#game of thrones fic
Text
A QUESTION OF LOYALTY XVI
Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader
Word count: 2.4k
Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.
Note: @nnightskiess have not forgotten, hope I don´t make you suffer before the series resumes 😣
Note 2: Thanks everybody for the patience!!! Lots of love.
"It will be okay," you heard the whisper, but the voice was unrecognizable, heightening your alertness. The fire intensified, burning your skin like never before.
You wanted to scream, use your voice to provide support, but in vain. "Y/N," you heard, but where was it coming from? "Y/N," louder now.
"Wake up," you finally managed to open your eyes; Alicent was by your side, concerned. "We need to bring down that fever," she said, trying to get up, and you snapped out of the trance.
"Is Rhaenyra okay?" you asked abruptly.
Alicent hesitated for a moment, then looked away. "Is Rhaenyra okay?" she echoed your question; cursing internally, you took her hand before she could stand. “I was worried about you, I am," she replied.
You squeezed her hand, then brought her hands to your face. Suddenly, a sensation took over your entire body. Silverwing was back. You needed fresh air to decipher the message of that nightmare.
Alicent looked at you with more confusion; you quickly got out of bed, dressed, and gave her a fleeting kiss, but it felt cold. Before she could even react, you found yourself in the dragon pit, facing a youngling who seemed unfazed by your dragon's presence. You regarded him with genuine curiosity.
"Are you new here?" you inquired sincerely. He turned to meet your gaze.
"Not entirely. My name is Addam, my lady."
"They can sense fear, so I advise against exposing yourself if you're not prepared," you advised, soothing your dragon with a gentle stroke.
He chuckled innocently, gesturing towards the cave adjacent to yours. "I haven't quite earned Seasmoke's utter trust yet, but we're making progress."
You furrowed your brow, prompting another laugh from him. "Why the surprise? Don't I have the demeanor of a dragonrider?"
You detected a hint of a familiar gaze in him, reflected in his eyes. "And your second name?"
"Once Rivers, now Velaryon," he declared firmly.
"Did you manage to tame my brother's dragon?" A touch of sadness tinted the conversation. "Whose son are you?"
"I believe it's time we speak to our father."
——————
A few days had passed since that disorienting morning, the unsettling dream, and the revelation of your "brother." You were grappling with a sense of disorientation, and encountering the girl you once held dear was becoming unbearable. Joffrey's arrival in the capital added to your uncertainty, leaving you unsure if his anger towards you would dissipate. You abandoned everyone while intending to be with everybody.
Despite Corlys's attempts to engage you in private conversation, you rebuffed him, as it reminded you too much of your mother. Did she know? If he did, did he share his secret too? It was a burden you couldn't bear to confront at the moment.
————-
Upon entering the room, only Daemon and Rhaenyra were present, apparently engaged in a heated argument.
"Your Grace, did you summon me?" you asked calmly to her, while Daemon sighed in annoyance upon noticing you.
"Here comes your whore," Daemon directed his hatred towards you, never having liked you. What a surprise.
"You will refer to her with respect, am I clear?" Rhaenyra ordered him.
"I've told her a thousand times that you're no longer interested in her, that you chose my brother's widow over her, and that she's the one who has you wrapped around her finger, that she should have forgotten about you a long time ago. You filthy traitor.”
You couldn't contain yourself and stooped to his level, simply recalling the kind of man he has always been and how he forced your sister Laena to stay and perish in a place foreign to her home. Laena deserved someone much better, just like Rhaenyra.
"Why don't you go back to Pentos and stay there for the rest of your days? Here, you'll never be more than a second son, a prince consort, and a first-rate oaf," you spat angrily. He grazed his sword with his hand, gripping it tightly, so you did the same with yours.
"I should have ripped your head off when I had the chance or pierced Dark Sister through your skull like I did with your pathetic, deviant brother. You disgust me just like he did," he confessed to the crime that haunted you for far too long since all the incidents at Driftmark, which instinctively led you to draw your sword in a flash before he or the Queen could react. He was stronger and taller than you, but you managed to bring him down to the floor, threateningly placing the blade at his throat. He just let out an insolent chuckle without attempting to defend himself.
"Oh, fret not, don't want you to be upset with my dear wife afterwards. She had nothing to do with it. We were going to let him go with his fifth-rate knight, but I figured he might do something stupid, as people of your kind often do. So I took care of it," he concluded, recounting his story with the corresponding details. You brought the sword closer to his neck, scratching it slightly.
"Go ahead, thrust it, I dare you," he began. Your body felt on fire, along with your anger and helplessness. You wanted to end him there and then, that cunt was a killer. “Oh, right, you don't have it in you. Could it be that you're reluctant because you'd rather shield Rhaenyra from glimpsing your less flattering traits? Are you afraid she won't love you the same way?"
"Y/N, please stop. I didn't know, I would have never allowed it. The plan and what we agreed upon with Laenor was to escape free of all burdens and responsibilities. If I could go back, I swear I would change it, I would change my decisions. He dithered because of you, he didn't want to leave you behind, nor Laena. I'm so sorry," she sincerely spoke with her voice filled with honesty. "You're better than this."
"But you're not better at fucking her," he murmured arrogantly. That's when you had enough, and with the hilt of Nightrider, you struck him, rendering him unconscious. You couldn't bear to hear any more poison coming from his mouth.
"Y/N… listen," Rhaenyra tried to get your attention, but you weren't interested in hearing her now. You stood up and left the room without uttering another word. Whatever she said next never reached your ears. "Don't walk away from me..”
———-
After Haelena's little one got murdered, the whole funeral ordeal, and all those revenge promises, Alicent ended up at the lake on the outskirts of King’s Landing. She was decked out in this white dress, her eyes carrying regret and fear. She knew things were about to go downhill fast; her mind was stuck on snapshots from her youth—like that time with you on Silverwing, cradling their tiny ones for the first time, holding her mom's hand exploring castles near the Hightower.
You came up, giving her a hug from behind, understanding her need for space but also getting she didn't want to be left alone, especially now. You trailed her quietly, wrapping your arms around her slim waist. The mist lifted, the water thickened. Your face found its way to the nape of her neck, planting a shy kiss; she felt the warmth of your lips, defying the chilly air.
No words were traded that time, and none were needed. Just being there for each other was what you craved at that very moment, just feeling.
———-
The early mornings persisted in tormenting you, and the same phlegm-filled scene was all that your retina perceived after witnessing the decapitation of the primary traitors to Rhaenyra, among them Otto. Your loyalty seemed to have lost its value; no one knew which side you were on, and a sense of unease pervaded your being. Doubt inundated your thoughts, and it inflicted more damage on Alicent than anyone else. It had to cease.
"Y/N…" she called out to you, finding you in the corridors. However, you chose to ignore her, as you had in the preceding days, even after her father's demise. "Will this continue in this manner? You no longer sleep in our room. What has occurred? Please, talk to me," she insisted. Nevertheless, you persisted in disregarding her. You had to act in accordance with what felt right at that moment. "We don't know where Aegon is or if he's well. My father has been beheaded, my children are distant, and Helaena scarcely leaves her chamber. I have no allies here. I feel like I'm losing you too." Her voice broke, accentuating your growing indifference, if that were even possible.
"Tell me why you're trying to conceal it if you have something to say."
You loved Alicent; there was no doubt about that. You loved her enough to spare her from this situation. Or were you merely succumbing to the same cowardice as years ago, when you sought her out solely because Rhaenyra had labeled you a whore?
"I'm sorry about your father," you murmured, still unable to articulate your thoughts.
"She did this, Y/N. She's here to seize everything, not just the throne but you as well. Will you allow it?"
Your countenance reflected an acute internal conflict. Alicent clung to the hope that what followed would be erroneous.
"Do you still love her after all she's done to us? Has she twisted you to her will once again so swiftly?" Each question was infused with pure pain, yet she desperately needed to hear you confess.
Your silence only served to confirm it; you had become mute.
"We've become a love that inflicts pain," you finally articulated.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Aemond could return at any moment; you need to speak with him."
"So he forgives the lives of the usurpers?" she asked incredulously, displaying annoyance.
"We don't desire more deaths, Alicent. She is our rightful queen—" before you could complete the sentence, you felt Alicent's hand on your cheek. It was impulsive, born out of desperation, driven by jealousy, perhaps a culmination of various emotions; yet, she did not regret it in that moment.
You regarded her with surprise, but it was not unexpected. You had behaved like an immature 16-year-old girl, and she was unwilling to endure it again.
———
Rhaenyra was acutely aware of the imperative to persistently fortify her position within the heart of King's Landing. The lingering skepticism among a considerable number of individuals, who still refused to acknowledge her as the rightful queen, was more than mere whispers. It extended to some influential figures within the court, casting doubt on her legitimacy.
Simultaneously, Rhaenyra grasped the precariousness of abandoning the capital. The impending return of the middle Green brother signaled an imminent counterattack to reclaim the city. Aemond's unpredictable nature made it unclear how he would navigate the situation. Entrusting one of the Greens' scarce dragons to him, coupled with his lack of finesse in delicate matters, heightened the uncertainty.
The ensuing events took an unforeseen turn as the young prince and his dragon loitered on the outskirts of the city, in a secluded village where Vhagar had been observed for several weeks. Uncertainty loomed over Aemond's course of action, but Rhaenyra was wary of potential surprises.
"The Prince is in close proximity. His dragon incessantly circles the vicinity," reported the maester. Rhaenyra's countenance betrayed no overt concern, yet a flicker of resentment tinged her gaze at the mention of Aemond. It was only a matter of time.
"Let's pay my half-brother an unanticipated visit," Rhaenyra declared. Her gaze met yours, and it was evident that her directive for you to accompany her was not a matter of choice but a command. "And lady y/n, you're coming with me."
Your immediate acknowledgement underscored the non-negotiable nature of the order. "Yes, Your Grace," you replied succinctly. "It's prudent to intercept him before he reaches the city. The devastation he has wrought on remote villages, even among his allies, could escalate significantly if he arrives here."
"Exactly. I must engage him away from the populace. His intent is not only to seize my throne but obliterate what is rightfully ours," she concluded.
Daemon's audible discontent with being excluded was met with Rhaenyra's response. "Silverwing surpasses Caraxes in size. Moreover, your presence is essential here in case the usurper decides on an unforeseen return," she retorted, her tone dry and definitive. With an arrogant sigh, Daemon exited the chamber.
———
As you approached the Dragon Pit, you beheld her getting ready to mount Syrax, and your thoughts drifted back to that initial encounter.
"Who can understand the heart of a dragon?"
Another dragon emerged, and your alleged brother Addam, offered a timid smile as he mounted it—a moment reciprocated with your own nod.
—
The journey could've been briefer, but precautions were taken to avoid the townsfolk's prying eyes, where rumors of Aemond's presence lingered.
Out of the dragons' sight, the trio headed to a tavern to strategize. The plan seemed dubious to you, but you complied with the Queen's orders nonetheless.
Rhaenyra donned a chestnut wig, attempting to blend in inconspicuously, a stark contrast to her usual visibility. Addam, an unknown face, posed no issue, and you kept your hood up, adopting an Essos accent for authenticity.
"Ale, please," you asked the provocative waitress, whose intensity wasn't lost on you, making you slightly uneasy.
The Queen intervened, ordering "Water only" once the waitress was out of earshot. Perplexed, you questioned her choice.
"Here with a purpose. Can't afford distractions," she emphasized. Addam, sensing tension, lightened the mood with a jest.
“Can we indulge in a bit of enjoyment?”
“No.” She said stiffly.
Having received complimentary shots, the Queen, annoyed, paid and swiftly ushered you out. Adam stayed behind, kind of aware of the underlying dynamics.
In the rented room, the Queen discarded the wig, sipping wine. Perplexed, you questioned her abrupt change.
"Why the sudden shift? Now you are driniking," you remarked, gently yet seriously.
Concerned about potential espionage, she warned about the waitress being a possible spy. Frustrated, you defended the harmless encounter, asserting your commitment to the mission.
"I don't know why you're acting like this. We're not teenagers. What's gotten into you?" you queried.
Regretful, she apologized, admitting her lapse in judgment.
“I understand. We need to stay focused and vigilant,” she agreed, nodding. “We can’t afford any slip-ups”
“I've come to negotiate with Aemond," she disclosed, surprising you. In a moment of hope, you acknowledged the possibility of averting further bloodshed, honoring Luke's memory, Jace´s memory.
------
Taglist: @nnightskiess @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog @claymoresword @tired-ninfa @glorioushamsterqueen @barbicent @newcaptainofsquad9 @pindoris @oh-thats-cute @rxscpctals @laenordeservedbetter @voniikg @toot-is-tired @letlovee-in @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valenciavv @the-camilucha @joliettes @itssecret2109 @i-nail-jello-to-walls @cone-fused-mind @livingdreams97
#got#game of thrones fic#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#alicent hightower#hotd#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon
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Safe Keeping | 1
Part 2
"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."
Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.
A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (:
originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here
Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx
A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."
King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"
All eyes turn to one corner.
The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."
"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"
"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.
His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.
Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."
The room is dead silent.
"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.
The man on my side nods once.
"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."
I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."
A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.
The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."
I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"
"Hound."
I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"
I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."
"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"
"Door's open, isn't it?"
I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.
I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"
"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."
I clench my jaw at his icy words.
Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"
He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"
"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.
Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."
He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.
My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."
"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."
I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."
"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."
"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."
I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child? "I understand that."
"No, I don't think you do," he says.
I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.
"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."
I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"
He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"
"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"
"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"
Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"
"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."
We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"
"Hound," he barks.
I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"
He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"
I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"
He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"
"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.
The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.
I scoff when he does so.
Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"
"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"
"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.
She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.
I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."
Lucy grumbles.
"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."
We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."
Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."
We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"
"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.
"What?! But the Hound said-"
"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."
"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"
I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"
Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.
Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.
Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.
"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."
I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"
"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."
"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."
I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."
"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.
I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."
Lucy squeals and applauds.
"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.
The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.
"My Lord Sand-"
"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.
I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-
"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"
I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.
"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."
"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.
He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.
The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.
Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."
The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.
Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.
He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.
He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.
On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."
The Hound ignores him.
"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."
His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.
He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.
He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.
"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.
Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.
"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.
"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.
Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,
I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."
To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."
I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"
"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"
Lucy takes hold of the children.
"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"
"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"
I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.
I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."
"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.
I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"
I am appalled by his venom.
He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.
Sandor, of course, does not budge.
"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.
He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"
I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.
I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.
"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.
"But I do-"
"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.
I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"
He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."
Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.
When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"
Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."
She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"
"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."
Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."
"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."
"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.
It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.
I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.
Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.
The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.
My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.
The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.
The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.
I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.
The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.
Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.
I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.
Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.
Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.
"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"
I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."
The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."
"I agree," the lady says.
I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."
Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."
The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.
"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.
Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."
I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."
When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.
My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"
Sandor does not respond to me.
"H-husband?"
He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.
My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"
My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."
He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"
"You're going to fuck me."
Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."
I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.
"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.
I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.
Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.
I shake my head faster.
He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."
Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.
When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."
I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.
I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.
"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"
I curl my legs up at his words.
I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.
I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.
I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.
My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.
Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"
I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."
He does not respond.
"That was the day my family died."
Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.
I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.
"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."
My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.
My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.
Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."
His words strike up my belly like lightning.
Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.
"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"
I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."
"Good," he trails off.
My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.
I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.
I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.
"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."
My jaw drops at his words.
"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."
My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.
I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.
Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.
"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.
"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.
His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.
Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.
My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.
"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."
My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.
"S-Sandor- Sandor-"
He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."
His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure.
My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.
Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.
Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.
I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.
The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.
And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.
"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.
He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."
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A Kindness
summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?
pairing: ramsay bolton x reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 6.2k
a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
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🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!
“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?”
Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.”
A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.
Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home.
Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well.
Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it.
Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement.
Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.
The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was.
Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk.
It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it.
“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.
You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face.
He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you.
“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”
Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings.
His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.
“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly.
“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does.
“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.
“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin.
“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks.
Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.
Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.
“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor.
“A… A great victory, master!”
“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”
Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare.
“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”
The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?”
He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you.
His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”
Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”
“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.
Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall.
“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.
Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded.
“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”
Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.
“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.
“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –”
Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately.
I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always!
“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”
Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything.
“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts.
“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.”
He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow.
You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours.
Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad.
Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.
Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer.
Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet.
A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone.
A kindness, even now.
Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly.
“Thank y – Ah!”
“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.”
The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head.
“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers.
A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”
The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!
You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center.
“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”
Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot.
He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter.
A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace.
All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow.
“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.
“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.
“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.”
He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.”
You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them.
Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way.
Not that he’d tell you that.
He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill.
“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”
“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again.
“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?”
Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip.
“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”
“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his.
“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”
You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same.
Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you.
“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”
“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”
“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”
Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.
Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers.
Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself.
“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises.
“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.
He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples.
You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm.
“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.
You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold.
He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine.
“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”
“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.
“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”
His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking.
“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.
He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives.
“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”
He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason.
Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his.
He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.
His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm.
“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.
Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.
“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend.
The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine.
Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her.
“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion.
After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore.
“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now.
He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again.
“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you.
“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say.
Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly.
Kind, even still.
A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close.
He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew.
A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips.
“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you.
Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else.
His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet.
He loves you, in his way.
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The Caged Bird and The Leashed Dog
Sandor Clegane x reader
+:✿ Chapter - 6 ✿:+ Free Fields
1-2-3-4-5-_-7
Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.
CW: ALL SMUT MDNI, afab reader, virgin reader, P in V sex, oral sex (mutual), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up cuties), creampie, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence.
A/N: I am posting early this week, giving the girls what they want in one long smut scene. Everyone say thank you Bambi.
Word Count: 3467
You had ridden most of the night, but once the daylight began to rise in the sky you felt sleep take you. Sandor tied Lika to Stranger and Sandor held you as he rode. You insisted you didn’t need the sleep but he insisted in the opposite direction. He’d ridden most of the day holding you against his chest, wrapped in his cloak.
You’d woken up in the forest. The light that peaked through the gaps in the leaves of the trees above you began to shine in your eyes. A cold breeze traveled through them, waking you up even more. You looked to your side through half open eyes. You sat up quickly, realizing you were laying on the soft grass alone. You looked around and saw Sandor was watering the horses, and you were wrapped in his cloak.
“‘M right here.” He said looking over his shoulder at you then back to the horses.
You looked around and never felt so alone, there was no one for miles. But again you never felt so free.
But you couldn’t help but feel somewhat awkward. You’d never been alone with Sandor like this. There was hardly any chance of anyone stumbling upon you, your time was not limited, and now everyone must have known. Known that he took you with him.
You sat up and held your knees closer to your chest, you noticed how the red gown the Lannisters had made for you was already wearing thin, the fabrics tearing slightly. You ran your fingers over the ruined fabric over your knee. You noticed the pattern of the fabric was lions and roses. As your fingers ran over the lion's tail you couldn’t help but feel a pit in your stomach.
Tyrion.
You didn’t love him, that was true. But you were fond of him. And maybe at some point if you were married you could have. He wasn’t like his family, and he tried, he really did try to make your cage a comfortable one. But he did not open that cage for you, he didn’t even seem to want to. Sandor did.
Sandor looked over his shoulder at you again, noticing you examining the fabric.
“You can’t wear that out ‘ere.” He said gruffly as he stood and walked towards Stranger.
You looked confused,
“Somebody comes along and see’s you in that bloody thing you know what they’ll do?” He asked, as if he was testing you. Wanting to know just how cruel you knew the world could be.
“Something like those men during the riot did.”
“No.” He huffed while rummaging through the sattles bag “No one’ll ever touch you like that again.” He said pulling out some clothes and walking towards you, “But they’ll know who you are. Where the fuck you came from. Lannisters would find us faster.”
“You don’t think they’ll know who you are?” You asked as he handed you the clothes,
“You can change that fuckin’ dress but I can’t change my face now can I?” He said in a gruff voice that you ignored as you looked at the clothes. There was a white cotton tunic, a thick gray wool sweater that was like a dress on you. a pair of tall black leather boots, a thick black leather belt with a satchel attached to it, and a pair of dark brown trousers that were too tight for you but would have to do.
“where’d you get this?” You asked looking at the clothing,
“Stole it, while you were sleeping.” You looked up at him with a look of surprise “They didn’t want them, fucking left them outside.”
“Were they on a line?” He didn’t respond to you, just stared at you with guilty eyes, “They were hanging to dry. You can’t do that.”
“I’ll do what I have to, for you.” he whispered that last part, “You’re very kind. That’ll get you killed out here.” His voice was hardened and cold, “Change.” He said walking back to the horses by the river.
You shrugged off his hardened words. running your fingers through your hair. You realized how dirty the journey had made it. Not to mention the dirt that had gathered on your hands, feet, and knees.
Your eyes wandered towards the river, the water rushing looked inviting. You looked around, there was no one, at least for the next thirty miles. Then you looked back to sandor who was tending to the horses, he was strangely attentive and fond of the horses. It made you feel warm inside, seeing him be so gentle, after you’ve seen him kill and maim men for little reason.
You stood, as you did you began to remove your gown, Sandor could hear the fabric of your gown being discarded. He pretended not to notice it as he kept his back turned.
Your gown fell around your feet as you stepped out of it, your underclothes with it.
You walked towards the river, you dipped your foot in the cold water. It wasn’t like the warm baths in lavender oil that you were used to. But it was what you needed. The water was much deeper than you expected.
You plunged into the cold waters, let yourself stay under the water for a moment. The coldness of the water surrounded you, like it was holding you. It reminded you of the cold winds of the Eyrie. Before you could daydream even more you were pulled out of the water by your arm.
You gasped for air as your head finally reached the surface.
“Fuck are you doing, girl?” He barked at you, you pulled your arm away,
“I was dirty.” You said with a smirk as you were catching your breath.
“Er clean now, out.” He said pulling your arm again but you pulled away and out of his grasp. He huffed, you noticed that he was still covered in blood, it was faded but it was still there.
“You’re still all bloody.” You said and he tisked at you walking away. “Stop it.” You said pulling your arm away before swimming closer towards him. “Come here.” You commanded softly. With a gruff sigh he gave in, kneeled towards you. You wiped the blood from his brow, his cheek, then his scarred cheek. When you touched it he winced a little. “Does it hurt?” You whispered, he shook his head.
“Are you finished?” He rasped, you nodded. He stood and walked back and away from you. “Get out of there before a man comes along.” He rasped once again, as he sat by a small fire he’d built. No doubt with a great deal of courage, he mainly built it for you.
So you did as he said, you climbed out of the water, you threw on your under clothes to cover your nakedness, though your body was still so wet the clothes became almost transparent. Sandor looked back at you while you rang out your hair. He’d seen you naked before, but this felt all the more intimate. The glamor had worn off, and you were reduced to skin and bone. Not a noble woman but a human. Your cheeks felt red and you looked away, but you felt his gaze linger.
“Dress yourself.” He commanded in a growl “If a man comes,”
“There's no one for miles.” You interrupted him, walking towards him, your hair still dripping wet.
“Stubborn girl.” He growled as he drank water from a flask, pissed that it wasn’t wine. But you continued your steps towards him. You knelt by his side and began to undo the clasps of his armor. He grabbed your hand “Fuck are you doing?”
“You’re covered in blood, your armor- it’s covered in blood.” You said but he didn’t let go of your hand “We can’t attract attention like you said. You being covered in blood would attract just that.” He let your hand go, and you continued. Undoing each clasp until he was left in his tunic and slacks.
You sat by the river and washed each piece with your hands, taking small amounts of water and rubbing it onto the silver armor. Making sure not too much water touched it, you didn’t want to ruin the material.
Sandor watched you as the sun began to set, it made him think about what he offered you in your room the night of the battle of Blackwater. He’d build you a home. And he would. He thought of you washing clothes in a river like what you were doing now. He thought of sharing a home with you, not a grand one like the Eyrie but a small home made of wood and stone. He thought for a moment of you carrying his babe. But he was not one for chivalry, tradition, or ceremonies. But he wasn’t one for love either but here he was.
You walked back with his armor, the fire illuminated his face handsomely, you tried to put it back on him but he took it and placed it on the ground. His eyes softened strangely, but his face was still in that scowl he always had. He placed his hands on your hips and his eyes ran over your body.
“If another man saw what I am looking at right now, I would kill him.” He grumbled.
“How many men have you killed?”
“Killed my first man when I was twelve. I lost count since then.” His voice was cold, and his eyes reached yours searching for any ounce of fear. Finding none. “I don’t frighten you?” He barked as if he was trying to frighten you, trying to get you to come to your senses.
“Never.” You spoke softly, your soft words always gentled the rage within him. He felt so much for you he almost resented you for it.
He grabbed you by your jaw, “Have you ever made a man feel this way before?” He growled,
“I don’t know.” You said, still not scared of him, you knew he’d never harm you.
“I know you have. How could any man not? I know that Imp, he wanted you.” his voice was so low it rumbled in his chest.
“I never felt love for him, nor lust.” You spoke softly, his grip on you loosened.
“What of that pretty boy,”
“Loras?”
“Aye.”
You let out a small giggle at the thought of Sandor being truly jealous of Loras, a man who couldn't love a woman. “Rumors of Loras are true. He did not like the touch of a woman.”
“He was a cock sucker?”
“Stop that.”
“What, you love him do you?” His grip tightened once again but still not hurting you.
“Not the kind of love you mean.”
“You said you promised someone you love to take the Eyrie. Who?” He growled, you knew that this was the only way he’d be able to tell you he loved you. By interrogating you on who you loved.
“My mother.” His grip loosened completely, “And my father.” His hand began to rest on your neck, “I promised my mother on her child bed, to keep her house safe, and her son safe. I failed at one I can’t fail both.”
“Oaths and promises are for cunts.”
“You’ve sworn a promise to me.”
“Aye.” He said, his eyes scanning down your body once more.
“What are you looking at?”
“The fuck do you think I’m looking at.” He rasped as you noticed his hooded eyes lingering on your breasts, hardly covered by your soaking wet under clothes. You pulled the top half of your under clothes over your head. His eyes snapped to yours.
“You’ve never been fucked by a man?” He rasped, he knew you hadn’t, he knew you’d already told him this, but he needed to be sure. You shook your head. “Never had a man's fingers in your cunt?” You shook your head again, “Never had a man’s tongue in your cunt?” He rasped,
“Only yours,” You whispered. Those words only encourage his throbbing cock.
“You sure you want this?” He grumbled, his large rough hands going to your breasts. They were rough and almost hurt by how course they were. They were so large that they engulfed your breast completely. Your mind then turned back from that to the question he asked,
“I am.” Your words are soft and sweet.
“Lay back,” His voice dropped and rumbled in his chest, it made you clench your thighs together. You laid back as he asked you. You laid back on the green soft grass. As you did he pulled his tunic off and over his head. He loomed over you, his hands ran from your jaw, to your sternum, to your stomach, to your pelvis. He toyed with the fabric of your under clothes covering your sex.
“You can’t take it back.” He rasped. You nodded, and you pulled your under clothes down and over your knees, he took them off from there.
He positioned himself between your legs, and leaned down. He kissed you deeply. Sucking on your lips as if they tasted of wine. His rough hands roamed your body, they were so rough they almost scratched at your skin. You moaned into his mouth as his hand found its way to your cunt.
His large middle finger began to play with your clit. His finger circled your clit a few times then teased your entrance, just a little, adding some pressure then going back to your clit. Your sweet moans only encourage his throbbing bulge in his trousers.
Your hand gripped a chunk of his hair at the back of his head, deepening your kiss. Your other hand roamed his back, littered with scars.
He kissed down from your jaw, to your neck, to your collar bones, your chest, breasts, nipples, stomach. He sucked and bit at your side making you jump a little and mewl. He continued on and kissed your pelvic mound.
He lifted your legs up and over his shoulders, kissing your inner thighs and biting them gently. The feel of his beard scratched at your thighs. Your back arched at the feeling.
Finally, replacing his fingers with his tongue. He licked at your sensitive clit, sucking on it, and biting on it lightly, enough to make you moan his name, which in turn made him moan into your cunt. The vibration of it made the sensation all the more pleasurable.
At this point you were soaking wet, you heard lude sounds from him, a mix of growls and slurping.
You gripped a handful of his hair again scratching at his scalp.
His fingers returned to your cunts entrance, not fully entering it, just applied pressure teasing you horribly.
He kissed your swollen clit and came up for air, He looked at your cunt, empty but clenching around nothing at all. It drove him mad, as he looked up at you, you looked down at him. “I’ll be gentle, but it’ll hurt.” He said with a low raspy voice.
You nodded, “Please,” you whined.
He kissed your inner thigh as his thick ring finger began to enter you. Your back arched and you let out a groan as you threw your head back. It burned a little, and the pressure was uncomfortable, and yet felt so good. His finger continued inside of you, and his eyes watched you making sure you didn’t want it to stop. Then you felt him hit something, it made you wince. He stopped,
“Take a deep breath, little bird.” He said oddly gently. He sucked on your clit as he continued and you felt a snap inside of you, it hurt,
“Nmph!” You groaned, let out a sharp breath.
“It’s alright now, it’ll feel better now.” He said moaning into your cunt.
And he was right, the pain and the burn stopped, and was replaced by pleasure. You moaned as his finger pumped in you over and over again. He added another finger as he sucked on your breasts. You held his head and kissed the top of it whilst he did so.
He pulled his fingers out of you and sat up on his knees. You sat up as well.
Your eyes looked at his fingers, covered in your slick mixed with blood. Your cheeks lit up red with embarrassment.
“It’s alright, little bird. I fuckin' love it, you've got no fucking idea how long I've wanted to do this to ye.” He comforted you, you weren’t used to it. You tried to ignore your embarrassment and focus on what you wanted. You started to undo his trousers, he didn’t stop you this time. You pulled his trousers down with some resistance from his large cock. Once you got them down his cock bounced up, standing straight. You looked up at him waiting for any resistance, met with none once again.
You took his cock in your hand, it made your hand look so small in comparison. He let out a deep groan, which only encouraged you more. You kissed the side of his cock, and kissed your way to the tip. You licked at the precum that was seeping from his tip.
It was salty and bitter but you couldn’t get enough. However, that was his last straw. He pushed you back onto the soft grass and pulled your legs around his waist. He kissed you, tasting himself on your tongue as you tasted yourself on his.
He lined himself up with your soft, warm, and soaking wet entrance. He slowly pushed his way inside of you. You both let out a loud moan, but you tried to cover your mouth, not wanting to risk others in these forests hearing you. Sandor wouldn’t have that though. He grabbed your wrist and pulled it away from your mouth,
“Don’t you fucking dare. I want to hear all of it.” He growled at you, “I’ve waited too long to hear it.”
“What if someone hears?” You tried to say without moaning but failing miserably
“I’ll strangle them with their own guts.” He said like an angry dog, “I’m the only one who can see you like this, hear you like this.”
He pushed further and further into you until he hit your spongy cervix, making you almost scream out in pleasure. Sandor gritted his teeth and he shouted “Gods!... (Y/N), you feel so fucking good!” as he slammed his lips onto yours kissing you with a hunger you’d never known. He let himself warm inside you for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch.
All the things you’d heard about sex finally made sense. The pleasure of it, and the pain of it. But you never knew how fulfilling it could feel. How the satisfaction would feel within you. You hadn’t even cum yet but you were a woman happy nonetheless.
He began to move again, in and out of you pumping. You gripped the grass at the sides of your head. As he pumped in you your breasts bounced, his eyes couldn’t stop but admire your body. Every inch of it unique to you and you alone. All those whores he paid who looked like you weren’t like this. They didn’t feel as good as you did, they didn’t fit around him the way you did.
“I’m not ‘urting you am I?” He asked through gritted teeth, you shook your head as you moaned loudly, “Good.” He said as he pumped harder and faster. He leaned down more and ravaged your breasts, you knew there would be marks on them tomorrow. His hands gripped at your hips so tightly you knew there would be marks there as well.
“Take it, take it, take it, take it-” He grumbled into your neck over and over again.
You felt the pressure in your belly tighten, you knew you were going to cum. “I feel ya’ tightening around my cock, do it, cum around my cock.” He said into your ear as he nibbled at your lobe, then moving to bite at your jaw.
“Fuck!” You moaned loudly, “Sandor!” You yelped as you felt yourself cumming all over him.
His arm wrapped around your waist tightly pulling you up and close to this chest. While his other hand held your jaw in place, having you look him in the eyes.
“Cum in me,” You pleaded breathlessly, his eyes widened, he couldn’t believe that you’d ever want him to do such a thing. It pushed him over the edge and he didn’t have time to question if it was truly what you wanted as he melted into you.
"(Y/N)!" He shouted as you felt the hot ribbons of cum filling you deep inside of you. His grunts were like war screams, as if he were impaling a man with a sword. In a way he was. It out of nowhere made you cum again, pushing some of his cum out of your cunt, overflowing around his cock still in you.
As he collapsed beside you, and you both laid there naked covered in sweat in the cold air. You tried to catch your breath.
“(Y/N)” He said in a husky growl you could hear the rumble of his tone, you turned to look at him. “I would die for you.”
NOTE:
Hi girlies. I made this with the intention of making it just one scene in a multiple scene chapter but it was already so long and we have a lot more to get to so enjoy this little freebie.
Also I am working on a new series, might take a min tho so I am not going to announce who it is about but it is also GOT related.
Also also double points for anyone who caught the Laufey lyrics
My Beloveds: If you want to be added to the tag list comment telling me so!
@dontfollowjuststuff @helpmeescapethisreality @merfic
#sandor clegane x reader#Sandor clegane#got x princess reader#sandor x reader#sandor the hound clegane#game of thrones x reader#sandor clegane#got x reader#got hc#game of thrones#the hound#got#sandor headcanon#sandor#sandor clegane fanfic#the hound fanfic#sandor fluff#sandor fanfic#sandor clegane smut#sandor clegane fic#sandor clegane x you#sandor clegane fluff#sandor fic#game of thrones fic#game of thrones fanfic#sandor clegane angst#sandor angst#sandor smut#game of thrones smut#smut
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let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader
ao3 | masterlist
Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader
Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;
a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!
Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody
You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.
His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.
“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.
“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.
“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.
“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.
“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.
“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.
“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”
The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.
“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.
Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”
“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.
“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”
“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.
“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.
“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.
“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.
“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”
“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.
“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.
“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.
“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.
You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.
“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.
“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.
“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”
“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.
By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.
“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”
You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.
“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.
“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.
You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.
As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.
When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.
“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.
“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”
And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.
“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.
“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.
The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.
“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.
The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.
“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.
“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.
With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.
Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.
“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.
Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."
And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."
#fanfic asoiaf#asoiaf fanfiction#ao3#game of thrones fanfiction#a song of ice and fire#house lannister#house targaryen#rhaegar targaryen#jaime lannister#jaime x reader#targaryen x lannister#targaryen oc#targaryen reader#jaime lannister fanfic#lannister#cersei lannister#tywin lannister#asoiaf fanfic#game of thrones fic#game of thrones smut
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Hello. First of all love your writing. <3
I have a request for you:
can you write a robb stark x reader maybe reader is a ward of the starks and the two have been engaged and best friends since childhood. Then the wedding comes and the reader is nervous and afraid of the wedding night
thank you
Robb Stark*Goodnight Dear Husband
Pairing: Robb Stark x f!reader
Word count: 1594
Warnings: insecurity, worrying about sex, (brief)motherhood, marriage
Masterlist here
you still remember the first night you spent at Winterfell. The day had been so fun. Catelyn gave you a tour of the castle, Ned let you try pick up his sword Ice which you could barely even lift the handle, Jon taught you how to sneak into the kitchens. You even remember meeting Robb.
He was a lanky boy, seven to your six. His knees were knobbly, and his curly hair could barely be controlled no matter how much his mother tried. Freckles scattered his cheeks and there was a shy smile on his chapped lips. “Welcome my lady,” he greeted with a shaky bow which was matched with your own wonky curtsey.
“I like your horse,” he said, pointing to the stuffed animal in your hand. A wide smile beamed onto your face at that, “Would you like to meet my horse? You can ride him if you’d like,” and within moments of arriving you were already fast friends. You didn’t even know you were to marry him yet.
The day was fun but tiring at that. there was a small feast of stew and honey cakes to welcome you however you were relieved to be shown to your room. It was only a corridor away from Robb’s and next to the young Sansa’s and Arya’s.
The bed practically consumed you as you clambered in, snuggling into the furs to try get away from the nipping cold. You watched as the candle flame began to waver just as a wolf howled. Your hands clutched the furs in fear before bravely reaching out to grab your horse.
But it wasn’t there.
You’d left it at the feast. How could you be so foolish? You gently began to sniffle, soft tears falling when you realised you were alone, and the light was nearly out, and you didn’t know where they kept the spare candles. Then there was a knock at the door.
You quickly jumped out of bed, running to the door encase your parents had come to tell you it was time to go home. Instead stood a boy with knobbly knees and unkempt curls holding a stuffed horse. “You forgot this. Were you crying?”
“No,” you sniffled, snatching the horse from his hands, “Its just dusty in here,” Robb nodded, biding goodnight and turning to leave when you grabbed his wrist, “Wait! I-I,” you stammered, “I don’t know where the candles are,” you mumbled.
Robb, no longer even slightly shy, strode into the room, fetching them from a drawer and quickly lighting more for you. “How’s that?”
“Perfect. And thank you,” you said, smiling softly at the boy, a yawn overcoming you again.
“Do you want me to tuck you in?” he offered as you began to clamber into bed, “Its what my mum does when I’m scared,”
“I’m not scared,” you pouted, pulling the covers over yourself, “You can. If you want to. Its up to you,” you said, silently hoping he would which he instantly did. Robb tucked you in, kissing your forehead before turning to leave, “Night Robbie,”
“Night, night,”
-
You were pacing your room so much you wondered if you might wear a hole in the stone floor. Your wedding dress was folded perfectly in a chest by the foot of your bed. There was a box on top of it with your families crest on a broach your parents had gifted you as well as a Stark amulet from Ned and Cat. It also had hair pins, carefully selected by Sansa from the market and a silver ring with a red stone from Robb.
Everything was as it was supposed to be. You were to marry Robb and officially become a Stark. Yet for some reason your corset felt so tight you could hardly breathe despite how lose it was. Your mind was running over drive as your pacing struggled to keep up.
There was a soft knock on the door. You rushed over, flinging it open despite the late hour, to be greeted by your soon to be husband, “Robbie,” you almost gasped, “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” he said, coming in without having to ask, “Who were you expecting?”
“No one,” you lied, biting your lip in the way that made Robb raise an eyebrow. “Jon said he’d sneak me some honey cakes after cook went to bed,”
Robb chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair off your face. “You look so pretty,” despite him saying it a hundred times you still felt the butterflies dancing in your stomach.
“You wanna come in?” you asked.
He didn’t need to be told twice and soon you were sat on your bed, your legs over his and your head on his shoulder. It was a peaceful silence. It should have been relaxing but soon your mind began to wonder.
You were to be married tomorrow. There was a gorgeous white dress waiting for you, jewels to match, a new name and title. You were going to move into Robb’s room, be his wife, his comfort, his relief. In all ways soon.
Despite loving Robb, a rarity in marriage, you couldn’t help being scared. Sure, he was attractive, stunning even, and its not like you hadn’t had thoughts about it before but suddenly the wedding night was dawning on you.
Its not like you didn’t want to have sex. From what you had done with Robb you knew it would be good. great even. Orgasmic hopefully. But the idea of it made you tense. Something Robb soon noticed.
“You, okay?” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.
“Yeah, just thinking,” you mumbled as you picked at your fingers, “Just you know. Wedding stuff,”
“You don’t sound too excited sweetheart,” he pouted, tightening his arms around you, “C’mon you can tell me,”
You sighed before moving to face him, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were so filled with care you could drown in them. “Just worried about what comes next,”
“Kids?” he asked, eyebrows scrunched up.
“No! well now I am but still,” you sighed, closing your eyes so you could finally say the right words, “What if I’m not good at it?” you said, emphasizing the last word making a small oh come from his mouth. “I know it’s stupid- “
“It’s not stupid sweetheart,” he hushed, his hands moving to gently squeeze yours, “But trust me you’ll be good at it,” he chuckled.
“What if I don’t do it right?”
“We’ll figure it out,”
“What if I don’t like it?”
“Then we’ll stop,”
“What if you don’t think I look good?”
“That’s not physically possible,” he said, tilting your chin up with two fingers to give you a soft kiss with his cheeky smile. It quickly turned into a softer face, “Besides we don’t have to do it just because we can,”
You sighed, “I know you want too then,”
Robb shuffled, almost pulling away making you sit up. His shoulders deflated as he sighed, “Of course I want to love. But only if you do. I don’t want to have sex with some girl just because I can. I wanna be with you,” he said, taking your hands, “because I love you,” he managed to get a small smile out of you making him grin, “And because you’re sexy as fuck,”
“Shut up,” you laughed, smacking at his chest, “You can’t blame me for being worried,”
“I’m not blaming you. I’m nervous too,” he admitted making you laugh a little, “What?”
You shrugged, your eyes wandering over him, “Just never imagined you not all confident and suave. Besides you don’t need to be nervous. You’re perfect,” your hand moved to cup his jaw, your thumb running over his cheek bone.
Robb pulled your legs over his lap, pulling you into his side. “That’s how I feel about you. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen or whatever,” he rambled, taking your hands in his, “We’ll do it together and we’ll go slow. I never want to hurt you,”
“And I never wanna lose you,” you said squeezing his hands
“Good,” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips gently, “Because you’re stuck with me,” you leaned in to return the kiss which started slow and gentle, but a shiver ran down your spine when his hand moved to rest on your hip. Your glorious make out was interrupted by a knock at the door.
It quickly opened just as you and Robb were pulling apart, “Gross,” Jon muttered as he closed the door behind him. “Also, sorry cook was up late tonight getting ready for the wedding,” he said as he handed you the wrapped goods, “speaking of. You.” He said, pointing a finger at Robb, “get to bed. I haven’t been covering for you two for you to get busted in her bed the night before so get,”
Robb sighed as he dragged himself away from you, giving one last peck before he had to go and before Jon would hit him. “And you,” Jon said as he now pointed his finger to you, “Get your beauty sleep. You need it,” he said with a tilted smile making Robb hit him and you laugh.
“Your one to talk now beat it. a lady needs her rest,”
“Uhuh,” Jon said, rolling his eyes but quickly wishing goodnight. He pretended not to notice Robb giving you a goodnight kiss and instead waited in the hall.
“I’ll see you tomorrow love wife even,” he grinned.
“Goodnight, dear husband,”
“Goodnight sweet wife,”
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Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader Hcs
Fueling my Nikolaj and GOT brainrot~ enjoy
NSFW and SFW -
1. Man protects you like a dawg. He will not have anyone touch you or get too close without drawing his sword the second they take a step closer (Not even your parents).
2. Jaime loves having sex the second you both are alone, he just can’t help it. A quickie in the meeting room, in his chamber, after shower. He loves it when he stands tall and you’re on your knees sucking him off as a to thank him for protecting you.
3. Jaime loves carrying you over his shoulder. He’s strong, and you’re his. In the palace he will subtly tease you by carrying you over his shoulder to your room.
4. Jaime loves restraining you, he will tackle you down, pinning your hands above your head. He likes to be in charge, and fuck you to relieve his stress from the long day of managing Cersei.
5. Jaime would like to have children with you, and possibly favour them over Joffrey. As they are his to claim to the public, and he can love them freely also protect and raise them.
6. Jaime likes being just a boy around you. No pressures to fight or decisions. He likes teasing, making jokes and possibly be obsessed with building blocks which makes you look at him sometimes think, how at the core hes just. a. guy.
7. When you watch him fight or be an exceptional swordsman you want him to fight you similarly but in the bedroom, without his clothes on and definitely with a different sword of his. You could testify Jaime was skilled with his other not so miniature sword as well.
8. Cersei would love bullying you, in order to push you away from her beloved brother. Jaime wouldnt never rage at her, but would protect you from all her evil schemes and will never let anyone or anything harm you. They will have to face him before you.
9. Jaime takes off his metal hand and stares at where his wrist used to be sometimes, but he will only show such level of sadness and vulnerability in front of you.
10. Jaime loves pounding you with your legs over his shoulders, he loves to watch your breasts bounce bringing him closer to the edge faster.
Your twin,
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under the weirwood
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x stark!reader
summary: requested by anon: "rhaenyra trying to talk jace into approaching reader:-(shes just so supportive mshdhshs"
notes: y'all when i tell you this made me BLUSH! he's actually adorable i might be perhaps in love
no warnings! just fluff
jacaerys velaryon was a learned boy of eight-and-ten, prince of dragonstone and heir to the iron throne of westeros – yet he was completely tongue tied anytime you were near.
you first met the prince when he came to winterfell to visit your brother – lord cregan stark. he arrived on dragonback, sending up plumes of snow when he landed. assembled with the other lords and ladies of the keep, you retreated further into your fine furs. winter had come, and it was a cold one.
“my prince,” lord cregan announced, welcoming jacaerys as he entered the gates, now on foot, “the north welcomes you.”
“i’m pleased to make your acquaintance, lord cregan,” jacaerys smiled, warm and open, “many thanks to your house for such a welcome.”
cregan nodded, then gestured to you, “my younger sister.”
you dutifully stepped forward, curtsied, and introduced yourself, “welcome, your grace. i have heard many tales of your bravery.”
was the prince… blushing?
he seemed to stutter for a moment before he nodded stiffly, “my lady.”
for a feast held in his honor, the prince did not seem to be enjoying it much.
you, however, were in your element. the north was a large place, so cold and empty that you rarely had guests. to have so many of the great houses together? you were delighted.
from the moment the dancing started, you didn’t leave the floor. you accepted every man who offered his hand, twirling and spinning and giggling with the other ladies until you practically fell over.
when you returned to your seat beside your brother's, you were flushed and panting. he was off somewhere you did not know, so only an empty chair sat between you and prince jacaerys.
“you do not dance, your grace?” you questioned, pouring yourself a cup of wine.
“i confess it is not my forte,” he looked away with a laugh, “and please, call me jace.”
you took a sip of the deep red liquid, “only if you will grant me a dance. jace.”
you held out a hand, and grinned when he took it. he took the lead from there, leading you out onto the center of the floor. the light grey fabric of your skirts swirled around his dark leather, the silver embroidery shining in candlelight.
“i don’t wish to imply you are a liar,” you began, spinning away from him, then back in, “but you are quite the dancer, my – jace.”
he just chuckled, ducking his head, “you are far outshining me, my lady.”
the next day, jacaerys brought news at breakfast, “my lady mother will be joining us tomorrow. she will only stay for a short while, but wishes to make your acquaintance, lord cregan.”
“how delightful,” you smiled, “to think, brother – the queen, here!”
“yes, yes,” he huffed, then looked at the prince, “we would of course be delighted to host queen rhaenyra.”
“will she be arriving on syrax, jacaerys?” you inquired, and when he nodded, you grinned even wider, “i never dreamed i would see a dragon in this lifetime, but to have two right here at winterfell!”
“would… would you like to go see vermax, my lady?” the prince proposed.
“oh, brother, please,” you sighed, “may i?”
cregan only waved his hand and continued eating.
within half an hour, you and jacaerys were standing in front of the dragon. he was sleeping when you arrived, but a huge golden eye opened as he sensed your approach.
you froze as he examined you, but jacaerys held his arm steady at your back, “it’s alright, my lady. he’s – he won’t hurt you. he’s a gentle creature.”
you were so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him when vermax fully awoke, raising his head up.
you stumbled back, but jacaerys put himself in between you and the dragon, “umbas, vermax.”
he helped you move closer, and whispered, “lykiri. this is lady stark, vermax.”
the dragon huffed, almost like a petulant child, but when jace moved your hand to his snout, he didn’t object.
you laughed in amazement, “what did you say to him?”
“it’s high valyrian – umbas means ‘stay’, and lykiri means ‘calm’.”
“lykiri,” you whispered, running the tips of your fingers across his smooth scales, “how do you say hello?”
he smiled, reaching out to stroke the dragon, “rytsas.”
“rytsas, vermax,” the word was unfamiliar on your tongue, but vermax lowered his head. still awake, but clearly relaxed, “he’s beautiful.”
“he is,” jacaerys agreed, but he was watching you.
queen rhaenyra, true to her word, arrived the next day. once again, you bundled up in your finest furs to await her arrival. syrax’s entrance was grand, yellow scales glinting in the sunlight as the queen landed her. she was enormous, bigger than vermax, but seemed docile.
as your brother introduced you, she eyed you carefully. but, you held your head high, smiled brightly and curtsied as low as you could.
“the young lady stark is quite beautiful,” rhaenrya stated to her son, “have you had much chance to become acquainted?”
she was resting on a chair by the fireplace in her quarters, warming herself after the freezing ride to winterfell.
“a bit. i took her to meet vermax,” he sighed, leaning on the mantle, “i confess – i can scarcely speak to her. everytime i do, i make a fool of myself. i’m the prince of dragonstone, and i start stuttering like a child”
“oh my darling,” she smiled knowingly, “you have affections for her?”
he knew before he answered. everytime you smiled at him, it was like dragonfire warming his insides. your touch sent sparks down his arms, the way you moved when you danced entranced him. even vermax seemed to like you.
so, he nodded, blushing creeping up his neck.
“you must tell her then,” rhaenyra decided, leaning back in the chair, “you are the crown prince of the seven kingdoms, but i will give you leave to pursue your own choice in wife. and the lady stark would not be an unwelcome match.”
“what?” he furrowed his eyebrows.
rhaenyra sighed, “jace. if you like her, you must make your affections known. if you wish to marry her – you have my blessing. though i cannot speak for cregan stark, i believe it would be an excellent match.”
after begging his leave from his mother, jace nearly sprinted to your quarters. when he arrived, he found only a servant who informed him you were in the godswood. by the time he found his way through the labyrinth of trees, he was panting and sweating despite the cold.
you heard footsteps and looked up from the tome you were reading by the weirdwood in the center, “my – jace?” you stood as he approached you, “are you alright?”
he could scarcely breathe as he took your hands in his, “can i kiss you, my lady?”
you froze, mouth agape, searching his face. you tried to say yes, yes, please, but no sound would leave your throat. all you could do was nod and his lips were on yours. his hands moved to cup your face so tenderly, while yours curled in the fabric of his tunic. it was breathless and sweet and over all too soon.
jace was nearly gasping by the time he let you go, “i – my apologies. i ran here.” his hands moved to hold your waist.
“wh–,” you laughed, cupping his cheek, feeling the hard line of his jaw, “why did you do that?”
“i wanted to ask you to marry me,” he let out a nervous breath.
you froze once again. a pause.
“you don’t jest?” you whispered.
he shook his head vehemently, “no, no, never. i confess i have made a fool of myself time and again, but you – you are everything wonderful in this world. you are bold and tender and i completely adore you. please,” he breathed, “please, marry me.”
“yes,” you murmured, moving closer until your foreheads touched, “a thousandfold, yes.”
when his lips met yours again, you could feel him smile against them.
#jacaerys velaryon fic#jacaerys velaryon#jace velaryon x reader#jace velaryon#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon x you#hotd fic#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones fic#game of thrones#asoiaf#stark!reader
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Please write about Harwin being married to Rhaenyra's sister. When the kids' fight happens in Driftmark, it's their son who attacks Aemond because he was defending his cousins and brother, who were fighting with Aemond and because he called them bastards. When Harwin and her arrive at the hall, they see everyone judging their kids, so they get protective over them, and the reader is the one to stand up against Alicent with the dagger, while Harwin protects their sons by hiding them behind him.
ooooh I love this! I hope I gave your idea justice!
Armor
warnings: f!targaryen!reader, fighting, not proofread, reader has children with harwin strong, no use of Y/N
summary: aemond loses an eye to your sons, but your only concern is protecting your family.
author’s note: I loved this request so much! I also tried to not make it an exact replica of the actual scene, and I didn’t want to make the names of the children the same as Rhaenyra’s, so they will be unnamed lol.
You practically sprinted down the corridors, fear driving your every step. Your hands grasped your nightgown to keep the fabric out of the way, wanting nothing to slow you down. You faintly registered the sound of thundering footsteps behind you– Harwin– but you were so focused on your mission it was as if he wasn’t even there.
When you reached the doors to the chamber, you pushed them open with all of your might, slightly stumbling into the room. All heads turned your way as you frantically searched for your sons.
“Boys!” You cried out, rushing over to them as you spotted them. They were standing by Rhaenyra and Daemon, with one of Rhaenyra’s hands on each of their shoulders. Their faces showed clear signs of relief as you hurried over to them and crouched down to their level, pulling them to you in a fierce embrace.
The room was silent as they watched the display before them. Harwin was right behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder as you squeezed your children. They put up no fight– they were as relieved to see you as you were to see them.
You pulled back from them after you were sure they wouldn’t be ripped away from you. Your hands cupped the cheeks of your youngest, turning his chin this way and that as you examined his bloodied face.
“What happened?” You asked him softly, concerned.
“Your children,” Alicent spat the words from somewhere behind you. You didn’t bother turning to look at her; you kept your gaze focused on the two boys in front of you. “Attacked my son.”
“I’m sure that whatever they did, they did in self defense.” Harwin spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest.
You two had been sleeping when a servant had abruptly entered your quarters to tell you the news. You hadn’t had the mind to make yourself more presentable, and neither had your husband.
You both stood in your nightclothes, and as you rose to stand beside your husband, you realized how underdressed you were compared to the rest of the room.
Alicent scoffed from her place by her wounded son. You watched them as you snaked a hand around one of Harwin’s arms. He looked down at you briefly before turning his attention back to Alicent.
“It was not self defense, it was planned and it was an attack. Your sons and Daemon’s girls cornered him and beat him–” she began, but was swiftly cut off by your eldest.
“He called us bastards!” Your eldest cried in outrage, pointing a finger at Aemond.
The room fell deathly silent. Your grip on Harwin’s arm tightened dangerously. Fury seethed through your veins at the false accusation.
It was not the first time you had heard those words. Alicent and the greens had been attempting to undermine you and Rhaenyra for years, but tensions were growing as you all grew older. With your father’s rapidly declining health, both sides were preparing to take the throne. Therefore, Alicent had recently taken to spreading lies throughout the castle about you and your sister. She never outright said anything, of course– but she had planted seeds that had grown quickly in the underbelly of the Red Keep.
“My children,” you began, gaze trained on Alicent with a murderous glint in your eyes. “Are not bastards. To insinuate that they are is treason.”
“That does not excuse what your children did to my son. He’s lost an eye over words!” Alicent cried, taking a few steps towards you. Harwin moved to stand in front of you as you pulled your children behind you.
The doors to the chamber creaked open once more as the King clambered into the room. He looked angry as he made his way towards his wife.
“What is the meaning of this?” He shouted, looking first to Alicent and then to you.
“Your grandchildren have attacked your son–" Alicent began, but you stepped out from behind Harwin.
“Your son called my children bastards–” you started with narrowed eyes, but Viserys interrupted you.
“Boys,” he spoke, taking a step towards your children. They peeked their heads out from behind you to see the King. “What happened?”
“Aemond took Vhagar, and he was insulting Rhaena and Baela, so I told him to stop but he said he would not listen to a bastard.” Your eldest spoke, and as soon as he finished, clamor rang throughout the room.
“Quiet!” Viserys roared. The room slowly quieted as the King moved towards Aemond.
“Aemond, I want no lies.” He told the boy as he stood in front of him. Aemond looked up at the king with his remaining eye, and it was then that you got a good look at what had happened.
You inhaled sharply at the sight of Aemond’s wound. You knew then that whatever your sons had done to Aemond had been what he deserved.
“I called them bastards,” the boy confirmed, eye glancing over the King’s shoulder towards your family. “And then the older one hit me.”
“See?” Alicent cried, a hand landing on her younger son’s shoulder. “You daughter and her family have no respect! Her children attacked your son and took his eye over words–” she began again, but you would not have it.
“Quite serious words,” you muttered, which caused Alicent to turn on you.
“Enough to maim my son? He has lost his eye! Your children only lost their pride–”
You surged forward, a few feet separating you from the Queen now. All eyes watched the two of you. Harwin made no move to intervene. Instead, he stood protectively in front of your children, a hand going back to keep them from moving forward.
“Perhaps he should lose his other,” you seethed, watching her. “You have constantly belittled my husband and I. You look down upon us, you slander us, and now you turn on my children?” Your voice was shaking with anger, your fists clenched at your sides.
“Viserys,” Alicent called to her husband. “Do you hear this? This is a clear threat to the life of your child!”
“I am also his child!” You shouted, taking another step towards her. Alicent’s eyes widened. “You so badly wish to play the victim, and I tire of it. My family and I have tried to stay out of your way, and still you always find a way to accuse us of something.”
Alicent laughed in disbelief. “I, the victim? Your sons are whole– they are fine. My son will never heal!” She glared at you for a moment before speaking again. “I shall have one of their eyes, as payment.”
“You will not.” You spoke firmly. You heard movement behind you as Rhaenyra and Daemon moved to surround your children in a little huddle. “Should you even try to lay a hand on my sons, you will lose the hand.”
“Another threat,” Alicent huffed in disbelief. “Viserys–”
The King, who had been standing to the side unsure of what to say, moved to stand between the two of you cautiously. He was torn between the pair of you– Alicent was his Queen, but you were his second daughter.
“I will hear no more of this,” Viserys said, unable to pick a side. “All children will be dealt with by their parents, after sincere apologies have been made.”
Alicent was hysterical now as she shook her head. “This is not justice!” She shouted, eyes flitting around the room in search of support. “I will take their eyes myself!” She moved forward then, and without a second’s thought, you acted.
You reached forward, hand wrapping around the dagger strapped to your father’s waist. You unsheathed it and held it up as Alicent raised her hands to you. Chaos erupted, voices yelling in surprise and children screaming, but you couldn’t hear any of it.
The roar of the room dimmed as you stared into Alicent’s eyes, your hands shaking with force as you tried to push the dagger towards her.
“I will kill you before you touch them,” you whispered to her, eyes wide with adrenaline as her hands locked around your wrists and tried to push you away.
“You have become someone I do not recognize.” She told you, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“As have you. And now they will all know how you spin tales–”
“Enough!” Viserys shouted again, bringing you back to the present.
You shoved Alicent back then, dropping the dagger to the floor. She stumbled backwards as you stepped back, an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Harwin. You looked up at him and he gave you the smallest smile.
He had never seen you so fierce– so protective over the ones you loved. And he was proud to know that you would always stand up for your family, even against the Queen herself.
“This infighting must cease! We are Targaryens– I will have no more of this constant bickering!” Viserys was yelling, but you paid him no mind as Harwin steered you back to your children.
Rhaenyra and Daemon stepped aside as you pulled your boys into your sides, a hand on each of their shoulders, holding them tightly.
“Good job,” Rhaenyra whispered into your ear with the ghost of a grin. You nodded once in response.
People began filing out of the room, slowly but surely. With no more dramatics to keep them consumed, they began to feel the late hour. You refused to move as you watched them go, your hands clutched around your children. Harwin stood protectively in front of the three of you, watching the passersby like a hawk.
Rhaenyra and Daemon also stood by your side. Rhaenyra placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. Daemon said nothing, but the fact that he had remained spoke volumes. He was notorious for disappearing at the worst times.
You only moved when everyone else had left the room, including Alicent and her children. She had not even spared you a glance as she ushered her sons and daughter from the room.
With the room empty, Harwin relaxed his guard slightly. He turned to you and gave a small nod. “I believe we should get these boys back to bed.”
You nodded in reply, removing your hands from your children. Rhaenyra and Daemon bid you goodnight before they slipped from the chamber together.
Harwin placed a hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you to the door. Your children walked a pace in front of you, that way you could watch them at all times.
“You did well,” Harwin whispered to you, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear.
“I have certainly made us an enemy,” you deadpanned.
“They were already enemies,” Harwin assured you, his eyes flicking back to the boys. “Anyone who tries to harm them is an enemy.”
“I agree.” You told him.
You both fell silent for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. Although you had seemed brave standing up to the Queen in a room full of people– you were now terrified.
You had no clue what she would do or say about what had happened. She would certainly spin things so that you were the evil one. You wrung your hands in anxiety– not so much for yourself, but for your kids. Your husband. You would do anything for them.
“I think the boys should stay in our quarters tonight,” your voice was quiet as you spoke to your husband. Harwin nodded with no protests.
“Of course.”
The four of you made your way back to yours and Harwin’s quarters. The boys were ecstatic to sleep in such a big bed, and you couldn’t help but laugh as they went back to their childish ways. It was as if the events of the last hour hadn’t occurred.
When you finally got them to lay down, you could not sleep. You sat in a nearby lounge, your eyes trained on their sleeping figures. You feared what would happen if you looked away for even a second.
“My love,” Harwin spoke softly as to not rouse the children. He had been speaking to someone in the corridor– a trusted guard, perhaps. When he reentered the room he came straight to you, crouching down to your side. “You must get some rest. Tomorrow will be long.”
You shook your head. “I do not trust her. What if she has something wicked planned?”
“She would not dare,” Harwin assured you. “Not tonight.”
You did not respond. Harwin sighed heavily, one of his hands reaching for your own. You allowed his touch, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
“I have a trusted watchman stationed at our door. No harm will come.”
You still did not move.
“I will stand watch,” he finally said. You knew he didn’t mind standing watch, but of course he would prefer to sleep– you didn’t blame him.
But you couldn’t shake your fears, and so you nodded.
“Thank you, my love,” you told him, turning your head to face him. He smiled, and you leaned forward to press your lips to his.
It was a short but sweet kiss, and exhaustion crept over you when you pulled away. Harwin helped you up from the lounge and guided you to the bed. You stifled a laugh as he rolled one of the boys over, making room for you.
“Sleep well,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll make this up to you,” you told him. He grinned.
“I’m sure you will.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were thankful for his lightheartedness. He left to go sit on the lounge, and you closed your eyes, letting sleep finally take you.
#game of thrones#hotd fic#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon#game of thrones fic#harwin strong#harwin x reader#ser harwin#harwin breakbones#harwin breakbones strong#ser harwin strong x reader#harwin strong x reader#ser harwin strong#harwin strong fic#viserys targaryen#targaryen reader#targaryen!reader#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra x daemon#alicent hightower#daemon targaryen#fanfic#one shot#harwin breakbones x reader
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Answers
Who In their right mind would ever want to marry Tywin Lannister....
The tittering of the ladies around her had bled into a monotonous sort of scrabbled noise, as she ran her needle through the fabric on her embroidery hoop one more time. Why Margery insisted on dragging her to these sewing circles, she'd never understand. Slipping into the recesses of her mind, she turned to glance out the window.
How she'd love to be anywhere else besides this stuffy room.
Tyrion was late for a meeting of the small council. In and of itself that fact wouldn't be terribly important. It wasn't as if his punctuality would have caused his father to look at him with any less disdain than he did on a daily basis. He shook his head and quickened his pace as he passed by the solar, currently spilling over with the eligible young hens of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Oh, naturally Jaime Lannister." A feminine voice whispered with a giggle.
Tyrion paused and raised a brow. Taking several steps backwards, he leaned closer to the door curious as to the contents of this particular conversation.
"And you, Lady Lorena?"
"Oh, your own brother, my lady." Another higher pitched voice offered. Tyrion leaned against the wall and folded his arms.
"And you, cousin?" Margery's eyes flit to her cousin and she sighed when she saw her looking longingly out the window. "Cousin!" Margery said more firmly, causing the woman to stiffen slightly before turning her head.
"Yes, Margery? What is it?" She glanced around the circle and raised a brow at the conspiratorial looks many were giving each other, as if they'd traded secrets of a life-or-death magnitude.
"I'm asking each lady," Margery shifted on her stool to better engage her cousin in conversation. "If they had the freedom to choose, of all the eligible men in Westeros, who would they take as husband." Her eyes danced mischievously. Her cousin looked unimpressed and hummed before returning to her embroidery.
"That seems an exercise in futility, Margery." She said dryly, all the while never taking her eyes off of her needlework.
Tyrion stifled a chuckle. The girl certainly had cheek. Something he appreciated in a woman. He sensed, however, that as reticent as this mysterious woman might be to answer her cousin's question, she'd likely cave under the hounding looks of those chattery hens.
"Oh, come cousin. Everyone else has answered. Come now, you wouldn't want to spoil our fun, would you?" Margery coaxed softly, looking at her cousin encouragingly. She looked up at Margery skeptically for a moment before returning her attention back to her needlework.
"Very well." She said simply. The very atmosphere seemed to be holding its breath waiting for her answer. Even Tyrion had to admit he was more than a little curious. No doubt she'd say Jaime or Loras as the other ladies had. "If given my choice, I'd wed a Lannister."
Jaime. Tyrion thought to himself with a smirk. He raised a brow, amused at the image of all these noble women desperately chasing his brother, demanding his hand.
"Come cousin, you can be specific. There are more than just one Lannister." Margery leaned forward on her stool and gave her cousin a knowing look.
"Well, we can't very well all marry Jaime Lannister." One of the more garishly dressed ladies cut in swiftly. Keeping her eyes on her work, she refused to rise to that bate.
"You may keep Jaime Lannister." The threaded needle ran through the material once more, distracting her attention.
"That only leaves the imp and the father." The young lady scoffed. She hummed and cut off a thread to knot it.
"Given my choice, I'd wed Tywin Lannister." The air seemed to freeze and shudder. Tyrion's eyebrows seemed determined to raise so far that they disappeared into his scalp.
"Tywin Lannister? He's practically old enough to be your father!" She merely shrugged and flipped over her needlework.
"I believe I answered the question." Rising from the couch, she gathered her needlework and gave Margery a nod of her head. "If you'll excuse me, Margery. Ladies." She addressed the dumbstruck women, still reeling from her recent admission. No sooner had her skirts swished out of the solar, when the brood descended on Margery in a chattering, nosy huddle.
Tyrion stayed pressed against the wall. He was dying to see what sort of woman would be so bold as to suggest that she wanted... well, his father. Her shoes made a quiet sound, and he was pulled from his revelry to see the backside of her as she began walking down the hallway. Sensing she was being watched, she turned to see Tyrion in the torch light.
"Lord Tyrion?" She raised a brow and inched closer to him, tucking her needlework into her bag. Slowly Tyrion's eyes trailed up her form, studying her as if he were taking in her measure, which he was doing. She dressed well, but certainly not in a display of money as so many women seem fond of these days.
"Lady Tyrell." He dipped his head. She responded in kind and glanced from him to the open door and back.
"Were you spying on us, Lord Tyrion?" She blinked and affected a dethatched attitude.
You two might be perfect for each other. He thought sarcastically to himself.
"On the contrary, my lady, I merely passed by at an opportune moment and heard some rather... enlightening opinions." He looked up at her intently, curious as to what might be swirling around in that brain of hers. She merely smirked and met his eyes with unwavering certainty.
She chuckled, a rusty sound.
"Good day, Lord Tyrion." She turned to go.
"Good day, Lady Tyrell."
And with that, she rounded one of the corners in the halls. Standing for a moment longer, he was driven out of his thoughts by the sounds of the ladies gathering their things. Tyrion quickly hobbled down the other hall, hurrying to at least make an appearance at the meeting. Climbing the stairs to the Hand's Tower, he ran over Lady Tyrell's answer in his mind, and he still had no reasonable reason for why on earth such a woman would speak about his father with such a casual air. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and swung the doors open.
"Tyrion." His father's only word in his direction before he turned back to council discussions. Tyrion stared singularly at his father, taking every in every line on his face, curiosity still swirling around his mind.
Why on earth would she want to marry Tywin Lannister?
#tywin lannister#tywin x reader#tywin lannister x reader#game of thrones fic#game of thrones#tyrion lannister
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Safe Keeping | 7
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6
What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."
Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, POV shifts!, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink, breeding kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, toxic masculinity, typos, etc.
A/N: YAY WE ACTUALLY FINISHED A SERIES HAHHAH lol. thank you so much to everyone who read safe keeping on here <3 im so luv all of you !! i will be continuing this so HIHHH look forward to it ig 😋
[originally posted on ao3] | [continuation fic on ao3] | [continuation on tumblr]
Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1 @thestrals-and-firewiskey
We are greeted by a group of men when we arrive at the Alistair dwelling.
Sandor helps me dismount my horse. I thank him, then the stable boy, who takes our rides. Sandor ushers me in and we hand our coats to the servants by the door.
My husband scrutinizes the place, a grave expression on his features as he takes in the halls that were decorated with streamers. As we get deeper into the home, I grab Sandor's arm and carefully word, "remember why we're here."
He turns to me and raises a brow, "and why are we here, darling wife?"
I cannot help the way I react to his words, his term of endearment. I know it is condescending, but my stomach tumbles at the sound of it either way. I look forward, unable to keep his gaze, "we're here to pay out respects to a man that extended generosity to us."
Sandor notices the way my face twitches. He sighs and turns away, "I will not kill the pretty boy. Do not be so upset."
"I'm not upset," I turn to him.
He scoffs under his breath, "what's with the face then?"
"What face?"
"A face fairest in the land, many would say."
Sandor and I stop in our tracks.
My brows raise and I break into a chuckle of disbelief and surprise. The man who had spoken smirks as I greet him, "Lord Baelish."
Sandor feels his blood boil when the Littlefinger bows and reaches out a hand. He tightens his grip on me.
I turn to Sandor, noticing how darkly he was eyeing Petyr, and decide to let out a laugh to ease the tension, "there be no need for such formalities, Petyr."
Petyr straightens up, lowering his hand, maintaining his smirk.
Sandor's lips twitch as he grumbles slowly himself, "Petyr."
"I am glad we're past that, my dear," Petyr says before Sandor tugs me by the arm behind him as he steps forward.
The shorter man looks up and the taller one snorts. I manage to pull my arm away, coming in between them. I nervously laugh and elbow Sandor back, not that it does anything, "if you'll excuse us, we must speak to the man on the hour."
Petyr looks back at me, unfazed and still smirking, "of course. But I do I hope, for your sake, you spare me a moment after. I have something rather important to talk to you about."
"About what?!" Sandor bark. I feel the tension of his form when he presses nearer, flush against my back, to impose upon the lord.
Lord Baelish doesn't spare the Hound a glance, "why, about the monsters plaguing your ancestral home."
My lips part.
The blue eyed man raises a brow, "you've long wished to be safe from this peril, yes?" he bows, "I believe I have a solution for you."
Before I could even think, Petyr straightens up and smirks as he walks away.
I hear the Hound whisper behind me, "I'll fucking kill him instead."
Before I could respond, a voice calls out to me. I turn and see it is Lord Alistair, making his way over.
He jogs up to me with an excited expression and reaches out a hand. I smile back at him and take it out of instinct. When he is close enough, Cedric kisses my knuckles.
The Hound did not realize this had happened up until he tore his gaze from damned Littlefinger. When he notices Alistair, he nearly breaks his teeth from clenching his jaw so tight.
"I am happy to see you, my lady," Cedric nods with a lopsided smile.
Before the Hound can react, the pretty boy is speaking again.
"And you, my lord," he nods to Sandor.
"I don't share the sentiment," the Hound growls through a strangled breath.
Cedric laughs. He places a hand on his chest as he does, then motions, "forgive me. You must be famished from your travels," he looks to his right then back to us, "please. My servants have prepared my favorite dishes. Help yourself and make merry."
"I'll be merry if I fuc--
"THANK YOU, MY LORD!" I cut off with a massive grin. I curtsy and chuckle, mustering all the sincerity I had, praying it overshadowed my jitters, "may you always be so generous and joyous on your nameday."
Cedric chuckles and waves me off, "please. Spare me the formalities. I pray you go and eat with your husband before he kills someone."
Lord Alistair is the only one that laughs at the joke. A few delayed seconds later, I manage to laugh with him, forcing down my agitation.
Sandor doesn't budge the first time I tug on his arm. He follows after the fourth. He eyes Cedric as we walk away, but the said man is already preoccupied with another guest to notice.
"I don't think this is a good idea," I whimper under my breath as I quite literally run after the buzzing Hound.
Sandor makes his way down the hall in a break neck speed, at least for me. I have to catch my breath when we enter the weapons room. I heave and look around the foreign place, eyeing the axes, the arrows, the swords, and the armor displayed all over.
"Your pretty boy has good taste," Sandor slurs as he grabs a sword mounted on the wall, knocking over a few others as he did.
I cringe at the clank of steel against ground and step back when Sandor begins to wave his blade around. I mumble, "he's not my pretty boy."
Sandor continues to swing the sword. I pull my head back in agitation.
He then picks up the fallen swords but cannot manage to put them back in their place without moving shakily, and dropping a few.
I panic and press my back against the wall, "my love, this is a horrible idea!"
Sandor stops and turns to me, "how is it horrible? Lord Alistair wanted a sword fight with me, and that's what he's gonna get. He chose this nameday gift, not I."
I watch as he finally manages to put away the swords.
"You were there, my jittery bride."
I straighten up and slowly walk towards him with my palms cautiously raised. Sandor is perfectly still when I come close. I release a sigh of relief when I manage to grab his arms, "please listen. I was also there when you downed three ewers of wine, puppy."
He leans down.
I clench my jaw.
I can feel his breath, smell the alcohol in it, as he mutters, "I'm not a lightweight."
I gasp when he comes low enough to kiss my neck.
My skin pricks when he whispers hotly, "and I'm not a puppy."
My heart is racing when he straightens up. He does so in a rather staggering manner, telling of the effects of his alcohol consumption.
"You're drunk."
"Am not," he rebuts.
I scowl at him, "you're a drunk puppy, my dear."
He smiles, "I thought I was your love?"
My stomach churns.
Sandor purses his lips when I do not respond.
I feel my face prick with heat, "would you listen to me if you knew that I loved you?"
He chuckles, turns his back on me, and heads for the door, "well, do ya?"
I feel like vomiting. I whisper under my breath, "I do."
He reaches for the knob and opens the door, "nice try, beautiful," he reaches a hand out, "come. Maybe your pretty boy will manage to ki-"
"WILL YOU STOP CALLING HIM THAT!" I snap and storm over to him. "Lord Alistair is NOT my pretty boy! He's not mine and will never be!" I feel my blood boil and my eyes begin to fog, "and stop calling me names!"
He pulls his chin back. His face hardens. He opens his mouth to speak but beat him to it before he can say a word.
"Stop mocking me! Stop calling me pretty squirrel! Stop calling me beautiful! It's driving me mad!"
"I'm not mocking you," he speaks lowly, "why would I mock-"
"Well, whatever it is, it needs to come to an end," I point at him, "now let's get this over with. I want to go home."
I storm off and head outside.
I make my way to the back of the Alistair dwelling, which had a large field where the sword fighting will be held.
I stand by the crowd of people and sigh through my nostrils. I watch as Lord Alistair does tricks with his sword, enticing the crowd to laugh and cheer for him.
I feel out of place in my spot because I didn't know anyone else, and because was not at all entertained by the spectacle. All I thought of was how badly I wished this to be over. Damn my drunken husband for agreeing to this.
"Trouble in paradise?"
I turn over and find the smile of Lord Baelish. I release another sigh, "please. Not anymore, Petyr."
Petyr chuckles and shrugs, "I've barely said a word, my dear."
His term of endearment triggers my vexation. I cannot help the way I roll my eyes at him.
He laughs harder, "what darling reaction."
I move away from him.
He steps closer, "did you know there are necromancers in Volantis?"
I glare at him just to look away again.
He gives me a smirk, "they are learned of tar monsters who enjoy eating village folk."
I turn back to him.
He nudges me with his elbow and turns front, "I've put in good word for you. All you have to do is take a ship to Essos. A witch there will get rid of your problems for you at a fair price."
"Hmm," I raise a brow, "oh, undoubtedly. It clearly is that simple."
Petyr turns to me, "it certainly is. Once the woodland monsters are gone, you'll be able to hunt and gather timber from the forest again," he nods his head, "and so will I."
Aha. I purse my lips and debate his words for a moment.
"And I trust you will allow me to fish in the Sterling River as well."
I look forward when the crowd cheers. I see before me, Lord Clegane and Lord Alistair, circling each other, the latter laughing in excitement, the former blank faced and stern. I turn back to Petyr, "very well."
He nods once more.
I look straight again.
"Perhaps a trip to Volantis is exactly what the loving couple need."
I roll my eyes at him.
Sandor and Cedric begin to tussle. The sound of steel biting steel fills the air. Cedric is an eager opponent, pressing forward every chance he gets. Sandor is relaxed and playing the defensive.
This continues for a while, metal clashing, boots skidding, voices grunting, and it was a rather showy match, at least on Cedric's end. Sandor is barely trying, I could tell. He must be conserving his energy. I've seen the way he's trained with the boys in Brown Wood. He's definitely trying to tire Cedric out.
"This is going to be a long match," Petyr whispers to me.
I turn to him and sigh, "a very long one."
Sandor catches this and feels his lips twitch. He turns back to Cedric.
I gasp when Cedric manages to disarm Sandor. The crowds gasp as well, and Cedric too seems surprised.
Sandor shakes his head, " 'm too fucking drunk for this."
Cedric straightens from his defensive stance.
Sandor nods, "well met."
Lord Alistair nods back, smiles, and turns about to bask in his victory.
As he bows to his guests, the Hound makes a beeline towards me. I watch as he comes close, my heart slowly speeds.
He grabs my arm, "we're leaving."
"Oh!" Cedric calls and gestures our way "a round of applause for the Hound."
The guests turn and cheer for him.
Sandor pulls me to his side.
"Come now," Petyr smirks, "won't you even try to best Lord Alistair in another round?"
Sandor leans down towards Lord Baelish and growls, "fuck off."
With that, I am dragged away.
"Sandor."
The Hound's horse continues treading in front of me.
"Sandor."
The Hound still does not stop, turn, or respond.
"Sandor!" I say louder.
Still nothing.
I make the horse I was riding gallop to his side. He had not spoken to me the whole way back, not when we got on our horses, not when we stopped at an inn for the night, not when we started our journey, and not now that we near the gates of Brown Wood.
"Have you chosen never to speak to me again?" I quip, tightening my grip on my reins. When he looks the opposite direction from me, I scoff and roll my eyes, "should it not be I that never speaks to you, Hound? You've been nothing but insufferable the entire time we were at the feast!"
Sandor still does not budge.
I look forward and catch sight of Brown Wood. I give my horrible husband one last glare before growling and galloping away.
Sandor watches this. He does no effort to follow after.
When I get to the gates, I am immediately greeted by many servants. Polly, in particular, excitedly tells me he's taught the puppies tricks, and quickly leads my horse away after I dismount, keen to tell me more about it.
Lucy, though happy to see me, raised a brow at my missing chaperone, "did you lose your Hound, milady?"
I roll my eyes, "do not speak to me of that beast."
Lucy is bewildered.
I sigh and slump forward, regretting the harshness of my words. I shake my head, "have you prepared a bath for me?"
She knits her brows and nods slowly, "....did something happen at the feast?"
"Of course something happened," I muttered, "the gods are truly testing me." I brush Lucy's arm, "I will tell you more of it later. For now, I need a warm bath."
Lucy nods again and watches me walk off.
Before Polly could follow after, Lucy hooks her fingers into his collar, holding him back. The boy makes a choking sound, stops and turns, staring at Lucy.
"Our lady will not be bothered," she says.
"But the puppies!"
"Later," she pulls her hand away, "go finish your chores if you still have some, boy."
Polly makes a face and grumbles, though he does listen.
Just then, Lucy turns and sees the Hound walking towards the gates, leading his stead by the reins. She waits for him to enter, and the moment he does, she runs her mouth.
"Are ye not tired of playing this game?"
The Hound squints but spares Lucy no glance. He heads for the stables and undoes the ties on his horse.
Lucy flares as she follows after him, "can't you just do us all a favor and stop?"
"I'm not in the mood for nagging, wench."
"Then admit it!"
"Fuckin' what?!" he glares at her.
"That you're mad about your wife!" Lucy snaps.
Sandor stills.
"That you would die for her! That you're upset she wanted to go to another lord's nameday celebration!"
He removes his horse's saddle, "that was a formality."
"YOU'RE A FUCKIN' FOOL!"
Sandor whips his head to her.
"And a coward," Lucy raises a finger.
The Hound chucks the undone saddle to the side and steps forward. He looks down at Lucy, but she is unbothered and unafraid. He is shocked when she shoves him. He topples back.
"She's only ever wanted your love, you thickheaded oaf! Don't you see how hard she tries to please ya?!"
"Please me?" Sandor scoffs, taking another step forward.
"YES!" Lucy shouts, "she wants to be your perfect bride but you know nothing but cruelty. You repay 'er with bitterness."
The Hound feels his mouth sour.
"And puppies."
Sandor watches her wipe her face.
"Because you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be, milord," Lucy says with frustration.
Sandor feels like the wind was knocked out of his lungs.
"I've caught you when you think no one's looking," she speaks softly, "you love her."
Sandor feels his body burn.
"She loves you."
"She d-"
"Fix it before it gets worse. I beg," she sighs.
The Hound is stunned as the maid walks off.
When Polly spots him, the boy unknowingly grates his nerves as he leads the puppies over and shows all the tricks he's taught them. It wasn't much, in all honesty, just a 'stop' and a 'come here', but the three pups did them well.
Sandor couldn't be impressed, he was far too out of it to be anything but queasy.
He tells Polly he's tired and heads to the bedroom. Polly tells him he wants to show Lady Clegane the tricks before they sleep. He doesn't answer the boy.
Sandor is both disappointed and relieved to find the room empty. His head is heavy as he changes. He feels like he'd sink to the bottom as he goes to bed.
The Hound had been pacing around when I got to the bedroom. He froze when I entered and awkwardly walked back as I headed for the bed.
I didn't speak a word as I went under the covers and laid down. I eyed him as he sat on the edge on the other side, back turned to me. I burn holes into his back with my glare.
It takes a few seconds of him rubbing his lap and him sighing loudly before he breaks his silence.
"I..." he trails off.
I shift in my spot to look at him.
He straightens, "I didn't like the fact that pret-" he cuts himself off and sighs, "that Lord Alistair and Lord Baelish were all over you."
I can't help but scoff, "and you've decided not to speak to me because of some two men's doing?"
"I DIDN'T want to fight," he blurts loudly then softly.
I watch as he slouches and moves on his side to bring himself under the sheets. He sighs as he covers himself and speaks without looking at me, "I don't like fighting you."
I purse my lips at the thought. His words conflict me. I find it aggravating to hear when it felt like he liked the opposite. A side of me is also unwilling to believe it because it was too hard to believe.
The part of me that was still angry at him for being so petty wants to fight back with equal pettiness. But an even larger part of me felt too exhausted and defeated to argue.
"And yet you always do," I speak plainly as I turn my back on him and fluff my pillow. I take in a deep breath while bringing the sheets over my shoulder. I lay down, facing away from him.
I knew he wouldn't have anything to say to that truth, and yet I take a moment to listen in on him. He doesn't speak nor move at all.
I close my eyes, "go to sleep, husband. It's been a long day."
"Aren't you upset with me? I don't want you to sleep upset with me."
My eyes open. My stomach churns. Did he actually care? My lips part but I can't find myself to speak.
"I didn't speak to you because I know what I'd've done if I did."
I take in a sharp breath and give out a broken whisper, "you've done worse."
Sandor lets out an airy chuckle. It doesn't sound amused at all though.
He doesn't respond anymore. Instead, he shifts in his spot and lays down, as far on his end as he could be. He is on side, staring at the dark corner of the room. He musters all his courage, "forgive me, my lady."
My lips part.
Did he just say that?
"What?"
I am shocked when I hear him repeat, "forgive me."
I roll on my back and look at him. I feel like I'm going to vomit. I think my body was shaking.
I inhale deeply through my nose, "what would you have done?"
He takes a moment to respond, "what?"
My courage flees me as I find the need to repeat myself. I turn my back on him again and clutch my chest. I can hear my heart pounding, "what-... you said you didn't speak to me because you knew what you would have done..."
I feel Sandor shift behind me.
I gulp and curl up tighter into myself.
I wait for him to act but he does nothing.
I release a deep breath before speaking, "would you... have hurt me?"
My skin pricks when I hear him sigh, "aye."
I feel sick to my stomach. How could he admit that so easily?
I think of all the worse things he could have done: smack me, shove me, slay me. I feel body begin to grow hot.
Sandor stares at the ceiling then turns to his side. His chest tightens yet he manages to mutter, "I only want to be gentle with you."
I scoff but it sounds strangled because of how tight my throat was. My eyes begin to well up. My broken voice croaks, "how could you say that?!"
The Hound says nothing.
"What?" I scoff, "you hit me then you tend my wounds?"
He doesn't say a word.
I begin to feel my insides burn.
The longest moment passes.
"How did you want to hurt me?" I snap.
He clenches his jaw then chuckles at himself, "I wanted to make you scream my name as I fucked you against a wall."
My heart leaps into my mouth.
The Hound continues, "I wanted all those fuckers to hear, to know what you were mine, that I was the only one who could do that to you, that I was the only one you'd allow to do that."
My blood runs still.
"The things I'd do to you," he mutters, "you'd be disgusted to know them."
My lips quiver as confusion ripples through me. This was the kind of hurt he wanted to inflict?
"But I want to be gentle," he adds, "I really do."
"Is that why you lied about the pups?" I find myself choking out.
Sandor is taken aback. He also hates how apparent the sound of sadness was.
"I know you were the one that found them and brought them home, not Lucy," I whisper.
"Lucy," he sighs, "she loves you so much, that Lucy. And you love her... You'd take a gift from someone you love."
I shake my head, "that's why you lied? You didn't think I would keep them if they were from you?"
"I didn't want to shroud the pups with my being."
"... I can love more people than just Lucy."
I feel him shift behind me.
My heart thunders in my chest.
"One day... maybe I'll be gentle enough for you to love me."
I feel tears rush down my eyes. I move to turn to him, but then his arm comes around me and holds me back.
"Please," his voice breaks, "I can't stand to see you cry or look at me with pity."
My hand comes atop his arm, "Sandor-"
"Can I kiss you?"
My breath catches in my throat.
His heavy breathing makes my entire body burn.
I slowly nod and manage to squeak out a yes.
Sandor immediately sinks his face into my neck and begins to kiss my skin. His lips were hungry and his beard left scratches all over. He snakes his arm tighter around me and pulls me into his chest. My entire body reacts to him, it burns and pricks and pulses. He kisses my cheek; he kisses my tears away.
My belly tumbles when he rubs it. He props himself up on his other arm, "I'll die a happy man to see you love my babe," he trails kisses up my jaw to my ear, "it's more than I'll ever deserve."
I suck in a deep breath and lean into his touch. I press my body flush against his and this elicits a groan from him. He fists my nightgown into his hand and nips my lobe. He draws in deep breaths and sighs against my ear, "I can be gentle. I can be so gentle."
I take his fist and he immediately releases my clothes. His breathing grows more strangled as he shifts behind me.
I push his hand down and he shudders when it comes in contact with my thighs. I release his hand and bring my leg atop of his. I pull my skirt up and mumble, "gentle."
"Fucking gods," he kisses my shoulder and pulls my gown up. He rubs my thigh a few times then sinks his hand underneath my smallclothes.
He shushes me as I grow rigid against him and kisses my neck some more.
I whimper when he pulls my undergarments down and moves his fingers into my soft spot. He very much so gently touches me until I begin to melt against him. I arch my back and lean into him.
"Good girl," he mutters, "such a good girl. My beautiful girl."
"More please," I heave.
Sandor presses his body against mine, "don't have to tell me twice."
I whine his name when he sinks a finger into me. My toes curl and my hand grabs onto his bicep.
I make a sound when he pushes deeper, and an even throatier one when he adds another finger.
Sandor brushes my hair away with his other hand then sinks his face into the crook of my neck. He peppers kisses on my skin and my body burns all the more because of it. I turn my face to him and move my mouth close to his.
Flames rage inside my belly when our lips meet.
He goes still for a second when I kiss him. It takes a few moments before his lips move against mine. Though his beard was tickling my skin, the exchange was lovely. It was warm. It was right.
I bring the hand I had on his arm up to his cheek. My fingers find their way to his scalp where I begin to tug his hair gently.
We pull away when I yelp at the feel of his hand going back to work. Sandor does not relent his kisses on my cheeks, nose, and eye lids.
"Does it feel good?" he asks in between pecks.
I whimper as I nod.
Sandor sighs and grazes his teeth against my neck, "so good."
I mewl when he begins to pump his fingers faster into me.
"So sweet and soft and beautiful-- so, so beautiful against me."
"Sandor-"
"I want to feel you," he growls under his breath, "want to be inside you," he nips my lobe again, "want to fill you up, give you the babe you want."
I nod and chase after his lips. I kiss him desperately, "please."
It's not long until his fingers are replaced by his cock. We both tense against each other then slowly relax and reconnect our mouths.
I am surprised when I feel his tongue brush against my lips. I squeak when he begins to buck his hips into me at a slow but purposeful pace.
He presses his fingers into my inner thigh, pulling that leg closer towards him. I bring my hand down to his forearm and grip him for dear life. He pushes his chest into my back and breaks our kiss to allow us both a breath.
Sandor maneuvers himself into a better position. He nearly has me sprawled on top of him. He locks his grip on my hips and snaps into me with all that he's got.
He calls my name. He calls me beautiful. He calls me his wife. He tells me he loves me.
It's all too much that my eyes begin to water and my belly begins to tighten.
Though his movements were wild and sharp, and though the sound we were both making were loud and lewd, there was something sacred about it, something sincere.
I nearly sob when I come undone. I cry out his name as I feel intense pleasure crash all over my body. My mind is too misty to take into account that Sandor had been repeating the same three words as he too fell into bliss.
He doesn't immediately stop moving. He only does so when I'm laid back on my side again.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel him shift away from me.
"Don't pull away!" I snap. I grab his arm and wrap it around me, trapping it between my own. I lean back into him, "don't leave me! You keep leaving me."
Sandor, who was just catching his breath, feels like he was winded all over again. He thinks about the discomfort that this position will bring, but he figures sex just leaves people emotional and clingy sometimes.
He kisses my cheek, "we'll stay like this, if that's what you want."
I nod enthusiastically and turn to kiss him.
When I do however, he pulls his face back. It makes me go rigid.
It takes a second for Sandor to realize what he did. He is now overly conscious of the scar on his face and the damned reflex he has for it. He opens his mouth but he doesn't say anything.
I begin to feel my face burn and yet I'm too stunned to move.
The next moment, we speak at the same time then immediately go silent.
I gulp and turn away from him, bursting out as I did, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to overstep."
"You did nothing wrong." he shakes his head.
"You asked if you could kiss me," I mumble, "I didn't do the same."
"You can do whatever you want with me-"
"Sandor-"
"-I belong to you. I am your hound. That's all I am."
My eyes glass at his words. I feel him kiss my nape. My skin pricks when he rubs his hand down my belly.
He sighs heavily, "... sorry for being so broken."
I screw my eyes shut.
"... you can kiss me... if you really want to."
I nearly break my neck turning it back so quick. I press my face against his and just remain like this for a moment. I brush my nose against his textured skin and recall the time I did the same during our wedding night. He pulled away then, he pulled away now.
"I'm sorry you can't trust me," I whisper.
Sandor doesn't have the time to react to that.
I leave about a hundred kisses on his scar before my neck begins to tire. I knit my brows and whisper again, "don't let me go."
I face front and feel sleepiness catch up with me.
"Good night, Sandor."
I vaguely hear him whisper I love you behind me.
Sandor woke up with sunshine shining down his face. He was more than well-rested. He honestly doesn't remember the last time he slept this good.
He stretches in bed and groans. It takes him three seconds to realize he was alone.
It's almost enough to make him shoot upright in panic. The only reason he doesn't is because he quickly thinks it was fucking stupid of him to feel anything, any sort of panic or worry-- worse, hurt or sadness for waking up alone.
He did that many times over, left her alone-- too many times to count, surely more times than the good night's of sleep he's had.
So, he lays there with a stone-heavy pit of emptiness in the middle of his rib cage. There was nothing else to do with it crushing his chest. No amount of reasoning, of rational explanations that his wife was the lady of Brown Wood, who was always busy, who was always attending many other people, nothing could lift the stone weighing down on his chest.
He feels like he's slowly choking.
The Hound only gets up when he hears the small barks of the pups coming from outside. Somehow the idea of his wife waking up to attend to the dogs made this ordeal bearable.
He heads to the bathroom first and freshens up.
After, he heads to the living area and tenses when a pair of servant girls greet him good morrow. His lips twitch as he grunts and nods at them. The girls perk up and stare at him for a second as they pass. He vaguely hears them mumbling 'did he just greet us back?' as they each head their way.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He should have said good morrow in return. Fuck.
It probably doesn't matter. He's been ignoring everyone since they've moved here. Why start now?
Well... he was ignoring everyone except Lucy, who vexingly demanded his attention; Daisy, who used to do the same... and his lady.
Sandor opens the front door and steps outside.
His-
"Lady Clegane," Petyr fucking Baelish nods and reaches a hand to his wife.
Sandor is stunned. This wretched, slimy looking Littlefinger-man was up on his stupidly embellished steed, which, mind you, was too big for the fucker, kissing his wife's knuckles a goodbye.
What the fuck was he doing here so fucking early?
Littlefuckingfinger smiles and straightens up as he releases her. His wife waves goodbye.
As she does so, Littlefinger catches sight of Sandor and his smile pulls into a self-satisfied little smirk. He nods his head once to him and fucking rides off. Even fucking Polly waves him goodbye and it makes him want to chase after him and gouge his eyes out.
"Husband."
The Hound averts his gaze.
Sandor's breath is knocked out of his lungs when he sees his wife gleaming at him.
Fuck, she's walking over.
Everything in him is so overwhelmed by her that he nearly steps back.
She holds something in her hands as she gives him a lopsided smile, "you had a good sleep."
He opens his mouth to speak but a lump in his throat stops him. He gulps.
She laughs. She does so with grace, her pretty teeth all bared to him, "I wished to stay with you until you woke, but I could not leave Brown Wood unattended till late in the afternoon."
For a moment, he is in disbelief and doubts it was actually midday. He looks up and sees, indeed, the sun was at its height.
He looks back to her to apologize for sleeping in, but again, his voice is lost to him. By only taking one step towards him, she renders him powerless. She intensifies it by taking his arm and giving him that look, that look of apprehension that was masked in sweetness. It was maddening.
"Will..." she draws a deep breath, "you let me kiss you?"
What the fuck?
Her brows raise. She pulls her hand away, "y-you don't have to."
"Wait-" gods, did he say that aloud? "-no. You can! You can!" he responds with desperation, "you don't even have to ask."
His wife smiles back at him, but it's not the same.
Gods, he's ruined it again.
He is surprised when she still leans over and gives his cheek a quick peck.
He barely has time blush as he's turning his head to watch her as she walks past him. She says something about breaking fast and he mutters something incoherent in response.
Sandor doesn't even realizes that he's been made to sit down on the dining table, until one of the pups take his seat before he can.
Where did they even come from?
"Fuck off then," he says, shooing the small thing. It barks loudly and then he realizes it's the loud one, Lilac. He growls, "off, Lilac!"
Lilac makes a smaller sound of protest but has no other choice but to get off the chair when Sandor tips it over.
He quickly sits down and makes a victorious face to the puppies, who continue to bark at him.
He watches as the pups quiet down as his wife comes back holding a bowl of stew and a spoon. His insides tingle when she leans close to him to set it down before him. She then drags a chair and sits next to him.
He takes the spoon.
She smiles at him and rests her head on her hand, her elbow on the table, "eat up."
Sandor releases a breath and does just that, "thank you."
He realizes just how hungry he was at this moment. He begins to pig out.
"Thank you for holding me throughout the night."
The Hound almost gargles his food in his throat trying to muster up a response.
She laughs and touches his arm again, "it's alright. Just eat."
Sandor doesn't have a moment to say that he would hold her until she gets sick of him.
His wife straightens up and pushes a something towards him, a letter, it seems, "Lord Baelish gave this to me."
He nearly chokes as he swallows.
He doesn't like the way his wife smiles when she continues to speak of him, "he's given me a map and letters to aid my passage to Volantis-"
"Volantis?" he sets his spoon down with more force than necessary, "the fuck is in Volantis?"
She straightens up, "remember we met at Lord Alistair's nameday?"
"Fucking Alistair."
She sighs through her nostrils, "Lord Baelish spoke to me then of someone who knows how to get rid of the monsters in the forest."
"Am I not enough for you?" he turns his body to her, "you need to hire some sellsword on the other side of the world to kill those fucks for you?"
He watches her withdraw before his very eyes. She brings her hands together and places them on her lap. She purses her lips into a soft smile before speaking, "there is no one in the world, this side or the other, that I would trust with handling the monsters in battle. But," she sighs, "Lord Baelish didn't speak to me of a sellsword. He spoke of a witch."
"And you fucking trust him?" he quips impatiently, "you'd trust a witch vouched by Littlefinger?"
She sighs again. She no longer finds it in her to pull a smile, "I do-"
"Well, don't."
"-because he'll get something out of it."
The Hound clenches his jaw and rubs his knuckles with his thumbs.
"In return for his help, I would be allowing Petyr to access to our fish, game, and wood."
The Hound sighs heavily, "Petyr.'
She shakes her head and chuckles. She chuckles until she breaks into a genuine laugh, "but matters not. If my lord does not approve then there is nothing more to do."
Sandor's stomach sinks when she stands up.
"I'll go ahead with my errands now," she nods and offers a lopsided smile.
Just before she walks away, Sandor grabs her hand and weakly mutters, "no, please. Please stay."
She laughs softly; she laughs sweetly. She places her palm on his knuckles then takes his hand in both of hers. She kisses the back of his hand and shakes her head, "I am not leaving, my lord, merely going off to do my errands."
The Hound stops her from letting go. He clutches her hands firmly in his larger one. He parts his lips to beg her to stay.
But then, he sees her change. He sees her slip on a mask of a dutiful wife. She is about to smile, about to tell him that if he insists, she will stay, for him. He knew in his bones that she would.
And so he lets her go and looks away in shame. He can't bear to look at her, so he clears his throat and compromises, "I'd like to eat with you later... if you have the time."
It takes a long moment for her to respond. Sandor, whose eyes were stuck to the floor, find the pups were now sleeping under the table.
"I would like that too, my love."
Sandor chuckles drily at the pet name and grabs his spoon. He rather bitterly says, mostly to himself, "you don't have to call me that."
He waits for her to walk away.
She doesn't.
He turns to her when he vaguely hears her mumble something. He waits for her to repeat herself, but she doesn't.
"What was that, pretty squirrel?"
She shakes her head and curtsies, "I said enjoy your food."
He watches her walk off. He wonders what she actually said, because it sure as hell wasn't that. He swirls his stew around idly.
#sandor clegane#sandor clegane fanfic#the hound#the hound fanfic#sandor clegane x reader#sandor the hound clegane#sandor fluff#sandor x reader#sandor fanfic#sandor clegane smut#sandor clegane fic#sandor clegane x you#sandor clegane fluff#sandor fic#game of thrones#game of thrones fic#sandor smut#game of thrones fanfic#sandor clegane angst#sandor angst
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I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader
Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.
Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt
A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.
Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.
“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”
But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.
You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.
“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”
“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”
“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”
You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.
“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”
You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”
They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.
You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”
His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.
“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”
He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.
You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”
A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”
Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.
Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.
Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”
Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”
But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.
His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.
You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”
“Good,” was his only response.
“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”
Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”
You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”
Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”
You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.
She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.
Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”
“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”
Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.
"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”
You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.
“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.
You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.
“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”
You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.
“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”
You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.
“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”
You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”
She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.
“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.
“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”
“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.
“…Liar,” you hissed.
With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.
Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.
“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”
You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”
You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.
“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”
Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.
With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.
You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”
Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.
You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.
“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”
“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”
Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”
“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.
“WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.
You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”
Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.
As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.
“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”
You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”
Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”
“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.
“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”
You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”
You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.
“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”
This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”
But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”
“Robb–”
“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”
“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”
The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.
You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”
“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.
“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”
“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”
You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”
“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”
Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.
“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”
You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”
“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”
“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.
You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”
“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”
Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”
“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”
You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.
“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”
Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.
“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”
Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”
Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.
“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”
Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.
You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”
Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”
“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”
You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”
Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.
…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.
You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.
But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.
“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”
You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.
“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”
He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?
You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”
Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”
“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.
And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.
A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.
Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.
He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.
“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”
“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”
(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”
Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.
“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”
He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips. The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.
“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”
Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.
“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”
(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.
“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”
(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”
Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”
“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”
Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”
(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”
Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”
When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.
Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.
(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.
“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”
It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.
(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”
Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.
Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.
Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.
“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”
“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.
“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”
(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”
With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her. Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.
The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.
Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.
“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”
Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.
She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.
Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the
Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.
As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.
He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.
He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”
She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”
Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.
A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.
There was no sign of you anywhere.
Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!
Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.
Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.
Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!
Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!
Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern
#robb stark x reader#robb stark x female reader#robb stark x fem reader#robb stark fanfic#robb stark smut#game of thrones fix it#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones fic#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#dark robb stark#dark fic#my writing
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Sugar & Violence
Podrick Payne x reader
+:✿ Chapter 2 ✿:+ : Beautiful Girl
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Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister. You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his.
CW: afab reader, SMUT, MDNI, Fingering, P in V sex, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of harassment, mention of NSFW themes.
Word Count: 5125
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
As you’d just finished getting Margery ready for the day she sat you down and began to ready you as well. It wasn’t custom for a Lady to dress and pretty her Hand Maiden but Margery had taken the responsibility voluntarily and happily.
“Podrick was seen where?” You asked wide eyes, holding in a laugh.
“Little Finger’s brothel,” Margery replied with a smirk as she brushed your hair.
You shook your head with a smile “I will not believe such rumors.”
“I hear the whores did not receive a payment.” Her fingers twisting the front sections of your hair and braiding them together at the back of your head.
“You’re suggesting he didn’t pay them?” You asked with disbelief. He didn’t seem like the type of man to pay for a whore, much less the type of man to steal their time and effort.
“I am suggesting they did not want a payment. I hear that he was so skilled, they wouldn’t accept his payment.” She said as she finished your hair and she sat in front of you, beginning to do your makeup.
“Now that I can’t believe it.” You said holding back laughter,
“You never know for sure with men like him. Quiet, and sweet, they can be sensitive to a woman's needs.” She said putting
“I’ve been pinned against enough trees on Bear Island by enough men to know, no tongue, fingers, cock, or even nose is good enough to turn down gold.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But perhaps you’re wrong, there is only one way to find out.”
“Oh please, he can hardly hold his gaze to mine.”
“Some would say that means he likes you, besides the poor boy gave you a flower. One of the sweetest, and pathetic things I have ever seen.” She jested.
“He doesn’t want me, not like that.” You always found it hard to believe that any man would be interested in you beyond bedding.
she rolled her eyes as she finished applying a rouge to your lips. She fixed your hair slightly and half a small compact mirror to your face.
“if i were a man i would ravish you.” she smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror.
Margery had done your makeup and hair countless times. Every morning after you’d done hers, but each time always made sure to tell you how beautiful you were. even if you didn’t believe it.
“a man would ravish a horse if desperate enough.” you pushed the compact away, you got up and began to select the gowns you’d both wear to the celebratory feast tonight.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
That evening was a celebration of the victory of Tywin Lannister. Nothing for you to feel celebratory for, but it gave you an opportunity to dance and drink.
Most of the night you and Margrey had danced with one another, made quite jokes about the other men there. But once the celebration began to wind down Margrey had found an excuse to speak to Joffrey, part of her plan to seduce him. So naturally you made yourself scarce. Finding a corner of the room to stand in while you drank.
It would have been perfect to end your night in peace if a tall man didn’t approach you.
He could have been some noble man or a knight, kings guard, even city watch, you didn’t know and more importantly did not care.
“My, who might you be, my Lady.” He asked, his voice was low and attempting to sound seductive.
“(Y/N) Mormont.” You said as you drank from your cup, your eyes wandered the room, paying little attention to the attractive man in front of you. As your eyes searched the large room, they landed on a pair of eyes already looking at you, Podrick’s. He looked at you with the eyes of a sad dog.
It caught you so off guard you didn’t hear whatever the man had just said, only the mumbling of words. You tore your eyes from his and looked at the man, “What?” burrowed furrowed in frustration.
“I said, then you are not much of a Lady.” He said with a twisted grin
“Is that so?” You said emotionlessly, unwilling to show any kind of offense that might have been taken. Fearing it would give him too much power. Besides, you did not care about the opinions of southerners.
“Hand Maidens are not Ladies of any land, are they not?”
“Perhaps.” You said your eyes returned to scanning the room, trying to find Podrick again, but having no luck.
“I could make you feel like one for tonight.” He held out his hand to you,
You held your cup to your lips as you spoke, “I’ve no wish to dance with you, Ser”.
“I cannot dance with a handmaiden,” The man smirked, his hand snaking around your waist. “I can enjoy one though.” He whispered in your ear.
You smirked back, and then you leaned in, making him think you were about to kiss him when you kicked him in the shin. “Oh!” You fained shock as he grunted in pain “My apologies Ser, I have always been quite clumsy.” Your concerned and shock demeanor dropped as you began to walk away. He began to spit some curse your way when you stomped on his foot. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord.”
As you walked forward a few steps before the man grabbed ahold of your wrist.
“You northern who-” He was interrupted by Podrick’s voice.
“My Lady, the Queen wishes to have a word with you.” He spoke louder than usual. His eyes were wide and looked almost angry.
You ripped your hand away from the man's grasp and walked with Podrick out of the room.
“What does she want?” You asked, rubbing your wrist.
“Nothing, I made that up.” He said avoiding your gaze as you both walked down the hall.
“You made that up?” You looked at him with wide eyes, he nodded still avoiding your gaze. “Well, thank you.” You said softly.
He’d walked you all the way to your chambers with no other words were exchanged between the two of you, other than the occasional glance at one another. You had reached your chambers door, you looked over at him as you began to open the door.
He was ready to nod and walk away when you said, “Podrick,” To which his eyes went directly to yours. You didn’t say another word, just walked into your chambers leaving the door open.
He hesitated for a moment, but walked in after you.
He stood there, showing just how intimidated he was.
As you kicked your shoes off, and removed the necklace Margery allowed you to barrow for the night, you looked over your shoulder to him “Close the door.” You said softly, and so he did.
As you turned to him and began to walk towards him, his eyes subconsciously went from your eyes to your cleavage. Now more exposed now that you’d removed your necklace. He couldn’t help it really. Your corset and gown were truly putting them on display, and the candle light from your room made your skin glow beautifully. You smirked when you noticed, making him swallow hard and return his gaze to your eyes. He was going to apologize but you reached for his hand making him choke back any words he had.
You held his hand, looking at his now healed cut, now formed scar across the palm of his hand.
You trailed the scar with your finger tip.
“You’re seducing me-” He finally found some courage to spit out some words.
“You feel seduced?” You still held his hand, still admiring your work on his hand.
“Yes- I mean, it is intentional isn’t it?” He stammered, somehow a little out of breath.
“Do you want it to be?” You looked at him with a grin and mischievous grin.
“I don’t want to offend you-” He said softly, looking away.
“So you don’t?” You let go of his hand,
“No- no,” His eyes went wide as he stammered, “I want you to, want to seduce me.” He winced at his own words, not knowing how to phrase it.
“Why would that offend me?” You smiled softly, holding back a giggle.
“I am just a squire, my Lady.” He shook his head looking down
“And here in King's Landing, I am just a handmaiden they send to patch up knights and Lords.” You said softly
“You are Lady Mormont.” He said, it made you smile. No one had given such respect to your name in so long.
“You’re sweet.” You brushed his short hair around his ear with your fingertips “Have you ever seduced a woman?” You asked sweetly, you knew the rumors of the whore house, but didn’t know if you could believe it.
“No, no, not really.” He said like we were being honest… maybe he was.
“Show me how you would.” You said looking up at him with sleepy eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“How do you think I was seducing you?”
“You, made me… feel-” he stammered.
“Mhmm, so try to make me feel…”
He stepped closer to you, meekly, his head lowered. He reached out and lightly ran his hand over your hair. Taking a strand of it and looking at it, admiring the color of it, and its texture. He looked into your eyes, his head still lowered.
“You are beautiful.” His hand then went from your hair, to trailing his hand gently down your arm and grabbing your hand softly. He played with your fingers, again, gently.
“I believe you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” He didn’t stammer, his voice was earnest, and gentle.
“This is wooing, not seducing.” You smiled and corrected him as if he were acting, genuinely thinking he were making it up.
“I’m not trying to do either, my Lady.” Your smile dropped, “I just wish to be near you.”
“You shouldn’t.” You said pulling your hand away. “How we first met, tell me that.”
“Lord Slynt ordered you to pour him wine-”
“And I spit in it.”
“He deserved it.”
“I lied to him, and your lord.”
“Not to me.”
Your hardened gaze softened “No, no not to you” You lowered your head avoiding his eyes. afraid you’d melt in his sweetness. found yourself feeling that warm feeling in your chest again. You reached for his fingers with your own. interlocking your index finger with his.
“You are- different.” He stammered a bit “Special.” He corrected, thinking it sounded more flattering.
“You really are sweet. I don’t believe I've met a man so sweet as you.” He smiled, and in turn you smiled back, “You are shy, more so normally than you are now.”
He let out a small chuckle “I still feel shy.” He said as he looked down smiling
“Are you too shy for me to kiss you?”
Instead of responding to you he cupped your face in his hands. So gently it was as if you were made of the finest porcelain in the realm. He leaned in and kissed your lips. Soft and again, gentle. but also passionate and almost lustful. You were surprised how well he kissed. No, he didn’t kiss well, his kiss was intoxicating somehow. Maybe it was the wine on his lips or just skill. you couldn’t help but let out the smallest whimper into his mouth. It made him pull away and go wide eyed.
“You’re quite good at that.” You said wide eyes, catching your breath a bit.
“I apologize-“ He said, still holding your head in his hands.
“For what?”
“I should have asked you first,”
“Too late for that now,” you said, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss. Your lips fell into a perfect rhythm as his hands moved to your ribs, careful not to touch your breasts. his thumbs moved against your ribs slowly and gently.
You’d never felt this way with a man before. Normally it was sweaty, sloppy, and you ended it burnt out and covered in spit. This was like a dance, like you and he had kissed in every life.
You felt terrified. An emotion you rarely ever felt.
What if he was like every other man. They whisper sweet things in your ears, promises, and compliments. Then once they lifted your skirts and humped into you a few times they’d leave. You felt hurt the first time, maybe the second time too. But after that it was expected. So you never let yourself become invested in a man again. You used them as they used you.
But this was different, this wasn’t only lust, there was something more. But was this feeling only yours, or did you share it? You needed to test him, only you didn’t know quite how.
“Stop” You whispered in his mouth as you kissed, it made him stop immediately, and he stepped away from you, breathless.
“I- I’m sorry” He said about to go for the door before you stopped him grabbing his arm.
“No,”
“But you said-”
“I can’t bed you like this.” You said running your hands on the tight fabric of your gown.
“Bed me?” He asked as if he had choked, it made you smile.
“Will you wait here for me?” You asked, petting his cheek, and he nodded slightly confused.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
You had gone into the bathing room that was attached between your room and Margery’s. You bathed quickly, washed your hair, washed your face of its makeup, and slipped into your night dress. The only thing you wore to cover your nakedness.
As you opened the door you saw Podrick lighting the fireplace in your room. He stood as he heard you open the door and looked in your direction as he said, “I thought you might be cold-” He was cut off by the sight of you. His eyes were enamored by the sight of you.
You hadn’t shown him this side of you. Totally free of glamor and shine. “Thank you,” You said as you walked towards him.
As you stood in front of him he still couldn’t let out any words. “Do you… not like it?”
He shook his head quickly, “This is the most I have ever seen of you.” he placed a hand on your cheek. “You are truly the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
You searched his eyes for a hint of deceit and found none. You took the hand he placed on your cheek and sat down on the fur carpet that laid in front of the fireplace, pulling him down with you. You looked at the scar on his hand again, this time placing a kiss on the scar.
“Thank you for what you did tonight.” He looked slightly confused, “The lie you told.” You explained.
“I didn’t want to interrupt, but then I saw how he grabbed you.” He looked down, now beginning to simmer, “No one should grab you like that.” He said in a lower tone. “If I’d a sword, I wouldn’t have to tell a lie.” He became angered thinking of it.
You moved closer to him, beginning to undo the clasps on the front of his top. He looked intimidated again suddenly, “A sword hm?” He nodded, “What would you have told him?”
“To unhand you, or I’d remove his hand.” He said, with a darker tone of voice, it made you smile as you pulled his red leather top off, leaving him in his tunic.
“One day you’re going to be the only honorable knight in all of Westeros.” You saw heat rush to his cheeks when you said those words. “A big strong shining warrior.” You said crawling closer to him.
“You’re seducing me again.” He said staring at your lips, his eyes drifted downwards again to your cleavage again now further exposed by the thin fabric and the angle you were in from crawling to him.
“Do you want me to stop?” You asked in a whisper,
He shook his head “No,” He said, grasping your face in his hands kissing you so deeply you let out a small moan into his lips, only making him kiss you deeper.
His hands roamed your sides, as yours gripped the back of his neck and roamed his chest down to his stomach.
When your hand reached his stomach you felt his muscles twitch and he let out a small groan. The sound of his groan made you clench your thighs together.
Mixed with the sounds of your breathless whimpers he felt himself stiffening, “Can I touch you?” He whispered in your ear, you nodded and he whispered back “Thank you,” As his hands cupped your breasts. He let out a moan into your mouth as he groped you, feeling the plumpness of your breasts. You couldn’t take it anymore and began to lift your night dress. You stopped yourself however, not wanting to push him,
“Is this okay?” You asked, and he nodded frantically. To which you smiled and lifted the rest of it off. His hands gripped your breasts tighter, and his mouth moved from yours to your neck and shoulder.
“You’re beautiful.” He whispered against your hot skin, repeating it over and over again.
One of your hands petted his hair, while the other went over his stomach to his now tenting trousers. You heard him moan into your neck and his hands gripped you tighter, making you moan in return.
“You sound beautiful too,” He whispered
“Take this off” You said much less elegantly as you pulled at the fabric of his shirt. As he did you laid down on the fur carpet under you. Looking up at him as he removed his tunic. You smiled up at him, “You’re quite pretty too.”
He shook his head in awe of you, “Not like you… You could be a painting,” He said, dropping to his knees. He leaned down and kissed your lips. Both your lips at this point were slightly swollen, but that didn’t stop either of you from continuing. Kissing with a new kind of passion.
You felt, for a moment, this might be much more. And if it was, you didn’t want to hide from him at all. You pulled away from his lips as you blurted out,
“I’ve been with men before you.” breathlessly, “I feel I should be honest with you.” You felt even more naked revealing that, you felt heat spread across your face.
“That’s alright.” He nodded, trying to reassure you. “And I- I have- I’ve been with women before you.”
Your eyes went wide, you thought back to the rumors you’d heard. “You have?” You shook your head to yourself trying to shake those thoughts out of your head. “That’s alright.” You said looking back at him, you smiled softly “It is, it’s alright.” You felt a hint of excitement, pulling him back into your body and to your lips.
You two kissed for a moment until his mouth ran down to your neck, covering your body in as many kisses as he could, making you giggle. Giggle until you feel his thumb run down the slit of your folds. Which made you gasp slightly and then smile at him, and he smiled back.
He leaned down and began to kiss and suck on your breasts.
You felt yourself becoming a wet and sticky mess and his thumb continued to roll up and down the slit of your folds, masterfully avoiding your clit, teasing you.
Finally his index and middle finger parted you, while his thumb gently teased your clit.
“Mmmmmm” you let out as you closed your eyes.
“Do you like that?” he asked softly into your breasts, all you could do was nod as he applied more pressure.
his teeth grazed your nipple with expertise. As though he knew just the right amount to use, how much you liked.
He continued to kiss, suck on, and sometimes lightly bite your breasts. You felt yourself clenching around nothing as he moaned soft praises into your skin. while he kept circling your clit.
It was beginning to be too much and not enough. “More,” you whined, “Your fingers.” you said.
He nodded, “Show me, show me what you like.”
you reached your hand below, rubbing your clit only a little, then you pushed a finger in. He watched as your eyes closed from the pleasure
He inserted his finger alongside yours, feeling how you moved your own finger inside you.
The extra digit in you stretched you so nicely, you let out a small sigh as you smiled at him and he smiled back at you.
You inserted a second finger, and he followed suit. The stretch burned slightly, it had been a while since you had been with a man, and now already you’d four fingers inside you. Albeit two were smaller than the other two but still. You whined a little as you winced slightly. It made him lean down and kiss your lips.
“You’re wonderful” he said as he kissed your jaw and your neck, pumping his fingers in you with your own guiding him. You then removed your fingers, content to let him take control.
His fingers knew when to curl and when to relax, when to push against the soft spot in you, and knew just the right speed. No man had ever known how to draw out such pleasure from simply his fingers with you.
“Podrick-“ you gasped at certain curl of his fingers,
“My lady?” he said into your lips,
“Call me my name,” you said into his,
“(Y/N)…(Y/N)..(Y/N)…(Y/N)..” he repeated softly as he kissed your cheek, then your other cheek, then your forehead, then your eyelids, nose, and finally your lips.
You took his face into your hands, as gently as he took yours in his. You kissed him sweetly, as you pulled away you whispered “I want to make you feel good,”
He smiled and let out a small chuckle “I feel very good,”
You shook your head and rubbed your palm onto his tenting trousers, making him close his eyes tightly, “I want you to feel even better.”
Your touching continued until he was grunting and bucking into your hand, “I- I have to take these off.” He said with a bit of shame as he fumbled with the strings of his trousers. You gladly helped him with a smile on your flushed face.
As he was freed from his pants, you took him in your hand, looking at his cock. It was bigger than you had expected, and by far the prettiest one you’d seen. Most were crooked, too thin, or too wide but his was perfect.
“Pretty thing you’ve got there,” You said with a smile as you pulled him into another kiss.
As you did you pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, slinging your leg over his body.
He looked flustered with your boldness but pleased. “Thank you,” he responded.
“You’re welcome,” You said as you lined his cock, slick with precum against your entrance. His hands gripped your hips as you lowered yourself, pushing him inside of you.
You let out the prettiest of moans from your lips as did he.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you grinded him into you, in and out. The way his cock twitched inside of you hit the soft spot in you so deliciously each time, making you moan even louder.
You looked down at him, you ran your hand against his cheek as he looked back at you with a soft smile while moans left his lips.
The look in his eyes as he watched you squirm and whimper was a look you were not accustomed to.
All of the sudden, he pulled you down and rolled you onto your back. You were face to face, his arms wrapped around your body and yours around his. Your legs around his waist as he bucked into you, again and again. The way he did it, was as if he had done it a thousand times before.
He moved his hands to hold your face, and his other to hold your hand.
His thumb rubbed against your cheek, sweetly. Just before it left your cheek and trailed down your body to your cunt. Rubbing your clit in circles.
He could feel you clenching around him, his speed picked up and his mouth returned to your nipples. But his hand never left yours.
“I’m cuming, Podrick, I- mmhmm” You whined, only making him speed up even more.
You felt your legs shake, your toes curl, and the pressure in your stomach snap and the warmth in your core spread around his cock. You let out the prettiest of moans as you came. You gripped his hand tightly. And he peppered your chest and your neck in kisses. “I want you to cum,” You whispered as he continued to fuck into you.
“So warm… so wet.” He whimpered against your neck, “Gods, I need you.”
His thrusts in you became more and more erratic, you anticipated his cum filling you, you anticipated the heat that would fill you. You wanted it, badly. You smiled as you saw his face contort knowing it was coming, but he pulled out and came on the ground next to you.
You whined a little, “I wanted it,” You said in a whisper.
“You?-” He looked confused “You wanted it?”
You nodded, pouting a little.
“Why?” He asked, not being able to understand it, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to- to sully your body.” He said, sweet sentiment.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈꒱꒱
After he cleaned it up, you had gotten in bed.
He dressed himself back in his tunic and walked over to you where you pulled him into your bed.
He held you against his body, and you held him back. He just stared into your eyes, as he pet your cheek. He admired the way you looked against the light of the fire. His eyes trailed down your body and he saw the bruises he left from his kisses on your breasts. His thumb grazed over them as he said “I’m sorry, I-’
“You did nothing wrong,” You said as you gripped his face and pulled him down to kiss his lips. “Do you think your Lord misses you?” You asked jokingly.
“I think he is too drunk to notice.” He said smiling at you, “What about your Lady?”
“I think she was too involved in Joffrey to notice.” You said with a giggle.
“Sleep with me tonight?” You asked softly,
He nodded and he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your neck.
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
When you woke up, you were alone.
You felt a little betrayed but you knew he had duties.
Later that day you were ordered to check on Lord Tyrion’s injuries as the Maester was too busy to see to it himself.
When you knocked on the door to Tyrion's chambers Bronn answered the door, he eyed you up and down, making you roll your eyes.
“My Lord,” You said walking into Tyrion’s chambers, brushing past Bronn and avoiding his gaze.
“Ah, the bear girl.” Tyrion said,
“(Y/N) Mormont, my Lord.” Podrick attempted to correct him, which made Bronn huff and roll his eyes. But you smiled at him, and he smiled back.
“Yes, Podrick, I know her name. My family is holding her captive after all.”
You smirked at his admission, ‘How’re you feeling?” You asked as you sat a leather bag of medicines and supplies on a table.
“Oh quite pleasurable.” Tyrion said sarcastically,
You turned towards him, dropping your concerned demeanor “I need to know if it stings or itches, if it’s infected, it could spread to your eyes, you’ll go blind, it could spread to your sinuses which could make you go deaf, and if it spreads to your brain you’ll die."
“You’re a gentle flower aren’t you?”
“Always have been. The Flower of Bear Island they called me.” You said sarcastically with crossed arms, making Tyrion huff a chuckle, “Yes and now they call me bear girl and whore, so if you could be so kind and cooperate I can see to it that you don’t die.”
Podrick held back a smile at your strength.
“Alright, no burning, itching, or stinging. Satisfied?” Tyrion said as you sat beside him.
“Somewhat…” You said while examining the cut.
Podricks eyes were entranced by the way your eyes darted around the Lord's scar, how you examined it with such expertise. How your eyebrows narrowed and your lips pouted slightly when you focused intensely on something. How when you wrapped a new bandage around the Lord's face you bit on your bottom lip. As he stared at your lips he thought of your first kiss, how warm and soft your lips were, he thought of your sweet taste. He wanted to grab your face and do it all over again. He was so deep into his fantasy he hadn’t even noticed Tyrion had called his name twice.
Bronn smacked Podricks head, making him snap out of it as Tyrion repeated himself again.
“Pod, see Lady Mormont to her chambers.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Podrick nodded
“Oh I'm sure the lad would love that.” Bronn said as you and Podrick left the room.
Once the door to Tyrion's chamber was closed you turned to Podrick with narrowed eyes.
“You told them?” You asked with venom.
“No, no, no I wouldn’t.” He stammered, not wanting you to believe he would do such a thing to you, “I wouldn’t. I believe I am just not very good at concealing my… interest in you.” He said softly so no one would hear.
It made you smile.
“I am sorry I couldn’t stay, My Lady. This morning, I couldn’t stay, Lord Tyrion would have sent someone for me.” He said softly again.
“I told you, you can call me by my name.” You said not willing to say it was alright but not willing to say it wasn’t. “Did you forget it, Podrick?” You teased him
“No, no (Y/N)” He said your name with a smile.
“Good, I thought your interest in me had finally subsided.”
“I don’t think it could.”
It made you smile again, 'seven hells' you thought, falling for such things.
You looked around and saw no one in the hall, you pulled him into another kiss.
NOTE:sowwy this took so long, i wuv you!
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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)
not my gif!
Daenerys Targaryen. The most wanted woman of all in any of the kingdoms. She was undoubtedly envied by many, you included. You were a very close runner-up, but it didn’t help much considering your family’s constant comparisons between you and the younger girl.
You were nearing twenty-one and you had yet to be set for marriage, your parents frowning upon the idea that you wanted different things in life. Sure it might be nice to carry on your family’s legacy and become the heir, being their oldest of seven girls, but it wouldn’t be all that nice when you’d get threatened by others to give up your title as queen.
You’d met Jon when your parents had gone over to the Stark residence for a ceremonial dinner. He’d been out front, swording away at a dummy. You removed the flask from the garter that sat under your dress, sipping the bitter whiskey. You’d leaned yourself up against the wall, eyeing the dark-haired alpha as he blabbered away to his uncle Benjen.
He stole several glances, his tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek when he realized your gown parted more and more to allow some air under the fabric.
“I shall go with you when you leave, Uncle Benjen. My father will say yes - ask him!”
Trying your best to not eavesdrop much more, you began to wander off. His uncle couldn’t stop the perverse words that fell from his tongue. You glanced over your shoulder, shooting the older male a wink, careful as to not show too much of your face as he’d only seen your silhouette. He took off, heading into the castle to rejoice with his brother and several lords, leaving you in the presence of the young man.
“Tisn’t quite the scene for a lady. You should be inside with everyone else.”
“Nor is it the scene for the son of a lor-“
“Lady Stark requested that I didn’t join them for the dinner.”
“Oh, right. Jon Snow, is it? The bastard?”
You finally turned to face him, his eyes widening in their sockets.
“Honorable Y/N Burke. You shan’t be in the presence of an unwed man, young lady.”
“There are many things that I ‘shan’t’ do,” you mimicked air quotes. “But, you’ll find very soon, bastard, that I don’t care much about the things that I shan’t do.”
He eyed you for a moment longer, his sword firm at his side. You had yet to conceal your flask, offering him a sip before taking one of your own.
You watched as his eyes glanced over the way your lips encircled the opening, a drop of the liquid dribbling down the side of your mouth before your finger swiped at it, sucking the digit into your mouth.
Then he lost it.
He pounced on you in just a matter of seconds, groaning as your tongue mingled with his. The exchange of tastes - the whiskey warm with a mix of whatever sweetness you’d treated yourself to beforehand, and his bare whiskey. You could almost taste his musk but it must’ve only been the way his scent overstimulated each of your senses.
His hands, which had made themselves up to your face, dropped to your waist, pulling your lower halves together as he felt up on your body.
“Goodness- we can’t get caught, Snow.”
Your breath picked up into heavy pants, his fingers dipping into your undergarments as he swallowed all of your moans.
“Just be quiet, darling, and they won’t know a thing.”
He teased your clit with a grin plastered to his face. He yanked your underpants down, mimicking the move with his own clothing.
“Jon-“
“Sh, sweetheart-“
He hoisted you into his arms, not hesitating to plow himself into you. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to fight each moan from leaving your mouth. A high-pitched squeal sounded from your throat as his hand accompanied his rather vulgar pace.
“Fuck-“
“Remember what I told you, sweetheart,” he grunted into your ear.
His arm circled itself around your waist, stabilizing your squirming figure. His head tipped back, a groan sounding from his throat before his forehead met yours.
“Jon, fu-“
Before you could finish your statement, you felt the pulsating of his cock, his seed dribbling down your legs. He fucked you through his high, dropping his thumb to your cunt so you’d finally come around his cock. Your body shuddered as your climax hit you, your hands clutching onto him for dear life.
He pulled his garments back up once he’d placed you on the makeshift railing. You remained silent for just a bit longer until you broke said silence.
“Look, Jon- Lord…Snow, I’ve heard of your desire to leave this land and become a Night Watcher. I just….”
For once you had not much to say despite wanting to spew so much out.
“I know of your oath and the things you must accede to.”
“What are you getting at, Hon Burke?”
“If…if I am to carry your child, and I know the chances are slim because it’s only been once-“
“As you said, it’s only been one time. Don’t speak nonsense. This never happened. Are we clear?”
“But-“
He turned to you, helping you redress yourself with a sigh. He couldn’t miss the way your demeanor faltered just a tad, his own softening drastically.
“It’d be in both of our best interests to pretend that this never happened, sweetheart.”
And so you did as he said.
Despite wanting oh so badly to miss your menstrual cycle that month, it’d worked out for the best - you’d told yourself. You’d only known the lad for a few minutes tops but he remained on your mind for years following.
Upon his leave, you were devastated. Watching with teary eyes as the man you knew you wanted so much more with was leaving. Your mother watched as you quickly wiped a tear from under your eye, sniffling quietly.
Two years down the line, it was nearly impossible to avoid the fact that you’d have to step up and become queen rather soon.
“Mother, I am not stepping into that role until I get a proper proposal!”
“You’re too picky, Y/N! We’ve been waiting - for years, we’ve been waiting. You’ve gotten thirty proposals, all of which you’d turned down for the darndest reasons!”
“I’m not picky! I am awaiting someone that will settle for more than what the stupidity of this society offers. My king-“
“Has arrived.”
That voice. His voice.
Immediate tears were brought to your eyes as you found Jon standing in your doorway.
“J- Sir Jon Snow. Am I dreaming?”
“No, m’lady. ‘Tis truly I.”
You resisted every fiber in your body that urged you to jump into his arms and snog him right in front of your mother.
“Lady Burke,” he bowed.
Your mother offered a tight-lipped smile before leaving the pair of you to catch up.
“I didn’t think I’d see you for another ten years.”
Your smaller arms pulled his body into yours, embracing his warmth despite his cool armor.
“Jon,” you hummed, nuzzling yourself further into him.
“Y/N,” he copied your actions, smoothing his hand over your hair. “I couldn’t do without you for much longer.”
“Really? That’s hard to believe considering how quick you left after fucking me,” you quipped.
“I’m sorry, darling. I truly am.”
You met his lips in a soft kiss, your fists clenching around his coat.
“How’ve you been holding up?”
“I’ve just been dandy.”
Lies.
“Sort of glad I didn't have your child.”
Lies.
“Tried to get back out there after you left.”
Lies.
His arm tightened around you at the last of your statements.
“Tell me, Hon. Am I marrying a whore?”
“‘Marrying a whore’?” you were flabbergasted. “One - never call me a whore again. Two - who said we are to be wed?”
“Me.”
The simplicity of his statement baffled your mind.
“You? My father would never let me-“
“Marry a bastard. But, darling, as I remember, you’d told me something two years ago. You don’t care about the things you shan’t do and that shall include claiming me to be your king.”
“Well, why do you wait, my lord?”
He held you tight to his chest with his pupils blown.
“Tell me you’ll be mine, sweetheart. This is my proposal to you. We shall leave this land and rule our own kingdom together.”
“I do accept your proposal, my dearest, but I believe it isn’t that easy.”
“Nothing is easy, especially this. If your father is to deny our marriage and your leave, we shall go nonetheless.”
You grinned up at him, shaking your head as you laid your head on his chest.
“Then I shall marry you, my king.”
As expected, your parents didn’t have the merriest of a reaction when it came to notifying them of your leave with the man who’d notoriously been known to be a bastard. They were disappointed you wouldn’t be running their kingdom but they were relieved to see that you were finally off to be married. They hesitantly approved of the young man’s proposal, sending you off with him.
On your ride to your new castle, miles from your parents’ kingdom, you couldn’t help but question your husband-to-be.
“Why did you leave?”
He eyed you.
“The Night Watch. Why did you leave, Jon?”
“I know my status as a bastard would’ve done me well over there but I couldn’t take it. Being away from you, my family. It was eating at me day and night.”
“Then…why’d it take you two years to come back?”
“I didn’t know how to tell them I’d be leaving. It took me a long time to muster up the courage for that.”
You allowed yourself to remain silent until he placed a hand on top of yours.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I regret ever setting myself up to be away for the rest of my life, but now I’ve got you and that’s all that I need.”
“You sure have a way with words, don’t you?”
His lip quirked into a gentle smile, his hand squeezing yours with tenderness.
In just a couple of weeks, you were settled into your new home with your husband. It was now time to host several dinners and welcome all to your land. You were beyond ecstatic but it wasn’t until the guests actually arrived that you became wary of those around you.
Daenerys had made quite the entrance into your home, every one entirely forgetting that you existed for a moment. The Khal trailed behind her, offering head nods to those that personally greeted him.
Your heart stammered in your chest beyond your control. You isolated yourself from the crowd, tears cascading down your cheeks as your breathing grew jagged.
Your husband seemed to be infatuated with the platinum blonde-haired girl. You couldn’t blame him but it was killing you. He hadn’t torn his eyes from her, nor did she. She seemed to eye Jon for a bit too long, keeping great eye contact with him as she bowed.
“No need for that,” he chuckled, greeting Drogo with a firm handshake.
He waited for you to greet the couple, not sparing a glance at your seat until he hadn’t heard your voice whatsoever.
“Y/N?”
Chatting and eating resumed, Jon’s leg bouncing anxiously. He watched like a hawk, eyes wandering about the crowd.
“Lord Snow, I don't think Lady Snow is feeling all that well.”
Upon hearing your name, you wiped the last of your tears, seating yourself at your husband's side yet again.
“Darling, what’s the matter?”
He held your face in his palm, eyebrows furrowing at your puffy and reddened eyes.
“Nothing, my lord.”
You spoke the words with such harshness that it pierced his heart.
“What-“
“Ah, Lord and Lady Snow! Why don’t you make a toast?”
“I don’t think-“
“Of course, Benjen. We shall give a toast!”
You stood with your goblet, Jon staring at you with confusion clear in his features before standing on his own two feet.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. Lord Snow and I are delighted to be sharing such a special moment with you all. We wouldn’t have wanted it to be spent any other way. Jon?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke.
“I’m sure I’m supposed to be thanking you lot but if it weren’t for my beautiful wife here, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you and for that, I thank her. I thank her for trying to understand me, for being the greatest human on earth, and for standing by my side regardless of what. I’ve known the shame of being a bastard for my whole life but she’s willing to bear the embarrassment of being wedded to me.”
His speech went on and on and on. It didn’t seem to end but your heart fluttered at his words. He grasped onto your hand when you turned away from him, your eyes catching Daenerys’. You shook those pestering thoughts from your mind, repeating ‘stop it, stop it, stop it’ over and over in your head.
That had only been the first of many instances, though.
You were distraught. It’d been months since you and Jon were lawfully wedded yet it seemed as if you couldn’t conceive. Your parents were applying pressure, sending ravens to your kingdom every day after, asking when you’d bear children.
After a dinner you’d put together at your castle, you lost it. Jon had spent nearly three hours lingering near the Khal and his Khaleesi. For only two minutes, he held you at his side while conversing with the couple. You’d shimmied yourself from his arms, entertaining the younger Stark children.
Robb had witnessed the way in which you embraced your inner child, chasing the kids around as they screamed their heads off. You shooed them away with a motion of your hand. With a hand on your hip, you watched them run off, your heart aching at the thought of never having children.
“Any luck yet, m’lady?”
Robb chuckled as you flinched in the slightest.
“My goodness, Robb. No, no luck yet. However, we already have names picked out, as well as runner-ups for godparents.”
“Oh really?”
You playfully rolled your eyes, spinning to face the brunette.
“If you’re so desperate to hear it, then yes, you are a candidate for our children’s godfather.”
He took your hand into his, landing a kiss on your knuckles as you giggled endlessly.
“I knew you always loved me,” he dramatically expressed.
You raised a brow, badgering him, “Say that with caution, Stark.”
“Or what? Lord Snow will behead me?”
“I might.”
The older boy wrapped his arm around his brother’s neck in a cub-like embrace.
“Goodness, Jon. Leave your brother be,” you scolded him, watching as his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.
The dinner was called to an end rather soon, but a few of your guests straggled about - Khaleesi Daenerys amongst the few. Your eyes were like daggers as you watched Jon converse with the younger girl. You were drawn from your thoughts the moment Robb placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Now, Y/N, I am well aware that you think my brother is mad over this woman - or at the least, having an affair with her. But I can assure you, nothing of that sort is happening at all. He’s only trying to make am-“
“I’d like to hear that from him, Robb. If he’s just trying to make amends with the Khal and everyone then that’s on me. But it doesn’t help that the Khaleesi is that fucking gorgeous. She has these big doe eyes that scream ‘help me’ or ‘fuck me’! I don’t know which one it is but I’m afraid that Jon will play the hero and be the one that fulfills any of her needs.”
You were seething in the corner with Robb at your hip. He tried assuring you repeatedly but you were quite a stubborn queen.
After everyone had left for good, you wasted no time in heading straight to bed. You wanted to avoid Jon to the best of your ability but you simply couldn’t outdo the king. Before you could step foot out of your bedroom with your things in hand, Jon stepped in front of you. He backed you into the room, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shut the door.
“What’s your problem?”
You tried to not break under his intense gaze, your eyes bouncing from his own to everywhere in the room.
“What is your issue, Y/N?”
His voice was too quiet for your comfort.
“Are you…having an affair with Daenerys, Jon?”
The words that left your mouth sent a genuine fit of laughter racking through his body.
“Are you being serious?”
“Answer the question.”
His laughter died down, his body gravitating towards yours.
“Of course, I’m not having an affair with Daenerys. What makes you ask this?”
“The way you look at her kills me, Jon. When she’s here, it feels like I don’t exist! Why do you think I disappear for hours on end- you know what - you don’t even realize that I’m gone because you’re too immersed in your interactions with her! It’s-“
His hands found themselves on either side of your face, forcing you to look at him, though gently.
“If I was having an affair with Daenerys or anyone else, do you think that I’d be in the same bed as you every single night? All of those things I said about you months ago were nothing but true. You were probably too busy being upset with me to hear most of it but I don’t want anyone else. I want you and only you.”
“Then why do you look at her the way that you do? There’s so much compassion and-“
“I look at her that way because I feel bad for her! She talks to me because she feels as if she can’t trust anyone else, not even her own brother. I’m sorry that I ever made you feel less important. You’re the most important person, the most important thing in this world. I care for Daenerys’ well-being but I don’t care about her the way I care about you. I love you and I know I don’t say it enough but I do!”
He panted as he read your face.
“So you’re not cheating on me?”
“No, and I never will! I only want you, Y/N Snow. Only you.”
His lips met yours, your shoulders falling as relief washed over you. You allowed your hands to get lost in his hair, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your lips moved in tandem.
“Tell me you love me.”
You hadn’t noticed the few tears that stained his cheeks until he spoke against your lips, your heart aching in your chest.
“Jon, my darling, I love you more than you will ever know.”
His arms tightened around you, lifting you from the ground as he pecked your skin.
“It seems as though I have to make up to you for the rest of my life,” he chuckled against your skin.
“Sweetheart, you loving me alone is enough of an apology.”
He laid you gently on the bed, undoing your bodice in an impressive amount of time. He held back no longer, suckling on the skin that was graciously presented to him.
“Jon,” you hummed.
He imitated your actions, putting a ministration to his movement once he’d reached your underpants. After kissing, biting, sucking on your skin, his lips were red and plump. They met yours again, the taste of whatever wine you’d been drinking just hours prior still lingering on your tongue.
He worked his hands into the sides of your underpants before pushing them down your legs. You whimpered against his tongue as his fingers stimulated your clit.
“Darling,” you gasped out, his fingers dipping in and out of your cunt.
He used a leg to pry yours apart, reveling in your angelic sounds. He propped himself up on his other arm, hand holding his head. With your hands tugging at his clothing, you pulled him in even closer.
His face disappeared into the nape of your neck. The way in which he breathed against your neck caused your skin to crawl.
His nose nudged at your jawline, a dumbstruck grin taking over his features once he felt your walls pulsating around his digits. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the next words that flew from his mouth.
“Lannister had told me he imagined you sitting on his face long before my proposal. I nearly slayed the son of a bitch until I realized you weren’t mine then. Why don’t you come on my face, sweetheart?”
“W-what?” You stammered out - half shocked at the proposition and half processing the fact that he was still fucking you with his fingers.
“My pretty girl doesn’t want to sit on my face?”
He jutted out his bottom lip, on which you pressed a kiss, uttering an ‘I do’. Your legs squirmed a bit more until you came. Your back arched off the mattress as you gasped and cried out. He slid his fingers into his mouth, his eyes locked on your blissful features.
“You taste heavenly,” he murmured, wiping his saliva-slicked fingers off on his bottoms.
His words made your cheeks heat up, using whatever strength you had to push yourself onto your knees.
“Are you sure about this, Jon?”
“A million times over - yes, I’m sure about this.”
He laid himself down, your legs trembling as your cunt hovered over his face. He brought you down in seconds, not being able to resist the temptation.
His tongue expertly worked your cunt as it’d done several times before. Sitting on his face, however, brought a new sense of pleasure to you - his nose bumping your clit every so often as the entirety of your cunt grew soaked. The mix of his saliva and your release sent you spiraling once more, the core in your lower half tightening before you could say anything.
His tongue softly fucked your desperate hole, a glass-shattering moan sounding from within. You couldn’t hold back any of it. You needed to let the whole damn castle know that your king was treating you right.
“Jon!”
One hand dropped to his hair, the other fondling your breast. Your eyes dropped to his, your body giving out at the sight of his disheveled hair and his eyes just begging for your come.
Your body shook gently as you came in his mouth, eyes screwing shut once your head had lolled back. You’d lifted yourself off to the side, your husband chuckling at your already fucked-out state.
“How was that?”
His fingers traced patterns on your skin as you came down from one of your many highs for the night.
“Fuckin’ amazing,” you breathed out, your arms reaching for him once he’d brought himself to his knees.
You watched as he undid his bottoms. The intense eye contact he held with you was a telltale sign that you needed to help him out of his clothes before he exploded.
“I won’t be rough tonight,” he whispered.
You bit your lip, feeling the burn of his gaze on your face as you undid the buttons of his shirt. Your insides grew fuzzy, becoming giddy at the fact that this was truly your husband. No one, nothing could ever take him away from you.
He stood nude before you, pressing his back to the headboard before patting his lap. You climbed onto him in a matter of seconds, your hands already stabilizing themselves on his shoulders. Your knees bent at either hip, legs akimbo to appease his girth. You pumped him a few times, running his tip up and down your fold before sinking onto him with a cry.
“Has it been long, my darling?”
You nodded, offering an airy chuckle as you struggled to take all of him.
“Gods, I’m beyond s-“
You hushed him with a kiss on the lips, your hips beginning to rock back and forth once you’d hit his base. His hands fell to your behind, your back arching as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. His name left your mouth like a mantra, chants of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ following right after. Your mouths found one another in a slobbery mess, a clash of teeth and tongue as the rutting of your hips became more desperate.
“Stop apologizing, my lord. I- holy shit, I love you,” you choked out.
“I love you, sweet girl.”
His forearms held onto your waist, using this as leverage to thrust himself further into you.
The pace of his hips, the words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces. Just outside your door, guards exchanged knowing glances, clearing their throats at the sounds that came from the both of you. They seemingly grew louder, Jon taking the opportunity to let the words flow from his mouth - “I shall put a baby in you tonight.”
And so the night proceeded. Jon didn’t let up until you physically couldn’t go for another round, making sure none of his seed left your womb.
It was a relief to know that your king, your lord, your love wanted you and only you.
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Omg I have an idea Jaime x reader. Reader is a servant and Jamie is I love with her and they are together secretly but everyone knows because they have 2 children and cersie hates reader because she took Jamie from her and Jamie defends reader every chance he gets. Plus if the children are older maybe Joffrey has a crush on there daughter idk it just poped into my head.❤️❤️❤️
You’re Better Than Any Proper Lady
Quickly walking through the halls of the Red Keep I finally made it back to my chambers at the other end of the castle shutting the door quickly. Leaning my back against the door I quickly heard two sets of feet running directly at me giggling like crazy. “Mommy!” Two sets of arms embraced me in a warm hug.
“Ohhh hi babies. You’re daddy is coming shortly. I should have the rest of the night off for now.” Breaking the hug I put a hand on each of my children’s shoulders. The kids weren’t twins but they almost looked like they were in my opinion.
My daughter Laina had her father’s bright blonde hair that was in a braid falling down her back and my eye color. Whereas my son Alex had my hair color but it was almost as bright as her father’s. Yet he had his father’s eye color. Someone knocked three times on the door where I turned my head around getting to my feet. Opening the door the figure that had golden hair moves past me the second I locked the door behind the knight. "Cersei wants to see the both of us later tonight. I tried to tell her it wasn't necessary but she wouldn't take no for an answer...I've missed you."
“I’ve missed you too. What do you think she wants to talk with both of us about. I mean I thought we were doing a good job of keeping our relationship and the kids a secret. So that you don’t get in trouble with King Robert.” I told Jaime when he wrapped his arms around me in a hug kissing the crown of my forehead.
He held me in his arms with my hands resting on his armor chest with his green eyes focused on mine. “I’ve told you when we started this relationship between you and I. That I don’t care what other people think of us. If they know about the kids then I’ll stand by your side and defend you always.”
“I know you will, Jaime. Everyone may say you are an oath breaker. But I know you better than everyone else does.” Moving myself away from his arms I turned to our kids who were waiting to just embrace him like crazy. “Go on you two.”
Laina and Alex didn’t waste a second before they ran forward when he bent down on his knees opening his arms. “Ohh there’s my little lion and lionesses.” He hugged each of them when they throw their tiny arms around his neck smiling into his shoulders.
Watching Jaime embracing his kids that were on the ground right in front of me. Wrapping my arms around myself I smiled at their interaction. Jaime and I knew that our relationship couldn’t be out in the open but that wasn’t something important to me or him. With our different status ranks it was rare for a servant and a former heir to a household who had become a member of the Kingsguard would end up together. “Daddy, are you going to be able to stay the night this time?” Alex asked his father with those hopeful eyes focused on him.
“Oh I don’t know..” Jaime started to say hating to not be able to say yes without hesitation.
Laina tugged his right hand giving him puppy dog eyes trying to convince him into saying only yes and nothing else. “Please daddy. We want to spend more time with you.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Come here.” He sent them a smile kissing each of their foreheads before he rose to his feet beside me knowing we had to go see whatever his sister wanted. If we didn’t she would come and figure out that Jaime had fathered other children with someone else that wasn’t her. And that wouldn’t end well for either of us.
Hugging our kids quickly I kissed their heads shooing them away back into the spot that we hide them from the staff that would patrols even the servants chambers at odd times without our knowledge. The only reason I knew about it was because Jaime saw one of the spies searching one morning. “I’ll be back in little while. Don’t answer the door unless you hear three knocks on it.”
“You’re worrying too much. It’s starting to show Y/n. You need to remain like we have nothing to hide from her.” Jaime warned me while we walked beside each not holding hands moving through the halls on our way to the Queen’s chambers.
Slumping my shoulders I huffed trying to take some breathes to calm my nerves down. "She's the queen of the seven kingdoms and your sister. She could put our head on spikes if she wishes. Especially since she'll probably think that I stole you away from her. There's not really a good answer to our situation."
Jaime slowly opened the door letting me walk in first and he shut it behind himself. Shifting my gaze forward I held in my breath seeing the queen of the seven kingdoms sitting at a table by the open window. Cersei Lannister leans back in her chair gesturing for us to join her. "Ser Jaime. Lady Y/n, please sit with me."
Slowly together we moved and sat down across from her where I gulped being the first one to break the silence in the room. "You're grace, I'm afraid I have to ask why exactly did you request us here?"
"I want you to know that you aren't worthy of my brother. You might have been somewhat worthy of him if you were born from a noble house but you aren't. You came here as a servant to me. And I know of the little ones you have given him. But don't think for a moment that he will show devotion to you!' She growled gripping the wine cup in her hands.
Parting my mouth opened I didn’t know what to say to her. “Your grace, I don’t know what you’re talking about-“
“Oh cut the crap, servant girl. I know that the two kids who occasionally follow you around aren’t just yours but my brothers as well. Did you really think that I wouldn’t be able to notice the blonde hair and green eyes mixed with your physical features!” The queen cut me off with her sharp tongue. “Jaime and I belong together. You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t deserve you!”
Jaime slide his chair back with his hands resting on the table raising his voice towards his sister shocking the both of us. “You don’t get to talk about her that way. She is a better woman and lover than you will ever be. And I will be marrying her someday!”
Cersei jumped up to her feet slapping him straight across the cheek. “You lying cunt. Tell me you’re be a liar, Jaime!”
“Jaime?” I trailed off staring up at him taken back by his words.
His blonde hair was slightly falling in front of his green eyes but he didn’t have that cheeky smirk on his face and he didn’t look to be joking. He turned his hands into fists at his sides standing tall against his twin sister the queen. “I'm not joking, Cersei. I am falling in love with Y/n and our kids. And she is better than any high born lady..she's better than you ever were to me!"
"How dare you speak to me that way. I am the queen - I am your sister. We belong together, you and I. I will put your heads on spikes if you walk out that door!" She sent me a death glare where I gulped.
I didn't want to get in between the sibling fight. Even though I basically already was at this point. Jaime leans forward glaring at his twin sister knowing how to show he was confident in his words. "You won't be able to do anything once I tell father that his line is secure with two Lannister heirs."
"They're not born of noble blood. What makes you think that he will ever agree to your terms?" She teased him leaning on the table the same way he was with her blonde hair waving down her shoulders.
He didn't let his confidence drop at any time. "Because he told me family is all that lives on. He will just care that I will be his heir and that I have given him too grandchildren." He turned away from his sister offering me his hand tugging me up to stand until we had made it back to his chamber door.
Lifting my gaze up to his I squeezed his hand needing an answer. "I...I can't believe you said that to her. After everything that you've been through with her..and yet you chose me. And I don't get why we are at your chambers. The kids will wonder where we are at."
"I just want a few moments with you, Y/n." He responded with a bright smile kicking open the door dragging me inside pressing my back against the closed door. "Nothing I said in there was just for show. I meant every part of it. I want to marry you, Y/n. I want you to be my wife and the lady of Casterly Rock."
Wrapping my arms around his neck I smiled pulling his lips down onto mine. "I'd be honored to be your wife, Jaime Lannister. I think I am falling in love with you too"
"I'll talk with my father tomorrow. Now I just time with you and our kids." He responded wrapping his arms around my waist drawing me in for another kiss feeling me smiling into the long awaited kiss.
Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @makeshift-prime @rosie-posie08 @lover-of-books-and-tea
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Peaches- Oberyn Martell x f!reader
Main Masterlist | Prompt Fill Masterlist
Prompt #955- “It may look pretty, but the crown made her head ache and she couldn’t wait to get back to her rooms to remove it.”
Pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader
Summary: an AU where Oberyn must take a wife, so he travels all of Westeros in search of one. He’s finally found one that he thinks he might like. You.
Rating: M for Mature (my entire blog is 18+)
Word Count: 1199
Warnings: implied smut, oberyn is a slutty menace, drugs/poison referenced. reader is able-bodied but otherwise undescribed.
Author’s Notes: I absolutely did not stay within my self imposed time limit. i just could not make this man shut the fuck up. This one might be one that i am interested in expanding into a full fic- maybe a mini series?
Oberyn sits in the great hall of the castle of someone, in the region of somewhere , eating his fill of fruit and drinking wine as fast as it can be poured. He truly cannot keep up anymore. He has been on this tour for close to a year now. In search of a wife he does not want, to ascend to a throne he has no desire to sit in. His eyes scan the room as he waits for the only woman to catch his interest in many months. Sure, he’d taken plenty of the others in his bed, but this one has a fire in her eyes that burns right through to his bones. A fire that lends him to believe that she would be accepting of Oberyn’s paramour, Ellaria. More than any of the other ladies who threw themselves at the chance to marry the Prince of Dorne.
Doran’s failing health, and the tragic death of his only son in infancy, necessitate such dealings. Elia would have been next in line for the throne, had she and her children not been brutally slaughtered by the Lannister’s thug. Ser Gregor Clegane, also known as The Mountain. The way that he brutalized poor Aegon and Rhaenys in front of the mother, before violating Elia and taking her life as well, is an injustice that Oberyn won’t soon forget. He will enact the justice that has eluded the cowardly Lions of Casterly Rock for far too long. The lion may still have its claws, but The Red Viper has his fangs.
More than once, Oberyn’s gaze flickers towards the high table, where the object of his desire sits. Where you sit. You laugh merrily with the other guests, nearly keeping up with Oberyn’s own wine consumption. Your eyes lock with his, just as he takes a bite of a peach. His fingers are wrapped gently around the fruit, so as not to bruise it. But, without breaking eye contact, he sinks his teeth in like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. Nectar runs out of both corners of his mouth and down the exposed skin of his neck and throat. His tongue darts out of his mouth like the serpent for which he was named. He runs it slowly over both of his plush lips, lapping up the sticky sweetness that has escaped. He doesn’t bother to check if anyone may be looking before tossing you a wink and going in for another bite.
Suddenly, it’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. Heat radiates from your core and rushes to your face. You feel your undergarments sticking to your skin, sticky with your arousal. You stand from your seat and waver slightly as your knees begin to wobble. Your handmaiden, even attentive, rushes to your side and steadies you.
“My lady! Are you well?”
“I’m fine, Emilya. I think I need to be excused for a moment.”
“Should I accompany you, my lady?”
“No, no. I will be alright.” you assure her. “Please excuse me for a moment. The wine seems to have gone straight to my head.” You announce to the table. Your presence is barely acknowledged aside from your sister. The two of you have a wordless exchange, with only your eyes and slight nods of your heads. A skill perfected as children under the watchful gazes of your Septa. She hated chatter and was quick with the switch when annoyed.
Each step you climb your breath is harder to catch. The bloody corset is strangling you. You suck in air in short pants and are becoming dizzier the closer you get to your chamber doors. You should have allowed Emilya to accompany you. How are you supposed to get this thing off by yourself?
Just as you reach your hand out for the heavy gold handle, a voice calls out softly from behind you. “My lady, please, allow me to help you.” You attempt to suck in a gasp at the voice that drips with honey in your ear.
“Prince Oberyn, I am afraid that would not be appropriate.” you protest. Even though you can hardly breathe, you are struck by the freckles flecked on the smooth, golden skin of his chest. “If you would be so kind, would you fetch my handmaiden, Emilya?” Before he has the chance to answer, your vision goes black and you feel the stones under your feet crumble away.
When you come to, you are laid upon the chaise in your front room. You gasp when you spy the Prince of Dorne standing over you with a wicked blade in his hands. You recoil and realization flashes through his eyes. He stashes the blade somewhere on his person, in a flash of movement too quick for you to catch.
“Forgive me, my lady. I vow to you that I intend you no harm." He holds his hands in front of him, palms up, so that you may see that he is unarmed. “I had to relieve you of that dreadful corset, it was stealing the life from you in front of my very eyes.” you notice that your dress and corset have been sliced, from the dip of your breast to your waist, exposing your naked chest to him.
“Do not worry. There was no poison. On that one.”
Oddly, you don’t feel the need to cover yourself. He looks at you with the same hunger that he had in his eyes when he feasted on that peach. You wonder if he would gorge himself on you in the same manner. As if he could read your thoughts, more likely your face gave you away, he holds his hand out to you. “Would you like me to help you to bed?” he asks, nodding his head in the direction of your bedchambers. The heavy wooden door would muffle any noises that should try to escape.
“I would be delighted, my Prince.” you take his hand and lead him across the room, peeling off the tattered remains of your outerclothes. “We must be quick,” you warn, “lest anyone come looking for us.”
“Are you worried about your servants spying on us, my lady? Do you not inspire loyalty in your people?”
“It’s not the servants I’m concerned with. It’s my husband.” Your husband, the lord of this castle, had hosted this feast in hopes of making a marriage match for your sister. You push open the door of your bedchamber and Oberyn wraps his arms around you. He speaks softly directly into your ear.
“Do not worry yourself with such things, my sweet. He and I shared a drink just before I left the great hall. I can assure you, your lord is sleeping quite peacefully in his own chambers by now.” a horrified look crosses your face and Oberyn laughs heartily. “I can promise you that he will wake up tomorrow without so much as a headache.” he laughs once more. “Unless, you wish it otherwise, my lady.”
In the morning, Oberyn is gone. All that you have to remind you of him is the ache in your cunt and the whisper of his kiss.
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インディゴ・ブルーの果て