m not a good dancer.” I spoke.
“I know, I’ve watched you dance with sir Cedric Mormont a few years back, and sir Jamie earlier tonight.”
I playfully smacked his arm and he smiled.
“I’ll tell you what princess y/n Greyjoy…I’m not that good either.” He smiled.
We swayed and laughed when Jon jokingly spun me around, or when I tried to lead. We ran around the castle walls for about 3 hours before lady Katlin caught us.
We both froze when she saw us.
“Sansa was looking for you y/n.” She spoke firmly. Glaring at Jon.
“My lady- I-“ you stumbled.
“It was me! I wanted to try on Robb’s armor, see what it was like, to be a knight. I had lady Greyjoy assist me putting it on-“ Jon interrupted. He never lied, but he was protecting me.
I glanced worriedly at him.
“Typical.” She whispered under her breath, and shook her head. My blood boiled. “Y/n get to Sansa’s chambers immediately, Jon… out of my sight.” She spoke loudly.
I quickly walked off to Sansa’s bed chamber, thinking about Jon the whole way there.
“Where we’re you?” Sansa spoke.
“I’m sorry, I-I was with Jon.” I blushed.
She squealed. “Tell me everything.” She spoke, handing me her hairbrush as she sat down at the dresser.
It was like having a permanent best friend, I was only two years older than Sansa.
I carefully undid the intricate braids in her hair and brushed her copper locks.
“We danced…sort of.” I smiled.
“Was he any good?” She frowned.
“No.” We both laughed.
We giggled and spoke until she had to go to bed. Laughing about Jon and how she was to marry prince Joffrey.
You walked along the empty passages towards the servants quarters. Through the snow covered courtyard. 
I was pulled from the happy memory when the lock to the chamber rattled and Ramsey and two of his guards entered.
I dropped the soup onto the floor, my hands must have been shaking.
“Oh clumsy are we? You’ll need a new dress I suppose.” Ramsey pouted.
Tears filled my eyes.
“Luckily I have the perfect one for you.” He smirked and held out some purple material…open back.
He wanted Jon to see my pain, to see that I belonged to him. I shook my head and tears fell from my eyes.
His guards grabbed my wrists and shoved me onto the bed, i sobbed when they began to tie my hands to the headboard. They ripped away the gown I was wearing and I could no longer see Ramsey, and that scared me more than anything.
“This will hurt darling.” I could hear the smile in his voice. And I screamed and sobbed as a hard whip hit my back, digging into my spine, I felt blood pour down my back.
It hurt again and again, 20 times he hit me, 20 times I screamed and 20 times I did not prey for help, I wished for death.
He left me tied there, facing the wall, bleeding.
I cried for a long time until I fell asleep from exhaustion. Naked and beaten.
The morning was a rush, Bran had fallen from the tallest tower and hadn’t woken up. Lady Katlin was devastated and Ned had informed Sansa and I we were leaving for kings landing tomorrow. He had been offered the position of hand of the king.
He also informed me that Jon was to become a man of the nights watch.
I walked as fast as I could to his room, my dress blowing behind me in the wind. I tried desperately not to cry.
I shoved his door open and there he was packing his things.
As he turned to me I slapped him, hard.
“Were you not going to tell me!” I yelled, the tears began to fall.
He swallowed hard and looked down, and then at me…my face.
“I didn’t know how-“
“Lies!” I screamed, tears falling like snowflakes.
“I love you! And I didn’t know how to say goodbye to the one thing! The one good thing in my life! The only thing that matters!” He yelled too now.
You cried harder.
“You are the only thing keeping me from going! But I can’t love you, n/n….I can’t! I’m a bastard, and I refuse to force you to burden that name too. You are going to king’s landing tomorrow, you’ll meet a Duke of something there and you’ll grow old in a castle, and have beautiful daughters and strong sons.” Jon was crying too, he held my shoulders.
“No-“ I shook my head. “I don’t want that…. I love you Jon snow. I will never love anyone else. I want to run away with you, I want to carry your children, I want to grow old with you!” I sobbed.
He shook his head, and pressed his forehead to mine.
“I don’t care if you’re a bastard- it’s a stupid title. Like king or queen it’s just a name. But you’re so much more than that you’re brave and kind, loving, you’re funny and smart and-“ he kissed me, gently but passionately.
For a moment everything made sense. All the stars aligned and the puzzle fit together beautifully.
But then I pulled away.
“I love you.” We stated at the same time, we both laughed lightly.
There was a heavy silence after that. I knew I had to go to kings landing, and he knew he had to go to the wall, to make something of himself.
“Promise me.” I spoke slowly as he held my cheeks. “Promise me when I see you again you’ll kiss me, like you just did, promise me that someday we’ll grow old together. Promise me-“ I choked and he kissed my forehead. “Promise that I’ll see you again.”
He nodded. “I promise.” He knelt to the floor and kissed my hand, “ I promise I’ll come back for my princess.” He spoke.
I smiled through the tears as he stood.
“Promise you’ll write to me…every day.” He whispered as we hugged. I nodded.
“Promise you’ll write back.” He chuckled and nodded against my head.
That was goodbye.
I rode with Ramsey on his horse, my back aching and my lips blue. I was freezing in the revealing dress. Bruises, gashes, hickeys, scars and deep wounds covered my body.
We stopped after a long ride. I saw horses approaching in the distance. My heart sunk, I didn’t want Jon to see me like this. What if he had moved on.
I must have looked terrible because Sansa took in a sharp breath before demanding my release. There he was, Jon…my Jon.
I almost smiled when I saw him, almost.
He looked older, a fuller beard and darker eyes, he was taller. He was handsome.
He looked devastated when he saw me. I looked down at the floor, not seeing the tears fill his eyes.
They debated the war that was to come, tomorrow. And Rickons release.
I began to shiver.
“Give her a coat she’ll freeze!” Jon yelled. His voice was husky and sad. I looked at the anger on his face.
Ramsey smiled.
“Jon don’t-“ I tried to explain it was just one of his games but Ramsey hit me, across the cheek.
Jon’s horse jerked forward as he drew his sword but his men held him back.
And then we rode away, at the perfect angle for Jon to see my back.
Ramsey threw me back into my cell, I cried…I didn’t want Jon to fight- I feared Ramsey would win.
I felt my heart sink…I had imagined seeing him again for so many years and it broke me to know that might’ve been the last time.
Last I saw him he was 16, only a boy. I was 15, a young girl who knew nothing of the world outside winterfell.
I knew not of vicious fighters like sir clegane or horrible woman like Cersei. I wouldn’t have imagined such an unfair ruler as Joffrey. Or such an abusive leader as Ramsey.
I wouldn’t have ever imagined seeing Theon like that….like reek. Ramsey told me he’d to the same to me if I disobeyed him. Another Greyjoy to his collection.
I hadn’t looked death in the eye the last time i saw Jon and yet now I had seen so much of it, it all seemed insignificant.
I heard of Jon’s battles, I even heard of his death. Seeing him again was like seeing a ghost. I wasn’t the same girl he left at winterfell but I had the same heart.
“You’re going to take someone’s eye out.” I smiled across the courtyard as I saw Jon and Robb attempting to sword fight in the snow, they kept slipping on the ice.
“That’s the point my lady.” Robb smiled.
“It’s not that simple.” Jon huffed.
“Can I have a go.” I asked gesturing to their swords.
They both chuckled until they realized I was serious.
“The arena is no place for a lady.” Robb spoke, he looked a bit sympathetic though.
I frowned.
Jon was about to speak until Theon called them to lunch.
That evening when I was lying on my bed I felt something shake me awake.
“Jon?” I frowned in the dark. He nodded.
“Come on.” He pulled me out of bed.
“Where are we going?” I asked but he shhhhed me.
“You’ll see, it’s a surprise.” He whispered.
He dragged me out to the courtyard, where he lit a bunch of candles.
I smiled.
“Jon it’s beautiful.”
“Like you.” He responded, both our cheeks flushed.
“You sure you’re ready?” He asked me, changing the subject.
“For?”
“You’re greatest opponent.” He smiled and threw me a sword which landed on the floor in front of me. I smiled.
“Thank you.” I looked at him. He nodded.
He spent the rest of the night trying to teach me how to fight, and by 4AM I could have a basic spar with him.
He quickly blew out all the candles and lead me back to my chambers.
“Was I any good?” I asked.
He nodded as we walked.
“Are you just saying that?” I asked again.
He smiled. “You were better than Theon let’s put it that way.”
I smiled.
Ramsey chained me up and dragged me outside of winterfell with Rickon. We both got a bad hit when I hugged him, I was so relieved he was alright.
I watched as Ramsey explained the rules of his stupid little trick, how rickon had to run across the field to Jon. It was too easy. There was a catch.
I watched as he began to run and I watched Ramseys men began to load their crossbows.
I began to scream. “Nooo! Stop!” I screamed and they hit me, but I didn’t stop, I had to warn him.
Jon began to ride towards his brother… holding out his hand. But there it was, another stark gone.
My own scream was silent in my ears, I couldn’t hear anything as I watched him fall to the floor.
I sobbed. I watched Jon loose his horse and begin to take on an entire army by himself. I screamed again.
I felt Ramsey pull at my chains and drag me back to winterfell. Leaving the battle of the bastards. His war that he wasn’t even fighting.
Leaving the carnage. He took me to the courtyard. He put me on the execution platform and tied a rope around my neck. He explained how if Jon came to save me, the floor would disappear and so would I.
I waited, I saw the bodies pile up through the windows in the castle walls. I watched the giant break down winterfells gates. I smiled and cried when I saw him….just Jon.
“You’re too late.” Ramsey smiled and pointed at me. Jon’s face dropped he was covered in blood.
“No!” I yelled as I watched one of Ramseys men move to pull the lever.
Jon began to run towards me, as a red haired man threw an axe at the soldier. It killed him as he pulled the switch. I closed my eyes and took in a sharp breath.
I opened my eyes, Jon had caught me. I smiled as a tear ran down my cheek. He looked at me, examining my face.
His red hair friend cut the rope and jon put me down.
Ramsey began to load his crossbow.
“Jon.” I said and pointed at Ramsey.
His hands left my hips, and I almost missed his touch.
He used some debris as a shield as Ramsey fired arrows at him, he grew closer and closer to him.
I watched as Jon beat him up. A part of me liked that Ramsey would die here, today. A part of me knew it was wrong.
“Stop!” I let out. Jon looked at me and then at Sansa, still punching. And he did, he stopped.
He walked off into winterfell.
I ran across the courtyard to Sansa and we held each other. Tight.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. She laughed.
“Are you?” She scoffed.
We quickly decided Ramsey should be reunited with his pets. He didn’t deserve to live. Not even as a prisoner.
Later that evening I found myself in Aryas old bed chambers attempting to stitch up some of my cuts. I heard a knock at the door and looked up.
Jon.
“Hello.” I spoke.
“Hi.”
I slowly stood up.
It wasn’t long before his lips were on mine. We kissed for a long time, passionately. A kiss that made up for all our time lost.
We pulled away breathless, both crying.
“You stopped writing letters.” I spoke, he smiled.
“You stopped writing back.” He answered.
He hugged me, gently. I hugged him back as tightly as I could.
“You’re taller.” I smiled.
“You’re shorter.”
We both laughed.
He sat me on the bed and helped me stitch up my wounds. He held my hand tightly as he poured alcohol on my back.
We spent hours catching up.
We both sat on the end of the bed, my head on his shoulder.
“I thought you were dead.” I told him. “Twice.”
He chuckled. “You gave me a few scares too.”
“How was the wall?”
“Cold.” He looked down at me. I laughed.
“Is it true? The whitewalkers?” I asked more seriously now.
He sighed. “Unfortunately.”
“I’ve fought them, they’re too strong. I fear we won’t win this battle. But I’ll make sure you’re as far south as south goes-“
“No!” I interrupted, shaking my head.
Tears brimmed in his waterline.
“I’m not leaving again….I just got you back. We’re going to grow old together, remember?” My voice broke. “Even if you’ve found someone else-“
“There’s no one else.” He brushed his hand over my cheek.
“If you fight, I’ll fight.” I spoke.
“You did have a really good teacher.” He stated. I playfully nudged him as he smiled.
“I love you…just Jon, I always have.” I finished.
“I love you too, princess y/n Greyjoy.” He kissed me again gently.
“Snow.” I corrected and he frowned. “Queen y/n snow.”
A smile took over his whole face.
“If you’ll have me, that is? King Jon snow.”
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rise-my-angel · 4 months
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Jon Snow and Robb Stark
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Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader
Length: 17.5k
Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, discussions of various kinks, mentions of past sexual assault and trauma, talk of pregnancy, hard dom/soft dom/sub dynamics explored, bdsm related content
Notes: The dynamics are based off of pairings from my series Heart of the Great Wolf, but can be read on it's own for the most part. Broad strokes for it being read without my fic series context: the relationship timeline was the reader secretly seeing Jon pre start of show/books, then married to Robb in an arranged marriage during the Kings visit to Winterfell, and then back with Jon post his resurrection hence why his sections are split into two parts. Might contain some spoilers for part 3 and a bit of part 4, for my fic in some places.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
You two had never gotten far that normal aftercare was ever needed. Jon might be teasing, but he was gentle and slow, and that went right through start to finish.
Sometimes, all you had was the alone silence of the middle of the night, and whatever you two had tentatively done with one another always ended with a struggle to let the other go. Jon simply didn't have time or the freedom to take care of you after making you cum. Even when it was something more simple, kissing the other on his bed, his back against the wall and you perched in his lap, as the closest you got as a grind against his covered cock. Jon would kiss you gentle once on the lips another to your forehead as he held you tight until he was sure you were alright to be on your own.
The last thing he wanted was to send you off to your own chambers, feeling as if Jon had just mindlessly kicked you out.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
There is very little Jon takes more seriously then caring for you after sex. He knows exactly what he is, intense and overwhelming, and he knows he is rougher with you then he sometimes realizes in the moment.
As soon as you both settle from your peaks, Jon will pull you quick into his arms. Some nights he will keep you on his lap, tucking your face into his neck as he runs a hand over your hair and the other gentle along your back and waist, until he feels your breathing return to normal. Or Jon moves to lay you out, normally somewhat on your side so he can turn to face you, tucking you into his chest. His own face buries in your hair as his voice is low and rasping, soothing words to you of comfort. Praises of how well you did as he tries to convince himself to be gentle if he kisses you.
Jon will always ensure you feel safe, and loved before anything else, and he will keep running his hands gently on your skin and murmur comforts in your ear until he feels you fall asleep. Even then, he normally continues to stay awake, watching you until he finally feels his eyes beg for sleep of his own. The rougher he takes you, the more gentle and soothing Jons touch and words are after as he coaxes you back for him.
Robb Stark:
Robb is fully aware of how hard he goes with you. You have minimal experience outside of him, and he brought you into this sort of thing with rough thrusts and a dominating nature. But it also means he knows how much he needs to make up for that when it's all over.
He will check up on you, ask if he went too far or if you didn't enjoy something and the next time he pays close attention to how far you've dropped and when. Which with him, is often. But Robb switches when it's all over, and the second he looks at you, all he sees is the love of his life and he wants to bring you calmly back to him. He'll hold you, speak soothingly to you with tender touches along your skin and many times he tries to get you to talk. The more you talk, the more clear your head is, and if he can make you laugh then Robb knows you're alright.
Much of the time, you often end up falling asleep together in the same position your aftercare was spent. Robb usually on his back, his arms wrapped around you as he tucks you into his side and your head drapes comfortingly on his chest. For all his talk, Robb loves nothing more then to just lay in bed and cuddle with you when you're done, and he adores that you are just as needy for a loving touch.
If anything, aftercare that Robb needs from you, is to just let him hold you and keep you tucked into his arms as much as you need his touch to calm you down as well.
B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you were to ask Robb, his brother would joke that it's his hair he likes best about himself. But in truth, Jon never really thought much of it in that way. Of himself. He looked how he looked, and he didn't really care about much of it.
Robb was more handsome and Jon didn't really care what girls thought of how he looked because as long as you liked how he looked, that's all that mattered.
On you? Jon had two answers, if it were blatantly sexual Jon would say your breasts. Soft, seemed to be made to fit perfectly in his hands and you were sensitive as all hell, that simple touches could work you up in an instant.
Not sexually though, it would be your smile. Not just any, but that soft, gentle one you'd give him when no one else was looking, beacuse you just wanted him to know you were paying attention to him no matter what. You were so stone faced all the time, but whenever you'd give Jon that smile? It could make the worst of his days better in an instant.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Easily that would be his hands. He did much with them and despite the amount of which was death and bloodshed, Jon knew he never did it beacuse he liked it. Jons hands were to him, a reminder of the man he had become, someone who at their core, was a protector. Of you, of the innocent, fighting for what was right when no one else would make the sacrifice.
But they also were the same hands that calmed you down. Your worst moments, trapped still somewhere in a hell of Ramsay Boltons making, they were the same hands that would cup your cheeks, run along your soft skin until you looked at him with those eyes.
Eyes that were something he could never get enough of. Soft and wide, you held so much more emotion in them now then you ever did before, and Jon adored it. You almost couldn't hide from Jon as long as he could find your eyes, and read whatever was in your head in seconds. They were beautiful to him, and they were the same eyes he kept dreaming that your children together would have, and that made them the thing he adored the most.
That, and Jon knew he had a tendency to make you look him right in the eyes when he was inside you, and he was weak to how needing they always looked when you did.
Robb Stark:
Robb easily loves his hands. How since you've been married, since you escaped Kings Landing and came back to him, all hes wanted to do is use those same hands to protect you. It's easy to tell, Robb almost always has a hand on you if he's near and it's heavily rooted in how he knows your safe and he can protect you, if he feels you right beside him.
He also knows how much of a mess he makes of you with them in so many ways. Those hand go quickly from innocent and protective all the way to perverse in seconds. And he knows exactly where to put them to make you melt to him.
On you, his favourite more innocent part of your body is your hips. They're perfect to him, shaped just right to the way he can so easily imagine you with his child right in your arms, a son perched near your hip as even then, you still speak to his lords and knights with command. He has a hand on them a lot, likes to move you with hands on your hips, they're just soft and perfect for him.
More on the filthy side, Robb fully can admit he is utterly obsessed with your ass. He knows it, you know it, there's no question. He wants you in pants all the time just beacuse of how well they shape your ass, the harder he smacks them the more he watches your cheeks jiggle and he gets worked up aggressively when he can see the red outline of his hand print after he's slapped and groped your ass as much as he can get away with.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Call it insecurity, but Jon almost didn't want his end to be part of the equation with you. If he could make love to you and not have to worry about that, he'd have been ready a long time ago.
To him, sure it felt good, but when he was with you he was always plagued in the back of his mind. Getting you pregnant was truthfully his biggest fear, and so he spent a lot of time learning what felt best for you when he touched you, and not wanting to let you do much back. Jon loved learning what made you cum, but he was almost strict in not really letting you reciprocate. He liked making you feel good, and he didn't ever want to risk ruining your life by getting you pregnant, and he certainly refused to force his own child to be born a bastard.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon knew as soon as he slid inside you for the first time, it was different. Not a shred of that insecurity was in his mind anymore.
He fucked you against the wall that night steady and slow, and there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Pressing you tight against the wall and sinking as far as you could take him, all Jon wanted to do after, was do it again. And again. He dreamed about it, he craved it, he loved cumming inside you and he didn't have the sensibility or willpower anymore to stop himself.
He was quick all on his own to have everything to brew you moontea, he wasn't about to get reckless. Until you were both in the right place together, Jon would make sure part of taking care of you after was to make you some as you rested. Easing whatever parts of both your minds would worry if you became pregnant before either of you were ready.
But really, Jon wanted only to spill inside you, and when you couldn't take anymore then he'd paint your beautiful skin with whatever he still had left.
Robb Stark:
There are only two places Robb wants to cum, down your throat or inside your cunt. If some gets elsewhere then you look like a dream painted with his seed, but if he isn't cumming inside you, he wants it down your throat.
He would watch you swallow his seed and the man could almost orgasm again just from that sight and feeling. The knowledge that even just your stomach is filled with him, as much as he fills you with his cock, makes him lose his mind. And you swallow him so happily too, as if you love the taste of him and he suspects you are too embarrassed to admit you do.
But he also loves cumming inside you. At his core, Robb is a man dedicated to family, it means everything to him. And he wants every and any chance to start one with you, so he always wants to cum deep inside you as many times in a night as he an get away with. The more he does, the sooner likely you may find yourself pregnant.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
It's not dirty, nor is it much of a secret really, but Jon sometimes wondered if you truly understood just how long he's been in love with you.
He knew Lord Stannis Baratheon's daughter was coming to serve as his fathers ward, but he didn't think much of it until the day you arrived. He and Robb were 10 and had been in the training yard. But his memory was so striking and vivid when his father had come by with this small 8 year old girl with scared eyes looking everywhere with uncertainty.
Robb was swinging a practice sword at him, and almost accidentally smacked him in the head, beacuse Jon had stopped paying attention since he was staring so much. When he realized who you were, he almost wanted to throw up at realizing he was going to have to spend months in the same home as you, beacuse he thought you were the prettiest thing he's ever seen.
When you had been introduced to Robb, you looked at him after and asked what his name was. He was nervous telling you he was a Snow, but as soon as you asked simply if he was the other son of Lord Stark which your father mentioned, he realized you had barrelled right past the fact that he was a bastard and just lumped him in the same place as Robb.
Jon hadn't ever said it, but he was pretty sure he fell in love with you then, and it never stopped for even a second after.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon sort of has two secrets. One is more blatantly filthy, one is a little more serious. The serious one is something you think is only a joke.
He had told you once, that he had previously wondered when he was thinking of taking the black, if he should just take you far north instead. Leave, and build you a nice, warm home there where you could just be together. But in those dreams, Jon genuinely wanted children. He could see at least five, in that memory. Four little ones running around, and you swollen with his fifth child, beacuse who you two were didn't have to matter.
It was a sensitive subject for you now, and he would never even consider pushing before you were ready. But by present day when he would joke that his dream was up to ten children, Jon didn't know how to tell you that he wasn't really kidding. He never thought he would have a family, and now that he could with you, he wanted as many as you both could possibly have.
His second was blatantly filthy. Jon loved your breasts, perfect size for his rough hands and they were so sensitive. But Jon heard something from one of the free folk once, and now he held this dirty image of marking them up. Bruises and indents from his mouth and teeth until they turned colour, marking them right up until they were so sensitive you could tear up.
Then he wanted you to lay out on his bed, and he'd climb up over you and fuck them. Slide his cock in the space between your breasts and fuck them like he was inside you.
Then, just to finish the image, right when he was about to cum he'd pull back enough to make sure he coated both of your breasts in his seed, before grasping you again roughly to spread himself all over them.
Not in any life would Jon want to ask you for that, but it didn't stop him from thinking about everytime his teeth ran over the small buds on your breasts.
Robb Stark:
Robb has done it in small doses, tying up your wrists behind you, but Robb dreams of you letting him go a little more feral with it.
He wants you tied up all the way, at nothing but his mercy, can't move on your own, tie your pretty legs to the bed posts to keep you spread and your hands together up above your head. He'd blindfold you, too.
He wants to be so in control of everything that happens to your body in that scenario, without you even being allowed to see what he does, he wants you to trust him to such a degree you give up all your control left.
He won't ask you for that, he knows he'd be asking for something that's too extreme, so he does it in small doses. Makes you keep your eyes closed, ties only your wrists, only drags a small blade down a shift to expose your breasts when really if he could, Robb would do so much more. Maybe keep you standing in the middle of his bedroom, hang your arms up above your head with rope and cut off all your clothes like they're nothing to him. He has no idea where this desire has come from, but gods does he ever come up with new and inventive ways to ease you into every bit of it.
Maybe one day, you'll let him be enough of a animal, to just let him treat you like a pretty little slab of meat he can do whatever he wants with. Just once.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Not a shred of experience to be found. But Jon wasn't embarrassed about it.
He didn't care what others said about him, they didn't know Jon had you. Jon had been in love with you since he was 10, he never wanted any other girl that entire time, and he couldn't convince himself to look at one long enough to even try for a kiss. You and Jon were each others firsts. He was 18 by the time he kissed you that night in the wolfswood, and he was so happy he saved it for you.
After that, he dreamed of learning what you both liked together, and he enjoyed discovering all of it. You never went that far together, you both enjoyed taking it slow, but it was always at the exact same speed as the other.
So he'd let Theon make his jokes about him not being with a girl, Jon and you would get there when you both were ready.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon knew his approach to physical intimacy with you was different now, but he didn't like thinking about why.
On one hand, he knew you had much more natural experience. You married Robb, he took your maidenhood, and he taught you everything you had learned of sex in the three and a half years you shared. But then you were the Boltons captive, and every single bit of confidence, every part of you that was growing comfortable with sex was destroyed, taken away from you by force at the hands of Ramsay. And in a horrible way, whatever confidence Jon had spent 6 years building with you, was taken away from him too.
Calling his time with Ygritte “experience” made him feel unwell. It wasn't that. It was survival. Jon knew in his time travelling with her, he had tricked himself into thinking it was normal. Pretended it was normal to never want it, pretended it was normal to actively feel such deep self hatred if his body even remotely enjoyed the physical sensations alone, pretended it was normal to actively find ways to avoid letting her near him if he could. He didn't want any of what Ygritte took from him, but that was all the experience in terms of sex that Jon had.
It was why he pushed so hard to do certain things, like putting his mouth between your legs, with you as often as he did. If he consumed his mind with doing it with you, it negated the force in which made him learn about it in the first place. It wasn't easy, and he still knew he was avoiding talking about the worst of it with you, but Ramsay had hurt you more then Ygritte forced him, and so Jon preferred to focus on taking care of your safety.
Robb Stark:
If he were to summarize it in simple terms, Robb would say girls liked him more then he liked the girls. He wasn't stupid, he understood it. Robb knew he was handsome. He was the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark, and he was also the heir to Winterfell. Robb knew he had a charm to his attitude that swooped in the easy giggles from girls.
But Robb more enjoyed that in a playful manner then he did serious. Sure he had sex with some of them, a few of them more then once but he never really had feelings for them beyond surface level affection. Never enough that his father or mother even would've really met any of them except in coincidental passing. Hell, compared to Theon the two men used to joke, Robb may as well have the experience equal to that of a septa.
By the time he married you, he hadn't been with a girl physically in years, and even if he did, all it meant was he knew how a girls body worked a little better then most guys. He knew your body better then you did before he ever touched you though, considering how overwhelmed he made you on your wedding night.
You were always so innocent compared to him, that he knew it made you feel as if he had hundreds of girls before you. But in truth it had only been a handful. And more importantly, he had never been anywhere near in love before he married you, and so you were the only experience he cared about.
He didn't fuck you on your wedding night like he did other girls, he fucked you in a way he had carefully planned out that you would enjoy. His experience just meant that he went in with more confidence then not on your wedding night.
F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
You two had never gotten that far, so he never really had a reason to think about what he preferred.
Jon did enjoy standing behind you when you two were alone, his hands gently trailing along your skin or under the collar of your dress. His hands rough and pulling gasps that you would bit your lip to prevent when he would twist and pull at the small pink buds of your breasts. Jon would always press his lips lightly to your neck, beacuse he loved how you would instinctual lean back into him. Rely on Jons firm stature to keep you standing on two feet as he eased you into his touch.
Maybe he was biased too, but if he were touching you more intimately, he liked having you sit on a surface as he stood between your legs. It was the way you two were positioned when he touched you for the first time out in the wolfswood, and he treasured that day a lot. He loved cupping your cheeks when standing before you like that, knowing as soon as he'd let one hand drift down your arm, you'd almost tense up in wonder if you'd feel his hand jump to pull the skirt of your dress up. Or if he'd simply wrap it around your waist to pull you more into his kiss innocently.
It wasn't a position of sex he liked about it, he just knew you associated it with the same afternoon he did, and Jon loved to tease you with his touch so you could only wait and see if he'd once more grace you with the experience again.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
There was no question Jon didn't just prefer missionary, he adored it.
Not a single other way he's taken you has Jon liked more or even anywhere near close to when he simply hovers over you with your legs gently spread for his body. One large hand hoisting your thigh up onto his hip while he felt your other leg move to almost wrap partially around one of his legs as if needing him to keep you steady flat out on the bed.
He loved taking you when you were nice and comfortable, spread out on his bed or on the furs in front of the fire in his chambers. He'd hover over you and be able to see every inch of you, move your legs either apart or over his shoulders when his mouth watered at the thought of tasting you. He could kiss you anywhere that way, and hold you down, as his strength meant he could keep you there as he kissed his way down to your cunt. And it also meant he could follow that path right back up and force you to taste yourself on his tongue while his other hand moved to sink his cock deep inside you. All the while, Jon could watch you and your eyes perfectly and you never had to do the work if he held you there. Just the way Jon wanted it.
Jon loved being able to control the pace he would fuck you at, ensure you were nothing but in deep pleasure. He could reach his hands up, interlock his fingers with yours and press them into the sheets. He could watch your face twist in pleasure, and your hands would tighten around his own fingers too, the closer you got. Or he'd let them go free, and you'd unknowingly claw your nails down his back as you arched into him as you came. He could bury his face in your neck or hair and the position meant he could go as fast or gentle as he wanted.
There was not a single thing which would beat how much he could focus on you when Jon took you in simple missionary.
Robb Stark:
He loves taking you from behind, and there is no way Robb could deny it. Nor would be bother to. He was a gods forsaken wolf about it.
The second time he ever fucked you, he had been apart from you for months. Now back, you were both going to war, you had just escaped Kings Landing and hadn't been with him since your wedding night. But he had spent so much of that time, letting his mind drift to you during his days, that finally seeing you again he almost jumped into it as if you'd been with him all that time. Theon had once commented that he could've mistaken you two for being married for decades, the way Robb would bring you up more then he ever had in the eleven years the men knew one another.
But then he had you back, in his bed as you raked your small hands through his curls that so gently woke him up, and more importantly, woke his cock up. He flipped you over, and as soon as you were on your hands and knees he yanked your hips so you basically were only lifted off the bed only by your ass, so he could fuck you from behind. The way in which you so willingly submitted to him in that position, how Robb could pound into you like that as fast and rough as he freely wanted, and all you could do was cry his name and take it.
You soaked his cock like none other when he had you on your hands and knees, and sometimes he'd shove a hand in your hair and hold your face down to the pillow and all you'd do was clench tightly around his cock.
He knew he was acting nothing of a gentleman, and his mother would be utterly ashamed that Robb would take his wife like a complete brute. But when you were bent over in front of his cock, giving yourself over to his mercy or lack thereof and would beg for more even when he was rough about it? It made him lose his mind.
Besides, Robb was quite blatantly obsessed with your ass and from that position, he could smack and grope it all he liked. But when you really lost yourself to his cock? Your own hips bouncing back on him the whole time he fucked into you? Well it would just make him run his mouth even filthier towards you for it.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Goofy was not a word anyone had ever used to describe Jon Snow.
He was brooding, intense, he felt things very raw and that extended to you entirely. Jon would tease or smirk at the start when he'd kiss you, but the second it got a little more serious he dropped the act. He took your pleasure seriously, your mood seriously, and he didn't want his time with you to turn into a laugh when it was such limited time in the first place to have with you.
He loved to hear you laugh, don't get him wrong, but his physical time with you was limited, and it just wasn't the place he wanted to do that.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If Jon was not a humorous man before, he was even less so now.
Both in life and sex, but it was more obvious when he was with you physically. Jon didn't even smile when he fucked you, not beacuse he didn't like it, or love you, but he felt nothing to be amused by. Sex was very serious to him, your safety and your well being couldn't be watched if Jon was goofing around or making you laugh.
He dedicated every ounce of focus to taking care of you, and he didn't like humour being involved there. Your safety was not funny to Jon. Sex with him was never goofy. It was intense, raw, and overwhelming for both of you. He had time to make you laugh later, that's what his words of teasing were for.
Not for the bedroom, though. Not now, not ever.
Robb Stark:
Robb would chuckle dark in what he know was a bit of a sadistic tendency towards you.
Would chuckle as you were a crying mess for him, or sometimes he would laugh at how you sounded begging for him, or gasping out that you love him. It meant you had him comfortable enough to drop the dominance enough to show the cracks of the mischievous boy underneath the rough man.
Even better was if he could make you laugh after sex, that was even better then during. He loved hearing you laugh, it was a gorgeous sound so many men would never hear in their lives. Robb loved that he was trusted enough with you, that you would let him hear you giggle like a little girl in the most venerable of moments of intimacy. He loved seeing you relaxed enough to feel that amused at anything.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)
Jon Snow:
If there was a place in Westeros which that kind of personal grooming for men was common, the North wasn't it.
He didn't let it get out of control, but it wasn't as if smooth, clean cut men were the norm here, and Jon was not that anyways. His hair atop his head was long, wild, black, and thick and it was around his cock as well. Coarse and rough, more like his facial hair.
But at the least Jon did enough to ensure it was fair to you.
Always clean and trimmed enough that it wasn't out of control, but Jon didn't exactly put time into it. He didn't really care, only enough that was to treat you right.
Besides, if Jons cock was deep inside you, he knew when it was on the longer, wilder side, that coarse dark hair could brush against your clit and he knew the sensation was enough to make you grasp tightly around his shoulders and back. Once he learned that, he trimmed far less often.
After all, he knew you liked how much his facial hair could burn against your sensitive skin, so why would the hair around his cock be any different.
Robb Stark:
He won't lie to himself, Robb is sort of a classic Northern man in that sense. Body hair didn't feel like something he should be ashamed of. He wasn't a wild man around his cock, but he didn't trim as much as what he assumed fancy Southern men would like to do.
Tons of them in the Kings visit were clean cut, no facial hair to be found, and groomed all fancy, and Robb hated that his mother had his curls trimmed and face clean cut. She said it was for the Kings visit, but he knew it was supposed to be for you, even though Robb knew you liked him with facial hair. You had told him as such more then once before. But at least during the Kings visit, Jon had to suffer with him on that one.
The hair by his cock was dark, coarse, and unlike the hair on his head which tinted a Tully red in the sunlight, below his hair was as dark as it ever was. It was trimmed only enough that it wasn't obscene for you, but you also clearly didn't care that much. You sucked his cock no matter what state the hair around his cock was in, so as long as it was manageable he didn't think much of it.
Robb knew he fucked you like a wild beast, so maybe it made sense he kept himself groomed only slightly above one in return.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon doesn't have much of an active physical relationship with you, mostly due to the nature of keeping things secret.
The biggest part of what he can give you, is simply romance at its core. Gentle touches, soft hands, doing little things for you and always with low tones and comforting murmurs in your ear. Sometimes if he had you in his lap, then he could feel his heart tearing at him a bit, insecurity yelling as he doubts whether or not he's treating you well.
He wants you to be loved, no matter what he's doing and even though you both hadn't reached having sex, he's just as romantic about all the rest as he is when you're both innocent and fully clothed.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon is as romantic in the moment as he is utterly intense.
His emotions are at an all time high when he's fucking you, and yet he feels almost terrified of letting you think he's anything but obsessed with loving you with all his heart. His touches are tighter, rougher, words harsher as they come out, but Jon will cling you to just as much as he knows you do him.
Sex is intense with Jon, and making sure you feel loved, safe and cared for is his biggest priority.
You've both had your share of being forced on by another person and Jon will do everything to ensure you never come close to that again with him. Jon knows he's addicted to you, worships you, he'd go to the ends of the earth and back for you. And if you don't feel that and more when Jon is inside you, then he would consider that a failure on his part.
He's raw and intense, but romance and intimacy is what he treasures with you now and he would do anything to ensure he never gives you less then that.
Robb Stark:
If Robb was aware of a massive problem he struggled with, it was that he tended to forget the romantic side of sex with you.
He loved you, he adored you in every single way, but Robb definitely was a bit on the rough, and hard dominant side when he fucked you. Rough attitude, degrading words, harsh and controlling touches and he didn't kiss you a lot during sex.
He wanted to hear you whine and beg and he couldn't do that if he were gentle and sweet. He could be the meanest parts of himself knowing that he would take gentle care of you the moment he was done.
You were the love of his life, he wanted to take you home and treat you like the actual Queen you deserved to be with him in Winterfell, but at war it was different. He wasn't always like that during sex, but it was common enough that he had a heavy heart knowing you trusted him to truly take care of you when you handed your obedience over to him like that.
Robb knows he is more of a man that thinks of sex as fucking rather then making love.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you were in Winterfell, no, he didn't masturbate.
Jon wanted to spend time with you, treasure every chance he got to feel your soft skin, your beautiful lips against his. If you were in the North, Jon had no thought of it, beacuse he had everything he would be fantasizing about anyways. You slowly explored things together, so if you were right in front of him, that was enough. But you weren't always there.
He hadn't started touching himself thinking of you until nearing fifteen. But really, what else was a teenage boy, with a crush on his best friend, supposed to do? It happened more after he kissed you though, he was eighteen and exploring more of an appetite for things sexual in nature anyways.
When you weren't there he would try and hold off, but sometimes you were gone for so long that he couldn't help it. It wasn't ever as satisfying as even being near you like that, but it was all Jon had when you'd be away from him for months.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon has you. He doesn't want anything else.
He came back to life, and only minutes after that did Jon slide his cock deep inside you for the first time, and he lost all interest in doing it himself then and there. He wanted you, your touch. Your wet, warm, and tight walls that clenched around him.
The only time he came close to masturbating anymore, was if he would bring your hand to his cock, covering it with his bigger one and help guide you to stroke him. But only ever until you felt confident to take over, otherwise any touch his cock got, he wanted it to be with you.
Masturbating just didn't interest him now. Jon had you, and he wanted you. Why settle for less then when he knew you wanted him as well?
Robb Stark:
Never once since you came back to him after escaping Kings Landing, did Robb not have you right there at his side. So in truth, Robb hadn't masturbated since you came back. What would he want that was better then his pretty little wife right in front of him?
When he was acting Lord of Winterfell, he admits he masturbated a bit more in the very dead of night then he used too. Partially the stress of everything, being away from his new wife after one night messed with his head on top of everything.
Robb would end up kneeling on the bed, grasping rough at what was supposed to be your pillow and stroke his cock. Through gritted teeth Robb would mutter as he did so how much he missed you, how much he wanted you back with him and how much he wanted to teach you beyond your first night together.
But then you were finally back, and Robb once more found no love for his hand when he had his pretty, needy little Queen ready to do whatever he said.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Without ever actually having sex, Jon didn't really have much of a concept of that kind of thing. He knew what he liked when you two were physical, but that level of sexual interest hadn't existed yet.
He had things he liked of course. He adored when you would run your hands through his hair, nails scratching along his scalp and giving little instinctual tugs when Jon would be a little more bold. He also knew he liked to take care of you, he liked making sure you felt good, and he loved to tease you until you might just pass out from a flustered embarrassment.
It was never in a context of genuine sex, but you and Jon learned together what you liked. You just didn't have the chance to take it that far.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you were to ask Jon directly, he'd say he didn't really have any kinks. But the more he'd think about you, the more he touched you it was clear there were some major ones.
Always making sure he was soft about it, and gentle as to not push you too far, but Jon loved being dominant with you. His entire life was at the bottom, out of his control and lacked any choice. But now? Now things were different, and you trusted him with your well being during sex and Jon took charge of that with immense responsibility.
He didn't like feeling not totally in control when with you, and dominance was the most natural way Jon presented himself during sex.
Jon didn't admit it to you, but he was obsessed with cumming inside you for a reason. He wanted to fill you with his seed constantly, over and over, keep it deep inside you until neither of you had anything left.
Jon would genuinely dream about keeping you tied to his bed, fucking you over and over, until you were with child.
Gods help him when he was with you, and his mind started to think about getting you pregnant. Because Jon didn't stand a chance of composure after that, all he dreamed of was you letting him spill inside you again and again until you swelled with his child.
And if that was a kink, then Jon absolutely had it.
Robb Stark:
Robb knows he can get a bit mean during sex.
He's dominant, very dominant. A strong, controlling weight on top of you that knows exactly how to order you around in the most pleasurable way for you. He gets off on being controlling dominant, and he also really gets off on how insanely obedient he's taught you to be.
You trust him so much that he could ask you to anything and you'd do it because you trust him to take care of you. It drives him mad how much you submit to him.
How he adores you with all his heart, but Robb degrades you like you're a whore in some brothel he's paying a copper for. And how much you love it. He so easily calls you a needy little slut, his whore of a Queen and you will whine everytime he hisses those things in your ear.
He also admits, that perhaps what helped him get used to being called a King, was hearing you say it as he fucked you. Having his Queen beg for her King to fuck her certainly made Robb learn he enjoyed it, at least as long as it came begging out of your pretty mouth.
L = Location (favourite places to do the do)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
One might think his favourite place to be with you was the privacy of his own room, but it was really the opposite.
Jon had five siblings, three of the youngest which liked to barge in on him at any moment during the day, meaning anything he and you did in his room like that had to be very easily hidden.
Most of the time, you and Jon liked to just go for a ride on horseback for a while, and wherever in the wolfswood you would end up was where the most exploration you two had with the other. No one was around, the likelihood someone would find you exactly there was so minimal in the vast, large expanse of the not very populated North.
You both loved being outdoors like that, where no eyes would find you and you could be as close and affectionate with the other with total freedom.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon has two similar favourites, and a guilty pleasure.
Mostly, he loves taking you in his room. Either he wants to lay you out on his own bed where he can climb over top of you and take you as many times as he wanted, or Jon would do so as you were both bare on the fur in front of his fire. His room always ran cold, but between the heat of the fire he diligently would tend to, and the quite warm temperature of Jons own body heat, even on the coldest nights he could have you sweating if he fucked you in front of the fire for long enough.
He loved the intimacy, the freedom of fucking you where was the most personal to you both, and now his position and title meant being barged in on was unlikely. Jon would pull you into his arms, and let you tuck into his chest bare as anything as you fell asleep. If in his bed it was easier to cover you up. But if he laid with you after out on the fur, if someone walked in now, that was their fault.
He did however, have a more perverse pleasure in fucking you up against the Weirwood tree in the Winterfell godswood, the night sky all around. Jon loved taking you deep for only the unjudging eyes of the old gods to bear witness to his need for you.
Robb Stark:
If Robb is a traditional man in any way it's how he has no interest in fucking you anywhere but in his room, in his bed, or at least what tent acted for your room out in his army camp.
He's fine with people hearing you, if anything he hopes his men have had a few good nights with their own hand listening to the degree to which you whine and beg when his cock is pounding into you. But he never once would let them see even a glimpse. Not a chance.
One time Theon had walked in, and Robb got so mad at what he almost saw that the Greyjoy later swore Grey Wind was about to rip his head off. After that, Robb would have Grey Wind guard right outside your tent together, as long as he was there, no one came in for any reason.
The direwolf would come in to sleep when it was all over, but he kept guard so Robb could fuck you into the mattress as hard as he wanted without any more risk of someone seeing you so pretty as you took his cock over and over.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
For a man who was terrified of getting you pregnant, Jon knew it was strange to get worked up watching you with children. So much of the time you were stoic and serious. But you were so soft and easy to smile with children that he couldn't get enough of it.
Much more specific, the first kiss you shared after each time you would return to Winterfell would work Jon up. You two always having to wait until the dead of night, and finally when he was able to kiss you after however many months it had been, it inevitably turned into you both kissing passionately for quite a while.
Jon had to learn how to be very controlled when he wanted you, knowing neither of you had the freedom of just being able to express that whenever you desired.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Were you to strip Jon down to his bare essentials, he would honestly just be turned on by you at any time. It took mostly, for you to even be a thought in Jons head for him to want you.
Your soft eyes gentle smile and even more gentle and caring touches worked him up. Worse so, the more innocent your kiss, the more genuine your touch that wasn't sexual, it would make Jons cock the hardest the quickest.
You two were together and had the freedom to show it, Jon had no more reason to want to hide how much you made him want you. It definitely wasn't always sexual, but sometimes it was a struggle for Jon to not let it turn sexual.
He didn't want you thinking he saw you as an object to fuck, sex was something he trusted so much between you both that it was an extension of how much he loved and adored you. But it also meant, you made his cock stir more often now then Jon had likely even been hard in his entire previous life.
Robb Stark:
Jealousy was one of Robbs most blatant traits. He was so jealous of the way other men looked at you or spoke about you to the degree that it made him noticeably possessive.
But what made it so strong as a need to fuck you, was how little you noted or cared about any attention that didn't come from Robb. You ignored or didn't know what men were leering at you like, but the second Robb came over with rough touches and a strained voice he was so jealous, you'd ease it by instantly going to him with gentle words and a soothing, innocent touch.
He wants his men to hear you, because none of them with their whores visiting their own tents get from them, sounds anywhere near what Robb pulls from you for free.
You are the love of his life, and what turns him on too much is how easy it is for you to remind men of that just by your innocent dedication to his love in public. He would keep a hand on you, kiss you, be sweet with you in front of his men and you would get flustered over it but let him do it because you knew that's how Robb liked to treat you.
Robbs own jealousy was a motivator, but he also knew he was easily turned on by your continued ability to be so damned innocent.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
You would tell him it's ironic, considering half of the time he spent with you in the training yard over the years was him knocking you into the dirt, but Jon would never do anything that would hurt you.
His touch was sure to always be gentle no matter what, and never too rough or demanding. He also knew that he didn't want to treat you the way he knew a lot of men treated women they were with. Or if he were honest, the way Jon reluctantly knew Theon was with women. You shared a stretch of corridors with Theon where your own chambers were and thus you and Jon spent much time when in your chambers, coping with what was inevitable to hear.
Jon didn't want to be harsh and vulgar, treat you in a way that would make you feel as if you were just like a whore in a brothel he paid for. You had brought up, or tried to nervously bring up something you'd heard about from one of the girls around and Jon shot it down.
He knew somewhat of the girls you meant, and a few of them worked the brothel just outside the castle walls in Winter Town. And Jon just didn't want to treat you the way most men treated those women.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
A lot of his previous turn offs remained the same. Only now, Jon had to work on his own intense possessiveness versus his needs. He was a lot rougher with you now, and he had to consciously remind himself that he didn't want you to feel used.
He didn't fuck you hard like that beacuse he wanted to treat you that way, Jon would just lose himself in how you felt around his cock. But it all tied into not liking to feel out of control. He struggled to let you suck his cock, beacuse he would too easily lose control and overwhelm you by going too rough.
Jon didn't like being out of control, but he knew he was lucky that you did not want to be the dominant one in bed, as much as Jon did not want to be the submissive one. It worked well, you trusted to hand your safety over to Jon and he got to be the one to take care of you entirely. He wasn't really much interested in the opposite, he didn't want to be ordered around or told what to do, not for this, not with you.
He knew he had to work on how intense and rough he would get, but Jon sometimes just didn't realize how rough he was getting. You never seemed to dislike it, but he didn't want you thinking you were just here for someone to fuck. He loved you, he adored you, and he wanted to be the one to take care of you.
Anything less then being in charge, Jon just wasn't interested in anymore. If he ever really was in the first place.
Robb Stark:
Robb really only had two hard limits for himself. He didn't want to fuck you with any risk that someone was going to see you, and he refused to do anything that would genuinely hurt you.
He went rough and played dirty but not once did Robb like the idea that you could get hurt by his hands. You trusted him with your safety in bed and Robb would always take that responsibility with the heavy weight it deserved. He knew your limits and would never push you, if he thought he was at risk he would stop.
Check in with you, gauge what kind of response you gave and decide if he needed to ease up for your sake or not. Robb would slap your ass until it was red and painful, but only beacuse you liked when he did it. That smacking would never go anywhere but your ass, and maybe your cunt when you were being particularly needy.
Otherwise his biggest no is having anyone see you. Again, he ended up having Grey Wind stand guard outside his tent anytime he intended to fuck you, just to make sure the King in the North was given the proper time with his pretty little wife that he needed without interruption. You were his, and he wanted none of these men in his camp to have a chance at seeing you no matter what he teased with.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
It was ironic that you ended up being the one married with more experience, considering that Jon knew you had so little idea about sex it almost was endearing.
He had joked once that if your chambers were by Theons, how did you still know so little about sex. And you'd shove him all flustered, muttering that just beacuse you could hear sure as hell didn't mean you listened.
You had come to him one day about taking his cock in your mouth, and Jon knew you had learned it from those girls who worked in and around the Winter Town brothel. You weren't a whore he was paying for, he didn't want you on your knees like they would for any brute who had a copper to spare.
He had known somewhat about tasting a girl between her legs, but by the time he heard about it, you weren't graced with enough time for him to even try and bring it up. It was a story Theon had told when he, Jon, and Robb had a little too much wine one night. Robb had shoved the man and gotten up to find a tree to piss on, leaving Jon to listen to a drunk story but he was far too unconfident to ask a single question about it. By the time Jon might have wanted to bring it up to you, you had to leave for Kings Landing and wouldn't return until you did with the royal company to marry Robb.
And that was the end of anything he assumed.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If Jon could abuse his new title, and simply order you to not suck his cock anymore, he might have. But that was too authoritarian, and way too controlling.
The issue for him was, Jon didn't like being the one not in responsible control, and he was too wild and unpredictable when you took his cock in your mouth. Jon would much rather live and die between your legs.
It was one of the first things he did when he had come back, and maybe that turned it into an addiction. Jons mouth watered at the very thought of tasting you, and he a time or two had done it for a few hours continuously beacuse he truly couldn't convince himself to leave. He never tasted something like the wetness he would drink from you, and he never would anywhere else. It was like an oasis crafted for him alone.
Sure, it felt unbelievable when you sucked his cock, but if he was going to lose control he'd rather it be with his mouth attached to your cunt where the most pushing he could do was shock you from too much pleasurable stimulation. Rather then pushing your safety and your anxiety too far, with his cock in your mouth when he knew it could go from enjoyable to unpleasant for you in a second.
Robb Stark:
There was no point in lying about it. Robb lived for you sucking his cock.
It was one of the first things he fantasized about still during your wedding night. He imagined guiding your mouth over him so often when you and him were separated after the wedding, that when you came back to him, it was the first thing he properly did with you. Had you suck his cock like a good girl, and ever since he was obsessed.
How well you did, how much you truly, desperately wanted to be able to take all of him, how you'd close your eyes and barley realize you were letting out hums of moans and needy whines the more you sucked him. He'd guide your head at his own choice of pace, and he loved filling your stomach with his seed as if that was all you needed to live off of.
He'd known somewhat about putting his mouth on you, but by the time he had wanted to try, you two were at war and there just wasn't a whole lot of places to figure out what he'd be doing properly, and he wasn't about to go asking whatever whores his soldiers hired, to ask how to taste his own wife. That, and Robb didn't want to make you feel nervous by introducing something so intimate, and so brand new to you so suddenly.
He desperately wanted too, but it was just something he didn't know quite how to bring up to you yet.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Without ever having sex, pace wasn't exactly something Jon payed attention to. The rate in which your actual relationship developed was slow.
You had known each other for fourteen years, been together for six by the time you both wanted to try having sex, and even then you both realized neither of you were ready.
Everything he did with you was slow, he didn't rush, he didn't push, and he made sure everything he did do, was gentle. Exploring exactly what you liked, and making sure you felt loved when doing so. Something more of an urge in him sometimes whispered in his ear to go faster, or rougher with you but he could push that down easy. In your minds at the time, you both had all the time in the world.
If it all took a slow, loving pace to get there, then so be it. Or so you both once thought.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon tries to be gentle, he really does.
He often starts out slow. A loving gentleness rooted in how heavy you make his heart feel, but the more into it Jon gets, the more of something of a darker animal inside him does he let out.
He never contains himself the entire time, it's impossible. At some point, even if just right at the end, Jon will end up pounding his cock into you fast like a true wolf with his mate . Whatever dark, needy filth locked away in his head accidentally pours out in a deep husk in your ear beacuse he can't stop it.
Don't get him wrong, its passionate, intimate, and always ensuring you feel safe, loved and protected, but once Jon can hear how wet you are each time his cock sinks into you, its the beginning of the end. That's music to his ears, and he returns such a harmony right back. Fucking into you rough enough that anyone within 50 feet can probably hear how loud and rough of a slap Jons hips rutting into yours becomes. If the slap of your skin together echos in his ears, hes likely already too deep into the darker part of his mind to slow down.
He would never push you too far, never once. But Jon is unpredictable. He can start slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out before pushing himself back in as deep as he can, all the while you feel every inch of him beacuse he's just going that slow. But eventually, he picks up the roughness, and right near his final orgasm, that slap of skin becomes a steady smack as he rushes himself towards being able to cum one last time deep inside you.
But Jon knows his limits, and he is always hyper aware of how close he's getting to pushing you to yours and never once in his life will Jon ever actually cross that line. He'll get right up to it as close as can be, but never will he even slightly tip over into pushing you too much.
Robb Stark:
If there ever was a man who was a real wolf in the bedroom, it was Robb.
Slow was saved for when he used his fingers on you, and that was it. As soon as that man gets his cock inside of you, it's done. He is fucking you rough and fast until you are soaking his cock around him in a desperate cry.
Hes slow when he's in your mouth, beacuse he knows that's something you both enjoy, and he doesn't want to hurt you by pushing you too far, but your cunt is another story. Robb will fuck you fast to the point you can barley catch your breathe before he's pounding back inside of you.
The slap of your skin together is telling of how rough he goes, and the men have sometimes joked they're shocked you can ride a horse the next day, let alone bloody walk. Sex with Robb is fast and dominating, and he is happy to slow down and take his time doing everything else with you, just not when your warm cunt is clenching around his cock.
He knows if he could take you home to Winterfell, he'd be much better. He'd take you slow, take his time with you, but you were both out at war and he didn't have the luxury no matter how much Robb wished he could take you gentle and slow.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
When Jon thought about in in retrospective, it might have been the perfect time for you two to have quickies.
Always in secret, never having as much time as you both deserved with the other. Were you two actually having sex, fucking you fast and quick would have been optimal. But as it stood, you never had sex. So you two never did anything even close to that.
But, in Winterfell? With his father, the household guard, Lady Catelyns judging eyes, and the varying rambunctious nature of Jons five siblings, having you quick like that would have been risky.
Someone would catch you. Anything you did had to wait until you knew you were alone. Hell, Jon once got a little too eager to gently kiss you one evening, and as it turned out, Arya had spotted you both in the stables, and that's how she found out. Jon trusted her not to tell, but he never took anything of that risk again.
In total private where he could take his time, or not at all.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If you went to Jon right now and asked if he liked quickies, he'd say no. He would say he hates them. And that would be the biggest lie he's ever told in his life.
It's possible he was abusing his status as King in the North to do so, but if he were a little late to the meeting, no one was going to say anything. And he was far better at pretending everything was fine then you were, so if only Jon walked in, no one would know. Except Tormund. Somehow Tormund always could tell, and Jon would spend the next 20 minutes actively ignoring that prideful but amused glint in the mans eye.
But he loved quickies. Jon loved fucking you needing and fast. Finding an empty wall to shove you against, sinking deep inside you and overwhelming you in seconds to the point you were powerless to do anything but let Jon take you. The way you'd cling to him in those seconds after, knowing this was all you had for now when normally Jon would kiss and hold you tenderly. It just made you needier for that later.
He never would admit it, saying he only wanted you when he could take his proper time and care. But the amount of times Jons almost gotten you both caught, beacuse he desperately needed to fuck you out of nowhere, was starting to stack up quickly.
Robb Stark:
One man truly and honestly hates quickies with all his being, and his name is Robb Stark.
If he has to fuck you quick, he's not going to do it and that is without exaggeration, the end of that. Robb wants to take you apart, he wants to ruin you for hour and hours until you have nothing left but his cock inside you, and then he'll build you back up like the Queen you are. That takes time, and patience.
Robb almost gets more worked up the more he cums, he hates the idea of fucking you quick in the middle of the day. Robb has things to do, he can control himself long enough to just get over it if he wants you. Part of it goes hand in hand with not wanting anyone to see you or come close to catching you, since Robb has no shred of privacy to touch you outside the isolation of your tent at night.
You're the love of his life, he wants to make sure you never question that fact. He may whisper in your ear like you're a whore in a brothel, but he won't fuck you like one. Not like he's here to throw a copper at you, cum and then leave. He hates that idea, it doesn't even appeal to him.
Robb wants you proper, in a bed, where he can fuck you hard, and then show you how much he loves you. He can't do that if he just ruts inside of you like an animal, roughly against a wall in the middle of the day.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Technically, Jons entire relationship with you was the risk. He was a bastard, you were a highborn girl and niece to King Robert of all people. You were supposed to be courted by men like Robb, not a bastard with nothing to offer you but his heart.
He didn't try any experimenting or risk taking in sexual terms beacuse you two didn't have that freedom. The risk, was what Jon already did.
The risk was that night in the pouring rain in the wolfswood. He was 18 and you were nearing 16, he and his brother would hunt you and Theon in the wolfswood and see who could make it until midnight without being caught by the two wolves who knew this land like the back of their hands.
It was close to the end, Theon had been caught and Robb had given up once the rain started, so it was only Jon and you left, and Jon had finally caught you. Grabbed you from behind and held you to his chest with a low rasp of his victory, teasing in your ear.
He didn't know at first if you understood why the air changed. You were younger and certainly more innocent then him, but you were suddenly nervous enough that Jon felt confident it wasn't just him anymore. You tried to run, escape the way the air between you two changed to something heavy you didn't understand, but Jon didn't want this to stop. If you left now, he may never be confident enough again. So he grabbed you once more, tossing your back against a tree to make you stop running. You were soaked from the rain, eyes so wide and bright with lips just slightly parted in confusion, and it was too much for him to hold back.
It was the biggest risk Jon ever took, but he moved quick. Cupping both of your cheeks and leaning down to press his lips to yours. But the fact that you arched right up into him? Kissed him back eagerly and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck?
Jon knew there was no risk of him getting caught being with you that could outweigh how much this one payed off that night.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Risks were half of what Jon took now. Risk this fight, risk that battle but none were more worrying then every risk he took with you.
At every turn since having you back, it felt as if something threw a new test between you at every opportunity. Put on question how much Jon could protect you, and too many times did he not know how to stop it.
But, if there was a solace, it was that risks were only not unwilling to be taken when it came to taking you. Neither had done much and Jon fantasized about more and at every turn, he was fairly certain you would want what he wanted. He worried about it, worried that he was too rough, was too demanding, his intentions too forward but each time you came back to him with as much eagerness as the first time.
He knew he was gaining advice from either the best or worse sources, as the free folk around him all spoke rather blatantly about the sexual things they had done. Some of which Jon barley heard of, most of which Jon knew you had never known existed. And it took some work to tell himself not to try everything, but he certainly thought about them. Would hear the men go on about it, and just as he wondered why do it if it wasn't good for the woman, he'd hear just that other side from them and suddenly Jon learned far more about ways in which he could take you that you might enjoy, then he ever imagined. And he was willing to do them all, as long as you liked the idea, and it didn't harm you?
Jon might never say that he wants those things, but if they came up between you, he'd want to do it in a heartbeat.
Robb Stark:
One may think Robb would be a risk taker considering the degree to which he can fuck you any and everyday with his dominating mind and desires. But in truth, he doesn't like to take risks with you. That scares him, no matter if it's innocent or sexual in nature.
You're his wife and he came so close to losing you the way the Lannisters murdered his father, should Ser Barristan Selmy not have helped you to escape Kings Landing.
Taking new risks with you, while can be fun to playfully bicker about when you are naked in his lap as he keeps his cock sunk deep with a silent hope he's helping his seed take, he rarely will introduce anything that would be considered one.
You both are at war, you fight by his side in battle, that's more risk then Robb ever wanted with you, and he won't do any more beyond what you two already have.
He wants you home in Winterfell, swollen with his child before the proper start of Winter, he doesn't want to risk you in anyway that delays that anymore. He knows it's a big paranoia considering how much you trust him with your body, but Robb knows what your limits are and what his limits are and he refuses to go beyond those in any capacity.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon didn't have much way of gauging what he'd be like with you, at least in that manner. Much of what you two had done could've taken of their time and wasn't too taxing on either of you.
He'd draw it out as much as he could for you, and on the nights he managed to be weak enough to have you perched on his lap in his bed, he wasn't really aware of the time which passed. Of course, the time that passed sometimes went well over two hours without realizing. Sometimes he'd cum, but he could keep going after, likely the most he had in one night with you was three, but again, it wasn't quite direct touch and he had no way of knowing what being inside you might be like.
On his own, where he'd have too much of you he missed and no way to see you? It depended on how worked up he was. If he was mostly just horny, he could look to a memory of you and not last long and be satisfied.
But on nights he really missed you, he'd take out a stashed article of clothing of yours that he kept close. Grey eyes drifting to a letter of yours, and trying to read it and hear your voice in his head. Bracing a hand on the stone wall near his window, and the other on his cock, Jon could keep himself that consistently worked up for at least an hour straight on those nights.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Whether it was always in him to be like this with you, or if something about returning to life changed aspects of himself, Jon didn't know. But he could last for longer and stay hard so much longer then most men.
Jon could cum four times in a row and still be as hard and desperate as before the first. As long as something of his cock was inside you, Jon seemed to be able to last as long as it took to wear you out. His cock having that aggressive drive to fill you until he was empty just so he could do it all over again the next night. Hours it would last.
That night in the Ice Cells of Castle Black, Jon had no concept of how long he had been fucking you, but it was certainly past the hour mark by the time he pressed your back into the floor.
Again, Jon knew there was something not normal about the degree of his stamina, judging by the fact that he could spend hours fucking you so much that you practically would pass out in his arms, and Jon still would lay you down under the furs of his bed, telling himself that he can't just take you when you're this sensitive and already falling asleep.
If you truly tested his resolve, Jon would start at sun down and still be taking you by sun up. He'd need good few rests of a couple moments in between, for you and him, but it wasn't as if he needed much recovery time. On a good night, Jon wouldn't even get anywhere less then still more then half hard when pulling out of you until you two were fully exhausted.
Robb Stark:
Gods be good, the more Robb cums, the longer he can go it seems. You'd think he actually gets more hard after each time he cums inside you.
He has to rest in between, normally beacuse he knows he is rough on you and he doesn't want to accidentally push you from sensitive to in pain, but once the dust has settled? He's ready to go and Robb will tell you to just lay there and take it like a good girl if you're too tired to do the work.
He's perfectly content with doing the heavy lifting in bed for you, doing the hard work beacuse this is nothing compared to the hell outside your tent.
There are some nights his men are fully aware neither their King nor Queen got a wink of sleep, beacuse the guards near his tent could hear you both all night without exaggeration. If something could magically give Robb more energy when it made no sense, Robb had found that magical source in sinking his cock deep inside you.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon hadn't even gotten his cock inside you for the first time, he certainly wasn't about to let some pleasure toy get there before him.
He didn't really see the point as well, but he considered that maybe since he's a male, he might be unfairly overestimating the ease in which women would pleasure themselves. Men were a no brainer, but Jon had to take his time learning to fine tune your pleasure like a delicate instrument and toys might help in that capacity alone.
But he knew you didn't even realize such a thing existed, and he wasn't about to introduce that to you when he himself didn't like the idea.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Not a chance.
You had a significant amount of trauma behind you now, and thus you trusted Jon to take every step of the way to ensure you were safe and alright. Jon had no interest in using anything like a toy on you, he wanted to feel you, he wanted you to feel him.
Neither of you liked fucking in a way together with little physical contact and using a toy felt so lacking of intimacy. So lacking of passion. He couldn't gauge how you were feeling, or if you were close with a toy. Jon knew where you were at by the tiniest of clenches of your cunt around his cock or fingers and he'd never know with some toy inside you.
You wanted him, not something just used by him. And Jon wanted you, he wanted to feel you not just watch you get that feeling alone.
Robb Stark:
He wouldn't consider them toys, but he has tied you up before. Not much, just by the wrists but he wouldn't say that was a toy.
He knows what toys are out there and he dismisses that idea. What would something not real do for you that Robb couldn't give you himself in droves. He already has a cock that drives you insane, he has long fingers that reach your sensitive walls beyond what any toy could provide you.
Robb wants to tie you up more, blindfold you even but that was more of a, he wants you to trust him even more, sort of thing, rather then he wants to get wild with what he fucks you with. He wants what he introduces into sex to be a tool to help make the sex more pleasurable for you, not something to act as the sex itself without him.
Robb recalled once asking Theon what the point of them was, and having a good laugh between them that it's probably just what some Southerners invented beacuse their too boring with small cocks to actually pleasure a woman with what they barley have themselves.
And judging by how much you are utterly weak for Robbs touch, he would consider that to be likely more true then not.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon had to be subtle about it, but he was relentless.
Knew the exact look to give you to make you stiffen up and hide how flustered you could get. Knew just how briefly of a touch of his hand across your lower back as he passed in public to make your breathe hitch. Jon of course, also teased you just in words. He was quite good at teasing you at all stages of your friendship together but he was sadistic once you were were involved.
Some teasing was normal, others sounded more biting and mean to people around when you knew he was just trying to get you worked up. Get you annoyed, so that he could feel you melt against him later when he finally kissed you at your most irritated at him, and tease more that you were quite predictable.
This passed to touch as well, the first time he pleasured you was simple. A nice, exploration of his fingers on your clit as he worked out what you liked best, and just as he payed attention to what it is you about to cum looked and sounded like, did he pull away. Then he worked you up and did it again as you almost whined.
He loved it, he loved keeping you on an edge that had you not being able to do anything but rely on his touch, before he took it away at the perfect moment.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Gods be good, he is one of the seven hells sent directly to torment you. Jon no longer has to be subtle or secret, he can just tease you. It doesn't matter.
He doesn't act that way in public, no. But he doesn't need to hide his wants, desires, intentions. No, Jon can work you up in seconds and just keep you dangling over a free fall all day long. It's in his words, they aren't filthy, but they are needy. He wants you and he tells you, but he won't take you. He saves it, and torments you with his own patience.
He some days, won't let you cum. Gets you right there, and takes it away. Sometimes more then once in a row, and many times, he will keep you like that for days. Some times he teases you all the same the next night, sometimes Jon takes your orgasm away at the last minute in one overwhelming night and will just leave you like that for a week.
He loves it. He loves keeping you that way, keeping you needy for him, that the second his voice rasps low in your ear, you shiver for him.
If teasing you in and out of the bedroom could be a feat worth crowning one of, Jon would've been a King months earlier.
Robb Stark:
Robb wishes he had the patience to tease you, he does. But he doesn't.
He does it in small doses, will yank you to him and whisper that he wants you naked in his bed when he returns or that he expects his good girl to show her king her appreciation later that night. But it doesn't tease beyond that really.
He prefers to take his time with you, and teasing you like that doesn't really fit into that mindset for Robb. If he wants you, he wants you then so why would he tease you for later? Part of it stems from how much you are by his side. Robb constantly has you beside him, often with a hand on you somewhere. Leaving a kiss to your hair, or a gentle kiss as he runs his thumb along your cheek in front of his men beacuse he needs you to breathe more then the air around him.
Robb doesn't want to tease you more then the little bit he does, he just wants you. And out in a war, there isn't a worse place he could think of to be a tease. He will work you up as much as it takes for you to know he wants you in his tent that night before it got too late to take care of you, but he has no patience for teasing beyond that. He already has you, he doesn't want to waste that time.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
If he and you are in the castle in Winterfell? Jon tries his best to be very quiet. He wasn't loud, more of a growl or a hiss at the sensation.
But sometimes a deep gutted groan could leave him, and that certainly was not common enough of a sound from Jon to pretend it wasn't for something filthy.
He had one trick though once he and you got comfortable enough. Jon would yank down the front of your dress, usually pulling your arms from it or unclasping it enough so it pooled around your waist, and occupy his growls or grunts with his mouth on your breasts. It was the most perverse thing the two of you would do, but it kept Jon quiet, while his other hand honestly? Well if his mouth wasn't hiding your high pitched, beautiful gasps and whines in his kiss, he'd reach a free hand up and roughly cover your mouth as you grasped at his wrist with both hands. Burying in each other to hide the sounds of your sinful secret together.
If you two were out in the wolfswood alone, it was a bit easier. Jon would let himself rumble deep, and freely encourage your breathless gasps with a gentle press of his lips over your cheek, forehead, neck, whatever he could reach.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Take that growling and grunting, and multiply it by a hundred. Jon once more, knows he no longer has any need to hide what you two do. No one cares that he has you in his bed, and so no one who could even hear through the thick stone walls that muffled much noise, would think twice.
They knew you two were together, it didn't matter now.
Jon could growl and hiss as you clenched tight and soaked around his cock, bite at your neck until he could rasp deep and strained in your ear, as he spoke the first things on his mind usually much more needy and filthy then he intended.
If he was trying to be discreet, he would bury his mouth into your neck with kisses, licks, bites, sucking rough bruises into the skin and it would cover the deep noises from within. But in turn it made you gasp and cry for him so loudly that everyone would hear anyways.
Jon wasn't really a talker, not with sex especially. The closer his orgasm got the more his heart rambled, but it wasn't intentional. He spoke from his deep desire for you with raw intense honesty. All in between rough breathing to keep him collected, only to feel that hiss or growl in his chest at how beautiful you felt around him.
If no one heard you two in low tones though, many would simply be able to hear the smack of skin as he fucked into you rough, or the hard bang of a table slamming against a wall, if he took you somewhere more public.
Robb Stark:
At the most dense, Robb has had an army camp of almost thirty thousand men at the start of the war, when he had joined with the River Lords. If someone had told him that all thirty thousand men had heard Robb and you fucking at night, he'd smirk with pride and say he hopes they got off nice and hard to how perfect you begged and pleaded for your Kings cock.
Robb is a talker in bed, he runs his mouth as filth pours out. In return, you cry and moan and beg for him, and it all is a harmony of filth that he knows so many men by now have heard from you and him.
Robb doesn't moan, he growls and he groans rough when he's deep inside of you, his voice normally warm and soothing dropping to a strained roughness that scratches at your ears as much as it soaks you between your legs as well. Robb knows just what to say to make you an obedient little mate, and he takes full advantage of that the entire night.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Jon Snow:
If the only thing Jon was allowed to do for the rest of his life was kiss you, he'd never have a single thing to complain about. Last life or this one, Jon was addicted to your lips.
The way they were so soft, moulded to his perfectly, how sweet they tasted and how much you let his tongue explore your mouth with strong desire. He adored having his lips on you somehow, and the only thing that changed one he came back was he could now do it without fear of being caught. But the love for it stayed the same.
Kissing foreheads was something he always did with everyone, his brothers and sisters and you, but what was different is how rare it was that he gave you any passing kiss alone. A brush of his hand, lingering too long and getting too close to your lips when he pulled back.
To Jon, kissing you is practically a hobby. He finds his lips to you in some way constantly, and if he's inside you then he adores keeping your lips pressed to his. He loves to cum deep inside you, keeping your lips trapped against his kiss. Jon wishes to hear your moans, and swallow them into his own mouth, just so he can lick into yours and demand more sounds gifted into him.
If Jon would be able to say he has one talent, he was confident enough to say he's quite a good kisser. And he wants all of that to go to none but you. Jon kisses you more, then an entire brothel of whores will kiss all their paying men in their entire lives.
Robb Stark:
Telling you now would be so unfair, he knew. If he said it now, the man wasn't there to defend himself or refute it, and beacuse of that, he didn't want such a comment to change your view of your best friend.
But Robb was not stupid. Robb was more observant then he was likely given credit for on this one, but it didn't bother him so he didn't bring it up to a soul, not him, and definitely not you.
He didn't know the true extend of how strong it was, or if he had feelings, or for how long he felt this way. Robb didn't know those details, but he knew without any doubt, that in one way or another, Jon Snow wanted you.
He had suspected it for a while since your last visit. The way Jon would look at you, was so much more then the man thought he was giving off. He was so brooding and grouchy the month before you arrived with the Kings company, and Robb truly felt bad. Here Jon was, desperately wanting to fuck you, his best friend, only to now watch you get married to Robb.
But now, Jon was at the wall, and you were Robbs wife. Telling you now would just be rude, and a breach of trust that Jon didn't know Robb had been holding onto. But the real thing that he wasn't saying, was that if for some miracle, Robb won the war, and brought you home to Winterfell, he had seriously considered it.
Either Robb would get lucky enough to find a way to bring his brother home where he belongs, or Jon would simply come visit, the way their Uncle Benjen came to visit their father. There was no harm, you were Robbs wife after all, that wasn't breaking a vow.
But Robb couldn't help but wonder, if he could at the least get Jon to come visit from the wall, he wondered how easy it would be to convince his brother to fuck you. Now, Robb wasn't just handing you over to his brother, but just maybe, Robb wondered, Jon might be open to sharing at least some parts of you, if just your body.
Robb held out hope he could bring you home one day, and just maybe, find enough in his jealous heart to share at least something of you with Jon. He was at the wall after all, and you were his best friend.
It wouldn't be much, but maybe the wall would be a little less lonely for his brother, if Jon were to go back with the freedom to know what it felt like to slide his cock into his best friend's sweet, soaking cunt, and more perversely, how it felt to willingly fuck his brothers wife.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Jon Snow:
Jon had an ongoing joke with Tormund, just taking any opportunity the free folk could find to make some comment about how small Jon was.
It had stemmed from a nickname which Tormund called him all of his own choosing anyways. The tall, lumbering man with wild orange hair, thick beard and loomed over most. He would joke and call Jon "Little Crow", and that turned right into jokes about his size. But in honesty, that was the furthest from the truth.
He didn't quite realize at first if he was well endowed, Jon having little to no interactions that would end up at discussing cock size, all he knew was the nights he'd help guide your clothed self over his covered cock, at his most hard Jon knew he would sometimes feel you shake, hold tightly onto his shoulders and try to hide the nervous exhale at the feeling. Well, if the free folk were anything, it was not shy about that sort of aspect of them. Only realizing internally that there weren't quite many who matched up to him.
He was long, yes. And it showed even when he wasn't at all hard, how long he was. But it was how thick his cock was that was the intimidating factor, at least in terms of fucking you. His cock was long, but adding just how shockingly thick his girth was, he always left a stinging burn when he slid inside you.
Jon was just lucky that you craved that very feeling as much as he wanted to give it to you.
Robb Stark:
Robb has a distinct memory of when he had sex for the first time, how the girl afterwards when getting dressed, made a comment that for someone whose never been inside a woman before, Robb knew how to use a cock like that.
At the time Robb just wanted to put his clothes on and leave, but she then kept going. Saying that most men with a big cock were idiots, and that Robb fucked like a man who was compensating for a small one but without the small part. He didn't care about that until he married you. Then suddenly, Robb was all too aware that yes, he was well endowed and knew how to fuck.
Because now you were his little innocent wife about to take her first cock, and it was long and thick. He had kept your eyes on his when he finally undressed so you didn't get intimidated, only to then make you watch as he slid inside you for the first time, so you understood how much you were taking inside you.
He knew you would feel that sting the next day constantly from his size, but that just meant Robb knew he needed to work you up and make you wet as could be to reduce the chance of his thick cock hurting rather then being a perfect pleasurable amount of pain.
Though, Robb would admit, he got off way too much at how wide his cock stretched your pretty mouth when you sucked him.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Sex wasn't something he thought of all too often. Honestly, most of Jons sex drive in those days were also tied simply with how much he missed you.
He felt more worked up about being with you when you were in Kings Landing and he couldn't do a single thing about that. He never told you just how often he'd read your newest letter to him, sitting it on his desk, bracing one hand against the stone wall in front of him and stroking his cock with the other as he read it. Trying to hear your voice, pretend as if he knew what your hands on his cock would feel like, pretend he had any clue what being inside you could feel like.
He ruined a few of your letters with that habit, not that he ever said it to you. But it was just something desperate really. He felt lonely without you.
When you were in Winterfell, he wasn't that worked up. He knew his time with you had to be careful, and you two would enjoy the other to the fullest when you got away alone. But when you were gone, you weren't just the woman he loved. You were his best friend, and being in love with your best friend meant that a lot of how much he just missed you, ended up tying itself into how much he yearned to touch you.
You were so much more then just a woman he wanted to touch, but when you weren't there to calm him down with your mere comforting presence, Jon had no outlet but that.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
If putting gold on it, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive. And if he did bet on it, he would wind up being the poorest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.
It wasn't out of control, Jon had a strong drive and focus as a leader, but he could take you any time of the day. He didn't ever not want you. Jon could control his want when he needed to, and that was easy but the moment he could find any excuse to take advantage of your alone time, Jon felt his need clawing at his chest like an animal desperate to rut.
He fucked you quick during the day all the time, beacuse he was always just that ready to take you, always wanted you even when he was skilled at never showing it. He didn't want you thinking he just wanted to fuck you like an object, you weren't a whore in a brothel he wanted to use.
Jon absolutely adores you, but both your pasts have made sex something a bit strangely tied to how Jon shows he loves you. A lot of sexual trauma sat between you two, you from Ramsay, Jon from Ygritte but together you and him were learning to move forward and find a healing together. That just meant learning that Jon was a wolf with a ridiculously large appetite, but it was always with love.
He didn't want to be without you, and sometimes the only way Jon, a brooding, stoic man of not many words, knew how to express that was to taste you, kiss you, and fuck you. It was a way to express his feelings as well as move together past something that still deeply haunted you both in your own ways.
But if you asked him, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive, and Tormund and Theon who have to stand there and watch how ridiculously turned on Jon would get around you constantly, would just glance at the other with an exasperated shake of their heads at Jons degree of denial.
Robb Stark:
It was a bit complicated, essentially, Robb only had much of a sex drive when he knew he had time.
First leading a war, then becoming their King and having so much of the Lannister regime fighting against him alone that he had to split his mind into two. If he was thinking about the war, he didn't want to distract himself, and you were a perfect Queen by his side and knew exactly when Robb wanted to focus.
But then at night, when it was quiet and Robb could have you all to himself, then he suddenly felt that drive come crashing through the walls of his tent and bombard him. Once alone, you worked Robb up to wanting to fuck you in seconds. You just had to look at him alone in your tent and Robb was already almost fully hard, you made it so easy.
Sun down to sun up, Robb wanted you again and again and he could think of nowhere else he wanted to be then with you, and inside of you. You were his perfect girl, and your drive matched his perfectly too. You always wanted each other at the same time, so once Robb wanted to fuck, you were ready to hand yourself over to his cock and his mercy or lack there of, depending on the day.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon never slept very well. Always would either wake up and be unable to go back to sleep, or he couldn't fall asleep in the first place. And in truth, it left a lot of nights where all Jon wanted to do, was leave his room, go down the stairs to the corridors your room was in, and find his way into laying in bed with you. He'd imagine how gently he'd crawl in beside you, gently guiding you onto your side so he could pull your back against his chest and hold you tight.
But he couldn't do that, no matter what you two did, sexual or otherwise, as soon as you and Jon were with the other, falling asleep in the others bed was a bad idea. You or him would gravitate into the others gentle embrace fast asleep too unplatonically to explain it away should one of his siblings walk in.
Which Jon hated, considering during your first visit to Winterfell, you sometimes had difficult nights you couldn't sleep or a windy storm would blow through the castle and more then once you'd find your way to Jons room asking if it was alright if you slept in there, you feeling a bit nervous being in that corridor all alone.
So now, Jon would spend his nights with you, exploring you, kissing you and he'd have to part ways to sleep separately and he never slept more then 5 hours at the most after that. He missed having you close too much.
Post Resurrection Jon Snow:
Jon still didn't sleep well if you weren't there.
His bed too cold, his arms with nothing to pull tenderly into his chest, he couldn't lean over and press a tender kiss to your sleeping lips beacuse you were too beautiful to resist. He wanted you in his arms at night.
But when you two would fuck, Jon willingly didn't sleep for a while after as well. He'd run his hands gentle along you until you fell asleep, then he'd switch between watching you in more peace then you ever looked in your waking hours, or running his hands along your bare skin beacuse he loved how soft you were under his rough, large hands. On nights he wore you out particularly rough, you'd fall asleep so easily and he loved doing that for you.
You had nightmares now, more then you were ever willing to admit, and the more exhausted Jon made you with his cock, the better you slept after. And Jon liked to hold you, watch you sleep and ensure he was keeping you safe even now from the horrors in your own mind. And only when you had been quiet and peaceful for a good half hour to an hour, would Jon finally fall asleep.
You were the most vulnerable when you slept in his arms, and Jon was there to protect you. And he just liked staying awake to do that, getting some time to himself to admire you blatantly without you getting flustered over his loving gaze for so long.
Robb Stark:
Robb only slept well with you twice since marrying you.
Both of those times when you were in his bed in Winterfell after becoming his wife. Robbs room was decorative and the fabrics draped around kept the heat in well so it was always cozy in there, and under the furs of his bed. Robb never treasured a nights sleep more then the only two times so far he had in his bed with you as his wife.
He slept terribly in the war. Some nights he was so busy you couldn't even convince him to come and sleep at all, and you'd have to try again the next night. So when it was all said and done, Robb would lay with you asleep in his arms and be awake for a while. Longer then he was honest with you about.
He'd run through war strategy day after day, and at night try and piece together the life he wanted to bring you home to once this was all over. You didn't sleep well either, but as long as Robb fucked you, you slept better then he did and so he'd do it every night if it were that easy. When he did sleep, it was more what he wanted, being in bed with you in his arms, but Robb never got as much sleep as he would have, should he be able to bring you home safely to Winterfell.
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axelsagewrites · 10 months
Text
Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Competition
Part two to Share (here) which is the rivalry before hand or you can read this as stand alone smut. Part three at bottom
Pairing: Jon x f!reader, Robb x f!reader
Summary: just smut
Warnings: dom robb, dom jon, p in v sex, fingering, oral m and f receiving, spanking, threesome 18+
Word count: 3551
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Masterlist Here
“What exactly am I supposed to be choosing?” you asked.
“My lady we can explain,” Jon began to stammer, cheeks going their familiar cute shade of pink, “Robb and I well we- “
“We both have an affection for you,” Robb continued trying to sound confident, but his voice failed him, “And we have been uh debating,” Robb said causing you to laugh.
“Debating?” you questioned, “It sounded more like an argument,” this time it was Robbs turn to blush and turn his eyes away.
Jon continued for his brother, “We just were trying to figure out which one of us you liked. Assuming you do like one of us,” Both boys were struggling to meet your gaze at this point.
“I might,” you said with a slight smirk causing both boys heads to snap up, their eyes watching you intently as you smirked leaning against your chamber door.
“Well, which one of us is it?” Robb asked with eager eyes. He was internally praying to the gods to give him some luck or at least to have him swallowed up by the grounds if he was wrong about your affection. Jon was silently thinking the same.
You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Who said it was one of you?” you said with a slight smirk. Both boys looked confused at your words. You walked closer to the pair with each word, “Would it be so bad if I didn’t choose? Were you not taught how to share?”
Your hands moved to rest on Robbs chest, looking up at him with a smile toying on your lip. “What do you think Robbie? Are you good at sharing?”
Robbs eyes flickered to Jon who was watching all of your movements. You couldn’t possibly be suggesting what they thought you were. “My lady,” Robb said, eyes returning to you, “What are you suggesting?”
You laughed lightly, stepping back from the taller boy before turning to Jon, “I think Jon knows,” you hummed causing Jon to look to the floor, face flushed bright pink, “Don’t you Jon?” you teased.
“I think I do my lady,” Jon murmured.
You moved closer to Jon, lifting his head up by his chin. Jon gazed at you with desperate eyes. Slowly, your lips moved to close the gap, capturing his into a gentle soft kiss.  Jons eyes fluttered closed at the soft skin of your lips on his. It was sweeter than any wine and his lips chased after yours when you pulled back.
Now you turned your attention to Robb who was silently stewing at his brother receiving all your attention, “Don’t pout,” you teased when you walked up to the taller man hands finding his strong shoulders again, “There’s enough of me to go around,”
Robbs strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, pulling them into his harshly and causing you to gasp, “I don’t pout,” he almost growled before his lips dove down to capture yours. His kiss was hungry as his rough lips moved against your soft ones as you tried to keep up with his pace. Your lungs were screaming but air did not seem to matter anymore.
When the kiss broke Robb span you around by your hips, pressing your back into his chest, to face Jon. You could feel Robbs hard on pressing into your back. Jon’s face was darker than Robbs, with lust and anger spread across his skin. “What do you say?” Robb said, his hands still firmly placed on your hips to keep you in place, “Think you can handle a little competition?”
“It’s not a- “you started but Jon cut you off this time.
“Oh, but it is,” he said, walking closer to you, his chest a few inches from yours but eyes on Robbs, “Don’t throw a fit when im better at this than you,”
A dark chuckle fell from Robbs throat causing shivers to go down your spine, “You wish Snow,”
Jons eyes fell from Robbs to yours, his hands moving to gently take your face into his palms, “Maybe we should let you decide,” he said with a low voice, “You want us to share? Take turns fucking you?” his warm breath fanned your face and made shivers go down your skin. All you could do was nod. Jon took that as his que and his lips crashed onto yours, his hands moving to push Robb back and pull you by your waist into him. You craved the warmth of Robb against your skin again, but Jons lips were so sweet.
It felt like a perfect eternity however a rough hand suddenly pulled your shoulder, forcing the kiss to break. Robb stood in your place looking down at Jon, glaring into his eyes before turning to you, “Lay on the bed sweetheart,” he said with a softness to his voice, “Jon and I need to talk first,”
“Why don’t you strip while you wait,” Jon said before walking with Robb to the opposite side of the room to talk in hushed whispers.
You did as you were told, stripping down to your thin under shift which did little to cover your shape. Laying down on the bed of soft furs, you gazed at the two men across the room to admire their features when Robb suddenly looked, and your eyes snapped back to watch the ceiling as you waited.
You didn’t have to wait long as you heard footsteps crossing the room. Robb sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to stroke your jaw, “Are you sure about this?” he asked, all anger from before gone from his voice, “We can stop at any point,”
“I’m sure,” you said with a soft smile as you leaned into his soft touch, “I want you. I want both of you,” your eyes flickering to Jon who stood just behind Robb. You sat up slightly, your hand moving to rest on the back of Robbs neck, “Please,”
That was all it took for Robb to join his lips to yours, soft at first but a growing neediness began as he began to nip at your bottom lip. You gasped as his teeth sunk into your soft bottom lip, but it soon turned to a moan as his tongue slipped in and his hands moved to explore your body. First, they went down your shoulders, his touch gentle to start, before they moved to your breasts, squeezing them firmly making you moan.
Robb broke the kiss but only to strip off his outer clothes and tunic, leaving him in just trousers and his undershirt. You could see the hair on his chest peaking out and moved your hands to feel his hard chest under the thin fabric, “Like what you see?” Robb said with a cocky smile when he noticed your gaze.
Your blush didn’t matter as he pushed you down by your shoulder to crawl on top of you, his legs settling between yours. He began to grind down his hips into yours, his hard bulge pressing against your thinly clothed cunt. A hollow spot began to grow in your stomach as his bulge rubbed against your clothed clit, moving at just the right firm but slow pace.
Robb moved his lips from yours to leave harsh kisses to your jaw, down your neck, and to your collarbones. “Do you still have that red dress? The one that goes up to here?” he asked, tapping at the bottom of your throat. You nodded, “You’ll need to wear it tomorrow,” his voice was breathy, almost panting but you could not care when he began to suck dark marks along your collarbone.
Your hands moved to tangle in his curly hair, making him groan at your touch.  His hands still squeezing your tits in his hands, “You care about this shift?” he asked and this time you shook your head. You gasped when you heard fabric ripping and the cold air hit your chest. Robbs lips licked over your nipple causing it to harden under his tongue. He continued his assaults on your breast, one with his hand, rolling and pinching your bud between his fingers, the other with his mouth. You could not contain your moans as his teeth grazed over your hardened bud. “Robb,” you moaned.
He let go of your nipple with a pop, making a whine leave your lips, “Yeah me. It’s me who’s making you feel so good?” he asked with a smirk as he continued to roll his hips into yours.
You whined again when his hips stopped but held your breath when one of his hands moved down your body to move between your thighs, “Do I make you feel good?” he asked, his breath fanning your face, his lips so close but so far from your own.
You could feel his finger trailing up your already wet slit. “Yes,” you stuttered, unable to take your eyes off of his.
As soon as you said it Robb pushed a finger into you, his lips finding your neck again. He slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, “Please,” you whined, and you felt his smirk against your skin.
Robb added another finger, a slight burn growing at the stretch but quickly disappearing as his fingers moved inside you at a slightly faster pace. You moaned as he began to lightly suck at your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him more space.
As you did your eyes fell on Jon who had moved to sit on a chair across the room, his eyes locked on you. your eyes scanned down his body and a smile on your lips when you could so clearly see the outline of his cock from his trousers. He had stripped down to his own trousers and undershirt, but it did little to hide his body which was more toned than you had expected.
Your attention was drawn back when Robb moved his thumb to rub against your clit as his fingers began to curl. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you moaned from his touch, a warm feeling spreading across your body. Moaning his name only made him speed up. Jon watched the sight, his eyes dark with lust. The sight of him watching you, already hard only made you want this more. Then Robb curled his fingers in just the right way. Your body tensed up before all the pressure released liked water from a burst dam. Robb moved his hand to cover your mouth when a loud moan began as you came around his fingers. You gazed into Robbs eyes as you finished riding your orgasm on his fingers. “Not too loud darling,” Robb grinned as he placed a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t want someone interrupting out fun,”
“My turn,” Jon said as he stood from the chair.
Robb rolled his eyes, “Speaking of,” he looked down at you, pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling suddenly empty. “I’ll be right over there darling,” Robb said before getting off the bed.
You sat up as Jon walked over and stood at the edge of the bed. “Hey,” you said with a soft smile.
Jons hands moved to hold your face, guiding you over to sit on the edge of the bed looking up at him, “Hey,” he finally replied, his voice low, “You look so fucking good,” he said before his lips crashed onto yours.
You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, your neck craning up to meet his lips. You felt him slowly move down to sit on his knees, his face now eyelevel with your breasts. Jon moved his hands down to squeeze them gently before trailing them down your half-torn shift to rest on your hips. His fingers dug into the flesh. “I want you,” he said, breaking the kiss with ragged breath.
“I want you too Jon,” you said.
His eyes scanned over your body, “You’re so fucking perfect,” Jons hands gripped your hips tighter, “I wanna make you feel good. Lay down for me,” When you went to move back onto the middle of the bed he stopped you, “No love, just lay down here,” Jon pushed your shoulders gently to make you lay down, confusion written on your face as you did.
Jons hands pushed up the remaining fabric of your shift to reveal you to him. Your breath hitched when you felt his hot breath against your wet cunt. a shiver went through you when you felt his face sink lower. Jon placed soft kisses to your inner thighs. You moaned when he sucked the flesh, leaving small hickeys into the sensitive skin. Finally, Jon turned to the part of you that ached.
The hot breath on you was already making the hair stand up on your body. Jon moved your legs to rest over his shoulders, his fingers resting on your hips. When Jon leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cunt you couldn’t help but whine. Your hand moved to gently rest on the back of his head as he licked a soft stripe up your slit. Then again and again till he was lapping up your juices like a starved man, his fingers digging into your hips. It was the only thing stopping you from bucking them as his tongue began to dive into you causing a knot to build in your stomach. “Jon please fuck,” your moans were breathier this time.
When Jons nose began to nuzzle into your clit you couldn’t help the loud whiney moan that fell from your lips. Jon pulled his lips off of your wet cunt for just a moment, “Can you do something Robb?” he said but the way his breath felt against your wet cunt was already making you whine again.
Robb crossed the room quickly to sit beside you on the bed. When Jons lips clashed back onto your cunt a moan fell from your lips only to be cut off by Robb crashing his into yours. He held you by your jaw as his lips danced with yours in a sloppy hungry dance. Robb couldn’t help himself when his hand moved to grab your tit, rolling your nipple in between his fingers.
Jon broke his downstairs kiss again much to your dismay “I don’t need help,” he said before diving back in.
“Its not for you,” Robb panted before capturing your lips again.
Nothing else seemed to matter as a hot knot began spiralling inside of you. especially not when Jon moved his fingers into your hole so he could free his mouth up to gently suck on your clit. If not for Robbs lips on yours the room would have been filled with your loud whines. It didn’t take long for the pressure to burst like a balloon inside of you especially when Jons teeth grazed your clit.
Robb had to hold you up as you rode out your orgasm on Jons face who didn’t stop until your body was twitching beneath him. Jon stood up from between your legs to look down at you, “Maybe we could share?” he said, eyes flickering to Robb.
“What were you thinking?” Robb said, eyes locked on you as you looked between the two men.
“I get her mouth,” Jon said, hand gripping your jaw.
“Good,” Robb grinned as he got off the bed and began to pull the rest of his clothes off, “I always wanted to be the one that fucked her,”
When Robb finally unlaced his trousers, you saw his cock spring free. It was hard, the tip was already red and leaking precum. You stared at it in a mix of amazement and fear when you realised its size. This was not helped by Jon pulling off his own trousers. Neither man was lacking in that department. Jons cock was thicker and slightly shorter but just as desperate as Robbs.
As Jon was pulling off his undershirt Robb moved to pull you across the bed, “Its not polite to stare,” he grinned as he moved you to kneel in front of him with your back against his chest.
“Sorry,” you stuttered as his hands moved to push the torn fabric off your shoulders before they moved to your breasts.
“Don’t need to be sorry love,” Jon said as he climbed on the bed to be kneeling in front of you, “Just need to let us take care of you,” he said caressing your face, “You wanna suck my cock while Robb fucks you silly?” All shyness had left Jons body by now as he stared down at you, hungry for your mouth on him.
The words were enough to make you shiver and you felt yourself grow wetter, “Yes please,” you murmured as Jons fingers traced your lips.
He pulled you in for one last brief kiss before moving back. Robb placed a gentle kiss to your neck before pushing you down to be on all fours in front of him, “If you wanna stop all you need to do is double tap my thighs,” Jon assured as you took your place, but you had no intention of stopping any of this.
“You look so fucking good right now,” Robb praised as he took his hard cock in hand, trailing its tip along your wet folds, “I’ve been waiting to fuck you for so long,” he said, his tip gently easing into your hole. His size caused a burn as he entered you slowly making you gasp. Jon held your face in his hand as Robb pushed himself slowly in, “You feel so good,” you heard him grunt.
Soon he was all the way inside of you, his length filling you complete. After a couple moments of easing to the pain you nodded up and Jon who did the same to Robb. Robbs hands found your hips, gripping the soft flesh gently as he began to pull out slightly before thrusting back in. you gasped as he began to thrust into you, moving slowly to begin with.
You looked up to see Jons cock staring back at you, its tip wet with precum. When you looked up at him through your eyelashes Jon almost came at the sight. “Please,” you whimpered as Robb continued his thrusts. “Please Jon,”
Jon did not need anymore instruction as he moved forward to put his cock into your open mouth. The feeling of your wet tongue under his cock and your soft lips wrapping around his shaft made him groan. You began to bob your head up and down his length, your mouth struggling to take him all in.
Meanwhile Robbs thrusts began to increase and which each thrust you found yourself taking more of Jons cock in your mouth. When Robb licked his fingers before moving them to rub sloppy circles onto your wet clit your moans vibrated up Jons cock. Jon couldn’t help his hips from bucking as he began to fuck your mouth back.
Their thrusts became synced and as Jon thrust into your mouth you were pushed deeper onto Robbs cock, his tip hitting new places. Jons hands moved to your hair, gripping it as he tried to steady himself so overwhelmed with pleasure.
Robbs hand went between gripping your hip to placing hard smacks on your ass to make it jiggle even more. The sight just made him want you more. His thrusts grew harder and faster.
You could feel Jons cock twitch in your mouth which made you moan once again on his cock. “I can’t- “Jon gasped when he suddenly spilled his seed into your throat. Robb did not stop his thrusts as you swallowed the seed, Jons face screwed up in pleasure before he pulled his cock out your mouth, leaving a trail of spit and cum behind.
When Jon moved back you couldn’t keep yourself up for much longer. Robb moved his hand to push your shoulders down into the mattress, your fingers curling up into the furs as Jon moved to lay beside where Robb continued to fuck you. however, this new position made Robbs cock hit new spots which caused a load moan to rip from your throat. Jon moved your head so that your moans were now muffled by the pillow Robb was fucking you into. You felt your last and most intense orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Robbs cock. Robb tried to ride out your orgasm but as your walls clenched around him, he felt his cock twitch before he spilled, eyes screwing shut as he gasped for air.
Robb knelt back onto his knees as he got his breath back. Meanwhile Jon had moved you to lay in his arms beside him as you were still panting from your last orgasm, unable to speak from all the pleasure.
“You did amazing,” Jon praised, leaving a soft kiss to your head.
Robb moved to fall beside you on the bed, rolling onto his side to face you, “Absolutely perfect darling,” he agreed, kissing your cheek. “We’ll have to do it again sometime,”
“Agreed,” you panted.
Jon nodded in agreement, “But next time I get to fuck her,”
“We’ll see,”
Part Three Here
Game of Thrones Taglist @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy
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About me:
My name is Christina, I'm 20+, and I love Halloween, makeup of all genre, horror movies, 2000s rom-coms, writing, cats...and Taylor Swift more than anything. I'm a creative person at heart and share personality type with Kat Strattford and Wednesday Addams. I've been writing since I read the Twilight books and currently write for Scream, Wednesday, TSITP, Marvel, and more
☆ My taglists form here
☆ My 2024 prompt list is here and you can send requests here at any time
Who I write for:
MCU characters (Peter Parker + Loki Laufeyson) | Masterpost
Teen Wolf (Stiles Stilinski + Derek Hale) | Masterpost
Outer Banks (JJ Maybank + Rafe Cameron) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list
Jess Mariano (Gilmore Girls) | Masterlist
Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon (Daemon Targaryen + Aemond Targaryen + Aegon II Targaryen + Jacaerys Velrayon (NEW) + Jon Snow) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list NEW
Wednesday (Xavier Thorpe + Ajax Petropolus + Wednesday Addams) | Masterlist
Marcus Baker (Ginny & Georgia) | Masterpost
Scream (Ethan Landry + Chad Meeks Martin + Mindy Meeks Martin + Tara Carpenter + Billy Loomis) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list
The summer I turned pretty (Conrad Fisher + Jeremiah Fisher) | Masterpost
Tate Langdon (American Horror Story: Murder House) | Masterpost
Young!Coriolanus Snow (Hunger Games) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list ** crossed fandoms/characters are on hold
REQUESTS RULES
I have the ability to deny and delete any requests I don't want to write
If the request is from a list, adding the quote with the number helps me a lot (I have more than one list and it gets confusing for me)
I don’t have a set word count for requests, but I try to keep them between 0.5k - 1k
Do not send me the exact same request you sent to many other writers. If see it, I'll then delete it
Smut is allowed, and welcomed
I WILL NOT WRITE
These NSFW themes — feet fetish, a/b/o, innocent!reader , humiliation/degrading kink, water sport, graphic SA or anything non-con (unless it’s part of a ‘game’)
RPF (real people fiction)
Romanticization of mental health (eating disorders, depression, any type of self harm, etc.)
Anything yandere related
Peter x Tony (romantically) or any form of incest (with the exception of GoT and HotD)
Pregnancies 
male!reader
nb!reader or gn!reader (nothing against it, I just wouldn’t want to write it wrong)
black!reader or plus size!reader (nothing against it, I just would want to offend anyone by writing something I don’t know about)
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