my characterisations can vary from character to character, work to work, it really depends on what I have in mind whilst I’m writing, be it show version or book version
requests are open for all of the above, yet I make literally no promises of fulfilment :)
also, do feel free to ask if I would write for other characters because I just might have forgotten to add them
Kinktober Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end
Word count: 1114
Warnings: over stimulation, multiple orgasm, fingering, f! receiving oral, dry humping, neck kissing, slight begging, needy Jon, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut 18+
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Soft black hair tickled the skin of your cheek, rousing you from your slumber. As your eyes fluttered open a moan escaped your lips as you felt soft lips against your neck, sucking softly on the skin. “Jon?” You yawned, glancing down at the man who was already all over you before the sun had risen.
He hummed against your skin, lips never leaving your skin as he worked his way down your neck. “What are you doing?” you asked, noticing his hand softly running up your bare thigh. After a long night with your husband under the sheets last night you had fallen asleep bare, something Jon found to be irresistible apparently.
“Kissing you,” he said, his lips trailing along your collar bones, “Feeling you,” he murmured, his hand running up your inner thigh. You shivered when his fingers ran over your wet cunt, “Touching you,” he finally added, his lips edging farther down your chest, “Need you,” he muttered against your skin making you chuckle lightly.
“You had me last night,” you giggled, “over and over, and over again,” you teased, your fingers toying with his hair.
“Not enough,” he said, his lips moving down your stomach. You sighed in content as he made his way further down, moaning lightly as his finger rubbed over your clit in slow circles, his lips edging further down. “Wanna taste you,”
You hummed, figuring you had time for now, “Just once sweetheart. I know what you’re like,” you said, hands still holding his soft locks.
Jon laughed as your skin, “Have no clue what you’re on about love,” he said and before you could chastise and remind him of last night, he had placed a soft kiss to your clit making you whine, your back arching slightly, “Just wanna make you feel good,” he said, warm breath fanning your wet cunt making shivers radiate up your body,
His hands held your thighs, pushing them over his shoulders as he licked a stripe up your cunt making you tense in anticipation. His hands locked around your legs, keeping your hips steady as he began to lick greedy tongues up your cunt, devouring you like a starved dog.
Your hands twisted in his hair, toes curling as his lips moved up to suck your clit, his fingers edging in your hole. You gasped when you felt him ease two fingers in but moaned as he began to move them slowly, curling them with expert position like he’d studied your body for a lifetime.
Jon moaned against your cunt, vibrations running up your body making your skin tingle. Your heels dug into his back, and you could feel the way he was humping the bed, giving himself his own slight release as he worked on yours.
It didn’t take long in your sleep ridden haze for a warm feeling to spread through your stomach. “Fuck,” you whined, as you came to your peak. Jons tongue did not stop even as your body did, your legs twitching around your head, “Just one,” you whined, pushing at his shoulder.
“Cmon baby,” Jon whined, his face wet with your juices, “One more please? I’ll be good after this I swear,”
You whined before nodding, “Fine,” you said, and the words had barley left your lips before he dove back in. this time his tongue darting inside you making your body shudder. These moans were harder to contain especially when his nose moved to nuzzle perfectly into your clit.
Your second peak arrived even quicker than the first but as you reached this one you felt your hips bucking, hand clenching Jons hair tight, as you grinded onto his face. Your movements only spurred Jon on as soon his fingers had return, this time slipping three in with ease as he moved up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves again. His fingers were faster this time, his teeth grazing your clit, and no sooner had your second orgasm finished did your third hit like a fallen castle.
You could barley contain the moans, biting into your arms to try stop yourself as your body twitched under Jon. His movements didn’t stop till your hands began to push his head away, not feeling like you could face another as your legs continued to twitch.
Jon crawled up your body, his lips kissing your cheek and jaw gently as his hips rutted into yours. his hard cock rubbing into your stomach as he searched for friction, “Please,” he murmured against your skin, “Let me fuck you please,” he begged, kissing your skin desperately.
You nodded making him look up from the crook of your neck, his eyes searching your face for approval. You nodded at him, not sure if you were even able to speak yet. Jon knew your signal to stop, a double tap on the shoulder, but with your nod and no tap he waisted no time in lining his cock up with your ready hole.
As he sunk his cock in you gasped, your hole already so sensitive from before. Jon however was still desperate for release so as his lips latched to your nipple, his free hand playing with the other, his hips began to snap against yours setting a relentless pace. “Fuck Jon I-I,” you gasped, interrupted by your own moans as you felt another orgasm approaching.
Jon moved his hand to under your back, pulling it up to arch your back to hit a new spot which caused your eyes to roll into your skull as a fourth orgasm crashed down on you. his thrusts did not stop but the way your cunt squeezed him just made his pace quicken.
He was determined to milk one more out of you as his hand dropped your back letting you sink into the bed but now his hand slipped between your bodies till, he was rubbing fast circles into your clit. His lips left your skin as he lent up, allowing himself to fuck you deeper as his hand came up to cover your mouth as your moans probably echoed through the walls.
You looked up at him through hooded eyes, admiring his body for the few moments you had before your final peak arrived making your legs clench around Jon which only pulled him in deeper. You vaguely heard cursing as you rode out your final orgasm, but you released why as you felt Jon spill inside you.
After a few moments of him catching his breath Jon rolled to lay beside you, glancing at you with a sorry smile, “What happened,” you started to ask, panting as you looked to your husband, “to just one?”
summary: after his wife's recent passing, Lord Stark is looking for a governess to raise his children
warnings! smut, cunniligus, p in v, pre-marital sex (big deal in Westeros), asoiaf typical sexism (if you squint)
word count: 3k
note: please forgive me if there are any mistakes or it appears a little disjointed, the editing was shaky at best
It was more than a year after the loss of his wife that he decided to take on a governess for his children.
He had refused marriage so soon after, and did not think he would ever take a wife again, and had not wanted to have a governess raise his children for it felt an insult to Cat, yet Maester Luwin had been advising him that his children would need such guidance in their lives, especially with them all being so young, and Eddard had finally relented.
He mulled over the options of Northern ladies for some time before deciding upon you. He'd never met you before, but he had known your father, brothers and some of your cousins. Your father had been one of his greatest and truest advisors during Robert's Rebellion, your elder brother one of his friends as well, and he remembers hearing much of you then, though you'd been younger at the time. Patient, caring and wise as a child. Surely you remained so as an adult? You were also unmarried which meant you had no other obligations nor children of your own to tend to. So he sent the letter to your Lord father asking if you would be suited and able to fill such a position in his household.
He received response soon enough and it was settled upon that you would be arriving to Winterfell within the next few weeks.
Your smile was the first thing he noticed upon meeting you, a kind and gentle thing which warmed him to you almost immediately.
"My Lord," you greeted with a curtsy after you had dismounted to stand next to your father and brother who had led you here.
"My Lady. I am thankful you have taken upon this position."
"It is a great honour, my lord. One I hope I shall be able to fulfil."
Robb was the most reluctant of his children to you, though that was expected and understandable as the eldest. His youngest three, however, were instantly enamoured with you, even baby Bran. But it was Jon which made him realise you were perfect for the role whom you treated well as any of his other children.
It took some time of course for the new dynamic to settle, for you to become comfortable with his children and vise-versa, but eventually, even Robb warmed to you. Even Ned himself found that he enjoyed your company. You had to ability to always make him feel at ease or give him the perfect advice for whatever situation he was put in.
He began to fall for you, which felt inevitable given how lovely you were. But he could not help the vicious guilt which he felt. It felt wrong, no matter how much time passed since Cat's passing, it still felt like a great insult to her memory, and to your own honour, though he never acted on his own feelings.
At least not until Robert called upon him when Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the crown.
He sat in the Godswood, the night before he would leave in contemplation. Many of his bannerman had gathered already at Winterfell with more on their way straight to White Harbour. He did not want to die so soon, though that was something he expected just as he had during Robert's Rebellion when he rode away from Riverrun, yet this time it felt so much closer to him. He couldn't bare the thought of Robb being made Lord so young, of his grief. Of the struggle and strife which he would face and the deceit he would no doubt face in spite of his youth. The idea of his little lady Sansa, or his wild little she-wolf Arya not remembering his face as they grew. Of baby Bram not having so much as a memory of him to place to his name.
He thought of you, of never seeing you again, of never confessing the feelings held within his heart. Though his guilt remained to an extent not as it once had, the idea of never getting to tell you made his heart ache something fierce. It overwhelmed any guilt he was feeling.
"My lord," your voice snapped him from his glum pondering.
"My lady. The hour is quite late, the air cold," he could barely see you in the darkness, the only light emitting from the lantern in your hand and the one sitting near his feet.
"I was worried for you," you confessed.
It was a normal thing to worry about. He was beneath no assumption that you felt the same as he, but he knew that you viewed him as a friend for you often spent hours drinking, exchanging stories and laughing well into late evenings together. So much so that he’d had to quietly had to expel rumours amongst the staff to the best of his ability, hoping you had not heard of them. He knew that it was a sign of the impropriety of your relationship, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.
"I'll be back soon enough," he found himself reassuring you.
He watches as you walk closer to him, "may I sit?"
"Of course," he spoke embarrassingly quickly.
You took your seat on the tangled roots at his side, shivering slightly as you burrowed closer into your cloak.
"You really shouldn't be out here, my lady. You may catch a chill," he voiced his concern.
"And neither should you. What sort of a friend would I be if I allowed you to wallow out here all alone?" there was teasing in your voice. He found a smile growing across his face.
He looked to you then. You looked truly beautiful in the low light of the flickering lanterns, shadows cast across your face. You seemed quite sad, though he could see a longing in your eyes has he stared at you.
He felt something get trapped in his throat, unable to say anything as he looked upon you. There was a vulnerability which always clung to you, in the way you smiled so freely, the way you spoke so kindly and could be so forgiving. He saw that in you now. Something raw. He craved it, craved you, craved you near him, in his arms. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach.
He craved you, completely and utterly. Entirely vulnerable, bare flesh beneath him, moaning for him. His name, not his title, he loved it when you said his name. Not Eddard, just Ned. He wanted to hear it. Now.
He kissed you instead, a hand on your cheek pulling you close to him. Regret flooded him immediately.
"I'm so sorry," he apologised, pulling away, yanking his hand from your flesh, suddenly feeling quite sick. Barely a moment of your lips on his, so sweet and true. The taste turned to ash on his tongue, however.
"That was dishonourable of me, my lady. Forgive me please. I lost myself."
"No," you grabbed at his forearm and moved closer, you leg leaning into his own, "I... I don't mind."
He looks to you then, a goddess at his side. Meant to be worshipped. It was fitting you were both sat beneath a Weirwood tree.
He feels your delicate hand upon his bearded jaw and he allows you to pull him to you, eyes closing as your lips are joined with his.
He can tell you're inexperienced, but he relishes in it. It has been so long since he'd had any company, and he wanted this. With the thought of possible death so close, he could hardly deny himself you, especially if you wanted him too.
He part from you, breathless, "I want you."
He hadn't quite meant to just blurt it out so bluntly, but can't bring himself to want to take it back. It is his truth, after all. And in this moment, it would be wrong for him to not tell you.
You seem shocked for a moment.
"I want you too," you admitted.
His heart stops for a split second before he crashes his mouth back on yours, your tongues tangling together in some dance.
He kisses you for what feels like hours before he remembers you are out in the cold, and then he guides you back to the keep and to your chambers. The walk is silent and you bump into no one, though guards trail you both outside the keep and through some of the hallways.
He is about to part ways with you and leave for his own when you grab his wrist.
"Wait. Why don't you join me?"
Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, and he can hardly refuse such a welcome invitation, though his honour is screaming at him to stop. His desires simply win over, he is a weak man for you.
He undresses you slowly, pulling away your cloak, helping you unlace your dress as you exchange kisses. You help him with his own layers, and soon you are both bare as the day you were born. He looks upon your beauty, across your smooth skin, your breasts, the mound of hair between your legs. He feels his mouth water. He would turn you around and simply sit gazing upon your naked flesh for hours, studying you like a tome of history.
He lays you down upon furs and kisses down your neck, sucking a bruise some too dark into the flesh which he may regret some the next day should he notice, yet he cannot help himself as he listens to your sweet sighs and feels were hands caressing his arms then his chest.
His lips continue down your body, sucking and licking at your breasts and listening to the melodic sounds you bless him with, hands pawing at your thighs as he further parts them. He kisses down you stomach, beneath your bellybutton and then your naval, before finding his place between your legs, eyes upon your cunt, so close to him and oh so delectable.
"What are you..." your sentence is broken by a surprised and quiet moan as his tongue parts your folds and tastes your sweetness. He licks and sucks at you observing each reaction from his place which he could. Every twitch which you body made and every sound which left your lips. Ned took one of your thighs in his hold and brought it up over his shoulder. His nose is buried in the mount of hair above your cunt as he sucks on that bundle he knows will have you see stars.
You moan and gasp, legs tensing around his head and fingers tugging at his dark hair. He cannot help but groan into you, grinding down into your sheets to attempt to relieve the ache in his cock. He resists the urge to fist his cock in hand by instead pushing a finger inside of you, curling it upwards to feel that spongy spot. You are tight and warm and so so wet. He savors every moment of it.
He curls a second finger inside of you, listening to you high keening whimpers and stretches you wider, and then a third.
"Ned!" your fingers tighten and tug harshly at his hair, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your body tensing as you climax on his fingers. He licks some of it up before he finds himself too impatient to see your face again. He hopes he will be able to do this again so that he may taste you for longer.
You are worn, face etched with sweet ecstasy. He kisses you with your own taste on his tongue, an action which should disgust you, yet you answer with fervour, a laziness to your motions. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into you, deepening the kiss even further till your tongue is again in his mouth.
One of your arms caresses down his body as your lips part, your eyes hooded, breathing erratic. Your hand trails over his hip before it wraps around his hard cock.
He thrusts forwards as your fist closes around his tip, jerking downwards experimentally. He wraps his own hand over you guiding it up and down as he would his own in the privacy of his own chambers on lonely nights.
He guides himself within your hand to your cunt, nudging it over your nub, toward your sopping hole.
The thought suddenly hit him hard and fast. So suddenly he jerked back slightly from your touch.
"What... what is it?" you looked concerned, eyes wide, braided hair mussed.
"I shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong." It was dishonourable and an insult to such a fine lady as yourself for him to be debasing you so. You weren't married, after all. Not yet, he thought. He could see you at his side as his wife. But you were not his wife now, and you may never be his wife.
"No, no, no! Please, take me," eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with each breath you take as you tug him down so gently, "if you'll have me?" His chest clenched at such tender words.
With you begging him so sweetly, he could not resist, though there was a part of him still demanding he stop now, for this was wrong. Yet it was drowned by his raging desire which he had harboured for for so long.
He takes his position once more over you, between your thighs, and pushes himself inside of you slowly and carefully. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull at feeling such pleasure, and he nearly thrusts into you as a wild man would, but he resists easily enough for he knew it would cause you harm. He listened as you groaned and your face tugged into a discomforted expression, he felt himself stopping then, ready to pull out should you change you mind.
"Just slowly. Be gentle with me, please," your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, you knees farther parting to allow him better access.
He moves his hips so slowly at first, thrusts shallow and experimental, before his lips captured yours in a passionate flurry of movements. You were so warm, so wet. He knew you were most likely a virgin, a lady such as yourself. That thought only made his feel more hungry for you.
His movements continued as a slow and steady pace, before you whined prettily into his mouth and grabbed at his hip.
"You can move more," you spoke, breathless as he parted from you.
He obliged, building up his pace, pulling one of your legs up and around his waist as his thrusts became deeper and faster with each moan that left you mouth.
He could not tear his eyes away from you, from your sweat slick brow, your squeezed shut eyes and 'o' parted lips. He felt his own release build, but wanted you to finish at least once more for him, so he brought one hand between you and felt for you nub and began to rub at it, listening and watching your reaction as to what was best.
You tightened further around him, legs squeezing at his sides as you came for a second time. He could no sooner hold onto himself and buried his face in your neck and lost himself to you, thrusting without abandon as he chased after his own climax.
He came with a low groan, sucking kisses into your neck, filling you with his seed so deeply that for a moment, he prayed it would take, the thought of seeing you with child so tantalising.
He stayed within you for a few moments, perhaps even minutes, catching his breath and listening to yours.
He presses a tender kiss to your brow before pulling his softened cock from you with a wince. He was unable to look away as he sat up and eventually saw some of jus seed dribble out of you. He had to supress a groan.
"I'm sorry," he eventually broke the silence.
"Whatever for?"
He looked back at you, a goddess much to perfect for someone such as himself, worth more than ten of him, "for dishonouring you, my lady. I would have wed you before bedding you, yet I have not."
"I don't expect you to wed me, my lord," you admitted.
"Please don't call me that now. I have no right to any title after the disservice I have given you," for even thinking of getting her with child.
"You haven't. I wanted to be with you, just as much. I hope you don't think any less of me for it."
"No, I do not."
"Then we are simply two friends having a long and heartfelt goodbye," your smile is sad and small, not one of any joy or happiness.
"Is that all you view me as? Your friend?" he found himself speaking before he could stop, pulling on his underclothes.
"No, no. I... I feel for you. In my heart. I..." you paused and he looked at you, "I have come to love you, Ned. For not only the just and honourable Lord which you are, but for the loving father, and kind man. I enjoy the companionship you have offered me in the time which I have known you, and I have desired more of you for some time now."
He found himself dropping his breeches from hand and returning to your bed where you sat looking at him.
"It is fine should you not feel the same--"
"I do," he interrupted, bringing his hand to your cheek, "I love you."
You leaned into him, smile broadening across your face.
"I will wed you upon my return, my lady. I swear it to you."
He kisses you once more, a deep and long kiss filled with his love, before dressing and bidding you goodnight, feeling wrong to leave you after you had shared something so intimate with him.
Despite himself, despite leaving for war and having bedded you, confessed his love and swore to marry you though he may not even live to see you again after tomorrow, he sleeps well and peacefully that night.
He wed you the same day of his return.
comments are looked upon fondly here so don't be a stranger ;)
(please no negativity, my heart can't take it. I am a delicate soul)
Tags: wedding night, oral sex (female receiving), p. in v. sex, loss of virginity (virgin reader, implied)
Wordcount: 2k
On the night of your wedding, you finally enter the wolf's den, ready to be devoured.
HotD Masterlist
It felt almost surreal to Cregan as he locked the door of his chambers behind him and turned, taking in the sight you made. Your cheeks were flushed with the cold as you stood at the foot of his bed, removing your cloak and setting it down the large trunk.
Despite your distaste for it, you had drank a cup of ale before your maid had led you to his chambers, as you thought it would soothe your nerves. Still, your hands were trembling with anticipation.
Cregan watched as you unlaced your boots and removed them, and the sight of your bare feet on the dark stones of his chambers felt intimate. He added more wood to the fire, making it blaze brighter and crackle louder as you started to unlace your dress.
He mirrored you, removing his own cloak and boots, and pulled his shirt over his head. You smiled and bit your lip as you allowed yourself to look at him fully and Cregan smirked, flattered at your pleased look.
He started to unbuckle his belt and to pull at the laces of his trousers, his stomach contracting in anticipation as you let your dress fall to the floor, revealing a simple corset that tied at the front and thin cotton skirt with laces at one hip.
“You are beautiful,” he reassured as you flushed in embarrassment.
The top of your breasts were tainted pink as well, your blush extending to your ears and throat, down to where your chest disappeared under the corset.
“Thank you,” you murmured, nodding at him to continue.
He flushed as well and pushed his trousers past his hips and legs, stepping out of them. He couldn’t help but square his shoulders and tighten his stomach as he finally stood bare in front of you. He bit his lip, wondering what was going through your mind as you took him in.
Your breathing picked up as your eyes roamed his frame. The fire made his skin glow and his muscles stand out; you had gotten a glimpse of his chest and stomach once as he was training in the courtyard, but you had forced your eyes to look away.
Now you could look however much you wanted without guilt, from his broad shoulders to his chiseled abdomen. Your core heated and clenched as you took in the nest of dark curls in the cradle of his hips, and the impressive length that hung between his thighs.
You felt a twinge of apprehension despite yourself, but felt safer as he stepped closer and slid his hands on each side of your neck, cradling your head tenderly.
He looked at you with nothing but warmth in his eyes before dipping his head and kissing you softly. You enjoyed the firm press of his mouth before parting your lips, welcoming the gentle prod of his tongue. He sighed against you, his facial hair tickling your upper lip and chin deliciously.
He deepened the kiss further when you started pulling at the laces of your corset, and he kept kissing you as you removed it along with your cotton shift. He made a sound close to a whimper when the fabric pooled to the floor with a soft noise.
He made that sound again when you reached out and trailed your hands on his sides, sliding to his hips tentatively. He pulled away to breathe in your neck when you tangled your fingers in his nest of dark curls and the underside of your wrist bumped into his hard length.
He followed the column of your throat with his lips, groaning as you looked down between your two bodies and circled your fingers around him cautiously. The skin was hot and smooth, like silk stretched over a hard rod, and the feeling of him twitching against your palm was exhilarating.
“My love,” he groaned against your neck, one of his hands following the line of your throat to your chest, curling a hand over your breast.
You sighed as he did so, and feeling encouraged, he started drawing circles with his thumb around your nipple. You felt both of them getting hard, peaking and tightening, your whole chest prickling with desire.
“Let me see you,” he said as he pulled away, taking one step back and looking at you.
His brows furrowed and he bit his lip at the sight you made. Your breasts were round and soft, large enough to fill his entire hand and more, and he wanted to trail kisses in the deep valley between them until he reached your stomach. It was soft as well, and combined with your round hips and the patch of curls at the apex of your thighs, it caught the eye and made the rosy hue of your folds stand out deliciously.
He felt like a man starved and did not know where to start. His mind was spinning with all the lustful acts he wanted to share with you, and your wide eyes told him you were just as wanting as he was.
He stepped forward again, wrapping his large hands around your waist and you pushed yourself up against him willingly. You moaned in each other's mouth when his hard length pressed against your stomach and your breasts against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, using your hold as leverage to push yourself up higher, seeking friction.
Kissing you fervently, he picked you up with ease and groaned with satisfaction when you followed the movement, wrapping your legs around his hips. It brought your warm folds against his hard length, trapping it between your stomach and the feeling of you pressed against one another was heady.
He walked around the bed and deposited you on it, crawling after you and pressing himself fully against your naked body. Propping himself up on his elbows, he dipped his head in your neck again and you moaned aloud as he sucked a kiss on your tender skin.
You rocked against one another, his hard cock sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness on him; the sensation made him throb with desire, but he decided his own need had to wait, as he was starved for a taste of you.
He abandoned your neck for the valley between your breasts like he had fantasized, but he could not linger there long as your cunt called to him as you rocked against his hard abdomen, seeking friction. He looked up at you as he kissed his way down quickly, settling your legs over his shoulders, enjoying the shudder that went through you as you realized what his goal was.
“Cregan,” you whimpered as he kissed the crease of your hip without looking away from your face. He looked like a man on a mission, crazed and wild and you were enthralled by him.
“Yes?” he breathed, his voice deeper and rougher than usual.
“Yes,” you replied, your whisper turning into a moan as he licked a hot trail along your folds, pressing firmer at the top where your skin folded over a hard nub. Your thighs shook around his head as he did it again, grunting his pleasure against your skin. The vibration made you bite your lip in restraint as heat spread from the tightest point of your core to all your abdomen.
You reached down and tangled your fingers in his hair when he dipped his tongue between your folds, and it made his hold on your hips tighten. You rocked your hips up into his mouth, almost overwhelmed by the feeling of his hot, hard tongue in your most intimate place, his upper lip catching on your nub everytime he dipped his tongue further down.
You cried out when he slid his tongue in the dip leading to your entrance, one time, then a second time, and on the third time he thrust his tongue inside of you. He groaned against you like he was the one being pleasured, and heat coiled almost painfully in your core. You felt as though you were about to snap as he quickened his movements, devouring you with precision and obvious enjoyment.
“Cregan,” you cried out, pulling at his hair, your hips rocking against him frantically. He groaned in time with the thrusts of your hips and the thrusts of his tongue, the both of you growing more frantic with each passing second.
Finally, as he sucked on your nub harder, almost hard enough to make your squirm in oversensitiveness, did the overload make your tumble over the edge. The tension inside of you snapped and you cried out as you were caught in a whirlwind of immeasurable intensity. Wave after wave of the most shattering pleasure you had ever experienced crashed through you as you ground your cunt against his face, encouraged by his own grunts of enjoyment.
It seemed to go on for an endless minute, and as the pressure lessened and a deep sense of relief washed over you, you fell back against the bed, letting go of his hair. He pulled away, rising on his knees and the sight he made made your head spin again — he looked wild, his hair in disarray, his lips red and wet, his eyes blown into two black pools.
He was panting furiously, his hard cock a dark red he was palming with obvious restraint. You felt your core clench and something primal pull at you from behind your belly button. You reached out to him and he let himself be pulled in the cradle of your hips once again —but this time you reached out, the fresh memory of his tongue inside you rekindling your desire.
“We don’t have to,” he grunted against your cheek as he understood your intent.
“I want to,” you breathed.
“I think I’m too far gone to please you this way,” he grunted at his tip caught in the dip leading to your entrance, his cock throbbing in your hand as you guided him inside you.
“I want to please you,” you said frantically, “I want to feel you inside me.”
Unable to resist the temptation, Cregan let himself be pulled fully inside you, groaning aloud when you removed your hand and canted your hips up, your legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him in. His hips stuttered as your cunt clenched around him, soaking wet, hot and maddeningly tight. He thrust into you as you arched against him, throwing your head back and sighing in pleasure.
The sensation of him inside you was foreign but enjoyable. The stretch and pressure were a bit overwhelming, especially after such an intense release, but the noises he made and the feeling of his body covering yours were enough to distract you. You could see yourself growing to love it as much as he seemed to love it, and that thought elated you.
You smiled despite yourself and even breathed a joyful laugh as he curled a hand around one of your thighs, changing the angle at which he thrusted into your.
“My love,” Cregan groaned as he grew more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with mounting urgency. Your nails pressed into the skin of his back as he hit a spot deep inside you, making you sob in pleasure, and both the sharp feeling and the sound drove him over the edge.
He hissed and cursed in the pillow next to your head as he spilled inside your in hot, rhythmic pulses. He moaned his pleasure without restraint, unable to keep himself silent, but it didn’t seem to deter you. Instead you tightened your hold around him, cradling him in your softness and heat.
As a bone-deep satisfaction and relief spread in his body, he pulled out carefully and lowered himself on the bed next to you and you followed him, curling a leg over his waist. As the two of you laid on your side, facing each other, you started laughing, joyful and carefree.
Your face was flushed a bright pink and your eyes were wet, and your genuine joy made his chest swell with happiness and pride. The whole wing of the castle his chambers were in had probably heard your passionate coupling, but at this moment Cregan couldn’t bring himself to care.
He was yours, and you were his.
Author's Note: This work was taken from my series The Silver Princess, edited into a reader-insert and turned into a one-shot (for readers who find reader-inserts more immersive). I hope you enjoyed it!
Please reblog to show love - this is how we keep stories alive on this site ♡
request: Hi there! Could you write a angsty Jon snow x female reader where she gets killed alongside him in the season 5 finale?
summary: Visiting the wall hopeful for an alliance with the last known living son of Eddard Stark, you end up stopped by their own politics.
warnings: major character death, murder, mentions to sexual assault (does not happen, just worried that it will)
notes: this is some weird mash up of show and book, so if it doesn't make sense to you, that's why. In the books Sansa is not given to the Bolton's, it's another girl called Jeyne Poole who they say is Arya.
The wall was an unfriendly place, especially for you as a woman. Part of you regrets coming here, but you can’t bring yourself to wholly feel so. What lies in the rest of the North is worse, being controlled by the treacherous Bolton's in the pockets of the Lannister's.
Here you are, however, with hope on your side that Jon Snow will listen. He has sworn his vows of course, he is the Lord Commander too, but this is for the sake of the entire North. For the revenge of his slaughtered family; for your own butchered kin. To save little Arya.
You are not the only one with such an idea, you know. Lord Manderly is good at pretending, but he told you enough of the truth for you to understand: the North remembers. Lord Bolton knows this, you do not doubt. House Stark and House Bolton have had wars in the past, but the North knows where it's true loyalties lie.
You sit nursing you ale feeling some pity for the brothers for having such awful drink, when the boy rushes in.
"My Lord! Your uncle! Lord Benjen's here."
Lord Commander jolts upright, "where?"
You don't have time to tell him it sounds strange to your ears, that no horn had been blown to signal the arrival of any rangers. You follow after him as he makes haste from his solar after the boy. You can't quite remember his name, but you remember his rage. The rage at him allowing the wildlings past, which you can empathize with having lost family to the raiders yourself, but understanding of it's necessity. He was but a child, how could he understand? You doubt you would be very understanding had your own kin been slaughtered like pigs before your own eyes. You were here seeking vengeance for that very reason, actually. Lord Jon, however, had been able to make a difficult decision which led to such burning hatred by his own men that you have to admire him for it. A good strong leader with the good of the people in his mind, in his every action. Son of Ned Stark indeed.
You follow his rushed steps into the courtyard and to where a group of black brother's are waiting, and you feel your stomach drop. Your owl swoops ahead, landing with a hoot, and you try to grab the Lord commanders arm, but he merely drags you through the huddle with him.
Your unease amounts, surrounded by men of the worst ilk with only one on your side and no sword at your hip. You wouldn't even go down swinging if they attacked you.
"Commander..." you try, but you see the lettered etched into the wooden cross as he does.
T R A I T O R .
He has turned to look as his men, but you still look to him at his side, frozen in fear. You pray that this is quick, the only fear on your mind rape, you would die with your dignity in tact if you could help it.
But you cannot. You know you are going to die, but the thought itself does not strike you with fear. You merely wish it wouldn't be here. Not here, not for another's political fallout. You are supposed to gain his support so that he will march back South and retake Winterfell with your house's backing and with that of other loyal men and women of the North. If you were to die here, it would have no meaning. None at all. Just another nameless corpse to be burned. To be forgotten.
You watched as the knife pierces his chest, as he lurches and lets out a choked sound.
Then you feel the first going into you. Then the second then the third. The pain is bright and burning and sudden. The last word on your lips is that of your owl's name as you slip into darkness, so quickly, you haven't realized that you are dead.
--
The next time that you open your eyes, you see your own corpse lying face down in snow next to the Lord Commander from eyes perched above.
Can I request Criston Cole x f!reader x Aegon? Where Aegon is just a voyeur and Criston is there to teach him to be patient and not put himself first (when having sex) with Aegon's lady wife (tough love! it was probably an idea Otto or Alicent had to just taunt Aegon some more). And Aegon just sits there looking - ofc - and yapping about Criston not having enough experience to know while reader clearly is enjoying everything that is happening ?
Criston Cole*Test My Devotion
Pairing: Criston x f!reader, Aegon x arranged wife!reader
Word count: 2515
Warnings: technically cheating but not cause Aegon said it was okay, cuck Aegon, f! receiving oral, praise, mentions of religion, possibly a tad blasphemous to the seven, p in v sex, breeding, smut 18+
Masterlist here
The marriage was not a happy one and the whole court knew. Anyone who saw you or Aegon knew it. you both knew it and Criston Cole; well, he certainly knew. While teaching Aegon to spar, which was often just the prince pretending to try swing his sword, he would complain about his wife. Specifically, the events of your marital chambers.
“She just lays there,” Aegon said, his swords tip scrapping the dirt as Criston tried to convince him to at least try this lesson, “Hardly an appealing sight for a husband,”
Criston sighed, tempted to just fling his sword in the river, “Well have you made it appealing for her?”
“What’s not appealing about sex?” Aegon said, dumb founded at the disgruntled knight, “It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing,”
“Yes, but are you just having sex,” Criston said, lowering his voice even though no one was around, “or are you making love? There is a big difference my prince,”
Aegon snorted making Criston contemplate swinging his sword at his head, “You sound like a village girl. Besides what do you know about any of it?” Aegon said, finally picking up his sword again, “The only girls you please are the seven,”
It was bad enough being mocked by an uptight prince but having to hear in even more detail about the prince’s lack of a sex life from his mother no less just made matters worse. “I just don’t understand,” Alicent said as she paced her chambers, hands on hips, “She’s a woman, he’s a man. It’s not hard to make a child. Even the king could do it,” she muttered, pausing her pacing.
Criston stood even straighter when the queen turned to him, “I’m sure it will happen in time your grace,”
“We don’t have time,” Alicent said as she returned to her pacing, likely wearing down the floorboards, “No boy wants his mother in his bed chambers, but his wife must be. Perhaps if you talk to him, he’d listen to you- “
“Your grace,” he said, an awkward smile playing his face to try hide his sheer embarrassment, “I don’t think I am qualified to help- “
“Hush,” Alicent said, holding her hand out to shush him as he cleared his throat in embarrassment, “He needs guidance,” she said, continuing her pacing, “but he won’t take it from me. Perhaps if you were to talk to him, to show him how it’s done,”
“I think he knows how to do it,” Criston said, clearing his throat yet again like he’d swallowed thick tar, “I think they lack an emotional connection,”
“That was never my strong suit,” Alicent admitted, her pacing finally stopping as she sighed, “Please ser Cole,” she said, turning to him with desperate eyes, “Perhaps if you spoke to them, on their level, you’re about their age. They’ll listen to you. just try, for the sake of the realm,” Alicent plead, “I-We need an heir,”
Criston Cole soon found himself as security at each and every one of the couples’ awkward dinners. On the rare times you allowed Aegon to visit your chambers he was forced to be there two. However, he could see the way you grew bored from Aegon’s touches and how little he wished to be there.
This also however gave him plenty of time to see you, however. Rarely did you speak to him, but he noticed the way your lips curved when you called on him. He noticed the new dresses Aegon did not and the different ways you styled your hair. He may be a man of honour, a knight, a sworn protector of the realm but also you, but even he noticed your looks. How Aegon grew bored of you he could not understand.
One night after dinner Criston escorted the prince and you to your chambers in silence. The door shut and wordlessly you began to unlace your dress while Aegon pulled off his tunic. “Stop,” Criston found himself saying without thought making you both turn to look at him.
Aegon’s eyes were bored but yours were filled of a curious wonder Criston deeply wanted to explore. He approached the prince, lowering his voice but he knew you could hear, “Perhaps my prince you may try a different approach tonight,”
“I know how to have sex with my wife,” a tipsy Aegon protested, “but if you are so sure you can do better, you have my blessing ser,” Aegon said, drunkenly patting his shoulder before sauntering over to a chair to drop into, “I insist. Please dear wife, show this knight what a good time you are,” he said, sarcasm dripping off his voice.
Criston turned to you in time to see the hurt tinging your glazed eyes, but you hide it as quick as it appeared. “I cannot, my prince, it would be a dishonour,”
“More of a dishonour to deny your prince?” Aegon said, his head cocking to the side, “If you and my mother wish to poke around my bed chambers you may as well show me how it is done ser Criston. Show me how a knight does it,” he said.
He knew he shouldn’t let his taunting bother him. After all, Aegon was just a spoiled prince, and he was a knight. He knew better. But the look on your face when he glanced at you made him wonder, “Is this an order my prince?” he finally asked taking even you by slight surprise.
Aegon lent forward in his chair, gesturing for him to continue, “She’s all yours for tonight my good knight. Teach me how to make an heir,” he said as he slumped back to his seat.
Criston cleared his throat before awkwardly looking to you. he glanced at his prince before stepping closer to you. “My princess,” he said, his voice low, “I do not wish to dishonour you. I only wish to help,” he said, his cheeks tinging pink.
This time it was you who cleared your throat, stepping closer so your chest brushed against his making his blush deepen, “Perhaps my husband could do with some lessons,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as your eyes slowly trailed up to meet his.
“May I kiss you?” he asked softly, waiting for your nod of approval before slowly leaning down, his lips softly colliding with yours. his lips were soft and slow and tender unlike Aegon’s chapped careless ones.
You leaned into his touch when his hand moved to rest on your hips, holding you gently in place as if he was afraid you would disappear. Your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping his strong shoulders over his tunic.
Aegon who had looked bored up till now almost perked up in his chair when he saw the way Criston’s hands slipped to the small of your back, pressing your body into his firm chest. “You are a gift from the gods themselves,” Criston mumbled against your lips, staring at you have drunk from the kiss.
“Such comparisons are surely blasphemous my dear knight,” you said, your hand moving to brush against his cheek.
He instinctively leaned into your touch, “No, no, my princess,” he said, turning his head so he could kiss your palm gently, “For I think they sent you to me. As a test,”
“And what kind of test would that be?” you enquired, and Criston studied the way confusion mapped your face.
Slowly he stepped forward, leading you towards the marital bed you usually dreaded but now not so much. “To test my devotion,” he said as the backs of your legs hit the bed frame softly, “and so I can prove my worship for them,”
“Perhaps its not a test at all,” you said quietly, leaning up to kiss his jaw. Creston’s breath caught in his throat at your sudden forwardness, his fingers slowly slipping up to the ties of your dress, “Perhaps they sent me as a reward,”
“No,” he said, clearing his throat as his fingers played with the ties of your dress, desperate to unlace it or tear away the fabric, “I have done nothing to deserve such a grand reward. I must earn it princess. We should not take what we do not deserve,” his words made you smile lightly. Aegon had never earned your affection, but Criston was determined to prove himself.
“Then earn it dear knight,” you whispered, kissing his lips softly, “Show the gods how much I mean to you,”
Your words sent his honour over the edge and soon your dress had pooled around your ankles. Your hands went to reach for the straps of his armour, but his hands covered yours, stopping your movements as he kissed you gently. “Lay down princess,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your face and making you flush.
You did as you were told, not even sparing a glance to where Aegon sat watching mesmerised by the whole scene. Criston made quick work of his armour, discarding the steel at the side of the bed. Once he was down to an undershirt and under trousers he kneeled at the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning your bodies hungrily.
“You can tell me to stop,” Criston said, his hands trailing slowly up your legs as he moved closer to your body, “It won’t offend me princess,”
“I want this,” you whispered, your eyes glued to his movements while his were glued to your body. “I want you my knight,”
My knight. The words made his eyes snap up, looking into yours making your breathing pause for a moment while your heart fluttered. You were too distracted to even notice him moving to kiss your inner thigh.
You gasped lightly, not expecting his soft trails of kisses up your inner thigh, “What are you doing?” you asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion but not wanting him to stop.
“Has your husband never done this for you?” he asked, his hot breath fanning over your wet cunt making you almost moan already. When you shook your head no Criston tutted, “No wonder he’s had no success. He has failed his husbandly duties. Let me show you princess, how an honourable man treats a wife,”
Your eyes glanced to your husband before back to the man you really wanted, “Yes,” you whispered, your body already on fire with anticipation, “Show me,”
Criston started by placing a soft kiss to your clit making you whine lightly. “You can grip my hair,” he said, glancing up at you, “if it helps,” he added and for a moment you considered saying no until he placed another soft kiss to your nerves and suddenly you were tugging his soft dark hair.
Slowly he began to increase his speed, his tongue being added to the mix as he massaged your clit with his mouth. You couldn’t help the moans as your legs were placed over his shoulders and his arms gripped your legs to keep you in place.
Not once had this tightening feeling happened when Aegon had bedded you but suddenly it was like your body was alight. You gasped loudly when you felt his tongue dive into your hole, curling in all the right places. He moved his head till his nose began to nuzzle your clit and your grip of his hair tightened. “Don’t stop,” you begged, over and over in an almost whisper like a prayer.
He had no intentions too especially when your grip tightened. He could feel his own member harden but it was too soon for that. This was more important. Spurred on by the moans and pretty whines Criston replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them in and out as he thrust. Meanwhile his mouth moved up, his lips wrapping around your sensitive clit making your whole-body twitch.
It didn’t take long for a new feeling to wash over your body as your legs twitched around his head. Criston’s movements slowed but they did not stop until he felt your body grow limp. When he came up for air he saw you, eyes dazed as you panted like you’d seen the gods. You lazily looked down at him, offering him a hand as if you could pull him up.
Criston took your hand, kissing the back of it as he moved to lay over your body. He brushed the hair out of your face, kissing the top of your head, “Princess, are you okay?”
“I am better than okay sweet knight,” you said, already breathless but your legs were instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Please do not leave me yet,” you said, pulling his waist down till his hard on was pressing into your cunt.
Criston closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to steady himself, “Are you sure princess?” he finally asked, opening his eyes to gaze into yours, “For I fear, as honourable as I try, I won’t be able to stop if this is just to test me,”
“This is not a test,” you said, your hands moving to cup his face, “I need you, my knight. I need to feel you,”
He couldn’t wait anymore but he tried to be patient as he lined up his painfully hard cock with your hole. Slowly he began to push the tip in, and he almost came just from the way you gasped as he pushed in.
You whined as he sunk in further, desperate for more but already feeling stretched out. When he’d sunk fully in you brought his lips to yours, kissing them desperately as your hips bucked for friction. He was glad to grant it.
His thrusts were slow and deep at first but as your nails sunk into his back, your mouth agape and your eyes screwed shut, they began to speed up. He slipped his hand between your body, rubbing sloppy fast circles onto your clit as his pace increased.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper as the headboard began to slam against the wall. Your head twisted to the side, your eyes opening to see a silent Aegon sat on his seat, his hand down his own trousers. Your attention was brought back to your knight when you heard curses mumbled from his soft lips.
“I can’t,” he gasped, his thrusts becoming messy, “I’m going to- “he stammered but your grip around him tightened. He groaned when he felt the way your cunt clenched around him.
“Please,” you gasped, feeling another peak close by and threatening to spill, “don’t stop Criston, please,” you moaned, before your own orgasm washed over you as your nails raked down his back leaving red scratches.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, his body tensing as he finally let himself go. With only a couple more thrusts you felt Criston finish inside you, his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to recover from the earth-shattering experience.
Once he finally caught his breath he sat up, glancing to where Aegon sat just two feet away, “That my prince, is how you fuck your wife,”
summary: a pleasurable moment during your pregnancy with your husband
warnings: smut, illusions to sex, fingering, sweet talk, a little bit dirty, pregnancy, slight pregnancy kink (if you squint really, really hard)
The wind is howling and furious outside, it rattles the shutters of the windows and whistles through the gaps it manages to slither through the walls creating a chill in the air in spite of the warm pipes within the walls of the castle.
You lie in bed with your husband, a quiet and comforting moment between two lovers. Basking in the afterglow of love-making leaning back into his strong arms as they wrap around your front and caress you belly.
His bare knuckle grazes where your child kicks. A budum rhythm over and over again.
"It appears we have awoken them," you muse, looking up to see him. His handsome face is wrought with concentration, dark brows furrowed close.
"He," he corrects you.
You huff a laugh, "he? So sure are we?"
"Yes. I dream of our son in your arms. Of him playing in the Godswood with Ghost," he presses a kiss to your brow.
"Every man wishes for a son. But dreams will not make our child grow a cock if they do not already possess one," you warn. You can't help but feel a little nervous at his surety of a son. What would happen if you birthed a daughter instead?
"I would not be disappointed with a little daughter, my love. I just know that this..." he strokes the underside of your belly where there is another thump, "is our son."
You hum in acknowledgment, a small smile curling at your mouth.
"And what shall our son's name be?"
"Edric," his response is instant.
Your eyes soften, "for your father?"
"Hm. Little Ned," he is smiling now, a small, beautiful and oh so rare thing. It makes your heart swell and tears well up in your eyes.
"When we have a daughter you shall name her," he tells you, as if it is a certainty.
"And what if we shall only have sons? Or only this one child?"
"Then you can name them too. You're the one doing all the hard work," he tells you.
"I suppose you are right. Though you certainly take care of me," you respond with a teasing grin.
"I do now, do I?" he teases right back, one hand going further down to your .
"Mhm. I find myself quite satiated in your presence."
"Careful, I might become unbearable with all this flattery," his teeth graze at the side of your face. You sigh as you sink further back into his arms.
"We can't have that now, can we?"
His hand slips between your thighs, your knees parting some more to allow him better access.
"I find myself not fully satiated tonight, however," you continue, a stir in your lower belly, an urge to squeeze your thighs tightly together.
"Oh. We can't have that now, can we?"
His fingers slide between your folds, already slick once more. He had already cleaned you up after your previous bouts of love-making quite nicely, though is appears it was for nought as you would soon be a mess again.
"I'm not sure I have such energy as you," he admitted as he slid a curled finger into you, thumb circling your nub. A moan broke past your lips as he moves much to slowly.
"Well... your fingers will have to suffice," you let out another broken moan as he gathers your wetness and slides in a second finger.
"Hmm, so wet. So warm," his lips are pressed against the side of your face, teeth grazing the flesh as he whispers his sweet praises into your ear.
His practiced movements speed up, your knees part wider. His cock is hardened somewhat against your back, though not nearly at full mast.
"I can't believe I have you, so perfect, so tight, right in my arms," he speaks, lips dragging across your jaw as you throw your head back against his shoulder.
His fingers curl further, rubbing along that soft spot inside of you which had your thighs twitching and your eyes rolling back as your nails dig into his flesh.
"Right there," you moan, breathless, "please."
"Please what? What do you want?"
"I want to cum. Please make me come," you let out a louder moan.
His movements speed up, "come for me, wife. Finish for me."
You reach your peak, your third that night, fingers curling into the flesh of his thighs, a high, broken keening sound passing your lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut and mouth forming an 'o'.
"So pretty," he strokes your thighs and swollen belly, "so perfect."
You don't hear what he says next as you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, howls of the wind distant to your ears as his warmth envelopes you whole and drags you down to the depths of rest.
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summary: you have a run in with a certain young Lord's direwolf at night
A heads up: this is not really edited. Maybe I’ll come back another time and do that. It’s also just another little practice piece that has been sitting in my drafts. I hope you like :)
It is the hour of the bat when you find yourself in the Godswood, a nameless feeling tugging you towards the sacred place of the keep with an urgent need to kneel before the bleeding face carved into the ancient tree.
The snow falls, damping your hair, a chill in the air freezing your breath, but there is a lack of wind tonight. A peaceful night, so rare for a snowy night in the North. Usually the wind is a vicious thing, even behind the wall of Winterfell, but tonight it is calm and deceptively nice, even if it is bitterly cold.
Your bare fingers wrap around your cloak, wrapped close to your body. You should have put more layers on but you'd decided against it as you tugged on your stockings and a thick woollen dress over your nightdress. It would be considered unladylike to be out of your rooms at night, in a foreign castle no less. There are many men on these grounds, men patrolling in the night, and yet you were stupid enough to leave the warm comforts of your chambers alone without guard nor chaperone. Your father would be enraged if he were to find out.
You place the flickering candle to the snowy ground, barely watched as it flickered out, as you kneeled in the darkness of the night before the Weirwood. You cannot see it, but you can feel it's presence, as you always do. Two of countless other eyes upon you.
The Godswood is silent, eerily so. There is something in the air that weighs hevily down upon your shoulders and chest and the ebbing feeling of panic suddenly makes you want to flee. But you don't, you remain vigil. For you can feel it in your bones that you are meant to be here. You hope you are not leading yourself to your own doom.
You hear rustling from your right, and turn quickly. There is nothing.
And then you hear it, a low gutteral grown and a pant, and you can just barely make out two glowing amber eyes. Greywind. The heirs wolf.
Your breath is trapped in your throat as you are faced so closely to the mammoth wolf, thought to have been extinct only a few mere years ago, only to bless the children of their current Lord Stark as their companions. The God's favoured. That is what your father told you, and you knew it to. For Direwolves accompanied the Kings of Winter for millennia until their disappearance, and now they had returned, one for each son and daughter, even the bastard.
You'd been intrigued of the beasts of course, always wanting to approach them, however never wanting to overstep any boundaries, for these were not lap dogs to coo over.
Leaves rustle and move as the great hunk of shadow behind glowing eyes moves forward, stalking toward you. You do hope that it won't eat you.
You remain locked in eye contact with the creature. He seems curious, despite his earlier growl which could have been of warning, and despite yourself and the very possible threat that you could possibly die, you slowly extend you left arm beyond your thick cloak and wait in wonder with bated breath. There is no hope in survival if this creature wants you dead, but perhaps right now you are inviting it close. Within his eyes, you swear you can see some form of awareness, and wonder if perhaps Lord Robb can see through him. Skingchanging was after all in the blood of all Northerners.
You feel it's wet snout against your own hand made wet from the snow as he sniffs at you, then a tentative lick and whine. And then, much to your surprise, the creature thumps to the ground and rolls over.
You gasp and then giggle in shock as you run your fingers through his soft fur, the predator panting and wiggling beneath your touch. All muscle and fur, a beast so strong and big as a pony, he could bring you down in his jaws with one bite before you could even scream, yet he is panting and whining like a pup beneath your touch.
He later leads you back to the keep, your hand tucked in his grey and white fur as he guides you through the depthless dark of the woods, and you are left to ponder if the Lord knew of your little dalliance with his companion.
summary: winters are hard but Northern wolves endure.
warnings: implied/non descriptive smut
This is just a short practice piece whilst I get back into the habit of writing again. It's not that good, but I still wanted to post it.
It is winter, and there is not enough food to put on the table. Even during summer, you could find food to be scarce in the North, but in winter, the coldest of the Kingdoms suffered most from famine.
The snow had not fallen for three days now, a welcome reprieve. And in this reprieve, you decided it would be best for your family to have one less mouth to feed, an act not uncommon in the worst of winters, unfortunately.
You arose before anyone else, stepping over the three sleeping brothers which you shared a bed with, and began to gather your belongings and nothing more.
You leave before anyone has awoken, quiet and sneakily, and do not turn back as you walk beyond the clearing and past the treeline. It is dark, and you have no light, but you do not have high expectations of survival. If the cold does not pick you off, some animal will, or some bandit or other. Perhaps, if you lived long enough, you would starve if you could not find enough food. Alas, you had your pack with furs on your back and a bow strung across your shoulder, axe and knife at your hip so you would endure for as long as you could, and you did not simply plan to just give up.
It was four lonely months in the woods, enduring snows and storms a plenty, when particularly violent snowstorm hits. The most violent you'd experienced yet. You were as prepared as you could be and made camp in your small, lonesome tent, and spent days in the dark, nibbling at your food rations and water, pushing away the quickly mounting snow in your waking hours and going mad all the while. You already were mad, you supposed.
You fall victim to a fever and are unaware of anything happening around you anymore. But you do dream. A dream of spring and a giant wolf with white fur and red eyes. Of a handsome, dark haired stranger with stone, solemn eyes. There are younger ones as well, happy and smiling, and they look just like him. They laugh and run in the green field, the sun bright overhead.
You awake beneath a roof. Furs are stuck to your clammy skin, clothes no longer covering you. You feel panic and quickly sit up. Your head is woozy, dizzying as you try to make sense of your surrounding.
Two piercing red eyes are staring at you, a silent watcher at the foot of where you sleep. A giant mammoth creature of white fur. A direwolf.
You cannot breath in it's presence, cannot find the air to fill your lungs as it stares you down so intensely.
It is only when the cabin door bursts open allowing flurries of white snow in that you look away. A man dressed in the storm steps in and slams the door shut behind him, turning the few locks to it and baring it. A prison? You wouldn't mind a prison. Perhaps without the giant wolf, however.
The tall stranger pulls down the cover to his face, a handsome one. The one of your dreams. He pulls off his fur hood and shakes out his dark curls and slowly pulls away at his layers, unaware of your staring. He was sent by the Gods, surely?
He looks to you finally with those dark eyes, a solemn and tragically beautiful face. You try not to look shocked or guilt ridden. You try to speak then, but words cannot find you.
He turns away, walks over to the lit fire on the opposite side of the cabin and stokes it, adds some more wood. The albino wolf prowls over, remarkably graceful. The cabin is larger than the one you have lived in your entire life, and he seems to fit quite well.
Both wolf and master are silent, and ignore you as he sits before the hearth and heats food. He brings some to you in your weakened state once it is readied, before returning to his place, staring into the flames.
A day passes, and he has slept by side of the fire, leaving you to his bed unless he comes to give you food.
A second passes and you are well enough to stand up and slowly put on your own clothes once again, freshly washed, you notice. He watches you as you do so, the first man to ever see you naked, though you'd shared a bed and room with some of your brothers.
The third day, you dare to sit by the fire when the giant wolf is gone. You wait with bated breath for him to speak, for him to make a move towards you, and you struggle to feel any fear. Oh, you should, you know that. Men are vile creatures and you are at his mercy. Yet you have been deprived of any human contact for months, and it's made your rather careless.
You return to the bed in the evening, and it is after you have eaten that he prowls towards you, pulling off his tunic. You know he wants your body from that look in his eyes, that he wants you. And who are you to refuse? Has he not saved your life, has he not given you shelter? In times of winter that is as good as marriage vows spoken before the eyes of a weirwood tree.
He mounts you atop his furs and rolls his naked hips into yours with deep thrusts, and though it hurts, you cannot help but pull him closer. His flesh is warm and you so cold, a dragon made flesh. His head burrows in the crux of your neck and he bites down and you love it.
He claims you over and over again until you no longer feel any sense of loneliness. He sleeps naked next to you that night in his own bed for the first time since you'd awoken here.
The Old Gods must have granted you your dream of spring before winter has even met it's end. And perhaps with your handsome stranger, you would see the sun shine on a green field once again.
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