Hello hello!! 👋 Name's Eddie - 21 years old, soon to be 22. A few things about me:
Trans Man
Southern Born and Raised
Been writing since I was in middle school - but this is my first try at reader inserts!!
In DIRE need of male readers across multiple fandoms
So, I'll be giving it my big attempt with this here blog, it might be slow going because I do work full time and have a big ol' bookshelf waiting for me to get to.
Send asks if you'd like!! I'd love nothing more than ideas sent over to get me rolling. A few links will be left below, check them out!!
Summary: Years ago, one of Catelyn's childhood friends joined the Stark Household guard. After the death of her Lord Husband (Caused by some sudden illness), that childhood friend - you - offer her some comfort.
Includes: Mentioned Character Death (Ned Stark), Oral Sex (fem recieving), Lady x knight, Minors DNI
Requested: Yes/No
A/N: Once again waking up in the middle of the night to write more male reader content. Wrote this in one sitting, hope you enjoy!!
"This wasn't where I expected to end up," her words are soft, a whisper that matches the wind that drifts through the weirwood's leaves and branches, "I knew I would end up here, but…not quite like this."
Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell sits on the bench her late lord husband once did, hands folded in her lap. She did not follow Ned's old gods, but still - sitting here, listening to the sounds of the godswood, it felt as if he could possibly still be there. As if she'd look to her right and witness him stepping through the trees to take up her hand in his, to guide her back to their waiting children.
A swift sickness, it had been. An even quicker death. But still her heart aches for him, a year after his death. The Widow of Winterfell did not wish to remarry, but she knows that many of the vassal houses expected it of her. All Catelyn wished for was peace - and her children's happiness.
"Speaking to ghosts, are we?" a voice calls, matching the volume she speaks to the leaves above with. Her eyes trail down and away from them to find you, tracing the path she'd expected Ned to take towards her.
"Of course not," She denies, repressing fond tilt of her lips - ignoring the foolish feeling of being like a girl again, with just a word from you, "Just…speaking my thoughts aloud."
You once squired at Riverrun, a boy with bright eyes and an eagerness to one day become a knight. You got your wish, within age of Catelyn getting betrothed to the eldest Stark brother. She had thought you dead, after the rebellion. It was after the birth of Sansa that you reappeared, presenting yourself to the Lord of Winterfell in a dry begging to join his household guard. Catelyn hadn't known how much she missed you til that very moment.
"Would you wish to share them with more than the wind?" You ask, stopping a few feet away - dressed not in the usual dressings of the Winterfell guard, but of a more casual outfit. Off duty, for one. But Catelyn had at least the slight knowledge that most of the guards retreated to their quarters once relieved of duty. Or out to Wintertown. But here you were, speaking familiarly with your widowed lady.
"You do not wish to be bored by my nostalgic thoughts," Catelyn dismissed, waving away the question though her eyes continue to track you as you move closer. You linger by the edge of the hot spring, eyes tracing over the steam that wets the air before returning to meet hers.
"My lady," you say in a warm whisper, the tone in your voice sending a tingle up her spine, "You could not bore me, even if you tried."
You sit at the edge of the pool, unlacing your boots. Catelyn watches idly, the words of improper and inappropriate staining hotly on her tongue but not quite making it past her lips. You slip off your shirt and Catelyn once again feels a girl, eyes tracing where they shouldn't be. It reminds her of your time in Riverrun, when you and Petyr were part of the little group she and Lysa had decided to surround themselves with. It was childish and ridiculous, improper in more ways than one, but they were just children afterall.
"I remember more times than I can count where you proved that notion false," She says, hands clenching in her lap as you slip into the pool - disappearing for a moment before resurfacing again. Water trickles from your hair and traces down your face, catching at your lips before slipping down your chin and curling beneath your jaw.
She's imagining the notion that she can feel the heat radiating off of you, soaking through the layers of her dress to soak up against her shins - sending tendrils of heat tracing up her thighs.
"I was but a child, then," You excuse, speaking as if oblivious to your effects, "I've grown into a man with a better idea of how and who one should listen to, no matter the subject."
"Truly?" She asks, teasing - not speaking even a moment of refusal when you draw yourself out of the pool to kneel at her feet, damp fingers slipping around the backs of her ankles.
"Truly," You reply, hands tracing up higher - to her calves, leaving wet streaks against her clothing, "And the best way to show appreciation, when words were to fail."
"Oh," Catelyn loses her train of thought, loses her words altogether, as you shift closer. But at least one thought manages to cling, "So you have no words for me?"
You pause, eyes flicking up from your work to meet her eyes, "I have a thousand words for you, my lady. Half of them improper and the other too truthful."
"Tell them to me," she whispers, cursing herself for the breathless note in her voice, "The truthful. I will hear them."
You hum, adjusting where you sit - hands pressing her dress up over her knees, caressing the backs of her thighs as you lean to lay a kiss against the soft skin inside her knee. It traces a hot path up her thigh to pool warmly between them. Already, she can feel herself becoming wet. The image of you kneeling amongst leaves and mud, water tracing across your features, whispering such words as you lay kiss upon kiss to her skin…
It only worsens her arousal.
"As you wish," You mutter, lips tracing a path up the softness of her thigh - eyes dark as they watch her, hands tucking beneath her legs. The gasp that pulls from her throat when you draw one of her legs over your shoulder is loud in this deafening quiet, "My Lady…I have only ever wished to be bathed in your presence. Since we were children together in Riverrun, but I knew that my station would never befit yours. I found myself satisfied with the position here, for it gives me the privledge to bask under your gaze. For I have loved you, silently - obediently, since I have met you."
Your mouth finds her core then, fingers tucking away the layers that cover her. You moan at the warmth of her, the taste. Catelyn's eyes drift closed, a hand gripping the bench beneath her as the other go to grip your shoulder. Your tongue is trained against her pearl, swirling tight circles that draw forth more of that slick arousal. No doubt coating your tongue as you coax more forth before moving to press the muscle inside her.
Catelyn hadn't ever been touched like this. Yes, her lord husband had done his duty - but he never sank so low as to lay his mouth upon her such as this. Heady heat profuses through her, drawing her clever mind into a fog focused only on the plunge of your tongue inside her. She whispers your name, fingers turning to claws against your shoulder, "You…oh, there—please, yes…"
You hum at her scattered encouragement, nestling your face further against her - nose nudging against her pearl as you delve deeper for a taste inside her. Her breath hitches, thighs trembling at either side of your head. Her hips rock fruitlessly against the bench, to back away or to press closer she does not know. Your arms slip around her waist to hold her there, close and wet against your eager mouth. The Godswood is silent besides the sounds of her gasps and quiet moans, the wind swaying through the trees to cover up her pleasure.
Pleasure draws tight beneath her mound, pulsing against the brush of your nose - of your tongue. Her heel presses marks against your back, her hand indenting cresent moons against your shoulder. "Gods, you—you," she whispers, head tilting back to peer up at the sky above - blue peeking between the red leaves of the weirwood. Your hands grip at her waist, pulling her to the edge of the bench.
Obscene sounds pound loud against her ears, the wet slip of your tongue into her - your soft sounds of pleasure as you dine as if this is your last meal. It draws her up tight, every limb going taunt, before it all bursts in a shower of ecstasy. Warmth floods across her skin as a new gush of slick comes to slip against your tongue. You drink her arousal with a pleased moan, sighing against her slit and searching for more til her gripping hand at your shoulder turns to pushing and you force yourself away.
Catelyn pants for breath above you, eyes wide - almost glossed - as they peer down at you. Your hands slip from her waist to fix her clothing, knees slightly shifting back. The evidence of what you've done speckle your body; the slick upon your chin, the nail marks on your shoulder, the mark on your back. "That…that was," Catelyn starts, gulping for air like a fish out of water.
"Between us and the Gods," you reply, smiling when she met your eye again, "You're a woman widowed, Catelyn. Your eldest is soon old enough to be the Lord. All you have to do is call on me…and I'm yours."
You push yourself to standing, grabbing the shirt you once abandoned to slip it back over your head. Catelyn's eyes follow stiffly, before her mouth is moving before her head can catch the words, "What about—you?"
It's a girlish question, delivered quick before shriveling back in embarrassment - or perhaps at the impropriety of it all. Your refreshed smile makes her forget all of that. "Do not worry about that, My Lady," you say, settling your shirt a particular way, "Just your taste was enough to finish me."
She doesn't catch your meaning until you're already gone - slipping through the trees of the Godswood to disappear from her sight. A small laugh pulls itself from her lips; a giggle that makes her feel decades younger, if only for a moment.
Then she stands to leave, heart lighter than before she had visited the Godswood.
This had honestly been circulating in my head for a long moment now, glad to finally get it out!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated, hope you enjoyed!!
Summary: You are the Captain of the Guards for House Stark. It's been two years since Lady Catelyn died in childbirth and Lord Eddard is being urged to remarry. Unbeknownst to anyone else, he's already found someone to take comfort in.
Includes: Mentioned Character Death (Catelyn Tully Stark), Oral Sex, Handjobs, secret relationship, Minor DNI
Requested: Yes/No
A/N: First post!! This took me two nights to write, when I woke up in the middle of nowhere and couldn't go back to sleep. Not beta read, so if you see any errors no you didn't
"Another one?" Ned asks, turning the scroll in hand - eyeing the wax seal. Almost as if he was worried it would strike out and attack him.
"It's…unfortunately expected, My Lord," Maester Luwin says, hands fiddling in the long sleeves of his robe, "With the second anniversary of our Lady Catelyn's passing having come and gone, your liege lords have long expected to be approached with a proposal."
"And if I do not wish to be remarried?" Ned challenges, words empty as he lets the scroll roll from his fingers and onto his desk, "I'd only wished they would not press the issue so often as they have."
Maester Luwin bobs his head in agreement as Ned stands, the older man following him out of the solar loyally, "Shall I write up a reply, My Lord?"
"No," Ned says, half turning towards the Maester - stopping the both of them in the halls, a few servants drifting around the interruption wordlessly, "I'll get to drafting a response, Luwin. Do not worry over it. I'll…consider their offerings. After all, you have said it's been two years…nigh time, I suppose."
"If you are sure," Maester Luwin says, Ned offering a nod accompanied by a stiff press of his lips - an imitation of a smile, or at least the Stark version of one. A heavy footstep draws his attention, eyes shifting as his Head of Guards comes around the corner.
~~~
You had long been with the House of Stark, coming from another Northern household hoping to gain their liege lord's approval. You were a squire then, but long years had passed since and you rised quickly - finding the role at the head of the houseguard as you reached manhood and matured past.
Ned Stark had been away, fostering at the Eyrie, when you came to Winterfell. And you were a man grown when he finally came home, a war won and a new king sitting on the Iron Throne. The burden of being the Warden of the North sat heavy on his shoulders already by then, but you still had managed to gain way into his favor.
And as the head of guards, you had accomplished what your house set you forth to do. Even managed to go beyond that.
"My Lord," You call as you approach, the weight of your armor - however light it is, with it being a leather jerkin and the like - making your step louder in your approach. You already have a smile offered for him, eyes holding a familiar kindness as you glance Maester Luwin's way, "Maester."
Luwin returns the greeting in a soft uttering of your name, before he turns Ned's way, "I will leave the reply to you, My Lord. If you need me, I'll be with the children for their lessons."
"My thanks, Maester," Ned says, dismissing Luwin easily - giving him half a courteous glance before the Maester is shuffling off. His eyes return to settle on you, that grim and stiff press of lips relaxing into a true smile, "My friend. I had not expected to see you til quite later."
"Ah, well. I prefer to keep an air of surprise," You reply, the two of you beginning to walk down the hall again - duty driving the end destination. Ned hums, a small imitation of a laugh that does not escape your notice, "Did I surprise you, My Lord?"
Ned regards you with a fond look, a humored shake of his head, "Truly and fully."
"Excellent," You chirp, hand fiddling with the sword grip as it sways at your side - sitting in your scabbard, "What was it you were discussing with the Maester, if I may ask?"
Most would think it an improper question to ask, from the head of guards to his lord, but Ned only sighs, "Marriage prospects."
You pause, glancing over as if you expected Ned to be jesting, "It's barely been past two years and already…?"
"Oh, they were already sending crows when it was only a year," Ned says, hands gesturing in a way of to say the weight of a warden.
"Bastards," You scoff, startling a chuckle from Ned's lips - your barely respectful rage broken by the stifled sound, "My apologies, my lord."
"No, no - do not," Ned dismisses it, a hand cutting through the air, eyes drifting over your face as if taking it all in, "I enjoy your honesty. But do try to refrain from calling my vassals names within the earshot of others."
"As you say," you agree instantly, following Ned to the yard - the sounds of Winterfell interrupting the peace that had settled between you, "Will your consider them?"
"Consider?" Ned prompts, his eyes now on the forge ahead - remembering an item he needs to request from Mikken.
"The prospects," You reply, Ned pausing in the middle of the yard to turn and face you - eyes studying in his quiet way before he shrugs.
"Perhaps," he admits, looking down to watch his palms rub together, his breath misting out in front of him, "It may be time."
"Course," You mutter, lips pressing together in an imitation of the Stark Grimace, "I wish you luck, then."
You step away, backing from him - turning on your heel. If he had called your name, you would've stopped. But he lets you go, disappearing back inside the castle. Leaving him standing in the yard alone, watching you leave. Before he remembers himself once more, and turns towards the forge.
~~~
Ned finds himself back in his solar once night falls, a low fire in the hearth along with a few candles to provide light. A cup of mulled wine sits untouched at his elbow as his eyes drag tirelessly over the letter Luwin provided earlier in the day. Most proposals gave women within age of his own daughters. The prospect of his lady wife being able to sit with Sansa or Arya and giggle like schoolgirls made something odd settle in his chest.
He sits back with a sigh, settling uncomfortably in his chair - eyes slipping closed if only for a moment. The letter furls up on itself, as if shamed by it's own words. He drags his eyes back open if only to grab his cup and take a drink, letting the pleasant warmth settle comfortably in his chest.
There's a knock at the door, Ned's eyes flicking to it before he gives a sigh. He takes another sip before bidding the knocker to come in. He pauses when you slip through. He mutters your name in a question, half rising from his chair, "Is something the matter?"
"No, My Lord," You answer at once, eyeing him as you approach - the door barred behind you, "Or perhaps there is, with My Lord working such a late evening."
He can't help it, he whispers out a laugh - taking his cup for another sip, "Some things cannot wait, or be put off."
You hum, hands clasped behind your back as you pace slowly around the room - eyes flicking over the walls and items with feigned interest. You're no longer dressed as the Head of Guard, light armor exchanged for bedclothes. Though there's still a dagger somewhere on your person, Ned's sure. "Have you come sneaking through the castle to scold your lord?" He asks - teases - barely able to refrain from a chuckle when your eyes turn to him.
"Scold? Of course not, My Lord," You say, finally approaching. Ned watches with a certain leisure, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. Anticipation, or the wine getting to his head?
"I only meant…" You start, drifting slow around the desk - hand coming down to brush against the edge as you made your way around to the side where he sits, "To attempt to convince him to retire."
Ned's body subconsciously followed yours, chair creaking as he settled back against it - head tilted up to observe you, standing just before his knees. "And how will you accomplish that?" He asks, voice a low murmur - eyes tracing over the tilt of your smile.
"I have a few thoughts," You reply, tone matching his - hand drifting to curl around the cup of wine, tilting it against your mouth to swallow down the rest of the wine. Ned watches, eyes caressing down your face to your throat - watching the bobbing of your adam's apple, a burning urge to sink his teeth against it intruding upon his mind. Once the wine is gone, you set the cup down on his desk again. Licking your lips, before you sink to your knees before him.
Ned blinks quickly, shifting in surprise as your hands drift to the laces of his breeches, "You do not—"
"Ned," you interrupt, eyes flicking up to meet his. The look in them make arousal shoot sharp and hot down his spine, turning his words to mist.
"Right," he mutters, wetting his lips as he watches your hands move - eyelids fluttering when your hand dips in beneath his small clothes to draw out his half hard cock. A few coaxing pumps of your hand and he's fully stiff, flushed and hot with arousal against your palm.
"This may be one of the last times you'll get to enjoy this," you say, words almost teasing as you lick your own palm to ease the way along his cock, a grin on your lips as he breathes out a sound on the cusp of a moan. His hands flex at the arms of his chair, head still tilted against of the back of his chair.
"Why—what are you meaning?" he asks, words a rasp as you continue you slowly draw your palm down his cock and up again, a teasing motion that makes a vivid string inside him draw hot and tight behind his pelvis.
"Well, My Lord," you mutter as you shuffle closer on your knees, breath fanning against his cockhead and making him twitch, "My honorable Lord. Once you have taken a wife again, I know I will no longer be able have leave to touch you like this."
It's a cold bucket of water upended over his head, a guilt manifesting in his head, "I did not mean—ah!"
His words - and his guilt - are interrupted by your mouth, tongue laving out over his cockhead before the heat of your mouth sinks down the shaft. "Oh Gods," he murmurs, a hand gripping at your shoulder rather than the arm of his chair, "you—damn you."
You swallow around the tip of his cock, buried in the cusp of his throat. He grunts, head lifting and thumping against the back of his chair - fingers gripping tight at your shoulder, sure to bruise. Your hands are warm at his thighs, your mouth warm around his cock, everything about you warm. It feels as if you've seared yourself against his soul, burnt your presence - your taste, the feel of you - against every inch of skin. Your tongue drifts against the underside of his cock, teasing and light.
Spit shines over his cock as your head bobs over him, the squelch of his cockhead pressing into your throat at every turn loud in the silence of the room. He's suddenly glad you barred the door, that the thick wood would muffle any noise he made. Because he's close to panting now, mouth slack as he slowly winds tight with tension. He's muttering your name in a soft chant, head lifting to watch once more.
Your lips are tight around his cock, slurping the taste of him up into your mouth to flatten against your tongue. Coaxing the spend out of him with every tight downstroke of your mouth. "This—unfair, your teasing," he mutters, nonsensical and faint, hand grabbing at your hair - if only to hold on, maybe guide the way of your head. His hips twitch into your touch, a soft fucking of your mouth. You moan against his cock and his hips stutter at the vibration curling down his cock, breath choking in his throat.
The hot string snaps with a violent crack, his hips lifting off the chair as spend shoots from his cockhead to flood your mouth in bursting spurts. He's loud as he finishes, he knows - a long groan cut by the gasping breaths he takes. His hand still grabbing at your hair, pushing your head down accidentally. He lets go quickly once he realizes, hips dropping as he pants for breath, an apology on his tongue as you pull off.
You push up on his thighs to kiss it from his mouth and he moans against your tongue, tasting himself in traces. His hand curls around the back of your neck to keep you against his mouth, kissing his fill. Free hand reaching down beneath your small clothes to find you hard and hot. He pulls away from the kiss if only to spit in his palm before wrapping a hand around your cock again. He kisses away your moans and sighs as his hand moves quickly over you, drawing out your own orgasm in quick movements. His hand comes away sticky with spend and spit, words failing him as he watches you lick it clean.
"You…that," He mutters, trying to form a sentence before his head is able to. You tuck away his soft cock and stand, knees cracking as you do. Another cup of mulled wine is poured, one that you take a healthy gulp of before pressing into his hand, "I will miss this."
His words stop you short, making you pause in your tidying - before you're leaning against his desk. The mood had slipped from arousal into some somber tone, suddenly. He sips his wine in silence, watching you, waiting.
"You have your duty," you mutter, finally, "I have mine."
It's all that needs to be said, truly. Ned will have to find a wife, you will be the Head of his Guard. And Ned was not one to stray, no matter how the realm believed he did, once. And while you may not know the truth of that story, you know that once he's said his vows - Ned Stark won't stray from his marriage bed. Too honorable.
But at least you'll still have him. His presence, his company. No one would be able to take that from you.
"Goodnight, My Lord," you whisper, pushing off the desk and heading for the door - unbarring it slowly. His uttering of your name stops you. When you turn, he's watching you - eyes somber, but that was the usual for serious Ned Stark.
"I did appreciate our time," he says, insufficient in the true way that the two of you shared your time. But enough, from him.
"As did I, My Lord," you agree, before slipping quietly from his solar - to disappear back to your chambers.
Ned finishes his wine, setting the empty cup beside the letter still furled atop his desk. He stares at it, before deciding he can consider it another day. The fire in the hearth is down to cinders, the candles snuffed out by the pinch of his fingers. The solar goes cold as he leaves to his own bed, the memory of you together dissipating into the air like the candle smoke.
A little sadness to go with your porn!! I hope you enjoyed, please send in a request if you'd like to see more of Ned Stark!!
Bigots DNI - I'm not gonna have any sort of discrimination on this blog, so if you feel like bringing that shit around, just go bother someone else.
I do not write scat, piss kink, or incest. Most anything else is game.
I do work full time and have other hobbies outside of this blog - but I am online more often than not. I'll try to reply to asks so you know it's coming, but please don't get upset if it takes a little longer to get out.
I have the right to say no to a request. Don't take it to heart though, someone else may better fit your wants!
ONLY Male readers. I don't do gender neutral or female readers. However, I don't have any problem with the reader being paired up with male or female characters. But reader will always have a male identity. (Trans male readers etc welcome!!)
