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heartshapedmisery · 10 months

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𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jon snow

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ in which jon wanders too far north of the wall into free folk territory and is put under your supervision, mance rayder's daughter, after your voluntary offer of him staying in your tent. you never thought you would be willing to bunk with a crow, but of course, there's a first for everything.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), inexperienced!jon, reader taking jon's virginity, little bit of subby!jon, riding, handjob, mentions of blood ( reader bites jon's lip on accident whoops ), oral ( f! recieving ), jon having a praise k!nk, jon having literally no self-control, reader calling jon a crow about a thousand times lmao, minimal use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ jon snow x fem!rayder!reader.

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ jon snow is so babygirl

honestly loved writing this, lmk what you think! also, should i make a part two with ygritte involved ?? wink wink

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ june 26th, 2023 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

When you first saw the darkness of his furs sticking out so flamboyantly against the white of the northern snow, you knew Ygritte had struck gold on her hunt with the others.

You watched with a cautious but intrigued look on your face as she pulled him along behind her by a long rope tied around his hands, cradling a longsword in the crook of her arm with a wide smile on her face. But, the look on the crow's face seemed to be the total opposite.

Everything about him was dark, from his ratted furs to his hair that looked like it hadn't been given a good wash in ages, to even the disgruntled frown that didn't seem to leave his face until Ygritte finally untied him from his restraints. He was a crow, through and through.

You had seen plenty men of the Night's Watch before―even killed a few―but the one who stood before you as you made your way into your father's council tent was different. His eyes were a deep, darling brown, holding a youth that couldn't have been any older than your own. Most of the crows you had captured were all old and gray, not nearly as attractive and brooding as this one.

You didn't know there was such a thing.

"Where'd you find this one?" you whispered to Ygritte, your voice low enough for only her ears, your eyes raking over his figure that seemed disproportioned from the thick of the furs and leathers he wore.

"About a few miles north of the wall," she told you, watching him just as closely as you were. "He was just too pretty to pass up." The two of you shared a laugh as she handed you the young crow's sword, heavy and dull in its scabbard.

The Lord of Bones pushed him roughly towards the man sitting in the center of the tent, biting into a hunk of meat as if it were his last meal.

"I smell a crow," Tormund muffled with his mouth full, turning his head barely enough to get a good look at the young man. His scowl hadn't changed, if anything worsened since being shoved into the large tent.

His name had been Jon Snow, which he revealed to Tormund just before kneeling before him and muttering your grace. The entire tent seemed to bustle with laughter at the attempt of respect, you and Ygritte sending each other a knowing look as the crow's face reddened with embarrassment. Tormund may have looked and fought like one, but he was no king.

"Stand boy," a voice hidden in the back of the tent sounded, silencing everyone in the room within a matter of seconds. Your father, Mance Rayder, unveiled himself from the shadowy corner room behind Tormund, looking down upon Jon Snow as he stood.

Jon was quick to rise to his feet, looking up at him as the man stood taller than even Tormund. "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall."

Slowly, you moved towards your father from Ygritte's side, resting your hands on the hilt of the crow's sword as you allowed it to stand in front of you. Your father always valued your opinion when coming to decisions over the free folk, and this matter was no different.

Your eyes had hardened by now, catching Jon's gaze with a look that could only be interpreted as defensive. No matter how pretty you thought he was, he was still a man of the Night's watch. Your enemy infiltrating your land.

You watched him carefully as he went on to explain why he had left the Night's Watch, telling your father about the things he had seen in Craster's Keep.

"And why would that make you want to abandon your brothers?" Mance asked, his voice low and gravelly. His words seemed to intimidate the young man, his eyes flitting away from your father's before moving back to them hesitantly.

"Answer the question," you growled, leaning in towards him with a malice that couldn't help but send a chill down his spine. His eyes shot to yours, wondering why you were making such commands in the presence of Mance Rayder.

He explained how the Night's Watch did nothing to prevent Craster from giving up his newborn son to the white walkers, creatures that had been known to be gone for centuries.

"I want to fight for the side that fights for the living," he told your father, sparing you only a quick look as you stepped back to Mance's side. "Did I come to the right place?"

Mance mulled over the boy's words before looking down at you, the look on his face clear that he wanted your opinion. "What do you say, girl? Shall the baby crow stay?"

As you held his sword close to your chest, you stepped closer to Jon, your face inches from his as you gave him a good look over. He seemed nervous, his breathy shaky as it blew past his lips.

"I say he can," you paused, circling around him before meeting his gaze once more with a sly smrik on your lips. "But he stays with me."

He didn't speak much to you at first―or anyone really―only saying a few words when needed to and biting his tongue when you made some snide remark or called him a crow.

Since you had taken the responsibility of monitoring him, you practically stuck to Jon like glue until nightfall―as did many other girls in your camp, including Ygritte. She was an exception, but you had to keep running the rest of them off since their eagerness to catch a glimpse of him drove them to fights and quarrels in the snow.

Not to degrade any of the people in your camp, but men that looked like Jon Snow were not a common sight in free folk territory.

After showing him around the camp and getting him a new set of furs made of polar bear skin and boiled leather, you eventually gave him Longclaw back―which was what he called that heavy sword of his. He was grateful, but his disgruntled frown hardly left his face.

"Lose the frown, Jon Snow," you had told him as he joined you and Ygritte for dinner around the fire you had built near your tent. "You're not in the South anymore. There's no need to look so miserable."

When nightfall finally took the sky, you escorted Jon to your tent with a mischievous smirk on your face, earning looks from other wilding girls―most of them being of annoyance or jealousy. Their glares didn't go unnoticed by Jon, a look of confusion and concern evident on his face.

"Are they always like this?" he asked sheepishly, looking over his shoulder as the two of you stood still in front of the flaps of your tent.

You couldn't help but laugh, the scowls on their faces feral and sour as you led him into your tent.

"You're the first pretty crow they've seen in ages, Jon Snow," you told him with a grin. "They'll claw each other's eyes out to lay naked with you."

Your words seemed to surprise him, but he didn't say anything as a reddish tint rose in his cheeks. He had never been with a girl, he was too young before he joined The Watch, and his vows forbade him from lying with a woman. He had never gotten the chance, so the idea couldn't help but intrigue him.

"Your furs are over there," you pointed to the makeshift bed across from yours, "Though I know you'll be far much warmer over here with me."

He disregarded your comment, silent as he made his way over to his side of the tent and tried not to think too hard about laying with you.

It wasn't a large tent, your furs only a mere few feet from his. You still laid rather close despite being on separate sides.

Beginning to undo your outer layers and shedding them off, you were left in only a thin undershirt and pants that barely left anything to the imagination as you sat across from him.

Jon's eyes widened.

You could feel his eyes on you, his cheeks flushed at the sight of your hardened nipples poking through the fabric as you reached over to light a few candles between the two of you to brighten up the tent. He felt a sting of guilt run through his chest; he didn't want to betray his vows, or even think about betraying them, but you were making it very difficult for him to abstain on his side of the tent.

"What, have you never seen a woman's body before, crow?" you said playfully as you undid your hair from the braid it had been pulled back in all day, tousling it with your tired fingers to get ready for bed.

Jon only widened his eyes, gulping rather harshly as his lips parted, catching your eyes that seemed to be filled with nothing but seduction.

"What do you care?" he looked away, the tension too much for him to bare. His cheeks were flaming red at this point, embarrassment flaring in his chest. He could feel his hard-on begin to grow under his thick trousers, hoping to the Old Gods you couldn't see.

"Oh, right," you said sarcastically. "The Night's Watch will hack your hand off if you even think about touching a woman, is that right? Miserable bastards."

Jon tried to protest, his words caught dead in his mouth as you cut him off abruptly.

"Have you ever laid with a woman, Jon Snow?" you asked lowly, sitting up from your spot on your warm furs before slowly starting to crawl over to him, sultry laced thickly in your voice.

He shook his head, his eyes wide and blown out with lust. You were dangerously close to him, sitting down in front of him with your legs tucked neatly beneath you as you leaned in towards him.

"Do you want to?" you said slyly, your lips inches from his.

Your hand slowly reached out for his, grasping it gently before bringing it to your breast and allowing him to cup it. A shaky sigh blew past his plump lips, his gaze flitting down to your chest as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your sensitive nipple gently.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think. Before he could remember the vow that he had made not long ago. Your sweet scent of firewood and pine was like truth serum to his senses. "More than anything."

His gentle, pleading words were enough for you to bring your lips to his, enveloping in the taste of him as you moved swiftly onto his lap, lips moving in sync hungrily as if he would be your last.

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard chest. As you lowered your hips down onto his lap, you could feel him hard against your core, making you gasp in surprise.

You laughed gently under your breath in excitement as his eyes fluttered shut, not being able to help yourself as you began to slowly grind against him, earning a low and shaky whimper from his throat.

It was like music to your ears; his soft whimpers and pants. When you had been with other wildling men, they grunted and groaned as they worked their way in and out of you, almost animalistic. Jon was different.

"Do you like it when I do this?" You cooed in his ear. His moans were soft and desperate as he yearned for more of your touch, his hands gentle and needy as they grasped at your hips and worked you across his lap slowly.

He had no idea how much of an effect it had on you. How his exasperated pants made something foreign blossom in your chest and spread down to your lower half.

"Please," he begged as he pulled away from your lips, looking up at you with an adoration you had never seen from any free folk. You had him wrapped around your finger, drunk on your warm touch. Nothing could've riled you up more.

"You can have me however you want," you promised him, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. Slowly, you pulled your undershirt off over your head before wriggling out of your thin pants, leaving your body bare and on display for him. "You're mine now, Jon Snow."

Your hand traveled down slowly between your bodies, running over the front of his trousers and cupping his hard-on, dancing your fingers across it tauntingly. "But first, let me help you with this."

Your fingers quickly worked at the ties at his trousers, pulling it open and helping him get rid of them before assisting him in removing his heavy furs and leathers and throwing them to the side, leaving him bare and warm beneath you, his pale, toned skin burning against your own.

Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, sitting at the edge of his knees so you could get a good look at him splayed out before you. Excitement buzzed in your chest at the sight of his reddened tip, leaking with precum practically begging to be touched.

With a soft look, your hand grasped his hardened cock gently, making him shudder at the sudden contact.

The feeling was foreign to him; Sure, he had used his own hand once or twice to relieve himself when he was feeling desperate, but his calloused and thick hands didn't compare to your small, soft, and experienced ones as you began to pump him gently.

"O-Oh," he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as you rubbed him carefully, allowing your forehead to press gently to his. You could feel his soft, warm pants fanning against your face, gentle moans falling from his lips every so often.

"You're so good for me," you whispered to him, your thumb running over the slit at the head of his cock, earning a shaky gasp from him. Your lips peppered kisses against his, before moving slowly to his cheeks and working your way down his jaw tauntingly.

The feeling of your lips leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the skin of his neck and collarbone made him ecstatic. He didn't know what he had done to earn such a heavenly gift from the gods, but he knew he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to be without your touch.

"F-Fuck," he whined, entranced by the look of desire in your eyes as you rubbed him.

His toned stomach contracted gently, his abs tensing as he inched closer and closer to his release. His moans became more guttural, incoherent mumbles to the sound of your name filling your ears.

"I'm g-gonna-" he warned, his eyes fluttering shut. But, before he could finish his sentence, hot, white spurts of his release shot onto his stomach, painting him sinfully as a shaky groan rumbled in his chest in response. It lit something inside you, the way he trembled beneath your touch and moaned your name as if it were a prayer. You could drown in it.

Carefully, you reached for the undershirt you had thrown off and wiped his stomach clean, not caring you had dirtied it and would have to wash it by hand on the morrow.

A calm silence fell between you, allowing his forehead to fall to the crook of your neck as his hands snaked around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. Your warmth was something he wanted to live in forever. He never wanted to leave this tent.

"You're so-" he mumbled against your skin, his breath faltering as he tried to find the right words. "You're so good at that."

You couldn't help but blush. The way he worshipped you made you ecstatic, your hands raking through his dark curls as you tilted his head up to look at you.

"Can I kiss you?" he rasped. His eyes were full of want, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he pawed at the flesh of your thigh. Carefully, you moved to bring your lips to his with a wide grin but he stopped you, pulling his head to the side tauntingly.

He shook his head gently. "Not there."

You didn't understand what he meant. Kiss you where?

Cautiously, he pulled you off of his lap and laid you down on the soft furs, his body hovering over yours as he slotted himself in between your legs.

He began to make his way down your body with gentle kisses, nipping at your supple skin as he trailed from the crook of your neck to all the way down between your plush thighs, leaving little love bites in the wake of his mouth as he inched dangerously close to where you needed him most.

"Getting brave, aren't we?" you taunt, his hands moving to tuck your legs onto his shoulders before he gripped your hips with both of his hands firmly, holding you in place as you could feel his warm breath fanning against your glistening core.

He ignored your snide remark, wasting no time before licking a clean stripe against your cunt and beginning to work away at you, his eyes fluttering shut at the sound of your euphoric moans.

Your face contorted with pleasure as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, gently sucking at it, before cautiously bringing his middle and ring fingers to your core and allowing them to curl in an upward motion blissfully.

You had never felt anything like this before. The way his tongue moved against your folds made you ecstatic, wondering what they put in the southern water to make him so good at what he was doing.

"J-Jon," you gasped, your fingers combing through his dark locks and giving them a good tug, earning a moan from him as it vibrated against your core and only pushed you closer to your high. Your thighs clenched around his head in an attempt to pull him closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit just enough to make you jolt with a shaky gasp.

He enticed moans out of you like never before, licking and sucking at your core in ways you didn't even know were possible. He seemed so skilled for claiming to have never touched a woman before. Could he have been lying to you?

Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you saw his hips begin to grind slowly against the furs as he lapped away at your core, his cock hard once more from the sweet taste of you. Moans grumbled in his chest as he squeezed your thighs tighter, his fingers sure to leave bruises on your supple skin.

The abrupt feeling of his fingers pulling out of your core made you whine. But his tongue entering you was enough to make you see stars, your back arching up off the soft furs as you could feel the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.

Your wanton moans filled his ears, loud enough to be heard by the rest of the camp, but you didn't care. Your only concern was him and your climax—which wasn't far off.

"Gods!" your heel dug into the middle of his muscular back as you gripped the furs at your side, your orgasm washing over you unlike ever before. Your thighs trembled gently around Jon's head, his mouth pulling away from your core, his chin glistening with your release as he watched you with a lazy smile while you writhed in pleasure before him.

He pulled himself up so he was hovering over you once more, his face a mere few inches from yours as your chest heaved up and down, coming down from your high. Your eyelids felt heavy as he gripped your hip, and the sheer look of lust in his eyes made your lips crash against his hungrily.

You could taste your release on his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth, not even thinking before wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over on the furs, now sitting on his lap as he laid breathlessly beneath you.

You smiled at the way he looked up at you with want, his hands playing with the flesh of your ass impatiently. His hardened cock beneath your wet core made it hard for you to concentrate, but you still managed to roll your hips against his tauntingly.

"Just lay there, sweet. Let me give you what you want," you rasped, your hands splayed flat on his chest as your teasing became nearly unbearable for him.

"Please," he pleaded. "I need to feel you."

Slowly, you brought your hand to grasp him gently, giving him a few pumps before guiding him towards your entrance as you hovered over him, your eyes not leaving his as you sank down onto him.

Relieved moans left your mouths in unison, your cunt stretching around him sweeter than he could imagine. Your warmth made his heart flutter, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he waited for you to move.

Soft whimpers filled the space between you as your hips slowly began to roll across his lap, your nails raking down the front of his toned chest as you fell into a steady pace. His mind was fogged with the sheer sight of you on top of him, finding the gentle bounce of your breasts with every movement entrancing.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, his head falling back as he screwed his eyes shut, which couldn't help but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You couldn't help yourself when your fingers trailed to your clit and began to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth, clenching around his length with each roll of your hips.

"Gods," he cursed, sitting up from his spot on the soft furs as you still guided your hips back and forth on his cock.

Your arm automatically slung around his broad shoulders as his own pulled you closer to him by your waist while he propped himself up with his free hand, allowing him to thrust up inside of you and reach deeper than before.

The way the tip of his cock just barely brushed your cervix enraptured you. You were finding it very hard to believe that he had never done this before.

"Right there," you panted out, gripping his bare shoulder so hard your fingernails were sure to leave tiny crescent indents in his skin. His pace quickened, slowly becoming more desperate and sloppy as your moans grew with it. You were sure the entire camp could've heard the lot of you by now.

His lips met yours in an instant, a poor attempt on Jon's part at silencing you as best he could. You allowed his tongue to roam your mouth, your fingers collecting at the nape of his neck to hold him closer to you. But to his surprise―with a sudden thrust of his hips―your teeth caught his bottom lip with a moan.

"Ahh," he hissed, the metallic taste of blood collecting at the front of his mouth. He pulled back, panting heavily as the look of lust didn't leave his eyes. Your lips were reddened and wet, and the way your tongue poked out barely to wipe them clean made a low groan rumble in his chest.

Within an instant, he smashed his lips back onto yours, pushing you back so you were laying flat on the furs now with his hips between your legs, his length still inside of you as he wasted no time to begin a steady pace pistoning in and out of you messily.

"Jon!" you moaned, his cock stretching you perfectly with each thrust. His lips attacked at the supple skin of your neck, peppering little love bites trailing down over your collarbone. You could feel him wince between moans against your skin as your nails dug into his back uncontrollably, leaving long, reddened welts along his pale skin.

Your fingers trailed slowly up to his hair, giving it a good tug as you brought his lips to yours. Your movements earned a low grumble in the back of his throat in response, his hips beginning to stutter as he could feel his climax rising.

You weren't far off either, with his sweet, incandescent moans that made the coil in your stomach tighten filling your ears. "Are you gonna come for me, baby?"

A guttural moan ripped through Jon's throat at your soft whispers, unable to form words as he nodded his head breathlessly. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, his last few thrusts hard and deep before pulling out of you—just enough to send you over the edge of your high.

You swiftly propped yourself up on your elbows, breathless from your climax as he pumped his shaft a few times before releasing himself all over your stomach and chest. His face contorted with pleasure as you watched him with amazement, a sly smirk creeping on your face as he came hard.

A gentle silence fell between the two of you as he caught his breath, moving to lay next to you on the soft furs and wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you close to his side. His warmth burned against your cheek as you laid your head on his chest, running your fingers lazily across his skin.

"You were right," he whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. You smiled against his skin, "How so?"

You lifted your head up, meeting his darling brown eyes as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I'm far much warmer with you."

#jon snow smut #jon snow #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #fanfic #scarlet was here!#jon snow x reader

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rise-my-angel · 11 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

Masterlist

Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn)

Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Pre Series Content and Extras:

Woes of a Modern Day Love (a modern!au)

Scattered Memories of the Starks

Shadows of their Hatred

The Lost Chapters of Jon Snow

NSFW Alphabet (contains spoilers for Part 3 and 4)

Interlude of Jealous Desires

A New Life's Darkened Lust (continuation of Ashes of Various Grey)

Part 1:

Wolves of the Lone Stag

Mouth of the Lion's Den

An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Standing Behind a Betrayal

A War of Tragic Beginning

Part 2:

King and Queen in the North

Shadow of a Fiery Stag

Reunion of New Enemies

Pleasure of Conflicted Desire

The Sanctity of Children

What Lies Beyond The Veil

Part 3:

The Cost of Our Sins

Dragged Through the Violence

Only the Cold

Fire for the King's Blood

Part 4:

Ashes of Various Grey

Plans of Pain and Horror

Afraid of a Ravens Flight

Trust in the Gentle Rasps

Visions in Eyes and Flames

A Bastard or The White Wolf

Part 5:

Home of Bloodsoaked Stone

Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Ghostly Dreams of Old

Sailing Through the Glow

The Last Dragon

The Winter Rose

Part 6:

The Clash of Three Kings

Shrouded Truth in Sickness

Winged Shadow in the Sky

Light in the Darkest Storms

Peeking the Realms Woes

Blood, Roses and All Lies

Broken Love of the Dead

The Souls Tethered in Death

Wolves of the Past and Back

The Crows and The Sight

Part 7:

A Brewing of New Mystery

Great Wolves of White Mists

Darkness Heavy in a World

Past Becomes the Present

The Thing in the Night

Waving Tides of Turmoil

Greenish White Boodraven

Dark Blood of Blinding Light

And Wait for the Snows

Part 8:

Into the Haunted Forest

Fist of the First Men

Through the Frost Fangs

#jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #robb stark x reader #robb stark x you #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones imagine

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axelsagewrites · 7 months

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Jon Snow*Couldn't Resist

Pairing: Jon x f!reader (could be modern or not)

Kinktober Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end

Word count: 1114

Warnings: over stimulation, multiple orgasm, fingering, f! receiving oral, dry humping, neck kissing, slight begging, needy Jon, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

Soft black hair tickled the skin of your cheek, rousing you from your slumber. As your eyes fluttered open a moan escaped your lips as you felt soft lips against your neck, sucking softly on the skin. “Jon?” You yawned, glancing down at the man who was already all over you before the sun had risen.

He hummed against your skin, lips never leaving your skin as he worked his way down your neck. “What are you doing?” you asked, noticing his hand softly running up your bare thigh. After a long night with your husband under the sheets last night you had fallen asleep bare, something Jon found to be irresistible apparently.

“Kissing you,” he said, his lips trailing along your collar bones, “Feeling you,” he murmured, his hand running up your inner thigh. You shivered when his fingers ran over your wet cunt, “Touching you,” he finally added, his lips edging farther down your chest, “Need you,” he muttered against your skin making you chuckle lightly.

“You had me last night,” you giggled, “over and over, and over again,” you teased, your fingers toying with his hair.

“Not enough,” he said, his lips moving down your stomach. You sighed in content as he made his way further down, moaning lightly as his finger rubbed over your clit in slow circles, his lips edging further down. “Wanna taste you,”

You hummed, figuring you had time for now, “Just once sweetheart. I know what you’re like,” you said, hands still holding his soft locks.

Jon laughed as your skin, “Have no clue what you’re on about love,” he said and before you could chastise and remind him of last night, he had placed a soft kiss to your clit making you whine, your back arching slightly, “Just wanna make you feel good,” he said, warm breath fanning your wet cunt making shivers radiate up your body,

His hands held your thighs, pushing them over his shoulders as he licked a stripe up your cunt making you tense in anticipation. His hands locked around your legs, keeping your hips steady as he began to lick greedy tongues up your cunt, devouring you like a starved dog.

Your hands twisted in his hair, toes curling as his lips moved up to suck your clit, his fingers edging in your hole. You gasped when you felt him ease two fingers in but moaned as he began to move them slowly, curling them with expert position like he’d studied your body for a lifetime.

Jon moaned against your cunt, vibrations running up your body making your skin tingle. Your heels dug into his back, and you could feel the way he was humping the bed, giving himself his own slight release as he worked on yours.

It didn’t take long in your sleep ridden haze for a warm feeling to spread through your stomach. “Fuck,” you whined, as you came to your peak. Jons tongue did not stop even as your body did, your legs twitching around your head, “Just one,” you whined, pushing at his shoulder.

“Cmon baby,” Jon whined, his face wet with your juices, “One more please? I’ll be good after this I swear,”

You whined before nodding, “Fine,” you said, and the words had barley left your lips before he dove back in. this time his tongue darting inside you making your body shudder. These moans were harder to contain especially when his nose moved to nuzzle perfectly into your clit.

Your second peak arrived even quicker than the first but as you reached this one you felt your hips bucking, hand clenching Jons hair tight, as you grinded onto his face. Your movements only spurred Jon on as soon his fingers had return, this time slipping three in with ease as he moved up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves again. His fingers were faster this time, his teeth grazing your clit, and no sooner had your second orgasm finished did your third hit like a fallen castle.

You could barley contain the moans, biting into your arms to try stop yourself as your body twitched under Jon. His movements didn’t stop till your hands began to push his head away, not feeling like you could face another as your legs continued to twitch.

Jon crawled up your body, his lips kissing your cheek and jaw gently as his hips rutted into yours. his hard cock rubbing into your stomach as he searched for friction, “Please,” he murmured against your skin, “Let me fuck you please,” he begged, kissing your skin desperately.

You nodded making him look up from the crook of your neck, his eyes searching your face for approval. You nodded at him, not sure if you were even able to speak yet. Jon knew your signal to stop, a double tap on the shoulder, but with your nod and no tap he waisted no time in lining his cock up with your ready hole.

As he sunk his cock in you gasped, your hole already so sensitive from before. Jon however was still desperate for release so as his lips latched to your nipple, his free hand playing with the other, his hips began to snap against yours setting a relentless pace. “Fuck Jon I-I,” you gasped, interrupted by your own moans as you felt another orgasm approaching.

Jon moved his hand to under your back, pulling it up to arch your back to hit a new spot which caused your eyes to roll into your skull as a fourth orgasm crashed down on you. his thrusts did not stop but the way your cunt squeezed him just made his pace quicken.

He was determined to milk one more out of you as his hand dropped your back letting you sink into the bed but now his hand slipped between your bodies till, he was rubbing fast circles into your clit. His lips left your skin as he lent up, allowing himself to fuck you deeper as his hand came up to cover your mouth as your moans probably echoed through the walls.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, admiring his body for the few moments you had before your final peak arrived making your legs clench around Jon which only pulled him in deeper. You vaguely heard cursing as you rode out your final orgasm, but you released why as you felt Jon spill inside you.

After a few moments of him catching his breath Jon rolled to lay beside you, glancing at you with a sorry smile, “What happened,” you started to ask, panting as you looked to your husband, “to just one?”

“Couldn’t resist,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics

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daniellewritesfr · 7 months

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲

Paring: Jon Snow x f!Reader

Summary: You arrive in Winterfell lending aid to House Stark but seeing Jon brings back lost feelings you both share.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, kissing, fluff.

Word count: 1.4k

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rode through the gates of Winterfell the familiarity of the high stone walls and the sight of Stark banners bringing back the memories of your childhood. You had, in the past, spent many years in Winterfell growing up with the Stark children. Your father became a good friend of Ned Stark; while fighting alongside each other during Robert's rebellion. Leading to many years spent in the castle.

You arrived in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cloak you’re wearing doing surprisingly little to suppress the cold winds of the North. You had been called as a bannerman of house Stark to lend aid and fight the white walkers beyond the wall. You look around, all the people of Winterfell seem to have solemn faces ‘it’s quieter than I remember’ you think to yourself while dismounting your horse stirrups rattling, the stable boy rushes over to take the reins from your gloved hands leading your horse away. Your men follow you, dismounting their horses, gathering their things and moving supplies, all of a sudden the yard is buzzing with movement.

“Y/n!” you turn at the sound of your name to see Sansa walking towards you, “lady Stark” you bow slightly she lets out a small laugh as she embraces you, “you mustn't call me that y/n” she smiles “well you are lady of the North are you not” you ask “that I am yes, but to you it will always be just Sansa” she states “very well than Sansa” you smile “take me to Lord Snow.”

The castle is darker than you remember, as Sansa leads you through the doors of the great hall, you catch sight of Jon, the young man you once remembered as a solemn and brooding child.

Walking past the large tables in the middle of the hall you pull off your gloves, you look up to see Jon sitting at the high table reading a letter “Jon” Sansa says he looks up, his face breaking into a warm smile when his eyes land on you. You can’t help but smile back. You haven’t seen Jon in a long time, not since before he left to join the Night’s Watch. “My lord,” you take a slight bow, he stands and begins to walk towards you not saying a word, his gaze lingering.

Finally he speaks “My lady”. He lets out a small laugh before wrapping his arms around you, you can feel the warmth radiating off of him even with the layers of fur between you, he lets go resting his hands on your shoulders before they move to cup your face.

“Look at you” he mutters, eyes raking across you he pulls away “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I’m sworn to House Stark my lord” you reply “it is an honor to fight for your family.”

“My lord” Jon repeated “since when were you one to be so formal”? He teased.

You can’t help but smirk, while walking past him with your hands clasped behind your back making your way to the table running your fingers along the edge,the teasing tone in Jon’s voice luring out your own wit. “And here I thought that being declared King of the North automatically earned you the title of ‘my lord’.”

Jon chucked, a low rumble escaping his throat, “yes it does except, we grew up together there is no need for formality between us.”

“I suppose you're right” you agree, your voice lightening. “However don’t let that get to your head, a little formality never hurt anyone.”

Jon raises an eyebrow playfully. “Is that so? Then perhaps I should start using ‘my lady’ whenever I address you.”

You laugh “you can certainly try but, I can’t promise I won’t retaliate”

Jon shakes his head, a smile dancing on his lips.

A fortnight had passed since you'd first arrived back in Winterfell, and tonight you were dining with the Starks and their men in the great hall, enjoying the loud conversations and laughter ringing throughout the room. It had been a long while since you’d allowed yourself a good time. You spent the night laughing and socializing with the others. Not noticing the way Jon was looking at you.

As the talking and laughter slowly began to die, people began to retire to their chambers, you being one of them as the fatigue from the day's ride was finally wearing on you. Standing up making your way out to a long hallway lined with sconces providing a small amount of light as you pass various chambers while walking to your own.

Opening the door you’re greeted with warmth radiating from the fireplace, you walk to a small table in the corner of the room picking up a few letters that you had yet to open, before dropping them back down rubbing your temples knowing that the night would be full of endless reading.

Jon hadn’t put much thought into what he was about to do, maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just pure ignorance he thought to himself, as he was making his way through the dimly lit corridors. When he arrived at the door, his heart was pounding in his chest taking a deep breath before he raised his fist to leave a soft knock.

While on your 3rd letter of the night you hear a light knock at your door, getting up from your seat at the table curious as to who it could be. Unlatching the door expecting it to be Sansa you were startled to see Jon standing on the other side.

“Jon” you said surprised “it’s late”

For a moment he didn’t say anything, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Evening” he said “I hope I haven’t disturbed you”

“No, it’s alright” your eyes scanning his face for any indicator of what he was there for. Tilting your head slightly to one side. “Has something happened?” you asked

“No, no, may I come in?”

“Yes of course. Please come in.”

Moving aside Jon steps through, making his way to stand in front of the fireplace. He looks nervous, still thinking something had happened you ask once again.

“Jon” you pause, he looks up, his eyes finally meeting yours. The look on his face starting to worry you.

The silence hung like smoke in the air as you awaited his response.

He mumbles, moving one of his hands to run through his hair, turning back to face the fire watching the flames dance. You cautiously walk up behind him reaching to put a hand on his shoulder, he turns to face you leaning into your touch.

Long forgotten feelings wash over you.

“Jon, please tell me” you insist, your hand now resting at his jaw he leans further into your touch before covering your hand with his. You stayed like this for a short time relishing in the moment, the unspoken understanding filling the space between you. Removing his hand from yours to cup your jaw as he draws himself closer, his eyes searching yours for permission.

You quickly nod, before he closes the gap between you, lips brushing together. Your lips part slightly, letting his tongue slip inside. His hand glides to the nape of your neck, then moving to your waist, pressing your bodies together. You moan into the kiss, hands running through his hair while he trails gentle kisses leading from your jaw to your collarbone, small breaths escaping your lips.

Pulling away, his gaze meeting your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me” he whispers.

The look in his eyes was evidence enough revealing what he felt without uttering a word. Yet he continues to speak. Hands coming back to hold your face.

“I-” he pauses for a brief moment gathering his thoughts. “You are my every thought” He breathes. “The only person able to ground me, make me feel whole. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. How I wasted all those years believing I had no chance, only to be standing here right now. With you.”

Tears begin to swell in your eyes threatening to fall.

“You consume every part of me, body and soul.” He gently wipes away the tears that begin to fall. “You are everything to me.”

You smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“I love you.”

The words feel heavy.

He starts to speak afraid of your rejection, you cut him off colliding your lips together for a brief kiss before pulling away resting your forehead against his, shallow breathing filling the room.

“And I you.”

The words so lightly spoken, Jon wasn’t sure he heard them.

Leaning in to kiss you softly once more, running a hand through your hair, his eyes full of nothing but affection. “My lady.”

#game of thrones x reader #jon snow x reader #game of thrones #jon snow #sansa stark #winterfell #daemon targaryen x reader #jorah mormont x reader #robb stark #house stark #ned stark #jon snow smut #got

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pastanest · 1 year

Text

Jon Snow - Recommendations

will update this list as and when I find more fics/imagines/hc’s that give me visceral reactions x

—

> fluff (f) angst (a) suggestive (s)

Imagines:

(f) Protector by @otteropera - Jon Snow is so boyfriend coded it’s actually unbelievable also my beloved wrote this and it’s a GIFT!

(f) Moon Of My Life by @depends-on-the-sellsword - bro this moon ass poetry bs really will be the death of me I’ve read this one so many fucking times and the impact never changes

(f) The Broken And The Bastard by @dearsnow - this. this one really did a number on me Im gonna be honest. it’s pure poetry and it’s so far up my street I’d consider it my religious building of choice bc I frequent it so regularly

(f) That’s My Girl by @in-my-feels-probably - I requested this one and it gave me heart palpitations, protective Jon?? UMM 💥💳💥💳💥💳

(f) Making Of A Man by @januaryembrs - THIS IS THE ONE FR!! absolutely iconic

(f/s) A Welcome Visitor by @darklyndivinely - the power shift in this literally sent me hurtling into the sun goodbye

(f) Snow by @l4verq - pure poetry surrounding a reader displaced in the GoT universe, SO beautifully written and such a genius concept, too

(f) Overheard by @tessimagines - now if there’s one thing this bitch (me) loves it’s a trope she’s read a thousand times that still has her kicking her feet and twirling her hair

Headcannons:

(f) He Worships The Ground Reader Walks On by @midnight-fairee - consider me the Iron Throne after Drogon breathed on it bc Im melted fr

(f) Songs That Describe Your Relationship by @th3rah - utterly adorable, such a sweet idea wtf ow

Blurbs:

(f) His Type (includes other characters too) by @luna-writes-stuff - I LOVE this sm, such a cute idea!!

(f) Happy Heart Day by @poisonsage808 - SO SWEET I love shy Jon sm

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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my-owl-baby · 4 months

Text

Chapter one; The Lost Lady

Osferth x Modern f!reader

Summary: You woke up in the middle of nowhere, the last thing you remember is going camping with your best friend. Now your here with your belongings. Getting windup with a village of women and children taking care of them until something unexpected happens.

Warnings: killing, cursing, and hard language.

Word count: 2,787

you woke up sore, everywhere in your body ache as you sat up, removing the leaves in your hair. "Where am i?" You cough a bit feeling a bit cold from the air. Snowing already? It was just summer time. You sigh, getting a jacket out of your bag that was near you and putting it on.

"JON?" You yelled hoping your best friend wasn't far from here. You grab your things walking around to find Jon.

You guys were going camping for awhile since the loud city wasn't in the right mental state for the both of you. Now your here in the middle of nowhere, weather freezing cold.

"JON?!" You yelled once more looking around but only see a white landscape with tress around.

"This isn't funny!" You held yourself close not wanting to to freeze to death in the middle of the woods. Did you fall asleep a bit more longer then expected? Or kidnapped? No, they would have you in a room right?

Many questions wonder in your head wondering where you were or how you got here.

Your fingers felt like they were going numb, you saw people up ahead. You weren't sure if they were good or so. You took out your pocket knife keeping it in your back pocket if anything happens.

"Hello?" You yelled once more, seeing the two heads turn to you. You notice it was women which brought you a little hope to you.

"Do you know where I'm at?" You asked getting closer to see a better view of them.

"Stop right there" one of them said, taking a knife out, pointing it towards you.

You pause staying where you are, not making a move because she demanded. "I'm not a threat" you defended yourself, putting your hands up in the air so she can see you aren't one.

She whispered something to the lady, and ran off as she stayed watching me. "And what dose a Dane like you want?" She step closer, she wasn't a threat to you. But you needed her to trust you so you can leave the woods.

"Dane? I'm not Dane" you said calmly, she seem unsure with your response.

"Why do you dress like one" she responded to you, you looked at your outfit. You were your jacket, jeans and a long sleeve shirt.

"I don't understand what you mean miss" you tried to be respectful but she really is making you unpatient since you were freezing you ass off.

"Don't play stupid lady, your Dane...where are your friends?" She didn't believe your words, not one bit.

"Trust me, I'm not a Dane, I don't even know what that is" you kept defending yourself. She seem unsure once again.

You both stayed in silence until an arrow went through her head, causing her body to fall to the ground.

"What the hell" you turn seeing another arrow coming towards your, running to into the village. It was empty, they must be hiding.

"Where the fuck am i" you mumble under your breath trying to find a place to hide. It looked nothing like what Amish people do, or how they live.

You hid behind a blacksmith workshop, you fumble in your bag getting your gun for safety. You didn't know she was going to die, so it wasn't your fault that she died right?

You continued to convince yourself that it wasn't your fault until you heard men laughing out loud. "Find the other whore, and bring her to me" they were riding horses. Swords, arrows and wooden shield as protected.

Then it click you, you weren't home. You weren't in your timeline.

They started to search the place, seeing them near the church trying to open it but it wouldn't bugged.

"I can't use my gun" you mumble to yourself placing it down, seeing a sword and a bow and arrow there. You crawl not trying to make a sound to get your attention.

The sword was heavy and you did have your pocket knife which could be of use. You weren't going to let innocent people dying infront of you. Not like the other times.

Of the men were getting close to your area as the other men try to open the door. He got closer to you enough to grab him and slit his throat. And you did exactly that without anyone noticing.

The snow is painted red, with his blood and the rest of his people blood as well. You grab the arrows and bow getting somewhere high so they won't see you.

"I hate this, where are you jon" you mumble, you heart beat is fast from the adrenaline.

You climb on top of a tree, until you got a good enough view of the men. "Please keep me safe any God out there, that would be wonderful" you mumble once more getting ready to shot.

Leaving everything behind where you killed the man was a good idea? No it wasn't but you didn't want the heavy bag make you slow down.

You started to aim at the men who had arrows so they wouldn't be a threat. You shot your first one which made a commotion, they pick up their shield but not high enough to keep the safe.

You killed another and another after it, only leaving a couple 13 more men to go.

"FIND WHO DOING THIS" you heard one of them yell, as they scattered around the village.

You took a quick break, catching you breath it wasn't a camping trip you were hoping for. All you wanted was a quiet peaceful trip.

You ended up shotting at four more men, you were running out of arrows, only had four more left.

"IT MUST BE THE GODS PUNISHING US MI LORD" One yelled, getting on his knees mumbling to himself.

Another started to believe him and did the same actions as the other man.

"DON'T YOU DARE, ITS NOT THE GODS YOU FOUL" it was your cue to climb down from the tress, first person combat is your strong point. You shot the two men on the ground now colouring their blood with the snow.

You revealed yourself, the 'lord' they called saw you in disbelief. "A women, killed my man" his anger show without notice as he and the rest of his men started to dart at you.

You use you last two on two men who tried to come at you. You dodged them perfectly using your pocket knife to leave a cut on their ankle or wrist.

"How can a women kill my men!" He yelled coming towards you with a sword. You kicked his shield backing away only seeing three more men alive.

"A gun would be easier" you rolled your eyes, wiping the blood of your face with your jacket.

The leader came out you once more, with his sword, you dodge him running away to another man stabing his throat. The other one stumble on his horse yelling witch. Their lord once again tried to attack you pushing his shield towards you.

You fell on the ground, his legs were spread open and decided to hit him where it would hurt, his nuts.

He grunted holding his legs together tightly dropping his sword. "Always works" you said breathlessly, grabing his sword and sliding it through his throat.

You stood there, still hearing another man yelling, as he struggled to get on his horse.

"Really?, oh my god" you mumble grabing a used arrow and aimed it at the man who cried out for help ending his noise.

Now it was silent, the only thing you heard was your own heart beat and breath at the same time. You saw all the men lifeless on the ground, you didn't want to leave them there even though they did try to kill you, you wanted to at least have a proper rest.

You grab your gun placing it behind your jeans covering by your jacket and shirt. You place your bag near by where no one would get it as you started to grab a shovel to bury them.

Soon you notice people coming out the church looking at you, like you were their hero or some sort of monster. You didn't mind them, only trying to bury men you killed.

"You burn them instead of burying them" you heard a young voice said, you turn seeing a women about your age not to close to you.

"We thank you for saving us" she bow a bit before making eye contact with you.

"It's nothing, it's the least I can do for them killing your family member" you mumble not knowing the right words you stop shoveling.

"She was a nun here, for many years...we buried her not the Danes" she said, you nodded looking at the men you had piled in a line.

"So those are Danes, do you know where I am?" You glance at the group of men, then at the her. She nodded taking a deep breath, the children and women were watching you closely making sure you wouldn't hurt their nun.

"Umm, my lady your in the Wessex land" she looked away, playing with her fingers as she spoke.

"Wessex?" It didn't click you heard, until you thought about it more. England, so you either in the 5th-10th century, but you needed the right date.

"Um, do you need any help?" You snapped out of your thoughts, turning to the lady.

"What would be kind of you" you smiled, she nodded, as you both continued to talk to each other about this land or other people out there.

Two weeks had passed, and Uhtred came to the king, Alfred. Sitting down at the table eating along side with the kings wife, father Beocca and Haesten chatting about something.

"His name is Sigurd" Haesten said, eating his food at the same time. "His men call him bloodhair"

Aelswith spoke up "I don't not wish to know why something depraved, I'm sure" she slice her meat up.

"I have a man watching Bloodhair camp" Uhtred spoke, "but I'm curious...he didn't ask you to join him, Haesten?" He asked, taking a sip of his ale.

Alfred looked at Haesten, as he said he declined bloodhair offer. They started to bicker back and forth as the king watched. Uhtred didn't trust Haesten not one bit, and he had every right too.

"Uhtred, there came a report that in the near rivers in Wessex near north that someone killed seventeen Danes alone" he started getting the attention of everyone in his table.

"How can one man defeat seventeen Danes alone?" Father Beocca asked, Uhtred seem impressed, while Lady Aelswith praise the man for killing such evil men.

"I want you to bring that man to me, he would be of use" he said, Uhtred and the others agreed expect for Haesten himself, who stuff meat in his mouth.

Once the king left for air Haesten spoke "There's a lady that Bloodhair has...her name is Skade, she a seer of the devil father" looking at Beocca for a reaction, which he didn't give.

He left afterwards, leaving Uhtred and Father Beocca alone.

"Where are you going?" Beocca asked as Uhtred was walking away.

"Finding out the man who killed that many Danes and speaking to Bloodhair myself" Beocca said something else but Uhtred didn't pay no mind to it.

While those two weeks with you weren't bad, you were force to pray to be able to stay and take care of the women and children here.

It wasn't bad, peaceful then cramping. Jon haven't shown up, you wish he wasn't here but a the same time it would be wonderful to see a similar face here from time to time.

Some of the nuns didn't accept you so quickly as some did, the children grew found of you. You taught the lil boys to learn how to use a wooden sword. Even know you had no experience with a sword you did your best to teach them.

Even some of the girls wanted to learn as well, which you proudly did show them.

You help out as much as you could, chop wood, hunt, collect herds, help making better food and of course taking care of the children.

It was an everyday task for you, you didn't mind it since it was helping you a lot. You never knew how much peace you could taken. Almost like it's your new life now.

You were out in the woods looking for herds since you were already running out of some.

While you were gone in the woods a group of Danes came to the village. "DANES IN THE CHURCH NOW!" Anne yelled in worried helping the children get inside. They shut the door, pushing the table to door.

"Everyone stay calm" she held the kids as many as she could.

"Lady Y/n is out there she'll get hurt" one of the boys plead, she hush the boy holding him closer to her.

The banging on the door started, the rest of the nuns started to pray to their God. Hoping he will save them and keep them at peace more longer.

You began to walk back to the village seeing men there, Danes? You didn't know since they didn't dress like the last ones you met. "Do you need anything?" You spoke up, they didn't notice your presence so they were startle by your voice.

A man walked up to you with a smile "Yes, we are looking for the man, who defeated the seventeen Danes alone" you didn't give him a reaction, shrugging as you walked passes him knocking on the door.

"Anne, open the door" you said turning to the men, there was four of them.

"So your here for the man" you chuckled as you spoke the last word. The same one walked toward you standing by your side.

"We mean no harm, only coming for the kings order, I'm Uhtred" he held out a hand for you to shake.

You looked at him then at his hand before shaking "I'm Y/n" the door peak open, then finally fully open.

"Lady Y/n, you're safe!" The same little boy hugged your legs. A small smile appeared on your face patting his head.

"Yes, I am dear boy" he smile before running off with the other kids outside to play again.

They fix the table as you set the basket of herds on the table. "So this Anne the Abbess of the nunnery, speak to her" you said, not wanting to disappoint the men that you were the one that killed those Danes.

She gave you a worried look wondering why you would trust these Danes. But she trusted you enough to speak to them.

"Hello" she bowed her head a bit towards them.

"Hello, I'm Uhtred, these here are my men I trust" he started you made your way to the kitchen getting food ready for supper.

You could hear them talking with thin doors they have build in. "We came here for the man who killed those Danes a couple days ago" he started, you startrd to chop the fat off the meat.

"Oh, that wasn't no man" Anne laughed nervously, you smiled to yourself as you heard the conversation.

"Really? Was it a bear?" You heard another man's voice as he laughed, causing the two men laugh as well.

"Hah...no" she mumble started playing with her fingers looking at the kitchen door then at the men.

"Then who did it?" Uhtred interrupt her training thought. She smiled at them before she spoke up.

"It was lady Y/n...she saved us" she knew that these men wouldn't believe it, but Uhtred seem to surprise and at the same time believe the young nun.

While the three men, Osferth, Sithtric and Finan on the other hand were surprised that a women like yourself was able to kill that many men.

"May I ask how?" Finan asked Anne, they glance at the kitchen door still wondering how.

"I don't know how to explain it" she shook her head, she really didn't one second she saw you next you were gone while four men were dead on the ground.

"You can stay for supper and for the night, if you have any business with lady Y/n...it's between the five of you" she bow dismissed herself, to the kitchen helping you with food.

"We got ourselves a witch" Sithtric said, he was serious about his words. Osferth didn't want to believe it, you looked kind to even be a killer maybe it was a trick like how the devils are.

#the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom #ewan mitchell #osferth fanfic #osferth x y/n #osferth x you #osferth #osferth x reader #uhtred #uhtred of bebbanburg #Sithtric #Finan #tlk fandom #tlk

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writeshite · 1 year

Note

Jon snow nsfw alphabet? 😍

Summary:

Jon Snow NSFW Alphabet

Pairings:

Jon Snow x Male Reader

Tags:

Smut

Words: 877

Author's Note:

Second time doing one of these, let's go!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Jon isn’t all that familiar with aftercare or much in the way of anything like that, but he tries his best.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of their partners)

Jon loves your hands. He loves to hold them; he loves it when they wander his body and pull at his hair. He also loves to just play with your fingers, kissing the knuckles of your hands.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Jon loves to cum inside you; he’s also in favor of you doing the same to him.

D = Dirty Secret

I think to him, hell will freeze over before he admits or acknowledges his mild exhibition kink. It’s mild, he keeps it in control, and he doesn’t totally imagine you fucking him on the wall for everyone to see. There’s also a bondage kink somewhere in there as well, not that he’s going to admit it 🙂

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

Jon doesn’t have that much experience, he knows the basics, obviously, but outside that, he’s relatively clueless on the matter. Things like foreplay or kinks are almost unknown to him; what he does know, he picks up in passing from those around him.

F = Favourite Position

Doggy Style - Jon is a little shy sometimes and sometimes prefers you don’t see his face; he also likes the feeling of you hovering over him and talking dirty to him.

Missionary - On some occasions where he finds himself facing you during sex, he tries to hide his face away, but if not, he’ll have his head against yours.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

I don’t think Jon would be very goofy during sex; he’s sometimes nervous or uncertain.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

As I said earlier, he is hairy, back to front, and well-groomed.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Jon is a romantic at heart; his attention is always on you, so he’ll ensure you enjoy every moment.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off every so often, mostly thinking about you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Voice kink - I feel like he’d have a voice kink, no explanation; I just think so.

Somnophilia - He loved being on the receiving end of it.

Hair Pulling - What is that long hair for if not to be pulled?

Exhibition - He would love to be fucked on the edge of the wall for the world to see.

Bondage - One of his least explored kinks.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Jon likes your shared room best, but he’s also partial to anywhere else, with some incentive of course.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Jon is a simple man; breathe, and he will fold. Tug him into a secluded archway, and he will fold. Simply put, you get him going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

I don’t think Jon would be into daddy kink very much 💀

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers receiving; it drives him up the wall, and seeing you take him is his favorite thing.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally, Jon prefers slow because he likes to take it all in - both giving and receiving - he doesn’t mind fast, but he’d prefer long fucks.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Jon doesn’t mind quickies, but like said before; he prefers long and slow fucks, so quickies tend to be a little rare for him.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

I think Jon wouldn’t be opposed to risks, he’d be willing to try something every now and then, but it all depends on his comfort zone.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

He’s got decent stamina; I mean, with all that training and muscles, he’s good to go for a while.

T=Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes. He had a dildo he’d carved himself, he used it often, and sometimes, on calmer days, with your encouragement, he’d have it lodged inside him for the day.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Despite his demeanor, Jon does enjoy teasing, he thinks it’s fun, and it makes him feel things to see you desperate to reach for him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Loud. Jon may be stoic in the streets, but he’s a fucking orchestra in the sheets.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture, or words)

Around four of five inches (I had to pull out the ruler again 💀)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I think he’s got a moderate enough sex drive.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He will try and resist the urge to fall asleep first, but he passes out first.

End Note:

Hope this was good. Stay Hydrated.

#jon snow x male reader #jon snow x reader #shiterequests #he's babyyyyyyyy #jon snow smut headcanons

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insomniakisses · 1 year

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GOTU Masterlist

💖 Fluff / 🌧 Angst /🔥 Smut / 🤝 Platonic / 💞 related / 🧬 hybrid / 🐺 omegaverse / 🍆 G!p / 🧛vampire / 🐕 werewolf / ⚡️Modern Au / ✨authors / 💀 supernatural au

—— G A M E O F T H R O N E S ——

Daenerys Targaryen

Cersei Lannister

Her Little Stark 💖🔥🐺✨

-> Her little cubs 💖🐺✨

Sansa Stark

Brienne of Tarth

Jon Snow

Yara Greyjoy

Catelyn Tulley

Margery Tyrell

Ellaria Sand

Oberyn Martell

—— H O U S E O F D R A G O N ——

Reactions

You say its too big 🔥🐺

Imagines

Rhaenys Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Laena Velaryon

Alicent Hightower

We should call her aemma 🐺

Aegon Targaryen

A Lovers Comfort💖

Aemond Targaryen

Pleasant surprises 💖

-> Unexpected news and welcome surprises 💖

Of dragon rides and thunderstorms 💖

Who do you belong to? 🔥🐺

Helaena Tragaryen

—— S E R I E S ——

The Kings Daughter and The Queen (Alicent)

One 🔥🐺 Two 🐺💖 Three 🐺💖🔥 / Three Alt. 🐺💖 🌧

An eye for an eye

One 🌧

—— S M U T D R A B B L E S ——

Smut Asks

Pregnant!Alicent x Reader x Rhaenyra 🔥🐺✨

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #game of thrones imagines #house of the dragon imagines

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pinkykats-place · 10 months

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Robb Stark x Reader

Tumblr Recommendations

Disclaimers!

Stories are NOT mine.

Some contain mature content.

Readers are mostly female.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

Bedtime story

(Child) Robb Stark x (Child)Reader x (Child) Jon Snow

Imagine being a child living in Winterfell with Robb and Jon, and falling asleep in Robb’s bed with him and Jon.

You’re Mine (female reader)

Warnings: Use of the word “Cunt”, smut, the usual shebang

you belong to me (female reader)

ANON REQUEST: Robb Stark smut with a reader that is someone's bastard. She and Jon are not allowed in the feast so they're alone together outside, too close to each other. Robb wonders where is the reader, he comes to find her but get jealous. So Robb is going to show the reader who she belongs to.

Couldn’t Wait (female reader)

Summary: Robb had been out all day, and you’ve been missing his touch. With what you thought was a few hours to go, you decided to take matters into your own hands…

Warnings: Language, smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex(wrap it, before you tap it)

United In Fear (Soulmate!AU)

Warnings: Angsty fluff, someone get’s punched but it’s not super dramatic

Summary: The names were the greatest mystery in Westeros. Each kingdom had their own telling of the story. None of the kingdoms could agree on where they were from or how they came to be. Each thought a different god, their own interpretation of religion, was responsible, but all seemed to agree on one thing: they were a gift.

Colors

Notes: fluff, fem!Reader

Summary: Colors highlight significant points in your relationship with Robb

The Singer

Description: Robb hears you singing to the wounded men after a fierce battle and immediately falls for you.

#reader insert recommendation #reader insert recommendations #game of thrones x reader #robb stark x reader #robb stark x female reader #female reader insert #tumblr recommendation #tumblr fic recs #got x reader #got imagine #game of thrones reader insert #fanfic recommendation #fic recs #robb stark

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sailoryooons · 2 years

Text

The Iron Ring | Two | pjm (m)

❀ Pairing: fae prince! Jimin x human! female reader

❀ Summary: After finding a mysterious ring while cleaning out your late grandmother’s attic, you receive the unlikeliest of visitors: a fae prince who claims you have something that belongs to him. Discovering the fairytales your grandmother told you are true is the least of your problems when you’re taken to a world dangerous and unfamiliar.

❀ Word Count: 21,217

❀ Genre: fantasy au, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, bickering Jimin and reader, sexual tension, semi-toxicity between Jimin and reader (frenemies), mentions of death, depictions of death, minor character death, betrayal, self-doubt, light depictions of depression, reader is very confused™️, Jimin's mood swings, sexually explicit content including making out, nipple play, oral (f. receiving) and fingering, depictions of dismemberment, weapons and use of weapons

❀ Published: June 5, 2022

❀ A/N: I'm not going to lie - I really struggled through this chapter. Not because I didn't want to write it, but because I really kept doubting what was I doing and then I was getting worried that I'm making it too slow burn. Sometimes I really get in my head about what I write and I think that really effects how chapters / content turns out so I really hope that this is enjoyable and still makes sense to the story. Again, it's a really long chapter and I hope that I'm moving the plot in the same way I think I am. Keep in mind that Jimin and reader are purposefully inconsistent with one another - they're battling some instincts *wink wink* and in the world of Faerie, everyone is a liar in their own way. Idk I'm going to shut up now and hope the next chapter is easier for me to write - sorry for the self-doubt dump.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Fear is a funny thing. You’ve never understood the kind of fear that roots you to the spot. Usually your fight or flight sends you running – though in Jimin’s case, he’s received your fight several times.

Standing in front of Seokjin as he asks you to bend the knee, your fear manifests in an entirely different manner. A giggle escapes your mouth, so shrill and high-pitched that you sound like an absolute lunatic. You clap your hand over your mouth to try and hide the noise, but it echoes in the large room – everyone hears it.

You go white as a sheet, holding your breath as Seokjin cocks his head to the side, eyes pinning you. “You think swearing fealty is cause for mirth?”

“Um – no.” His gaze darkens. “Your Highness,” you add, grimacing. You’re unsure how to address him. Jimin hasn’t prepared you for this, hasn’t told you what to expect. “I must apologize. I’m unfamiliar with the customs of court and I don’t mean to offend. Your words reminded me of… something back home.”

It’s a shame that Seokjin wouldn’t understand how much he reminds you of Danaery’s Targaryen, asking you to bend the knee. Before you can cackle again, you do as asked, knee touching the ground and quickly ducking your head.

You imagine the way Jon Snow did it – single knee on the ground, elbows resting atop of it to support your weight as you lean and bow your head. Never in your life did you think you would be applying what you observed in Game of Thrones to keep your head attached to shoulders – if it’s working, that is.

Seokjin says nothing. For a moment, there is painful silence and you think that this is it. Your head is going to roll like Ned Stark, all because you couldn’t contain the horrible, sticky fear that is making your palms slick as you continue to kneel.

“Jimin,” Seokjin calls softly. “Take my place. Say the words.”

You hear shuffling. A look upward through your lashes reveals Jimin’s smaller feet on the top of the dais. You remain where you’re at, knee hurting from the pressure against the cool marble. The dress doesn’t provide much comfort, and you’re starting to sweat down your back. You hope that the gown doesn’t start to get soggy with your sweat, as the material is so thin and –

“Do you so hereby pledge yourself to me as your lord,” Jimin says softly, words wrapping around you like a velvet kiss. “Do you promise on your name and your blood to be faithful to me as your lord, to never cause me harm, and to by my vassal in life and death, to act as my sword and shield without deceit?”

The words feel heavy as he says them. Shackling you. You remember what he said – any promise you make to him isn’t binding. You’re barely fae – you have no pointed ears, you command no immortality, and the magic you’ve felt is not your own, but rather attached to the ring on your finger.

“I swear it,” you murmur. Something guides your words as you repeat back to Jimin, “I pledge myself to you, my lord. I promise on my name and my blood to be faithful to you as my lord, to never cause you harm, and to be your vassal in life and death. I swear to act as your sword and shield, and to act without deceit.”

Something shivers inside of you. You haven’t been given permission to look up at Jimin, but you do anyways. His face is blank as a slate, but his eyes are burning burning burning.

You feel that draw to him again. The urge to get up and go to him, to brush your fingers over his face and to be near him. You clench your teeth, physically fighting the magnetic force.

“I swear to be yours,” Jimin murmurs. There’s a sound of surprise from the faeries gathered at your back. “I pledged myself to you, as your lord. I promise on my name and blood to be faithful to you, to never cause you harm, and to act as your sword and shield without deceit.”

“Jimin.” Seokjin’s hiss cuts the air like a blade. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring his brother, Jimin steps forward and offers a hand. You sit up straight and slide your hand in his. A spark pops at your fingertips, making you gasp. Jimin doesn’t let go of your hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around yours and tugging you lightly.

On unsteady feet, you rise. Your eyes hold a question, but he gives a tiny shake of his head. Now is not the time to answer questions, though you undoubtedly know Jimin has done something he isn’t supposed to.

Turning to face the king – your uncle, in a way – any warmth at Jimin’s fingers laced with your goes out, a flame guttered in a storm. Seokjin’s face is icy cool, eyes swirling. You remember the horrible feeling when you stared into his eyes, the helpless trance he could pull you into.

You don’t want to go back to that place.

“Swearing fealty,” Jimin finally answers, brows furrowed. “I want to ensure members of my court know I am equally bound to them.” His eyes slid to you, shinning. “I’m supposed to be as faithful to my vassal as they to me.”

Irritation flashes across Seokjin’s face. Instead of answering, he turns to the room behind you. “Let the feast commence.”

Jimin begins to tug you toward him and away from Seokjin. You turn to follow, heart still pounding and unsure what Jimin’s vow to you means, but Seokjin cuts you off quickly. “My study,” he growls. “Now.”

Seokjin is gone in the blink of an eye. There’s music coming from somewhere in the palace as people filter out of the room. Jimin clicks his teeth at you, beckoning you like a horse. You screw up your face and clench your fists, readying to throw another insult but he walks down the dais, aloof and casual.

Staring at him with your mouth open, you watch as Jimin cuts through the crowd, leaving you standing alone. The people he passes preen when he walks by – touching his shoulders, bowing deeply, giggling and throwing flowers of starlight at his feet.

They worship him.

When their eyes turn to you, there is no kindness there. You step off the dais and there are only suspicious stares. Of red eyes, of yellow, of black. Eyes with scales and eyes of more than just two. Eyes on willow men and brownies, their ears twitching. Eyes on dryads, pink and blue and green, who sneer at you as you trail after Jimin.

You had no idea that hate was something you could feel when directed at you silently. You feel it now – feel the way they hate you. Hate you so passionately it makes you want to vomit.

Rushing out of the room, you follow the back of Jimin as he waltzes past the guards. The sound of the throne room is dying down, replaced by cheerful music elsewhere.

But there’s another sound – string instruments and a single voice that sings hauntingly, plucking at your soul. You feel your entire being shiver, turning your head toward the sound. It calls calls calls.

The sound is haunting, drawing your attention to it. Jimin is saying something to you, but you resist. You turn from him, walking toward the sound.

You close your eyes. You don’t know why – you feel the need to be closer to the sound. The music swells and you feel tears burn your eyes as you walk toward it, blind and confused.

A kiss as soft as a butterfly wing.

Rough hands like silk against your skin.

The smell of orange blossom.

A deep wanting worse than anything you’ve ever felt, so deep it chokes you.

The color green.

A voice like silky wine.

An ache. So powerful that you feel like you’re gasping, like you’re falling apart.

Seven stars above your head.

A silver tree taller than any you’ve ever seen before.

Desire. Hot and scorching and burning burning burning – destroying -

Two moons in the sky, circling one another in a dance.

Rough hands grab you and shake you. You’re startled from the images and feelings. You’re on your knees gasping for air. Tears run down your face as you gulp down cool air. Blinking past the tears, your hands are gripping someone else’s forearms – the voice of someone familiar calling your name over and over again.

You feel dizzy. The ache is still there and you sob past it, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain. Stars explode across your vision as you squeeze squeeze squeeze your eyes shut.

“Enaid.”

The word pulls you back. You open your eyes, staring into the dark pool of Jimin’s green gaze. He’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, his hands clasping your face. You’re crying – you don’t know when you started. His face is pinched with pain – so acute you nearly gasp.

It’s one of the rawest emotions you’ve seen on his face, and he is staring at you with the weight of ten thousand words. You don’t understand. But the music as stopped. Your hands are on his wrists, holding his palms to your face.

Rough hands like silk against your skin.

Jimin is so close to you that you notice he has the faintest freckles under his eyes. You count them, like stars in the sky – one, two three, four, five, six, seven. Seven freckles across his face, carefully placed like the stars of the courts.

He is so beautiful. You could count his lashes. His breath is sweet as he cradles your face. If you leaned forward just a touch – barely a hairsbreadth – you’d brush your lips against his.

Butterfly-wing delicate.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. You didn’t know his voice could be so soft. Dulcet. “Answer me.”

You nod. The tears are drying on your face, sticky and damp. “I don’t understand.”

“Never go toward music like that again. Ever. If you hear something that calls to you like that, you run the other way. Even here in the palace. Do you understand.”

“No.”

He surprises you with a laugh and a roll of his eyes, full lips twitching. “Of course you don’t. Just promise me you won’t run toward music like that again.”

“Okay.”

He sighs in relief. “If they ever do that again, I’ll skin them alive.”

Jimin drops his hands from your face. It’s then that you look around. You’re kneeling in front of the Midnight Tree. The world is shrouded in darkness – there is no light or visibility beyond the yard of the tree. You frown. You don’t remember getting here, and the darkness feels familiar to you. Like if you reached out to touch it, it would welcome you like a friend.

“We must speak to Jin,” Jimin offers you a hand up. Instead, you haul yourself up, gathering your skirts. He smirks and drops his hand, eyes still on you. “I’ve annoyed him again.”

“You annoy most people, it appears.”

“Hmm, and yet I still went running after you when you took off like a banshee.”

“Do banshees do that often?” He hums, confused as he cocks his head. “Go running around.”

“Quite. They have places to be and they’re skittish.”

“I see. What was the music?”

His face darkens. “Come on, Jin is waiting.”

“What was the music, Jimin?”

He lifts his chin a little. “You’re a sworn vassal of my personal court, Y/N. Using my first name is no longer appropriate. You will address me as ‘My Lord’ or ‘Lord’ if I’m feeling casual. Now let’s go.”

The Jimin from moments ago is gone. You half wonder if you imagined him – if his kindness was a figment of your imagination. Perhaps your mind was trying to comfort you – deluding you into thinking that Jimin was a kind person because you were afraid.

Under the excitement and the obeying all of the orders and taking things in stride – you were fucking terrified. A little girl in a corner, quaking in the size of her grandmother’s legends.

So perhaps you did imagine the softness. To make it all seem bearable, to make it feel like you weren’t going to die at any moment.

It must be. Because Jimin is walking away from you again, albeit slower. He doesn’t storm off this time without watching you, but he is deliberate in his steps as he leads you through the winding, dark halls of the palace.

The shroud moves with you, a barrier that shrinks and grows as you move. You want to ask Jimin what it is, but you’re nervous he’ll embarrass you again. Or worse – your brain’s trauma response will continue to paint him as the nice guy.

Is that what this is? You wonder. Have you already began reducing your experience to Stockholm syndrome?

A twisted stairwell made in the side of a tree trunk appears. Jimin begins to climb it, leaving you at the base to stare at it. It’s several meters thick – a massive tree you’re shocked you’re just noticing. Like other rooms in the palace, there is no ceiling. The tree stretches high into the upper levels, the boughs dark with black leaves.

Sprites and pixies flit through the tree. Fae light orbs hover, giving the tree the appearance that it has stars among the branches.

Jimin realizes you’re staring up at the tree. He makes an annoyed noise, hand on his hip and demands. “Now what?”

“It looks like the trees in Lothlorien,” you murmur. “The elves there live in the threes. It’s beautiful.”

“What is this Lothlorien? You have elves in the human world? I didn’t think your Sight was that functioning – I mean you hardly saw me.”

“It’s from a movie. For a prince you’re awfully uncultured about the human world.” You begin to climb the steps, fingers tracing the smooth bark. “Isn’t it like – important to know about the human world if you live alongside it?”

“Hardly. We don’t interact with humans much since the end of the War of the Divide. The few humans in Faerie are from very, very large family trees that have dwindled down to less than a thousand.” He resumes his climb. “Your great-grandmother was one of those rarities. The human families in this world still serve the fae.”

“Serve? How unsurprising.”

“It is better than it once was.” His eyes are hard when he looks at you. “Thousands of fae were slaughtered to give the humans the realm you call earth. Don’t be so flippant about those who cling to ancient tradition here.”

Jimin’s words sting. You curl your fists in fury, hating the way his dismissive tone makes you feel small, ignorant. You know nothing of his world – it gives him no right to speak to you as though you’re a child or causing offense.

Marching up the steps, you intend to tell him just that. Instead, Jimin knocks on a heavy, wooden door down a hallway. You precariously walk across the branch that functions as a walkway, rushing to catch him. The reprimand is on your tongue when the door swings open.

Inside the office it smells like jasmine and citrus. It's dark, lit only by candles. Jimin steps in and bows – he doesn’t have to look at you for you to do the same. The door swings shut behind you as you step into the office proper.

Bookshelves makeup all four walls of the study. They stretch up to the high ceiling, where a painting of the midnight tree glows. There are tables with artifacts and maps rolled atop the surfaces, wax melting over books and dripping onto floors.

Seokjin sits behind a heavy desk, leaning back in his chair with his heavy gaze on you as you follow Jimin to the seats in front of the king. You feel ridiculous sitting in an ornate gown in a meeting-like setting, but you do it anyway. The seat squeaks when you sit, causing you to jump up and turn around as a tiny, fluffy critter climbs from between the cushion and runs away. You’d think it was a mouse – except it was green and had two tales.

With more care, you sit down on the chair before bringing your gaze forward to where the king is watching you.

“You really have no working knowledge of our world.”

It’s not a question. You answer him anyways. “Not really. My grandmother told me stories, but I didn’t think they were real. What I know is limited.”

“She robbed you of your heritage.”

“She was protecting me, I think.”

“From what, I presume?”

Your temper flares. This is the man that killed your grandfather. You try to simmer, shifting in your seat. “No one seems keen on liking me much.”

“You’ve stolen the power of the High Court and quite frankly, your grandmother was not quite loved by this court.”

“Because she was half-human?”

Seokjin raises a brow at your obvious irritation. Your nails dig into the arms of the chair. You cannot imagine what your grandmother must have gone through, being half-human and thought less of. It must have been difficult, growing up unfavored and -

“I have a human ancestor as well. That’s hardly the reason. Yvaine acted without the full discretion of the court and bound the power of the High Court to that ring.” His eyes flicker down to the glinting band on your finger. It takes all of you not to move it. “Without considering the eventual consequences. And here we are now, with Jimin trying to steal it under my nose and the Day Court threatening war.”

You're unable to mask your surprise. Seokjin has human blood in him. Your eyes dart to his ears – they're hidden behind silky, black hair. He looks fae – the keen features, smooth slopes of his face and sensuous mouth. And his eyes – you don’t want to remember the feeling of hopelessness as you tumbled into them.

“My mother was half-fae,” Seokjin says, sensing your disbelief. “Though there are many who scorn half-fae, I’m not one of them.” His gaze flickers to Jimin, who stares straight ahead. A sinking feeling pulls at you, remembering that Jimin had called out that very trait of yours.

Seokjin continued, “You’re ill-received because Yvaine went on her little hero campaign without consulting any of the courts and without care and without considering that the consequences in the future might be worse than the consequences of delay processes among the courts.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t,” Seokjin agreed. “She bought the world temporary piece from an enemy that could have been dealt with. Now the High Court is dying, fae are fighting over their lands, and there are strange misgivings about the world. And yet despite that, your presence here is more trouble than you’re worth. My enemies will seek to replace me with you.”

“Which is why,” Jimin cuts in, “I was looking for the ring, and I’ve found it. I’m not trying to deceive you, brother. I want to use the ring to restore the balance in the High Court.”

“And give yourself a throne.”

“The throne is my birth right.”

“The throne corrupted your father; how do we know it won’t corrupt you? You aren’t the most honest of us and you’re certainly the most cunning.”

“How you feel about my methods aren’t a factor. The High Court needs a king, and I’m the only heir.” Jimin leans back, looking Seokjin up and down. “Unless, of course, you intend on making the High Court a part of the Night Court, which would make you just as greedy and treacherous as the others.”

Seokjin’s grin is unkind. You watch the silent standoff between the two of them. Jimin seems self-satisfied. It appears he’s guessed at Seokjin’s intentions. “You swore fealty back to her,” Seokjin comments, flicking a finger at you. You’re surprised by the change of subject. “Why?”

“She is my vassal.”

“Kings don’t swear fealty to their servants.”

“They used to.”

Rage flares in Seokjin’s face. You feel the temperate in the room cool, gooseflesh appearing on your skin as Seokjin sits a little straighter, eyes boring in to Jimin’s. You have to give Jimin credit, he doesn't back down from the king. He stares at the older without trepidation. “

I’m not stupid, Jimin.” Each word is clipped as Seokjin speaks. “You bound yourself to her because she’s a powerful ally. Is she a Shade?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Jimin rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer the question. You realize he can’t answer the question. He can’t lie. “She doesn’t want the throne.”

“Is she a Shade?”

“I don’t know the extent of what gifts she has.”

“You aren’t answering the question.”

“I’m not a Shade,” you huff. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not what I am. I summoned magic a single time - I burned Jimin when he tried to take me from my grandmother’s attic.”

Seokjin glances at you. “Burned out.”

“Like a hot poker,” you answer easily. You remember the way the iron burned him. “Nothing else.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

Seokjin grins. “Show me what you did.”

You begin to protest before you realize the iron won’t harm him. He’s a fae who can lie. You realize why your grandma mentioned it – like her and like you, Seokjin has the ability to lie. His vows and sworn promises mean nothing. The iron won’t harm him wither.

Glancing at Jimin, you find no help. He seems uninterested in the request, leaving you to figure it out for your own.

You don’t know how to replicate what the ring did. You don’t even know how you conjured the shadow fire the first time when Jimin betrayed Hoseok. You remember being angry – so so angry and finding that pulse of energy.

It is there now. You reach toward it – like a stone of pulsing other in your mind, both separate and together from you. Licking your lips, you tentatively lift your hand and lean forward. Jimin is aloof in his seat, eyes following your every movement, but you swear there is a moment of panic in his face when Seokjin reaches out for you.

Recalling the snap of energy, you hold on to what it felt like. You focus on it, shaping that burning feeling and imagining it coming from your fingertips. Before Seokjin’s finger can reach yours, there’s a hot snap of feeling in your fingertips and the air smells singe as Seokjin jerks his hand back. You visibly sink into the chair, relief flooding you.

“Simple defense magic,” Seokjin observes. His attention settles on Jimin. “A side effect of the ring?”

Jimin nods. “She grew up without the ability to use magic.” It’s true in part – Jimin leaves out that whatever gifts you had were bound. “I want to unbind the ring from her.”

Seokjin sighs. “Jimin -”

“Listen to me. The High Tree is dying. My father’s people are dying. I have no intention to assert myself over the courts like he did. I have only the desire to serve my people. Let me unbind the ring from her. She is united in my cause.”

“I am,” you offer. “I don’t want his magic. And I don’t want to rule – I just... want to make things right.”

Seokjin taps the top of the table for a bit. He sighs again and gestures to you. “Have her trained. I will not have one of the gentries of my court acting like a fool. Traditions, magic, light fighting. She’ll be able to follow our laws and customs, or she’ll be punished to the extent of any member of this court.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says softly to his brother, bowing his head. “I want the best for the Night Court. I swear it.”

“Your interpretation of what’s best for my court might not be the same as mine.” Seokjin waves a hand. “Leave me. I need to figure out how to answer this reparations demand from King Taehyung.”

You're given a new room – smaller than the one you were dressed in, which you now understand was Jimin’s. There is a connecting door between the two rooms – you ensure to lock it and move a chaise in front of it for good measure.

The room is beautiful. There is no waterfall, but there is a stream that travels the space between the bathroom and the bedroom. There's also a sitting room and a balcony- you avoid the balcony, as Jimin’s balcony is right next to your own.

A jasmine breeze cools the room. You don’t know the true time, but you believe it’s night. The swirling sky above you does nothing to clarify time of day. But you’re bone weary, and you feel heavy as you peel off the dress. The two shadow figures reappear, helping you slip out of it and carefully taking the gown away.

Soreness seeps in your limbs as you approach the massive tub. It's sunken into the floor with natural rock. There are multiple faucets, all of them confusing as you stare at them, unsure which one to turn on. One of the shadowy figures appears and turns to of them – steaming water rushes into the stone tub, a foaming essence coming from the other faucet head.

Immediately the smell of mint fills the room, making you sigh in relief.

“Thank you,” you tell the shadow as it bows and fades through the wall.

Hot water scalds your skin as you step in. You clench your teeth and keep going until you’re soaking to the waist, letting the water turning your skin warm and pink. When the water reaches an appropriate level, you turn off the faucet, sinking down to the chest and finding the small ledge to sit on.

Thoughts swirl like the bubbles in the bath water. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. Jimin kept conversation minimal as he escorted you to the room that you’re now in with posted guards outside the door. Though you suppose you’re expected to be a loyal member of his court, you can’t help but feel like you’re a prisoner.

You miss your mom. You miss your grandmother. You hope Namjoon isn’t worried sick.

Tears that you’ve been choking down since Jimin knocked you out in the attic come. You don’t know if this is some crazy dream – you still doubt the reality of your situation.

You close your eyes and lean your head back. You try to imagine the feeling of your bed. The smell of in your room. You will yourself to wake up. You beg. This has to be a weird chaotic dream – perhaps you’re sick with grief over your grandmother’s death.

That has to be it. So you squeeze your eyes shut, tears running down your cheeks as you sniff, trying to catch your breath.

Opening your eyes, you realize you’re still in the same place. You don’t understand how any of this is real or how you’re expected to learn to survive here. Hoseok’s warning that you may never go home come back to haunt you and you hide your face in your warm hands, crying hard into them.

Despite Seokjin and Jimin’s implications that somehow the High Court dying and courts fighting is your grandmother’s fault, you wish that she could be here with you. You try to float back to that place of twilight, but it doesn’t come.

You are utterly alone.

A presence alerts you. You lift your head from your palms, face swollen from crying. You can barely see through the burn of your tears, but you scream when you see Jimin crouched not far from you at the edge of the tub. You sink further into the water on instinct, using the bubbles to hide yourself.

“What are you doing?” you shriek at him, embarrassed in more ways than one. “Get out!”

“You’re crying.” He says it like it’s the answer to why he’s in your bathroom while you are painfully naked.

“So what? Get out – I'm naked!”

“So what?” He echoes. “You think I haven’t seen naked bodies?”

“I don’t care what you do in your free time, pervert! You can’t just come into my bathroom while I'm bathing! What are you trying to do?”

Jimin appears perplexed. “I don’t understand – it's just a body.”

It dawns on you that Jimin has grown up in Faerie. Their understanding of the body and human customs may be different than yours. In fact, the two smoky shapes that helped you dressed seemed perplexed by your shyness to nudity as well. Still, it doesn’t lessen the terror and vulnerability as you continued to hide in the bubbles.

“Please leave,” you demand evenly. “In the human world, nudity is intimate and not for just anyone to see.”

“Why? Everyone has a body.”

“Because it is, Jimin! I’m incredibly uncomfortable with you sitting there, crouched while I am naked in the water with nothing to defend myself. I have no idea what your intentions are-”

“I told you,” he interrupts. “You were crying. So I came. I’m not going to force myself on you. I don’t do that.”

Nonetheless, Jimin stands up. He walks toward the exit and vanishes to the other side. You sag in relief, but don’t feel comfortable coming out from the bubbles just yet. You're still shaking with anxiety – and a little of excitement, which troubles you.

Again, there is that lingering feeling that it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Jimin saw you. You hate that your mind goes there. Among the terror and the confusion, you hate that your brain makes matters worse by acknowledging insignificant facts, like how beautiful Jimin is or how there is a tiny part of you that craves his attention.

It's like poison and you can’t get rid of it.

You begin to get out of the bathtub when Jimin calls, “I’m still in your room. So if you’re still embarrassed, I suggest having Nox and Nyx dress you in there.”

“Nox and Nyx?” The two shadow fae appear. “Oh,” you hum in surprise. “Those are your names.”

They bow their head and say nothing. You're shy as you clutch the towel to you. One of them – you're not sure if it’s Nox or Nyx – brings you a soft tunic and pants. The other drains the tub and vanishes. When you take the clothes, so does the other.

Dressing quickly, you pad to the room, peeking out of the bathroom first. Jimin is by the balcony, flipping through a book he removed from the shelf. You carefully step over the stream, glancing down and squeaking when you see a strange, eel creature slither by, scales aglow.

“You didn’t think the stream was empty, did you?” You look up at Jimin. He’s in similar clothes – a long, grey tunic and soft linen pants. His earrings glitter in the soft light. His crown is gone. “That’s a real stream – one of many throughout the palace. King Samar spelled the Umbra River hundreds of years ago to pass through here so that he could collect information from the river folk.”

“Fascinating. Why are you in my room intruding?”

“You were crying,” he states again. “And you blocked the door. I was concerned.”

“How did you even know I was crying? And what do you care if I cry? So far, you’ve kidnapped me, asked me to lie, betrayed your friend, knocked me out twice, and have physically assaulted me. I think I have some reason to cry.”

He frowns. “I told you I didn’t wish to hurt you.”

“And yet, you have.”

“Hurt is inevitable.” He snaps the book shut and replaces it on the bookshelf. “Why were you crying?”

“Why do you care?”

“I pledged myself to you. My life is forever bound to yours. If you’re in danger, I'm bound by ancient magic to protect you.”

“Oh.”

You still didn’t understand the weight of his words. Seokjin had not been happy when Jimin recited your vow back to him. You had been surprised, sure, but you figured it was another one of Jimin’s ploys. It had not occurred to you that his words were more than words, and that they bound him to your life.

“I was upset,” you admit carefully. To keep a distance, you sit on the edge of your bed, spine rod straight. Jimin doesn’t move from near the balcony. “I don’t know anything about this place, I’ve been banged up pretty good, and none of you like me.”

“I don’t mind you.”

“You’re not very nice to me.”

“You make me impatient.”

“Well I don’t know what you expect from me. You keep asking me to just know and understand what you want. But I don’t.” You grind your teeth. “Where is Hoseok.”

“Where he’s supposed to be.”

You throw your hands up in the air. “And you wonder why I'm upset. Go away, Jimin.”

“I can’t tell you everything all the time. It's too dangerous. I’m not keeping you in the dark for pleasure.” instead of answering him, you crawl into your bed and pull back the covers. It smells soothing like lavender. You pull the thick blankets to your chin, sighing in relief. “Shade...”

“Go away. And stop calling me Shade before your brother zaps me.”

There are soft footsteps. Jimin appears at the edge of your bed, peering down at you. You growl and roll in the other direction, away from him. Your heart twists when you do it. The juxtaposition of his soft caring and refusal to enlighten you is dizzying.

“Jin isn’t going to zap you – there are about a hundred different glamours in this room. He can’t hear us, and neither can any of his little spies.”

“What about the eel in the river?”

“Rela is my spy. She’s harmless.” Of course, the eel had a name. “You’re being particularly whiney. Where's the woman who threatened to burn me to a crisp?”

“She’s exhausted and scared, Jimin.” You pull the blankets closer. “Just leave me alone.”

Jimin says nothing. He doesn't make a sound and you’re unsure if he’s moved until his voice comes to you from the main entrance of your room. His words are soft as a feather. “I’m sorry for hurting you. And I’m sorry if I’m the reason you cried.”

The click of the door is the only sound the follows.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and shut out everything, eventually drifting to sleep.

Pain blooms in your ribs, hot and sudden. You gasp for air, dropping the wooden weapon in your hand and gripping your ribs as you double over. It's hard to breathe, the wind forced out of you by Iarlath’s blow. You try to pant through it as your vision blinds with sweat. When you feel like you can stand again, you do so slowly, hand pressed against the tender flesh.

Purple, green and yellow bruises cover your skin. Every time you peel your clothes off to soak, you feel horror at seeing the wounded flesh. They fade slowly and they’re ugly, but you have less of them than you did two weeks ago.

Iarlath waits impatiently, sighing loud enough for you to hear as he sticks the end of his wooden sword in the ground, leaning on the cross guard. You catch your breath and wipe the sweat from your brow with the long sleeve of your tunic – it’s charcoal grey and stained with dirt. No matter how many clothes you bleed on and soil with the earth beneath you, a fresh one is given to you by Nox and Nyx every day.

“How many times must I tell you to bring your arms in closer?” Iarlath drawls.

You glare at the weapons master. He’s much taller than you, ebony skin like the night sky and braided hair that is blacker still. His vulpine features are sharp and intelligent, with keen eyes and a blade then nose. He's beautiful in an alien way, but his uncanny silver eyes make it difficult to hold his gaze.

And the fact that for every morning he has beat you into a pulp with mandatory weapons lessons.

Iarlath has made it clear that training you is beneath him. Every time he disarms you and goes easy on you, he’s sure to remind you that he should be training better warriors. Those of important station. Not a human-blooded brat who whines every time she takes a whack.

His own words, not yours.

Stretching to pick up your practice sword makes your body scream. You dodge more of the fae’s attacks now, but you never land your own blows. Your arms still tremble when you hold the wooden sword and your footwork is clumsy.

It feels hopeless. And yet it’s still not nearly as bad as your glamour lessons with Sylvie. The only time you find peace is in the library with the lore master Quinn, an odd little brownie who speaks in odd turns of phrase. Sylvie hates you silently and you don’t think Quinn hates you at all, but Iarlath is relentless.

“You remain hopeless,” he observes. “Sword up. Protect your sides and stop holding your sword at arm's length or you’re going to be dismembered.”

Gritting your teeth, you take your stance: knees bent gently, elbows tucked and arms in. Your hands squeeze the grip as you watch Iarlath remove his weapon from the ground. He moves like water, slipping over the grass and into form in a way that you know you will never master.

You try to look at Iarlath’s eyes to see where he wants to attack – observe where the eyes look and move. Watch the way the body twists, and block.

Still, you don’t see the blow coming. He moves so quickly that one moment he is in front of you and the next, pain is exploding on the side of your head. The earth moves swiftly to meet you. You're a boneless pile, groaning and unmoving as the pain spreads rapidly. Your vision blinks on the edges and you’re sure you’re going to pass out.

Voices are dulled as you blink, seeing stars. A pair of feet appears in your field of vision. Rolling you your back – which makes the pain throb wildly – you look up to see Jimin staring down at you. You're surprised – you haven’t seen him in two weeks. Only from a distance and even then, briefly. He's made himself scarce since the scare in the washroom.

Which confuses you – you're supposed to be his vassal.

The question escapes you before you can stop it from slipping out, the same question you ask each of your teachers. “Where’s Hoseok?”

It's something you ask everyone you come across. No one gives you a satisfying answer. What is Hoseok? Quinn had inquired back, frustrating you further.

You don’t know why your loyalty to a faerie you barely know is so fierce, but you worry about him. He was willing to help you and you haven’t managed to locate his whereabouts.

Jimin sighs, looking up to the sky. His exasperation is obvious. “He’s back home where you first met him.” The answer shocks you. But not nearly as much as when Jimin offers you a hand. Instead of taking it, you push yourself up. The world spins and you stumble, Jimin catching you to keep you from falling back down. The pain in your head is so severe that your stomach turns. “Take help when offered.”

You jerk away from him. “I don’t need it.”

Instead of responding, Jimin turns to Iarlath, who is watching with an apathetic gaze. “How are your lessons?”

“Abysmal. She does not learn. She has the ferocity but lacks the elegance.”

“Any suggestions?”

Iarlath seems thoughtful. You scowl at him over Jimin’s shoulder, a little braver now that the prince is standing between you and the man who haunts your mornings. “Her grandmother was an archer. Perhaps the sword is not for her.”

Jimin sighs. “Not great in a close fight.”

“Yvaine managed. Arrows are equally good for stabbing in a pinch.”

Jimin nods and dismisses Iarlath. “Tomorrow.”

With a deep bow and a soft, Your Highness, Iarlath leaves without giving you a second glance.

Jimin turns back to look at you, green eyes flickering. He looks impeccable, not a silver hair out of place. He’s dressed in a sky-blue shirt, sheer enough that you can see the lithe figure underneath. His pants are white today, and the lace on the sleeves is the most delicate silver you’ve ever seen. His circlet is a simple one today, just twisted pieces of silver.

You waver. Your head is pounding and the urge to vomit begins to grow. He nods toward the exit of the garden to the south. “Let’s pay a visit to Sumi. They can fix you up.”

“Suddenly you’re playing tour guide?”

The concept of a tour guide seems to elude Jimin, his round eyes hint enough. You push past him, tossing the wooden sword to the ground as you go. When you realize he’s not following, you turn to see him picking it up and putting it back in its rightful place. The image immediately makes you feel guilty.

“Were you lying about Hoseok?” you ask, trying to ignore the way you walk tilted and uneven.

Jimin reaches you pull you back to walk a straight line but you pull your arm away, avoiding his touch. You hate the way your skin warms at the contact. Just having him next to you for the first time in two weeks makes you dizzy.

You're effected by him and you hate it. You dream of him, when you dream at all. You wake up and you swear the scent of orange blossom lingers in your room, as though he was just there, and you’ve missed him. Every time you spot him across the way, it’s like the room fades away and there’s just Jimin.

But your life is not a fairy tale – not in the traditional sense. It is not like the movies, where it’s just you and Jimin. There are very real dangers and though something in you cries for him, you hate him. He is everything wrong with your life and he has abandoned you.

Until now.

“Faeries cannot lie.”

“We have established you’re good at omitting the truth. Saying ‘he’s back home where you first met him’ can mean he’s just in the Night Court, since that’s his home and I met him in the Night Court.” Jimin stops walking. You turn and look at him, heading spinning. “What?”

“You’re starting to think like the fae.” He walks past you, beckoning you to follow. “Good. I was not playing on words – Hoseok is back at his cabin at the south edge of the Night Court. Unharmed, though angry at me. We’ll see him soon.”

“I doubt he wants to see you again.”

“You’re right, but he has no choice.”

You don’t respond. You want to ask why he’s been avoiding you, but you don’t. You know he isn’t avoiding you – he has no need for you until he figures out how to unbind the ring from you. Something, that you thought, would be a much faster process than it had been thus far. You had hoped it would only take a few days.

It had been two weeks and the ring was still on your finger, and you were unsure if Jimin had figured out who the maker was.

In your lore lessons with Quinn, you learned that there were two types of powerful skill among the fae: the namers and the makers.

The namers inherently knew the true names of all things, gaining incredibly power over them. They were born with a sense to feel the nature of an object, creature or person, giving them the ability to manipulate it.

Makers were fae who could make things into existence. They didn’t need the true names of things, because they made the true names of creations. The Maker was the first of these fae – creating life and courts from the power within her.

You know that these fae are gone now. There's no known makers or namers, though there are rumors. Faeries could be particularly gifted at naming after years and years of research, but no one could learn to be a maker.

Quinn theorized that the ring on your finger was made by a maker to hold the power of the High Court. When you asked if Quinn knew any, he had replied in his normal, puzzling way: Does Quinn ever really know anyone? To know is to see, and to see inspires grief. No, Quinn doesn’t like to know.

Sumi's corner of the palace is familiar to you. It's on the ground floor with open doorways overlooking the pond, small cots usually empty and the sound of rippling water and the giggling nyads that like to swim in the lake, much to Sumi’s annoyance.

The room smells of witch hazel and earth, immediately calming your senses as you hobble to your favorite cot – it's the furthest away from the pond and the big black eyes of the nyads and other creatures that swim by. You swear you saw the razor-sharp teeth of a kelpie when you were recovering from a bad gash in your head and Sumi had left the room.

Sumi herself is a tiny fae. You're not sure what kind, you’ve never asked. She is rotund but moves quickly, her green skin waxy. Her face is slightly squished and her large, circular eyes remind you somewhat of a frog.

When she sees you, she begins to frown, thick lips curling into irritation. “What has the human done to herself today?”

Sumi doesn’t notice that Jimin has entered the room as she moves around your cot, grunting. She drops her jar of poultice when she hears Jimin’s voice answer, “Iarlath is hard on her.”

“Your Highness! I apologize, I didn’t see you there.”

Jimin sits on the edge of your cot. You scoot away from him, nearly growling. Sumi looks horrified at your display of irritation, but Jimin smirks. He turns to address her, “That’s alright. Just making sure my friend got here safely. She took a good knock on the head.”

Sumi works faster than she ever has when you’ve come alone. You know she isn’t mean to just you – she reserves her nasty attitude for everyone except the royals, it seems. That is gone now as she begins asking you questions, checking your eyes and whipping up something to help with your concussion right away.

“We’re friends now?” you ask Jimin, unable to help yourself. “In what world?”

“You are my vassal, and I am your lord.” He leans forward on one arm, eyes narrowing. They're jade green today, calm waters after a storm. “And you haven’t been addressing me properly.”

“I apologize my lord, how would you expect me to use your ornate title when I never see you, my lord?”

“If you miss me, just knock on the door we share.”

You scoff. His eyes hold mirth, glittering as he falls silent when Sumi returns. She forces you to drink a terrible, bitter tonic and applies a salve to your additional bruises. She gives you a handful of small bottles with cork stoppers, instructing you to drink them once every four hours.

Jimin thanks Sumi, making a lotus appear when he unfolds his hand. She giggles with delight and bows repeatedly in a kinder voice than she has ever used with you. You don’t know why it grates your nerves, but it does. You leave the room as she thanks him again.

A jasmine breeze follows you as you sweep down the halls toward the library. You're thankful you have no lessons in glamour today. You can’t bear the thought of struggling even more after being knocked around. Lore with Quinn doesn’t start for roughly another hour – though time is relative to the faerie. He shows up when he feels like it, often leaving you alone for an hour or scolding you that you’re late.

You turn to the east of the palace and flinch when Jimin falls into step with you. You had not realized he caught up with you. The sight of him and his affection for Sumi turns your stomach sour. You walk faster, but he keeps pace no problem.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking.”

“Where are you walking?”

“In the hall.”

You snap. “What do you want, Jimin?”

He moves so quickly that you don’t register what’s happened until you’re pinned against the wall, his hand pressed against the center of your chest. He doesn’t grip your through, but the pressure of his hand weighs on you as you gasp, startled. He's an inches away from you, sweet breath on your lips. Your heart rate skyrockets as he leers down at you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says the words so quietly you almost don’t hear them. You blink up at him, unable to look away. You can almost count each one of his eyelashes and the seven freckles are there again. “There are fae loyal to my brother around the corner who can hear how informally you speak to me. I must look harsh - I apologize.”

Your eyes dart to the side. You see the fae come around the corner – they look human enough, though one has hair that is sapphire blue. Her eyes are pinned to you an Jimin with interest as Jimin slides his hand to your throat, fingers pressing firmly on the sides to dampen your airflow.

Panic is not what fills you as he bares his teeth and growls. You lean away from him, breathless as you push yourself into the stone wall behind you. You suppose you look afraid but you're not – it's worse than that. Heat pools in your stomach and you feel a wave of attraction to Jimin flood through you.

The grip on your throat tightens just a little, his bared teeth centimeters from the soft flesh of your throat. You don’t know why, but you roll your head to the side, showing him the smooth skin there. Vulnerable. Open. It's a submissive act and you know it – you hate it, but your instincts are screaming to do it.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t sink my teeth in.” Jimin’s voice is no longer a growl. It's low and shaking, his breath hot against your skin. You shiver under him, and his pupils dilate, feeling you. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just make you mine.”

You have no idea what he means. But whatever the passing fae see there must work, because they snicker as they walk by. Jimin doesn’t acknowledge them. He’s pressed up against you. Rough hands like silk against your skin. The smell of orange blossom.

The memory of the music that you chased down almost two weeks ago makes you flinch. Jimin pushes off you when he feels your sudden spike of panic. There's a dark expression on his face as he backs away from you, but you barely register it. The song that you heard – the swelling strings and soft voice – it’s strong again and the feelings from that night return.

Licking your lips, you step away from Jimin, eager to get away from him and the memory of the music, of that voice calling you. But it doesn’t leave.

“Enaid,” you murmur, turning to Jimin. He is statue still. It's unnatural, the way he can go motionless. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink. “What does that word mean?”

“Why?”

“You said that the night I swore fealty to you. When I went running after the music.” Your fingers tangle in the dirty edges of your tunic. “What does it mean?”

“It means different things to different people.”

“What does it mean to you?”

That stumps him. One of his fingers taps his leg as he’s in thought, eyes looking you up and down. “It’s just something I thought would break the spell that night. Come on, Quinn is waiting.”

Quinn is waiting. You enter the library, silent and wary. Jimin goes off on his own, throwing himself on one of the velvet, emerald couches near the fireplace. The fire is pink today – or tonight, as it always is – casting a magenta light over the carpet and Jimin’s hair. You can’t figure out why the fire changes colors, and whenever you ask Quinn the answer is the same: magic.

Ignoring the prince, you find the brownie shuffling through papers on one of the many tables in the library. The stacks go up several floors. You know if you look up, you’ll see vines among the shelves, and bats and birds flitting in the empty space.

No one else is among the stacks. It is the only place you have to yourself, much like the morning beating sessions with Iarlath.

“Hello, Quinn,” you greet, sitting down at the table. He is spilling ink all over one of the documents. He looks suspiciously like Dobby from Harry potter, though he’s dressed much better with a dark green tunic and brown pants. Spectacles sit on his massive eyes as he blinks owlishly at you. “How are you today?”

“You are late.”

“You are early.”

“Time is something mortals made up,” Quinn answers. He mops the black ink with his sleeve. “We faeries have forever. Mortals?” He snaps and there’s a wisp of smoke between his dark fingers. “Like smoke, burnt out so quickly.”

“Thanks.”

Quinn puts his hands on his hips, frowning at you. His eyes are bright yellow and inquisitive. “You are not just mortal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are not just mortal.”

“Does that mean I wouldn’t age?”

He shrugs. “How would Quinn know? Not many of you. You all get murdered.”

“Quinn,” Jimin warns. His voice is like a whip, startling the brownie. He turns around and looks at the prince, who is glaring from where he lounges with his hands behind his head. “That was not very kind of you.”

“Quinn was not brought here to be kind,” the brownie quips. He shuffles to a pile of books and drops them in front of you without ceremony. “And Master Jimin should not put his shoes on the velvet. Very unkind.”

“Ignore him,” you mutter. “I usually do.”

“Apt advice, human.”

Across the room, Jimin makes a disagreeable sound. You and the brownie both ignore him as Quinn goes into a lesson completing veering off from the day before. You sigh, unsurprised by his change of course but disappointed. You had left off learning about the nature of true names and how they world. It was a fascinating, complex system, and was largely the reason your grandmother told you never to give your name to the fae.

But names and true names were not the same thing. While even given names had power, everyone had a name that marked their very being, their soul. A true name was the very essence of something. Many fae were born with the innate knowledge of their own true name, but you couldn’t begin to think what yours would be.

Still, given names could lead fae to suspect what your true name was. So you only used your first name – never nicknames, never surnames.

While Quinn rambled about banshees, your mind wandered. You already knew what banshees were – faeries that could sense death, screaming as they felt the passing of a life not yet taken. The thought of them gave you a shiver. You didn’t have any plans to meet the haunted faeries of the Night Court.

You wonder what Jimin’s true name would be. You glance at him. He's reading something, flipping through pages. You can’t see his face, but it’s like he senses you. He dips the top of the book down to peer over at you, eyes piercing. You frown and look away, nose and cheeks pink.

It would probably be something about being two-faced, you decide. Or perhaps about being a liar. Jimin says one thing but does another at every chance he gets. You want to think that perhaps he’s kind – there are moments you see raw kindness and the way he treats his people... they love Jimin.

But if Jimin was kind, you wouldn’t be here. Bound to him and some stupid quest to rid yourself of the ring on your finger.

“Can I ask you something, Quinn?”

“Human already asks Quinn many questions.”

Jimin snorts. You smile without mirth. “What does enaid mean?”

The prince is up and storming toward you with fury in his eyes in a moment. You ignore him, despite the mounting tension in the air. Quinn frowns as he sets down his book, peering through his glasses. “Why does human want to know about soul-”

Jimin shouts something in a language foreign to you. Quinn whimpers, immediately going to his knees and covering his ears, cowering. You shoot to your feet as Jimin grabs your wrist, yanking you from your seat. With an explosion of fury, you slap at him. A spark pops between the two of you, sending him stumbling backwards. The air smells singed – like when you shocked Seokjin – and Jimin snarls.

Quinn is still cowering when you kick a chair at Jimin who approaches again – but this time, the chair chares to ash immediately. You realize with a shock that you’re outline with dark flame again, the shadows licking hungrily around you.

Good. You’re on even ground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you demand, feeling the shadows flare.

“You never leave well enough alone!” he shouts back. Jimin kicks a chair and it splinters. You throw a book at him – and another and another. They turn to ash before they can hit the prince in the head like you want. The room is darker than you remember and the fire in the fireplace flashes red to black.

Darkness writhes around Jimin’s fingertips. The air is thick, crackling with magic. His face is terrifying, the twisted anger that you remember that first day. Fear shoots to your stomach – Jimin is a prince of the Night Court. Though people seem to love him, he’s also powerful and old.

And yet you’re angry. You’re mad at him for everything he’s done leading up to this moment. Angry at him for the body aches, angry at him for the confusion, angry at him for the fear, angry at him for the way that even when you hate him, even when you want to cry in anguish, you still want to take a step toward him, to cross that threshold.

“You always push,�� Jimin seethes. “It’s going to get you killed.”

“Yeah? Then kill me!” you shout. Anger is good. Anger is safe. “Just cut the fucking ring off and be done with it! Enough games!”

“I’m not playing games!”

“You are! One moment you’re nice, the next you’re mean. You say things that you have no intention on explaining and-” you huff, surprised at how much you want to cry. “- and you left me all alone in this palace to get my ass kicked every morning, to get yelled at by these teachers you gave me, and then you show up today like we’re friends.”

Jimin deflates. He closes his eyes as you pant, heaving with anger. The room lightens again as he calms down. “Y/N – “

“So excuse me if I push you, but you cannot ask me to suffer in silence. I won’t do it.” You point to Quinn, who is cowering on the floor. “Where is the prince who said he’d do anything for his people? That doesn’t look like the kindness you’re capable of.”

Jimin’s face is impassive. He murmurs, “Hurt is inevitable.”

Without another word, Jimin turns on his heel and leaves the room. You’re trembling as he goes, feeling heated coursing through every part of you. Your flames die out as though they were never there, leaving swiftly with the threat of Jimin’s power.

When you’re sure he’s gone, you turn to Quinn who is still on the floor.

Kneeling slowly, you look around the table at Quinn. You lower your voice, holding your hands up as a surrender. “Are you okay, Quinn? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry.” Quinn looks at you and nods. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Mistress.”

You frown. It’s the first time he’s ever called you that – he’s always referred to the royal family as Master Jimin and Master Seokjin – but he has always just called you human. You don’t think the change in title is a coincidence, but you don’t push him.

“I’m sorry. What did… what did Jimin do to you?”

“He used Quinn’s true name.”

Your mouth opens slightly. “He knows your true name?”

“Quinn belongs to the royal family. First to Master Samar, and then to Master Seokjin. The masters know Quinn’s true name.”

“Belongs?” You question. “They own you?”

“Yes.” Quinn looks at your hands. “Mistress is a Shade.”

“Yeah, whatever that means.”

You sit on the floor. “I’m sorry he hurt you, Quinn.” The brownie edges toward you. You hold out your hand and he waddles over, sitting on the floor across from you. He’s suspicious, looking at you up and down. “I won’t use the shadow flame – I don’t know how. I won’t hurt you like Master Jimin.”

He offers you his hand – his skin is clammy and rough, but you hold it anyway. “Can you tell me about naming, Quinn? Let’s talk about naming.”

Because if naming can give you power over a person, you think perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to contemplate Jimin’s true name after all.

Quinn tells you quietly about naming and you commit each word to memory. Because you’ll be damned if Jimin ever does that again in front of you.

A new plan forms in your mind. When you leave the library, you collect some books on the faerie language and alphabet. With a new determination to learn Jimin’s name, you rush to your room for the night.

And you pull more furniture in front of the door that splits your room from Jimin’s. Nyx and Nox even help you, bowing and skipping away when you thank them.

Another two weeks goes by without Jimin approaching you again. Your bruises aren’t as terrible now that Iarlath as switched to teaching you archery, but your mood doesn’t improve with the dragging days.

Dark bags are reflected back at you. Your face is different. With blistered fingers from pulling the taught string of the practice bow, you trace your cheekbones. They feel sharper, more pronounced. The color of your eyes seems richer, brighter. Tracing along your nose and the slope of your mouth, the frame of your face feels alien.

Tilting your head, your hair falls to the side. With careful hands, you pull the long hair back, brushing the top of your ear. You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but the ear there feels more tapered. Sharper than before. Quickly, you cover it with your hair again and back away from the mirror.

You have no idea who the creature is staring back at you. Because it can’t be you. You look all wrong, and it terrifies you. Ducking away from the mirror, you got back to the large bed, crawling under the covers.

A shadow appears, placing a glass of water next to your bed. You smile fondly. “Thanks,” you whisper. You think it’s Nox, who bows their head and vanishes.

Nox, you’ve come to notice, is the bolder of the too. Nyx is shier, leaving things without being seen. They are the steadiest companions you have. Even though they don’t speak, you’re grateful for them.

You skipped lessons with Iarlath that morning. No one came looking for you, so you skipped your magic lessons too. After a month of practice, all you have managed is the same static shock that you had used on Jimin and Seokjin, but beyond that, you are unable to tap into that bead of energy that still hums with you now.

The room is dark. Wind gutters out the candles as you curl further into your bed. There is meat and cheese left near the door for you from Nyx, but you leave it untouched. You have no appetite. And you don’t want to leave the bed either.

Night creeps into further night. You miss the sun more than you realize and you start to resent the swirling constellations outside of your balcony.

Hours or minutes pass by and there’s a knock on your door. You don’t move to answer it. You’re sure someone is angry you’ve skipped lessons for the day, but you don’t care. You’re no closer in your studies to figuring out Jimin’s true name – now your only plan of escape – and Jimin seems to have abandoned looking for a way to remove the ring from your finger.

Closing your eyes, you see your mom. You want to run to her and tell her she was right – you should not have gone looking in the attic. A kind of tired that you’re unfamiliar with drags you and it feels like you’re sinking further into the bed and further away from the memory of her.

Even picturing Namjoon is difficult. It’s only been a month – at least, in Faerie. The journal next to your bed is pinned open with a mug to show the tally marks you make every day.

It’s day thirty-one.

The knock comes again but you ignore it.

Down down down the tiredness pulls you until there’s nothing left but darkness.

It’s freezing in the dark room. You swivel your head back and forth. It feels heavy, this unknown place. And though you’re sure that you’re not awake, you don’t feel asleep.

Prickling awareness comes to you. The shroud of darkness is not unlike that clouded shield that followed you weeks ago when you had walked the palace halls after swearing fealty to Jimin. There is nothing that you can perceive beyond the shadow.

Ahead, there is a man sitting in a chair. At least – the shape is that of a man, but you can’t see his fac. It’s darkened and featureless. Something about it sends a child through your spine as you walk forward on soundless steps.

Hello, the voice greets. It’s the deepest voice you’ve ever heard, reaching deep within you and rattling your ribcage. You have wandered to a strange place.

I did not mean to, you answer carefully. I thought… I think I am dreaming.

To dream is to wander. What is your name?

I have many names. You’re hesitant in your answer. You still cannot make out his features and the prickling sense begins to feel sharper – a sense of wrongness. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, I’ll be on my way.

Stay. The voice steals your breath away, ringing like iron. You suddenly feel pressure pushing down on your chest. It’s so strong and you begin to panic. If you are here, it means one of my children find you a suitable host.

Host?

What is your name?

I have no name.

He hums, contemplative. The pressure turns into something sharp like a blade. You think you’re screaming – you can hear your own scream but you’re not screaming in your locked dream scape. A hot knife is tearing at your chest, but you can’t move your hands.

You carry the shadow within you – and something else. The High Court? His laugh is terrifying. Oh you will be a good host.

The pain mounts and so does you’re scream. Everything is on fire and it feels like your chest is being cracked open. It reaches its peak and –

A horrible snarl drowns out a high-pitched noise that you belatedly realize is you. You’re screaming, arched off the bed as something rips from your chest. It feels like someone has pressed a hot iron between your breasts, the skin blistered and peeling with pain.

You can’t stop screaming as the room slowly pieces together in your vision. A wolf the size of a horse near the foot of your bed, a faerie between his teeth as the wolf shakes. Blood flies from his jaws, the faerie screaming and thrashing as the creature bites down harder.

A shadowy splatter looks particularly haunting near the doorway. There’s another near the floor of the washroom, black ichor puddled. A dead faerie you don’t know lays near the splatter, and there is another by the doorway where Night Court guards pour in.

You’re still crying out in pain, hands clutching your chest. It hurts – more than anything you’ve ever felt. Hot tears spill down your cheeks as you gasp for air but it’s hard, your lungs struggling to work around the searing heat that singes its way through you.

Jimin materializes in front of you. He’s straddling your waist, blocking you from the vision of the wolf – you think, it might be Jungkook – tearing into the faerie. You hear the snap of bounds and a shriek. The sound would make you sick if you weren’t shrieking under Jimin’s weight tearing at your tunic with your own hands.

My chest my chest my chest my chest.

“I’m going to cut your tunic open I’m sorry – no one will look but me,” Jimin murmurs. You don’t realize that you were screaming the words to him – my chest my chest my chest – until he slides the dagger he stole from you through the shirt. “Fuck.”

“Jimin, it hurts, please!”

“I know, fuck I know,” his tone is soft. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll fix it, Enaid.”

It doesn’t matter that you’re naked from the waist up. You don’t think twice about the compromising position, bare breasts displayed for Jimin. You look down to where his gaze is fixed – there is no lust there, only horror – to the black spot that looks like rotted, burned flesh.

You scream louder. You squeeze your eyes shut – your heart is pounding and it becomes the only thing you can hear. The deep beat of your heart mounting and mounting and mounting and you’re sure you’re going to have a heart attack.

Darkness sweeps in all at once and all you know is nothing.

Enaid. Wake up, please.

Please.

Your tongue feels heavy and your head is fuzzy. It feels like there’s cotton in your ears and holy fuck you are thirsty. All you can think about how thirsty you are as you blink your eyes open, ceiling spinning above you.

Groaning, you turn on your side and squeezes your eyes shut. Your chest hurts a little and the memories of the pain snap back like a rubber band, catapulting you up in bed with a gasp.

Your hands shoot to your chest – you’re covered again thankfully, a soft tunic protecting your modesty once more. Your curious hands go up your shirt, feeling the bandages that are wrapped around you. With a sigh, you close your eyes for a moment, collecting yourself.

When you open your eyes again, you see Jimin sitting next to you.

It takes you a moment to form thoughts. His hair is disheveled and he’s in what you consider pajamas – white buttoned shirt half-opened at the collar and linen pants. There’s no jewelry, no crown. It’s just Jimin and though his skin is glowing, you see the little signs that he’s not in his normal state of dress

Jimin’s lips are chapped and scabbed, as though he had been picking at them. Fae have remarkable healing, making you wonder how much he was peeling at his soft lips to inflict lasting damage. He seems paler than usual – you’re unsure if lack of sleep can affect the fae, but he looks off. Not as polished. Still beautiful, but it’s not the radiance you’ve learned to loathe.

“You asked for water,” Jimin reminds you, offering you a bronze cup. You take it from him, gulping down water. Some of it escapes the sides of your mouth, running down in cold rivulets down your chin and throat. He chuckles, holding his hands out to take it away from you. “Easy, you’re going to choke.”

You gasp and lean back in the soft bed. It smells like orange blossoms and night, and it’s only then you realize you’re not in the medical room on the first floor. You’re in the same room that you were dressed in by Nyx and Nox on your first night in the Night Court.

Jimin’s room, you realize. The sheets are soft and smell like Jimin, making you feel flushed all over. The heat of his closeness is entirely different from the pain you felt before.

“What happened?” you rasp. Your throat is still scratched and rough from screaming. “I… it was so painful.”

Jimin nods and licks his lips. “I have to start back a little for this to explain what happened to you. First, how are you feeling?”

“Not as bad as when Iarlath beats the shit out of me.”

Jimin grins and glances toward his bedroom door. “He’s one of my men standing guard outside the door. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear.”

“He does hate me.”

“He doesn’t, actually. He just has that disposition with everyone.”

“Not with you.”

“I’m the prince.” Jimin smiles. “And he used to, when I was his student.” Jimin gestures to the spot next to you. “May I sit?”

You eye him wearily. “I don’t know, are you going to start screaming at me.” Jimin’s expression is soft and he shakes his head. “Alright, then. Your bed, your rules.”

“Careful,” Jimin warns as he sits down next to you. The bed sinks and pulls you closer. You’re not touching, but you can feel the heat from his body. “Or I might get too distracted to tell the story.”

You’re unsure what he means. He seems in a playful mood, which is mostly unfamiliar to you. You want to point out that he is yet again swinging back and forth between mean and kind, but you keep it to yourself.

“Do you remember the Midnight Tree?” Jimin asks gently. You nod your head that you do and he grins softly. “Each court has a tree like it. they hold the power of each court, protecting it in a way. But the High Tree in the High Court no longer has power – it’s gone too long without someone there to fuel it. They act as wards, in a way, and when they don’t work, other things can slip in.”

“What other things.”

Jimin shook his head. “We don’t know what they are. Just that they’re different, and they can slip into the body of the fae and use them like a host.”

“These others – are they coming through the High Tree?”

“We think so. We haven’t seen many of them. Remember how Jin mentioned that the Day Court was threatening war?” You had forgotten all about that, but recalled Seokjin’s stress when he mentioned it. “One of our own murdered…” Jimin took a deep breath and blew it out. “One of our own murdered King Taehyung’s consort. It has ruined any relationship with the Day Court we once had, and tensions have been mounting since. The faerie who did the act – she was an incredibly close friend to Jin, a full-blooded faerie but when accused, she kept lying.”

“The fae can’t lie.”

“They can’t. Except she wasn’t lying at all – she had no memory of it. It wasn’t until she was sentenced to be put to death that the other revealed itself in a last-ditch attempt to save its host. That was when we realized that they exist, and that they come through whatever door is open.”

You shivered. You remembered the feeling of pain – clear, burning pain like someone was cutting into you. You look at Jimin. “That pain in my chest – it was trying to get in me, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Yena had the same mark on her chest when we killed her. Keep in mind, this was almost a year ago. And it’s been getting worse.”

“What would it want with me?” Jimin was staring straight forward, silent for a few moments. Worry began to gnaw at you. “Jimin?”

His eyes were sad when he looked at you. You were startled – you’d seen him upset in a wide variety, but never sad like this.

“You showed Quinn you were a Shade.” You shrugged, not understanding. It had been an accident, but Quinn hadn’t been afraid of you. “Quinn isn’t loyal to just me, Enaid. He went straight to Seokjin and told him of your ability.”

A shiver goes up your spine. You straighten in bed, looking at Jimin with a severe expression. “Did the king- “

“No,” he cuts you off, sensing your question. “He hasn’t decided what to do with you yet. He’s trying to keep it quiet. There are those who would wish to ally with you and make you a puppet queen. It was Seokjin’s guard – Killian was a host and whatever was in him wished to use you.”

You shake your head. “Quinn…?”

“Did nothing wrong reporting to his master, but he is not your friend.”

That stings. You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. Setting your chin on top of your knees, you close your eyes.

Jimin lets you sit in silence. You think about the way you comforted Quinn after Jimin used his true name. Of the way the small brownie had smiled at you and let you hold his hand. He had been teaching you about naming. You’d started bringing him cream and honey cakes when you could spare them and he seemed fond of it.

Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. You squeeze your eyes, trying to will them away, holding your breath and trying to fight the urge to cry. You thought that maybe Quinn had been starting to be something like a friend.

No. That isn’t true. There was a reason that you had skipped lessons and stayed in bed. It was because it felt performative, like you were trying to win him over but there was still that distance between you. Quinn wasn’t a friend, no matter how much you wanted him to be.

His betrayal is proof of that.

“It’s okay to cry.” Jimin’s voice is a whisper. “You’ve been through a lot. Most of it is my fault.”

“Yes,” you agree. “It is.” You let the tears streak down your cheeks. Jimin has seen you topless, you may as well let him see you cry. “Was that Jungkook in the room last night? The wolf?”

“Yes. He is bound to the heirs of the Night Court.”

“Grandmother’s blood?”

Jimin’s lips twitch as he nods and looks down at his lap. “Yes. Grandmother’s blood. Good to know you can boss the Dreadwolf around, though. He howled the moment you started screaming. I wasn’t in my room or I would have heard the commotion before Killian got to you.”

You nod. Opening your eyes, you stared at the closed door to his room. Something occurs to you and you look at him, sniffing a bit. “There were other bodies in my room. And black splatters?”

“Killion didn’t come alone. And Nox and Nyx tried to defend you.”

A deep ache settles. You cover your face with your hands, pressing the heels of your palms into your closed eyes. You see colors explode across the darkness there but it doesn’t blot out the sudden pain of knowing that the two fae who never spoke a word to you tried to help you.

Wounded and defeated, a sob escapes you. You feel Jimin shift toward you. He seems to think better of it and leans back into his spot. You ignore him, crying into your hands loud and ugly. You feel the snot leaking from your nose, but you can’t bother to be embarrassed.

“Why?” you cry. “Why would they do that? I’m nothing. I am no one. They’re dead because of me.”

“They are guardians of the Night Court bloodline. It was an honor for them to defend you. You’re not no one. You’re not nothing.”

“I’m just a human.”

“That doesn’t equate to nothing. That didn’t mean anything to them.”

You cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin murmurs. “I think I know how to get the ring off, though. I will take you there as soon as you’re able and when it’s off, I’ll return you home. I swear it on my name and my blood, I will take you home.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Get some rest,” he murmurs. “I’ll watch over you.”

Sinking back down into the mattress, you don’t protest. You just sleep.

“Where are we?” you ask as Jimin navigates Umbriel alone a thick line of trees. The world is lighter here, almost like the Night Court is giving away to day. You’ve been riding for almost an entire day, your ass sore and your back aching from sitting stiffly in front of Jimin as he reigned Umbriel. “It’s lighter here.”

The trees still glow, their bioluminescent colors a reminder of where you are. The trip so far had gone smoothly, no attacks, no others, no fighting with Jimin.

You’ve settled into a strained peace with him. He no longer snaps at you and dances around your questions, though you still feel his resistance when he doesn’t want to answer something. You’ve gotten better at reading him, and it’s occurred to you that Jimin doesn’t dislike you as much as you originally thought.

Or he’s just taken pity on you since the attack.

Something tells you it’s the later. He’s gentler with you now, no longer grabbing your wrist when you stretch your hand to touch a pink, glowing flower. He tries to be patient – you can see the gears turning when he grits his teeth when you ask a question, but he answers.

You have to give him a little credit.

“The northeast edge of the Night Court. We share a boarder with the Day Court here.”

You turn in the saddle to look at him. He eyes the trees to the east. “Is it wise to be so close to the Day Court?”

“No. But we must go through their western edge to reach the Winter Court. I don’t wish to cut through the Autumn Court. There are strange stories coming from those lands.”

“Where is the High Court?”

“South. Through the Day or the Spring Court.”

“What was it like there?”

Jimin sighs. It isn’t annoyed or heavy – its thoughtful as Umbriel’s steps follow a careful trail. “I haven’t been there in a long time. But when King Malik ruled justly, it was beautiful. Lots of mountains and open-styled palaces and homes. Vineyards with the best wine in Faerie for miles. The palace is by the ocean, overlooking the most beautiful cove.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“It was. Each court has their own beauty. The Summer Court has magnificent cities built on water and networks of canals. The Spring Court has most of their cities and villages built in the Heaven Trees, the largest trees in all of Faerie. The whole Autumn Court has trees of magnificent, burning orange. The Day Court is one of my favorite places. They live in forever daylight, their fruit and food so lush it could make you cry.”

“What about the Winter Court? That’s where we’re going, isn’t it?”

Jimin hesitates. “The Winter Court is beautiful, but harsh. Their people have suffered horrible massacres. They have only just started to recover, and only recently started letting other courts back into their lands.”

You frown. “What happened?”

“There are beings like our Maker out there in the world somewhere. We believe these other who have been taking over our people are the children of someone like our Maker. Not long ago, there was a being of similar nature to our Maker who massacred the Winter Court. Not many lived.”

That sits heavy in your heart. You think of the massacres on Earth, of the treachery of mankind. Somehow it makes you feel worse that even in a world with magic and beings removed from the human world, cruelty runs deep.

“Why the Winter Court?”

“You will see when we get there. I don’t wish to speak of it now. It’s dangerous.”

You don’t push Jimin. Ever since he began treading lightly around you since your attack, you find yourself being nicer to him. It’s easier, like this. Pretending that you didn’t start off violent or hateful.

You’re anxious, though. You worry that at any moment, he can flip the switch. You remember the anger in the library when you had asked Quinn what enaid was, the way his power had hummed and he looked like a true god of terror.

So you don’t push him. If he’s surprised or grateful, he doesn’t say. Doesn’t tease you that you’re suddenly pliant and listening to what he asks. He’s just as compliant, going along with your little peace until one of you inevitably breaks it.

At a certain point, Jimin stops Umbriel and slides off the saddle. You’re unsure what landmark you’re at – there is a fork in the road. One path heads north and the other south. There are boulders with glowing lichen near the roadside. Jimin climbs up one, looking down the south road with narrowed eyes.

Jumping off the boulder, he comes back to you and gestures for you to get off of Umbriel. Your thighs are quaking as you slide from the saddle, gripping the horn with a white-knuckled grip. Jimin’s hands shoot to your waist when your knees buckle on your landing. Your hands fly to the crooks of his elbows, catching yourself with his strength.

“Thank you,” you murmur, straightening. His brows shoot up. “What?”

“It’s not often you thank me.”

“Perhaps you should do more for me to be grateful for.”

He smiles. “I’ll think on that.” He gestures to the area. “Stretch your legs but don’t go too far. We’re waiting for a friend.”

“You have friends?”

His hand flies to his chest in mock pain as he gasps. Despite the cheesiness, you smile, a laugh escaping you as he continues grinning at you. His smile is wonderful. You wish he would smile more often, but they are so fleeting and rare.

“An ally, then,” he offers. “One who might skin me alive when he arrives, but an ally nonetheless.”

Muscles pull as you stretch. You bend down at the waist, arms hanging low before you wiggle your fingers toward your toes. Slowly, you straighten, exhaling smoothly. Rolling your neck, you reach your arms upward, feeling the pull of your body as you do so.

It’s been a week since the other tried to attack you. Bruises cover your arms from training with Iarlath, which you demanded immediately after you woke up again the second day. Jimin had tried to talk you out of it, but you showed up with a clean tunic on and your arms linked behind your back.

You didn’t complain once. Not when your blisters opened up from pulling the bow tight. Not when Iarlath forced you into combat situations to pull and shoot in rapid fire scenarios, as though you were in the heat of a fight.

Iarlath was nicer to you. Not because you were attacked, but because you met him every morning without complaint immediately after being wounded. Because you stayed longer – you no longer had classes with Quinn – working to improve your archery and attempting some sword work.

Nox and Nyx haunt your thoughts. Even as you walk around, moving your arms and legs to shake the stiffness from your limbs. Two fae who hardly knew you defending you at a cost you couldn’t reverse. It makes you sick every time you think about the black spatters of ichor in your room.

Returning to your room had been impossible. So you slept in Jimin’s. He himself had vacated his room at night, posting guards outside the door. You didn’t want to consider what that meant, that kind of offer. You didn’t want to think too intensely on how much easier it was for you to sleep with the smell of orange blossom.

Instead of thinking, you trained and you went to your medical checkups with Sumi.

At least she was still mean to you. It was the only sense of normalcy you still had.

Hoofbeats make you turn on your heel, looking down the south road. You can’t see the horse that they belonged to, but you drift back to Umbriel, your senses alert and hand hovering above the bow there. You aren’t as good of a shot as you want to be, but you can usually hit moving targets enough to wound them.

The bow is of black wood, carved from a branch of the Midnight Tree. It had been an unsuspected gift from Jimin, explaining that Shades always had weapons made from the tree. You didn’t ask if Seokjin knew he gifted you the bow. You’d just accepted in silent thanks.

There is still the subject of your grandmother telling you Seokjin murdered your grandfather to unravel, but that is for another time.

“It’s just Hoseok,” Jimin assures you. Your brows shoot up as you dart into the road. A rider on a horse appears, the horse trotting lightly up the road. “Your hearing has improved.”

Instead of acknowledging Jimin’s words, you break out into a grin as Hoseok crests the slope. He’s dressed in brown, leather jerkin pulled over a green tunic, gold flames stitched in the sleeves of his tunic. His hair is styled back and though you cannot put your finger on it, he looks different.

Warmth radiates from his smile when he sees you. Sliding from the saddle, he bows his head slightly. Though you barely know him, you’re happy to see him, rushing toward him and wrapping your arms around him, squeezing hard.

“I asked about you every day,” you gasped. He smells like fire and cinnamon. Hoseok returns the hug, gripping you tightly. “I was so worried they’d hurt you.”

“She did annoy me about you every day. Didn’t trust that I took care of you.”

“Why should she?” Hoseok snaps. You step away from him to see that his warmth is reserved for you and not Jimin, who leans against the collection of rocks. “Instead of telling us your plan, you had us captured and had me roughed up.”

“I needed Jungkook to think we were not friends.”

“And when I ‘escaped’ the Night Court?”

You looked at Jimin, brows arched. He smirked as he pushed himself off the rock. “You escape many things, Watcher. No one could think I was involved, especially when my vassal was swearing fealty to me the time of your escape.”

“You set him free?” You can’t keep the surprise out of your voice. “Without Jin knowing?”

“Our allyship is better left a secret for now.” He turns to Hoseok. “Clothes?”

Hoseok digs around his saddle bags and tosses you both tunics. “Once we cross the border, if we come across riders, you’ll address me as Your Highness.” Hoseok notices your sharp look. “I’m a prince of the Summer Court. And outcast one, but one that will be recognized if gentry of the Day Court spot us. Didn’t Jimin tell you?”

“No,” you mutter. Jimin is walking away, pulling the Night Court clothes from his body. You avert your eyes quickly. “He didn’t.”

Jimin’s description of the Day Court is a disservice. The light grew brighter as you crossed the border, passing from twilight into warm sunshine. Azure skies stretch overhead, swollen white clouds lined with pink floating through it.

Everything is brighter in the Day Court. The wind is cool as it rushes through the trees, carrying pink petals. You see dryads peek from behind trees at you, though whenever you turn to get a full glimpse of them, they duck. You hear their giggles on the breeze and it makes you smile.

Hoseok and Jimin are polite, if not a little stiff in their conversation. Jimin takes to pointing at plants and naming them for you as you pass by them. You keep off the road, weaving between trees and keeping in the shade, patches of blue sky exploding through the gaps in the boughs above you.

Umbriel and Hoseok’s horse, Asfaloth, navigate without much direction. They keep close together, steps steady and light. Hoseok joins Jimin in his lessons about the Day Court, walking you through the alliances and hierarchy.

The king of the Day Court – Taehyung is the youngest ruler in Faerie. You recognize his name from Jimin telling you that a member of Seokjin’s court, possessed by one of the other killed his lover. You don’t know him, but the way Hoseok talks of Taehyung with fondness leads you to believe that he is kind. Even Jimin says his name with respect.

There is no queen of the Day Court. Taehyung and his people have been mourning the loss of their queen to be. It’s the reason many of the lands are empty and the reason, Hoseok mentions, that the dryads are shy, hiding behind the trees.

In times of great loss, the Day Court groups together near the palace.

“It is a terrible thing, when the immortal die,” Hoseok murmurs. “Many of us think that we have forever and we forget that we are as vulnerable to a blade as mortals. We often do not live in the now and appreciate what we have. Life can be less beautiful for those who have it forever.”

Hoseok’s words touch you. You nod, though you can’t imagine what it means to live forever. You don’t know how old either of them is – you never thought to ask. “I’m 407. Jimin is 403.” You didn’t realize that you asked the question outload, but you gasp at the numbers, making them laugh.

“That’s nothing,” Jimin murmurs in your ear. His voice is dark and soft, almost a purr. Your toes curl in your boots at the sound. “Seokjin is over a thousand years old and our friend that we’re visiting in the Winter Court is even older.”

“Older and wiser,” Hoseok agrees. “Perhaps he can talk you out of this mission of yours.”

You frown. The mission is simple: Jimin believes that an old ally of his deep in the Winter Court will be able to unbind the ring from you. You ask if this faerie is the maker of the ring. Jimin wasn’t sure, but he’s confident in the possibility. The month that he had you waiting and training at the palace had been full of secret correspondence between the two.

Jimin has not told you the allies name, but he made it a point to ensure that Seokjin did not know the exact nature of the trip. Emissary business and research on unbinding the ring, is what Jimin had promised Seokjin. Had the king of the Night Court not been so eager to put distance between your abilities as a Shade and his own rule, he might have looked harder at it.

Still. Jimin has been alive for over four hundred years, something that you cannot fathom.

A question bubbles to your lips faster than you can stop it. “How did my grandma die of old age, then? Didn’t she live here? How does that work?”

“Those with fae blood will not age in this realm.” Hoseok is thoughtful as he answers you. “Fae blood is dominant, especially when exposed to the natural magic of Faerie. Your grandmother was almost four hundred when she unbound King Malik’s power and stole away to earth. Her and Oberon gave up their immortality – an extremely painful and difficult thing to do – to live human lives.”

“You can give up immortality?”

Hoseok nodded hesitantly. “It is not so easily done. It will feel like living without your soul for the rest of your life, like there is a missing puzzle piece when you’re pretending the picture is whole.”

“Why would she do that?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer. His eyes drift to Jimin, who remains motionless behind you. “To hide from Jin and I. We did not agree with her methods.”

“Her methods saved you,” you mention, defensive.

“And look where we are now.” You glance around as you begin to walk up an incline. Daylight is all around you, warm and inviting. But your gaze drops down to your ring. Jimin seems to feel where your gaze has gone, murmuring, “Not so saved now, are we?”

No one speaks for hours. The weight of Jimin’s words rest heavy on you. Your entire life, your grandmother has been a hero of her own stories. She had battled the evil King Malik and destroyed his power. She had saved the Faerie realm.

But she hadn’t. Not in the long run.

You think Nox and Nyx splattered on the stone of your room. Of the screams of the fae between Jungkook’s jaws. Those things would not happen if there were no other beings slipping in through the weakness that your grandmother had created in the world.

The question hangs unasked on your tongue: did she know taking the power to earth would do this?

It’s an important question. One you need to know. But you don’t ask because the thought of having the final answer is terrifying. Your mind wars between the anti-hero that Jimin paints her out to be and the wonderful woman who protected you your entire life.

Imagining that your grandmother took the power from King Malik and Jimin both while knowing it would cause strife later is… unsettling.

Umbriel stops walking. Jimin straightens and you do too. Hoseok shuffles Asfaloth closer to Umbriel and casts Jimin a glance. You feel Jimin nod and Hoseok reciprocates the movement just as fae gentry appear at the top of the hill.

Like they bled from the trees, there are over a dozen of them. Hoseok urges his mount forward, straightening and leading Jimin, who slips an arm around your waist. You feel tingles all over, but your eyes remain fixed on the knights of the Day Court.

They’re dressed in white, fae of varying types and appearances. There are bows in their hand, arrows nocked as Hoseok approaches, introducing himself as Prince Hoseok of the Summer Court. He apologizes vehemently for the lack of notice – he is traveling on private business to the Winter Court.

No one says anything after his introduction. You take a moment to study their clothes – finely dress in linen that looks spun from light. Gold suns glittered on the cuffs of their shirts. The royal crest, you assume.

Silence presses on. Another faerie appears at the top of the hill, rushing down to whisper into the ear of a tall woman with tan skin, golden hair and amber eyes like a lion. She remains featureless as she nods, turning back to face Hoseok.

“You have stumbled on the King Taehyung’s hunting party,” the fae woman calls. Her voice is like blooming wildflowers, soft and addicting. “We are hunting the white stag. We have not yet started, but our camp is close. Come.”

“While I appreciate how gracious his Highness is- “

“You will not pass without speaking to the king.” Her voice leaves no argument to be had. Her eyes slide to you. You hold your breath as they linger before passing over without comment. She turns on her heel. “Come.”

Jimin’s hands twist on the reins. You see the veins flex in his hands as they urge the horses forward, following the fae in white as they remain watching the three of you carefully.

“Have you… met Taehyung before?” you whisper, afraid to speak louder. “Will he know you?”

You almost see the pinched expression on the prince’s face. “Yes.”

“Are we in trouble?”

“Yes,” Jimin whispers again. “Taehyung has the gift of truth. Try not to speak to him – you will not be able to lie.”

Steely silence wraps around the three of you as you ride. The members of the Day Court almost float around you, their steps inaudible and their movement far more graceful than that of the Night Court. You feel a buzz creep into your skin as you follow, guided by armed men, women and creatures.

Tensions creeps into your shoulders, twisting your muscles. An ache settles in more than just your thighs, tired from the saddle. Your stress triples when you crest the top of a hill where the line of trees end and look down.

Somehow, you did not imagine near seventy white tents to be the camp that the lead knight was talking about. Your breath catches as you see dozens and dozens of faeries milling about the campsite below. White flags with a gold sun flutter in the breeze and the smell of spices and cooking fat wafts up to you, making your mouth water.

“A bit large for a hunting party,” Jimin notes.

No one answers him.

It takes almost an hour to wind your way down the hill. It’s slow going with the Day Court faeries around you. When the sentries at the edge of the camp sight you, the sound of horns echoes over the camp. A chill settles in your bones, though you can’t place it. The eyes that turn to you don’t feel welcome. Jimin’s hand tightens around your waist.

Cookfires and work benches fill the spaces between canvas tents. You glance at the fae who lift the flaps of their temporary sleep spaces, peering at you with narrowed eyes and dark expressions. You don’t have to ask Jimin if they know he’s Night Court – he’s dressed in Hoseok’s colors but the tension around him is snapping and dark.

If they don’t know, they will.

The woman leading you signals to dismount. Jimin slides off first before helping you out of the saddle. He pulls you close to him by the waist, eyes flashing a warning. You nod your head and stay close to him as you move to follow Hoseok, who lifts his chin as the three of you are led to the center of the camp.

A tent larger than the other raises up, a white behemoth of canvas. A flag of the Sun Court ripples on the top, snapping in the honey scented breeze. There are guards posted outside, all dressed in white. They regard you with a dark gaze as the woman vanishes inside momentarily. When she returns, she holds the door open and bows her head slightly.

Warmth hits you in the face. It’s not stifling as you would imagine, but the same kind of warmth you feel went you used to eat your grandmother’s cookies, still hot from the oven. Or the kind of warmth after taking a cold shower after a day out at the beach, when the sun has warmed your skin and your senses are sleepier.

A tall, white ceiling filled with fae light twinkles above you. There are rich rugs spread over the grass and a massive bed with sheets and pillows that look soft as clouds. A fire crackles in the corner, a large cat-like creature with gold eyes blinking at you before it settles back to sleep in front of the hearth.

You nearly gasp when you see who you imagine to be the king. His skin is tan and smooth, dark curling hair falling in even darker eyes. He’s dressed in a white, buttoned shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing layered necklaces. His lips are rosebud-pink and look soft, a contrast to eyes so intense you drop your gaze immediately, shivering in his presence.

King Taehyung is one of the most astonishing men you’ve ever seen. Jimin and Hoseok both bow their head slightly, but they do not bow at the waist like subjects. Taehyung’s gaze swivels between the two of them before landing on you, lingering.

You feel something brush across your mind, soft and smelling like honey and sugar. You gasp, eyes darting up to Taehyung. His lips twitch as his dark gaze shifts back to Jimin.

“It’s not every day the Maker answers our wishes,” Taehyung says. You’re startled by how low his voice is, a rich baritone that drips like caramel. “Here I am following the old tradition of hunting the white stag to determine our odds at war with the Night Court and what do we have? Prince Jimin walking right into our hands.”

“Come off it, Tae,” Jimin grunts. “You know now is not the time- “

“You don’t get to argue time with me when your brother’s guard cut Isolde’s time short.” Taehyung’s voice cracks like a whip and the light in the tent flickers. His gaze drifts to Hoseok. “You may relax in relative comfort until we talk. Take Prince Jimin to his own tent. Ward it with iron. Leave the girl to talk.”

Jimin moves faster than you can gasp. You’re pressed against his chest his arm around you with bone-crushing intensity. There’s a sword in his hand, levelled at Taehyung. Jimin’s heart pounds against your chest as shadows writhe on the grip of his sword.

“The girl will not be parting from me. Sorry to be rude.”

Taehyung’s grin is feral. “Ah Jimin,” he purrs. “Perhaps you will know how it feels, then.”

Swords are levelled at you and Jimin. Hoseok has a dagger in his hand, not posed to attack but ready to defend. You stare down the edge of a blade as the woman who led you to Taehyung stares at you with her lion-eyes. Jimin doesn’t lower his weapon, gripping you tighter.

“Jimin,” you murmur, hand sliding up to where he holds you. “It’s just to talk.”

“No.”

“Jimin it’s fine. I can talk to him.”

“I said no.”

No one moves. You see no way out of this, half a dozen guards in the tent and even more in the campground. The edge of a sword is pushed into Jimin’s neck slightly, drawing blood. You shake in his arms, adrenaline coursing through you.

Bloodshed is inevitable if Jimin doesn’t back down, and you know that once it starts, you won’t survive. Taking a deep breath, you steel your nerves. “Jimin, I’m an adult. I have no fear of him.”

“Don’t care. I’m not leaving you alone with him. Let us go or die. There are no other options.”

“Jimin,” Hoseok snaps. “You’re not being rational.”

Hoseok’s right. Jimin’s normal swagger and charm is gone, replaced by a blind anger you don’t expect. The simple path is to win Taehyung over. You don’t know where to start, but you hope that you can come up with something quick.

You have no intentions of dying in a tent.

Quick and with force, you elbow Jimin in the stomach and dart away from him. He’s more surprised than injured. Taehyung seizes the opportunity and snatches you, ripping you to him by the waist. Jimin snarls but he freezes when Taehyung presses a dagger against the flesh of your throat.

“Move and she dies.” Taehyung’s voice is a command. “I just want to talk to her. For now.”

Hatred. Hatred burns in Jimin’s green eyes like you’ve never seen it. Shadows gather around him and Taehyung’s guards press closer to him but he doesn’t stand down.

“Jimin,” you call to him. “We just need to talk to them. I’ll tell them this is a misunderstanding, okay?” Jimin was panting and you could feel panic mount inside of him. A word came to you then, something that he always used in his arsenal against you. “Enaid.”

The fight bleeds from him. Jimin drops his gaze to you, the tip of his sword dipping. His mouth opens slightly in surprise, brows furrowing as he cocks his head to the side. The Day Court takes his moment of surprise as an advantage. They shoot forward, seizing Jimin as he thrashes. You scream at them not to hurt him but Taehyung’s grip on you is firm.

“Easy!” Taehyung commands his knights. “That is a prince of the Night Court. He’s to be treated with respect. Hold him until I call for him.”

“Hurt her and I’ll kill you,” Jimin promises as he’s ripped away from you. “I swear it.”

Slowly, the tent empties out. Taehyung removes his blade from your throat and steps away. You turn to him, anger thrumming in your veins. He watches you with curious eyes as he waves, dismissing the last of his knights.

“Please,” you urge immediately. “This is- “

Taehyung holds up a hand. “I ask for nothing but honesty. You and I are strangers, but we don’t have the time to spare getting to know one another. You have everything to lose if you lie, and I will know if you lie.” Taehyung sits on a velvet chair by the fire and sips from a glass of wine. “My name is Taehyung. I am the King of the Day Court, the Truth Seer. Speak lies, and I’ll kill your mate.”

“Jimin isn’t my mate.”

“And yet you know of whom I speak.” His eyes flicker to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

With a huff of frustration, you sit.

Rings glitter on Taehyung’s fingers as he taps them against the table. His eyes burn as he looks you up and down. “What is your purpose crossing my lands?”

“To get to the Winter Court.”

“To what end?” You hesitate and he leans forward, gaze heavy. “This is the only time I will remind you to speak freely. If your cause is just enough, I will let you pass. These are strange times, you must understand. My people want blood – particularly that of Jimin’s – and I need a reason to let you pass.”

“You would let us pass?”

Taehyung’s face darkens. “A king and his people do not always want the same thing. If you gave me an excuse not to go to war with King Seokjin, I would be grateful. But as it stands, a knight of his has murdered my betrothed, throne my court into chaos, and made people doubt my ability to protect them. Speak.”

Fire pops on the logs. You stare at Taehyung, trying to find deceit or treachery. His face is smooth, unreadable. You weigh your options. It’s a huge risk, telling Taehyung who is a total stranger why you’re going to the Winter Court. You don’t even know the name of the man you’re seeking, but you know the generic purpose.

Licking your lips, you tentatively start with your grandmother’s passing. The story is stilted with pauses – Taehyung interrupts often, asking questions for clarity. He isn’t rude, nodding along as you stumble your way through your story. You find yourself lost in his gaze as the words trip out of you, like something in his eyes is pulling the tale from the back of your throat.

You don’t skip over details. Surprisingly, you feel lighter as you tell Taehyung about the other. The pain you feel is real when you tell him how you can’t sleep in the same room Nox and Nyx were murdered in. How you feel alone and confused, how you hate that Quinn sold you out to Seokjin and how confused you are.

Tears burn your eyes when you look at Taehyung. You think that there might be sympathy there, but you’re not entirely sure. He listens as you drop your gaze down to your hands, fingers worrying at the hem of your tunic. “I just want to go home,” you murmur. “I didn’t ask for this – any of this. I don’t belong here and I don’t know how to survive here. I just want to go home, Your Highness.”

Licking your lips, you lean back in your chair and blow out a sigh. Jimin wasn’t lying – you could not lie to Taehyung. But it feels good to have told someone everything, to have recounted your struggles. You don’t know if he is an ally or a friend, but you feel lighter without the insecurities being just your own.

Taehyung seems deep in thought, finger idly stirring the wine in his glass. You wait for his response, anxiety mounting as you fiddle with the thread in your tunic.

“Seokjin has hinted at this other, though he did not explicitly explain the poison haunting his kingdom,” Taehyung sighs. “Perhaps he did not know what it was then. But his inability to explain what happened to my beloved has been cause for war.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you murmur. “I cannot imagine.”

“It is kind of you to say. There are fell creatures that move about Faerie. You’ve given me much to consider.”

“Will you let us pass?”

“I don’t know. Hearing that the High Tree is acting as a gateway for other beings to slip into our world is troublesome, but it does not solve the problem between my court and Jimin’s. They have done nothing to make up for the crime.”

“They killed the one responsible,” you argue.

“Is that enough?” Taehyung asks. He doesn’t seem to know the answer himself. “Is that justice? Is justice an eye-for-an-eye?”

“Justice is ending the terror that these others bring. And you can only do that by letting us pass. No matter his lineage, Jimin is the only one I see trying to fix the problem. You and Seokjin are squawking at one another about war, the Summer Court is pillaging the High Court and the other courts? Hide in their lands. He is trying to do what no one else is.”

“You speak fondly of him.”

“Hardly. I think he is cruel, and cunning and speaks in half-truths. But he’s the only one doing anything.”

“Perhaps because he has the freedom to do so.” Taehyung taps the table in thought before waving at you. “Rest. I will think on all that you have told me and come to a decision in the morning.”

“It’s always day here.”

Taehyung shrugs. “I know the time, even when the sun is always about. Rest, Shade. And convince that mate of yours that if he’s trouble, I’ll kill you both.”

Iron rods are stabbed into the ground surrounding a large tent. There are guards surrounding it, all of them looking straight forward. Your left to enter the flap, pulling it up and slipping into darkness. You blink, trying to let your eyes adjust there is no fae light inside, pulsing shadows blinding you immediately. It’s cold inside, seeping into your skin.

It’s difficult to see inside. A few steps further and you can make out a large tent – smaller than Taehyung’s but still large. Jimin paces back and forth in front of a bed, looking up when you call his name. He stops, looking up at you with wide eyes. The shadows in the room recede slowly, fae light appearing at the top of the tent.

You realize that it was dark because of Jimin’s power. He looks tired – strained as he stares at you, hands fisted at his side.

“Are you okay?”

Jimin storms toward you. You squeak, thinking he’s going to lash out at you. Instead, he grabs your face between his hands, holding your gaze steady with his wild, green eyes. “Never do that again,” he tells you, voice dangerously low. “Never. Do not ever offer yourself to be alone with someone like that. You’re lucky it was Taehyung, who was a friend before Isolde’s death. Never again.”

“You were being an idiot! Did you think we were going to cut our way out of there?”

Jimin’s lip curls. “I’m a prince of the Night Court. You haven’t seen a flicker of my power. You have no idea what I am capable of doing. Never think that the odds are against me.”

Heat sears through you. Jimin is so close that if he were to lean forward, he could press your lips together easily. You hate that the thought clouds your mind, head light. “Violence wasn’t the answer there.”

“Violence will always be my answer when you’re threatened.”

What? Since when?

You don’t realize that you asked the question outload, too. Hypnotized by him. He shuffles closer and your chest is pressed against his, two hearts ratting chaotically. His breath is warm and sweet, your eyes fluttering. “You have no idea,” Jimin whispers. “How important you are. Do not do that to me.”

“You don’t even like me.”

“Yeah?” he goads. “I don’t like you?”

“No. I don’t like you either.”

He smirks. “Should I show you how much I don’t like you?”

You don’t answer verbally. Your head is swimming and your eyes flutter shut. You have no idea what’s happening but you arch into him, pressing closer.

Jimin brushes his lips against yours and you spiral. Images flutter past you, reminding you of the siren song that you hear that night a month ago.

A kiss as soft as a butterfly wing.

Rough hands like silk against your skin.

The smell of orange blossom.

A deep wanting worse than anything you’ve ever felt, so deep it chokes you.

The color green.

Jimin pulls away. It was barely a kiss, more like a brush of skin. You open your eyes to look at him, see him gazing down at you, eyes the darkest shade of green you’ve ever seen them. His cradling your face, skin burning hot where the rough pads of his fingers hold you gently.

“Tell me to stop.” It sounds like he’s begging you. “Tell me you don’t like me again.”

“Faeries can’t lie,” you answer, unsure where the courage to say it comes from.

Jimin whines deep in his throat, brushing his nose against yours. You share breath, closing your eyes as your lips part, panting. The ache is so deep within you that you wrap your fingers in his tunic. “Tell me to stop,” Jimin says again.

“No.”

He growls. “Always doing the opposite of what I tell you. You can never keep that mouth shut.”

“So make me.”

A deep growls hums in Jimin’s throat again as he pulls you forward, pressing your lips against his. This kiss is firmer, no longer an innocent brush. His lips are softer than you imagine, drawing a sigh as you lean into him.

Something right feels like it clicks into place. You wrap your arms around Jimin’s neck, pulling him into you, stumbling slightly. He moves his mouth against yours gently and you feel like you’re floating. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore, the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip pushing away every other thought.

Jimin jimin jimin.

You open your mouth to him, moaning as his tongue brushes yours. His mouth is warm and sweet, sharp canines nicking your bottom lip. You keen, fingers tangling in the bottom of his hair.

Jimin’s kisses turn hungry. He sucks at your bottom lip, pulling you toward the bed. He spins you around and pushes you into the mattress. You make a surprised sound as you bounce lightly, looking up at him. He barely gives you time to appreciate the way he leans over you before he’s pining you down, kissing you again.

Your legs wrap around his waist as Jimin settles between your legs. He kisses you vigorously, not letting a breath escape as you wrap your hands around his neck. You can’t form a coherent thought. He kisses your jaw, tongue licking a hot trail up to your ear. You let out a moan and he chuckles, the sound make you squirm under him.

“Jimin,” you murmur.

His breath is hot on your ear. “Not so argumentative now,” he purrs, pulling your earlobe with his teeth. You moan again, the sound desperate. You have never wanted anything more than Jimin in that moment. “Is this what it takes you shut that mouth of yours?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Oh?” Jimin bites your neck, sucking purple marks into tender skin. You turn your head, giving him more access. He paints your neck, rose blossoms and blooming flowers. “You need further shutting up?”

“Perhaps.”

Jimin grabs your wrists from around his neck. His grip is tight, slamming your hands above your head and pinning them there with a single hand. You writhe beneath him. He hovers above you, looking down at you with unfettered lust. Pleasure licks through you at his gaze.

“You are stubborn,” he growls, kissing your chin. “And insolent.” A kiss on your neck. “And you don’t listen to advice.” He nips your collarbone, making you roll your hips into his. “Enaid.”

The nickname sings through you. Jimin rips through your tunic, tearing it from the neck down the middle. You gasp, cold air pebbling your nipples and your skin. You feel a moment of self-consciousness, closing your eyes and tilting your head away.

Jimin’s lips ghost the scarred flesh between your breasts. You sigh, his lips feather light. “The night you got this was the first time I have been afraid in years,” Jimin murmurs. “I never want to feel that again.”

His mouth is firmer as he kisses you, mouth working to your right breast. His tongue darts out, flicking over the peak of your nipple. You make a high-pitched when and he grins, tongue tracing the bud.

“Fuck,” you pant. He huffs a laugh, taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. You gasp as he pulls away, teeth scraping the sensitive skin. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Sensitive,” he observes and you nod. He kisses to the other nipple and repeats the motion. You are spinning. “Are all humans this sensitive?”

“Your mouth is sucking my nipple, Jimin,” you growl. “Of course I’m sensitive.”

“Hmmm. Still talking back.” He lifts up. One hand is still on your wrist, the other pulling at your pants. “Let’s see how fucking mouthy you are with my tongue in your pussy.”

Hot. Jimin mouth is hot and vicious on your stomach, biting across to your hip bone. You’re shivering beneath him, bucking and twitching as he rids you of your pants followed by your underwear. Your legs close on instinct but he lets go of your wrist in favor of prying your knees open, dropping to the floor.

You’re dripping for him. You can feel how hot and wet your pussy is, need spiking through you as Jimin glances up at you, eyes fucked out. You don’t break his gaze as he dips forward, tongue snaking out to take a long, slow lick up your slit.

“Oh fuck,” you pant. You’re coming apart at the seams and he’s barely done a thing.

“From the moment I saw you in that attic,” Jimin growls. “You called to me. Every moment I have been near you, I have been haunted by you. Seeing you sleep in my bed, smelling me on you, it has been slow torture.”

Jimin’s tongue dances up and down your folds. Your legs twitch shut but his hands are firm, spreading you. Pleasure shoots through you as Jimin licks at your center, tongue teasing your hole until you’re panting and whining underneath him, falling apart.

You can’t remember a time feeling like this. Every single nerve is a livewire, sparking to life as he licks a broad stripe up your pussy. He fastens his lips around your clit and sucks, making you gasp and lean forward off the bed.

Jimin is devilish between your legs. A vision of sin as he looks up at you, emerald eyes burning as he begins to eat you out in earnest, sucking and licking and humming as he fastens his mouth to you.

Everything feels heated. Your skin slicks with sweat as you gasp for air, Jimin growling into your pussy, tongue working you with fervor. Your heart sings. You feel your orgasm build as he lifts your hips off the bed, getting closer to you as his tongue fucks into your hole.

“So this is what it takes for you to shut up,” Jimin pants, giving a kitten lick to your clit. “Guess I’ll have to do this more often.”

“Jimin, please.”

“Yeah? Wanna cum?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Beg.” You say nothing. A hand slips from your thigh, one of Jimin’s fingers pressing gently at your hole, applying enough pressure to make you whine. You thrash as he hums, finger circling your core. “Beg, Enaid.”

“Please,” you gasp. The name burns through your very soul, lighting you up. The image of the Midnight Tree flashes for a second. The thought of stars. A moon hanging over a silver hill. “Please please please.”

“That’s more like it,” he says, diving back in.

Jimin sucks harshly on your clit, tongue laving at it. You squeeze your eyes shut, screaming his name. Your hands shoot down to his hair, sliding through the soft strands as you hold him to you. His ministrations are desperate and slopping, the sounds of his hunger lewd and spurring you on he slides a finger into you, brushing against that perfect spot.

You cum immediately, screaming into the tent as your orgasm launches you into the stars.

For a moment, you just shake. Jimin presses his tongue flat against your clit, letting your trembling apply light friction. You try to catch your breath, gasping and shaking as you come down. Your chest heaves and you feel like you might go into cardiac arrest.

Kissing his way up your stomach, Jimin hovers above you, your cum slick on his swollen lips. “Silent now, aren’t we?”

Jimin crashes his lips to yours. You scratch at him, all tongue and teeth, tasting your sweetness on his tongue. You pull at the hem of his shirt and –

Screams break you apart. Jimin jerks up on his knees, head turning toward the flap of your tent. There is yelling and the sound of metal against metal. He pulls you up, though you’re dizzy and still light-headed.

“Get dressed,” Jimin orders. He’s standing in front of you, facing the door. “I need you to pull the iron poles from the ground or I cannot leave.”

You scramble to get dressed. Your legs are like jelly, making you stumble. He catches you, giving you a steady hand as he passes you a shirt. There’s a scream at the front of your tent, a body falling through it. A member of the Day Court lies thrashing at the mouth of the tent, stilling your movements. His tunic is ripped open, a black mark on his chest.

Jimin looks at you with dark eyes. “Quickly.”

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rise-my-angel · 5 months

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Jon Snow and Robb Stark

Pairings: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 17.5k

Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), p in v, discussions of various kinks, mentions of past sexual assault and trauma, talk of pregnancy, hard dom/soft dom/sub dynamics explored, bdsm related content

Notes: The dynamics are based off of pairings from my series Heart of the Great Wolf, but can be read on it's own for the most part. Broad strokes for it being read without my fic series context: the relationship timeline was the reader secretly seeing Jon pre start of show/books, then married to Robb in an arranged marriage during the Kings visit to Winterfell, and then back with Jon post his resurrection hence why his sections are split into two parts. Might contain some spoilers for part 3 and a bit of part 4, for my fic in some places.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You two had never gotten far that normal aftercare was ever needed. Jon might be teasing, but he was gentle and slow, and that went right through start to finish.

Sometimes, all you had was the alone silence of the middle of the night, and whatever you two had tentatively done with one another always ended with a struggle to let the other go. Jon simply didn't have time or the freedom to take care of you after making you cum. Even when it was something more simple, kissing the other on his bed, his back against the wall and you perched in his lap, as the closest you got as a grind against his covered cock. Jon would kiss you gentle once on the lips another to your forehead as he held you tight until he was sure you were alright to be on your own.

The last thing he wanted was to send you off to your own chambers, feeling as if Jon had just mindlessly kicked you out.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

There is very little Jon takes more seriously then caring for you after sex. He knows exactly what he is, intense and overwhelming, and he knows he is rougher with you then he sometimes realizes in the moment.

As soon as you both settle from your peaks, Jon will pull you quick into his arms. Some nights he will keep you on his lap, tucking your face into his neck as he runs a hand over your hair and the other gentle along your back and waist, until he feels your breathing return to normal. Or Jon moves to lay you out, normally somewhat on your side so he can turn to face you, tucking you into his chest. His own face buries in your hair as his voice is low and rasping, soothing words to you of comfort. Praises of how well you did as he tries to convince himself to be gentle if he kisses you.

Jon will always ensure you feel safe, and loved before anything else, and he will keep running his hands gently on your skin and murmur comforts in your ear until he feels you fall asleep. Even then, he normally continues to stay awake, watching you until he finally feels his eyes beg for sleep of his own. The rougher he takes you, the more gentle and soothing Jons touch and words are after as he coaxes you back for him.

Robb Stark:

Robb is fully aware of how hard he goes with you. You have minimal experience outside of him, and he brought you into this sort of thing with rough thrusts and a dominating nature. But it also means he knows how much he needs to make up for that when it's all over.

He will check up on you, ask if he went too far or if you didn't enjoy something and the next time he pays close attention to how far you've dropped and when. Which with him, is often. But Robb switches when it's all over, and the second he looks at you, all he sees is the love of his life and he wants to bring you calmly back to him. He'll hold you, speak soothingly to you with tender touches along your skin and many times he tries to get you to talk. The more you talk, the more clear your head is, and if he can make you laugh then Robb knows you're alright.

Much of the time, you often end up falling asleep together in the same position your aftercare was spent. Robb usually on his back, his arms wrapped around you as he tucks you into his side and your head drapes comfortingly on his chest. For all his talk, Robb loves nothing more then to just lay in bed and cuddle with you when you're done, and he adores that you are just as needy for a loving touch.

If anything, aftercare that Robb needs from you, is to just let him hold you and keep you tucked into his arms as much as you need his touch to calm you down as well.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were to ask Robb, his brother would joke that it's his hair he likes best about himself. But in truth, Jon never really thought much of it in that way. Of himself. He looked how he looked, and he didn't really care about much of it.

Robb was more handsome and Jon didn't really care what girls thought of how he looked because as long as you liked how he looked, that's all that mattered.

On you? Jon had two answers, if it were blatantly sexual Jon would say your breasts. Soft, seemed to be made to fit perfectly in his hands and you were sensitive as all hell, that simple touches could work you up in an instant.

Not sexually though, it would be your smile. Not just any, but that soft, gentle one you'd give him when no one else was looking, beacuse you just wanted him to know you were paying attention to him no matter what. You were so stone faced all the time, but whenever you'd give Jon that smile? It could make the worst of his days better in an instant.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Easily that would be his hands. He did much with them and despite the amount of which was death and bloodshed, Jon knew he never did it beacuse he liked it. Jons hands were to him, a reminder of the man he had become, someone who at their core, was a protector. Of you, of the innocent, fighting for what was right when no one else would make the sacrifice.

But they also were the same hands that calmed you down. Your worst moments, trapped still somewhere in a hell of Ramsay Boltons making, they were the same hands that would cup your cheeks, run along your soft skin until you looked at him with those eyes.

Eyes that were something he could never get enough of. Soft and wide, you held so much more emotion in them now then you ever did before, and Jon adored it. You almost couldn't hide from Jon as long as he could find your eyes, and read whatever was in your head in seconds. They were beautiful to him, and they were the same eyes he kept dreaming that your children together would have, and that made them the thing he adored the most.

That, and Jon knew he had a tendency to make you look him right in the eyes when he was inside you, and he was weak to how needing they always looked when you did.

Robb Stark:

Robb easily loves his hands. How since you've been married, since you escaped Kings Landing and came back to him, all hes wanted to do is use those same hands to protect you. It's easy to tell, Robb almost always has a hand on you if he's near and it's heavily rooted in how he knows your safe and he can protect you, if he feels you right beside him.

He also knows how much of a mess he makes of you with them in so many ways. Those hand go quickly from innocent and protective all the way to perverse in seconds. And he knows exactly where to put them to make you melt to him.

On you, his favourite more innocent part of your body is your hips. They're perfect to him, shaped just right to the way he can so easily imagine you with his child right in your arms, a son perched near your hip as even then, you still speak to his lords and knights with command. He has a hand on them a lot, likes to move you with hands on your hips, they're just soft and perfect for him.

More on the filthy side, Robb fully can admit he is utterly obsessed with your ass. He knows it, you know it, there's no question. He wants you in pants all the time just beacuse of how well they shape your ass, the harder he smacks them the more he watches your cheeks jiggle and he gets worked up aggressively when he can see the red outline of his hand print after he's slapped and groped your ass as much as he can get away with.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Call it insecurity, but Jon almost didn't want his end to be part of the equation with you. If he could make love to you and not have to worry about that, he'd have been ready a long time ago.

To him, sure it felt good, but when he was with you he was always plagued in the back of his mind. Getting you pregnant was truthfully his biggest fear, and so he spent a lot of time learning what felt best for you when he touched you, and not wanting to let you do much back. Jon loved learning what made you cum, but he was almost strict in not really letting you reciprocate. He liked making you feel good, and he didn't ever want to risk ruining your life by getting you pregnant, and he certainly refused to force his own child to be born a bastard.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon knew as soon as he slid inside you for the first time, it was different. Not a shred of that insecurity was in his mind anymore.

He fucked you against the wall that night steady and slow, and there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he wanted to cum as deep as he could. Pressing you tight against the wall and sinking as far as you could take him, all Jon wanted to do after, was do it again. And again. He dreamed about it, he craved it, he loved cumming inside you and he didn't have the sensibility or willpower anymore to stop himself.

He was quick all on his own to have everything to brew you moontea, he wasn't about to get reckless. Until you were both in the right place together, Jon would make sure part of taking care of you after was to make you some as you rested. Easing whatever parts of both your minds would worry if you became pregnant before either of you were ready.

But really, Jon wanted only to spill inside you, and when you couldn't take anymore then he'd paint your beautiful skin with whatever he still had left.

Robb Stark:

There are only two places Robb wants to cum, down your throat or inside your cunt. If some gets elsewhere then you look like a dream painted with his seed, but if he isn't cumming inside you, he wants it down your throat.

He would watch you swallow his seed and the man could almost orgasm again just from that sight and feeling. The knowledge that even just your stomach is filled with him, as much as he fills you with his cock, makes him lose his mind. And you swallow him so happily too, as if you love the taste of him and he suspects you are too embarrassed to admit you do.

But he also loves cumming inside you. At his core, Robb is a man dedicated to family, it means everything to him. And he wants every and any chance to start one with you, so he always wants to cum deep inside you as many times in a night as he an get away with. The more he does, the sooner likely you may find yourself pregnant.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

It's not dirty, nor is it much of a secret really, but Jon sometimes wondered if you truly understood just how long he's been in love with you.

He knew Lord Stannis Baratheon's daughter was coming to serve as his fathers ward, but he didn't think much of it until the day you arrived. He and Robb were 10 and had been in the training yard. But his memory was so striking and vivid when his father had come by with this small 8 year old girl with scared eyes looking everywhere with uncertainty.

Robb was swinging a practice sword at him, and almost accidentally smacked him in the head, beacuse Jon had stopped paying attention since he was staring so much. When he realized who you were, he almost wanted to throw up at realizing he was going to have to spend months in the same home as you, beacuse he thought you were the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

When you had been introduced to Robb, you looked at him after and asked what his name was. He was nervous telling you he was a Snow, but as soon as you asked simply if he was the other son of Lord Stark which your father mentioned, he realized you had barrelled right past the fact that he was a bastard and just lumped him in the same place as Robb.

Jon hadn't ever said it, but he was pretty sure he fell in love with you then, and it never stopped for even a second after.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon sort of has two secrets. One is more blatantly filthy, one is a little more serious. The serious one is something you think is only a joke.

He had told you once, that he had previously wondered when he was thinking of taking the black, if he should just take you far north instead. Leave, and build you a nice, warm home there where you could just be together. But in those dreams, Jon genuinely wanted children. He could see at least five, in that memory. Four little ones running around, and you swollen with his fifth child, beacuse who you two were didn't have to matter.

It was a sensitive subject for you now, and he would never even consider pushing before you were ready. But by present day when he would joke that his dream was up to ten children, Jon didn't know how to tell you that he wasn't really kidding. He never thought he would have a family, and now that he could with you, he wanted as many as you both could possibly have.

His second was blatantly filthy. Jon loved your breasts, perfect size for his rough hands and they were so sensitive. But Jon heard something from one of the free folk once, and now he held this dirty image of marking them up. Bruises and indents from his mouth and teeth until they turned colour, marking them right up until they were so sensitive you could tear up.

Then he wanted you to lay out on his bed, and he'd climb up over you and fuck them. Slide his cock in the space between your breasts and fuck them like he was inside you.

Then, just to finish the image, right when he was about to cum he'd pull back enough to make sure he coated both of your breasts in his seed, before grasping you again roughly to spread himself all over them.

Not in any life would Jon want to ask you for that, but it didn't stop him from thinking about everytime his teeth ran over the small buds on your breasts.

Robb Stark:

Robb has done it in small doses, tying up your wrists behind you, but Robb dreams of you letting him go a little more feral with it.

He wants you tied up all the way, at nothing but his mercy, can't move on your own, tie your pretty legs to the bed posts to keep you spread and your hands together up above your head. He'd blindfold you, too.

He wants to be so in control of everything that happens to your body in that scenario, without you even being allowed to see what he does, he wants you to trust him to such a degree you give up all your control left.

He won't ask you for that, he knows he'd be asking for something that's too extreme, so he does it in small doses. Makes you keep your eyes closed, ties only your wrists, only drags a small blade down a shift to expose your breasts when really if he could, Robb would do so much more. Maybe keep you standing in the middle of his bedroom, hang your arms up above your head with rope and cut off all your clothes like they're nothing to him. He has no idea where this desire has come from, but gods does he ever come up with new and inventive ways to ease you into every bit of it.

Maybe one day, you'll let him be enough of a animal, to just let him treat you like a pretty little slab of meat he can do whatever he wants with. Just once.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Not a shred of experience to be found. But Jon wasn't embarrassed about it.

He didn't care what others said about him, they didn't know Jon had you. Jon had been in love with you since he was 10, he never wanted any other girl that entire time, and he couldn't convince himself to look at one long enough to even try for a kiss. You and Jon were each others firsts. He was 18 by the time he kissed you that night in the wolfswood, and he was so happy he saved it for you.

After that, he dreamed of learning what you both liked together, and he enjoyed discovering all of it. You never went that far together, you both enjoyed taking it slow, but it was always at the exact same speed as the other.

So he'd let Theon make his jokes about him not being with a girl, Jon and you would get there when you both were ready.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon knew his approach to physical intimacy with you was different now, but he didn't like thinking about why.

On one hand, he knew you had much more natural experience. You married Robb, he took your maidenhood, and he taught you everything you had learned of sex in the three and a half years you shared. But then you were the Boltons captive, and every single bit of confidence, every part of you that was growing comfortable with sex was destroyed, taken away from you by force at the hands of Ramsay. And in a horrible way, whatever confidence Jon had spent 6 years building with you, was taken away from him too.

Calling his time with Ygritte “experience” made him feel unwell. It wasn't that. It was survival. Jon knew in his time travelling with her, he had tricked himself into thinking it was normal. Pretended it was normal to never want it, pretended it was normal to actively feel such deep self hatred if his body even remotely enjoyed the physical sensations alone, pretended it was normal to actively find ways to avoid letting her near him if he could. He didn't want any of what Ygritte took from him, but that was all the experience in terms of sex that Jon had.

It was why he pushed so hard to do certain things, like putting his mouth between your legs, with you as often as he did. If he consumed his mind with doing it with you, it negated the force in which made him learn about it in the first place. It wasn't easy, and he still knew he was avoiding talking about the worst of it with you, but Ramsay had hurt you more then Ygritte forced him, and so Jon preferred to focus on taking care of your safety.

Robb Stark:

If he were to summarize it in simple terms, Robb would say girls liked him more then he liked the girls. He wasn't stupid, he understood it. Robb knew he was handsome. He was the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark, and he was also the heir to Winterfell. Robb knew he had a charm to his attitude that swooped in the easy giggles from girls.

But Robb more enjoyed that in a playful manner then he did serious. Sure he had sex with some of them, a few of them more then once but he never really had feelings for them beyond surface level affection. Never enough that his father or mother even would've really met any of them except in coincidental passing. Hell, compared to Theon the two men used to joke, Robb may as well have the experience equal to that of a septa.

By the time he married you, he hadn't been with a girl physically in years, and even if he did, all it meant was he knew how a girls body worked a little better then most guys. He knew your body better then you did before he ever touched you though, considering how overwhelmed he made you on your wedding night.

You were always so innocent compared to him, that he knew it made you feel as if he had hundreds of girls before you. But in truth it had only been a handful. And more importantly, he had never been anywhere near in love before he married you, and so you were the only experience he cared about.

He didn't fuck you on your wedding night like he did other girls, he fucked you in a way he had carefully planned out that you would enjoy. His experience just meant that he went in with more confidence then not on your wedding night.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You two had never gotten that far, so he never really had a reason to think about what he preferred.

Jon did enjoy standing behind you when you two were alone, his hands gently trailing along your skin or under the collar of your dress. His hands rough and pulling gasps that you would bit your lip to prevent when he would twist and pull at the small pink buds of your breasts. Jon would always press his lips lightly to your neck, beacuse he loved how you would instinctual lean back into him. Rely on Jons firm stature to keep you standing on two feet as he eased you into his touch.

Maybe he was biased too, but if he were touching you more intimately, he liked having you sit on a surface as he stood between your legs. It was the way you two were positioned when he touched you for the first time out in the wolfswood, and he treasured that day a lot. He loved cupping your cheeks when standing before you like that, knowing as soon as he'd let one hand drift down your arm, you'd almost tense up in wonder if you'd feel his hand jump to pull the skirt of your dress up. Or if he'd simply wrap it around your waist to pull you more into his kiss innocently.

It wasn't a position of sex he liked about it, he just knew you associated it with the same afternoon he did, and Jon loved to tease you with his touch so you could only wait and see if he'd once more grace you with the experience again.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

There was no question Jon didn't just prefer missionary, he adored it.

Not a single other way he's taken you has Jon liked more or even anywhere near close to when he simply hovers over you with your legs gently spread for his body. One large hand hoisting your thigh up onto his hip while he felt your other leg move to almost wrap partially around one of his legs as if needing him to keep you steady flat out on the bed.

He loved taking you when you were nice and comfortable, spread out on his bed or on the furs in front of the fire in his chambers. He'd hover over you and be able to see every inch of you, move your legs either apart or over his shoulders when his mouth watered at the thought of tasting you. He could kiss you anywhere that way, and hold you down, as his strength meant he could keep you there as he kissed his way down to your cunt. And it also meant he could follow that path right back up and force you to taste yourself on his tongue while his other hand moved to sink his cock deep inside you. All the while, Jon could watch you and your eyes perfectly and you never had to do the work if he held you there. Just the way Jon wanted it.

Jon loved being able to control the pace he would fuck you at, ensure you were nothing but in deep pleasure. He could reach his hands up, interlock his fingers with yours and press them into the sheets. He could watch your face twist in pleasure, and your hands would tighten around his own fingers too, the closer you got. Or he'd let them go free, and you'd unknowingly claw your nails down his back as you arched into him as you came. He could bury his face in your neck or hair and the position meant he could go as fast or gentle as he wanted.

There was not a single thing which would beat how much he could focus on you when Jon took you in simple missionary.

Robb Stark:

He loves taking you from behind, and there is no way Robb could deny it. Nor would be bother to. He was a gods forsaken wolf about it.

The second time he ever fucked you, he had been apart from you for months. Now back, you were both going to war, you had just escaped Kings Landing and hadn't been with him since your wedding night. But he had spent so much of that time, letting his mind drift to you during his days, that finally seeing you again he almost jumped into it as if you'd been with him all that time. Theon had once commented that he could've mistaken you two for being married for decades, the way Robb would bring you up more then he ever had in the eleven years the men knew one another.

But then he had you back, in his bed as you raked your small hands through his curls that so gently woke him up, and more importantly, woke his cock up. He flipped you over, and as soon as you were on your hands and knees he yanked your hips so you basically were only lifted off the bed only by your ass, so he could fuck you from behind. The way in which you so willingly submitted to him in that position, how Robb could pound into you like that as fast and rough as he freely wanted, and all you could do was cry his name and take it.

You soaked his cock like none other when he had you on your hands and knees, and sometimes he'd shove a hand in your hair and hold your face down to the pillow and all you'd do was clench tightly around his cock.

He knew he was acting nothing of a gentleman, and his mother would be utterly ashamed that Robb would take his wife like a complete brute. But when you were bent over in front of his cock, giving yourself over to his mercy or lack thereof and would beg for more even when he was rough about it? It made him lose his mind.

Besides, Robb was quite blatantly obsessed with your ass and from that position, he could smack and grope it all he liked. But when you really lost yourself to his cock? Your own hips bouncing back on him the whole time he fucked into you? Well it would just make him run his mouth even filthier towards you for it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Goofy was not a word anyone had ever used to describe Jon Snow.

He was brooding, intense, he felt things very raw and that extended to you entirely. Jon would tease or smirk at the start when he'd kiss you, but the second it got a little more serious he dropped the act. He took your pleasure seriously, your mood seriously, and he didn't want his time with you to turn into a laugh when it was such limited time in the first place to have with you.

He loved to hear you laugh, don't get him wrong, but his physical time with you was limited, and it just wasn't the place he wanted to do that.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If Jon was not a humorous man before, he was even less so now.

Both in life and sex, but it was more obvious when he was with you physically. Jon didn't even smile when he fucked you, not beacuse he didn't like it, or love you, but he felt nothing to be amused by. Sex was very serious to him, your safety and your well being couldn't be watched if Jon was goofing around or making you laugh.

He dedicated every ounce of focus to taking care of you, and he didn't like humour being involved there. Your safety was not funny to Jon. Sex with him was never goofy. It was intense, raw, and overwhelming for both of you. He had time to make you laugh later, that's what his words of teasing were for.

Not for the bedroom, though. Not now, not ever.

Robb Stark:

Robb would chuckle dark in what he know was a bit of a sadistic tendency towards you.

Would chuckle as you were a crying mess for him, or sometimes he would laugh at how you sounded begging for him, or gasping out that you love him. It meant you had him comfortable enough to drop the dominance enough to show the cracks of the mischievous boy underneath the rough man.

Even better was if he could make you laugh after sex, that was even better then during. He loved hearing you laugh, it was a gorgeous sound so many men would never hear in their lives. Robb loved that he was trusted enough with you, that you would let him hear you giggle like a little girl in the most venerable of moments of intimacy. He loved seeing you relaxed enough to feel that amused at anything.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

Jon Snow:

If there was a place in Westeros which that kind of personal grooming for men was common, the North wasn't it.

He didn't let it get out of control, but it wasn't as if smooth, clean cut men were the norm here, and Jon was not that anyways. His hair atop his head was long, wild, black, and thick and it was around his cock as well. Coarse and rough, more like his facial hair.

But at the least Jon did enough to ensure it was fair to you.

Always clean and trimmed enough that it wasn't out of control, but Jon didn't exactly put time into it. He didn't really care, only enough that was to treat you right.

Besides, if Jons cock was deep inside you, he knew when it was on the longer, wilder side, that coarse dark hair could brush against your clit and he knew the sensation was enough to make you grasp tightly around his shoulders and back. Once he learned that, he trimmed far less often.

After all, he knew you liked how much his facial hair could burn against your sensitive skin, so why would the hair around his cock be any different.

Robb Stark:

He won't lie to himself, Robb is sort of a classic Northern man in that sense. Body hair didn't feel like something he should be ashamed of. He wasn't a wild man around his cock, but he didn't trim as much as what he assumed fancy Southern men would like to do.

Tons of them in the Kings visit were clean cut, no facial hair to be found, and groomed all fancy, and Robb hated that his mother had his curls trimmed and face clean cut. She said it was for the Kings visit, but he knew it was supposed to be for you, even though Robb knew you liked him with facial hair. You had told him as such more then once before. But at least during the Kings visit, Jon had to suffer with him on that one.

The hair by his cock was dark, coarse, and unlike the hair on his head which tinted a Tully red in the sunlight, below his hair was as dark as it ever was. It was trimmed only enough that it wasn't obscene for you, but you also clearly didn't care that much. You sucked his cock no matter what state the hair around his cock was in, so as long as it was manageable he didn't think much of it.

Robb knew he fucked you like a wild beast, so maybe it made sense he kept himself groomed only slightly above one in return.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon doesn't have much of an active physical relationship with you, mostly due to the nature of keeping things secret.

The biggest part of what he can give you, is simply romance at its core. Gentle touches, soft hands, doing little things for you and always with low tones and comforting murmurs in your ear. Sometimes if he had you in his lap, then he could feel his heart tearing at him a bit, insecurity yelling as he doubts whether or not he's treating you well.

He wants you to be loved, no matter what he's doing and even though you both hadn't reached having sex, he's just as romantic about all the rest as he is when you're both innocent and fully clothed.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon is as romantic in the moment as he is utterly intense.

His emotions are at an all time high when he's fucking you, and yet he feels almost terrified of letting you think he's anything but obsessed with loving you with all his heart. His touches are tighter, rougher, words harsher as they come out, but Jon will cling you to just as much as he knows you do him.

Sex is intense with Jon, and making sure you feel loved, safe and cared for is his biggest priority.

You've both had your share of being forced on by another person and Jon will do everything to ensure you never come close to that again with him. Jon knows he's addicted to you, worships you, he'd go to the ends of the earth and back for you. And if you don't feel that and more when Jon is inside you, then he would consider that a failure on his part.

He's raw and intense, but romance and intimacy is what he treasures with you now and he would do anything to ensure he never gives you less then that.

Robb Stark:

If Robb was aware of a massive problem he struggled with, it was that he tended to forget the romantic side of sex with you.

He loved you, he adored you in every single way, but Robb definitely was a bit on the rough, and hard dominant side when he fucked you. Rough attitude, degrading words, harsh and controlling touches and he didn't kiss you a lot during sex.

He wanted to hear you whine and beg and he couldn't do that if he were gentle and sweet. He could be the meanest parts of himself knowing that he would take gentle care of you the moment he was done.

You were the love of his life, he wanted to take you home and treat you like the actual Queen you deserved to be with him in Winterfell, but at war it was different. He wasn't always like that during sex, but it was common enough that he had a heavy heart knowing you trusted him to truly take care of you when you handed your obedience over to him like that.

Robb knows he is more of a man that thinks of sex as fucking rather then making love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were in Winterfell, no, he didn't masturbate.

Jon wanted to spend time with you, treasure every chance he got to feel your soft skin, your beautiful lips against his. If you were in the North, Jon had no thought of it, beacuse he had everything he would be fantasizing about anyways. You slowly explored things together, so if you were right in front of him, that was enough. But you weren't always there.

He hadn't started touching himself thinking of you until nearing fifteen. But really, what else was a teenage boy, with a crush on his best friend, supposed to do? It happened more after he kissed you though, he was eighteen and exploring more of an appetite for things sexual in nature anyways.

When you weren't there he would try and hold off, but sometimes you were gone for so long that he couldn't help it. It wasn't ever as satisfying as even being near you like that, but it was all Jon had when you'd be away from him for months.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon has you. He doesn't want anything else.

He came back to life, and only minutes after that did Jon slide his cock deep inside you for the first time, and he lost all interest in doing it himself then and there. He wanted you, your touch. Your wet, warm, and tight walls that clenched around him.

The only time he came close to masturbating anymore, was if he would bring your hand to his cock, covering it with his bigger one and help guide you to stroke him. But only ever until you felt confident to take over, otherwise any touch his cock got, he wanted it to be with you.

Masturbating just didn't interest him now. Jon had you, and he wanted you. Why settle for less then when he knew you wanted him as well?

Robb Stark:

Never once since you came back to him after escaping Kings Landing, did Robb not have you right there at his side. So in truth, Robb hadn't masturbated since you came back. What would he want that was better then his pretty little wife right in front of him?

When he was acting Lord of Winterfell, he admits he masturbated a bit more in the very dead of night then he used too. Partially the stress of everything, being away from his new wife after one night messed with his head on top of everything.

Robb would end up kneeling on the bed, grasping rough at what was supposed to be your pillow and stroke his cock. Through gritted teeth Robb would mutter as he did so how much he missed you, how much he wanted you back with him and how much he wanted to teach you beyond your first night together.

But then you were finally back, and Robb once more found no love for his hand when he had his pretty, needy little Queen ready to do whatever he said.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Without ever actually having sex, Jon didn't really have much of a concept of that kind of thing. He knew what he liked when you two were physical, but that level of sexual interest hadn't existed yet.

He had things he liked of course. He adored when you would run your hands through his hair, nails scratching along his scalp and giving little instinctual tugs when Jon would be a little more bold. He also knew he liked to take care of you, he liked making sure you felt good, and he loved to tease you until you might just pass out from a flustered embarrassment.

It was never in a context of genuine sex, but you and Jon learned together what you liked. You just didn't have the chance to take it that far.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you were to ask Jon directly, he'd say he didn't really have any kinks. But the more he'd think about you, the more he touched you it was clear there were some major ones.

Always making sure he was soft about it, and gentle as to not push you too far, but Jon loved being dominant with you. His entire life was at the bottom, out of his control and lacked any choice. But now? Now things were different, and you trusted him with your well being during sex and Jon took charge of that with immense responsibility.

He didn't like feeling not totally in control when with you, and dominance was the most natural way Jon presented himself during sex.

Jon didn't admit it to you, but he was obsessed with cumming inside you for a reason. He wanted to fill you with his seed constantly, over and over, keep it deep inside you until neither of you had anything left.

Jon would genuinely dream about keeping you tied to his bed, fucking you over and over, until you were with child.

Gods help him when he was with you, and his mind started to think about getting you pregnant. Because Jon didn't stand a chance of composure after that, all he dreamed of was you letting him spill inside you again and again until you swelled with his child.

And if that was a kink, then Jon absolutely had it.

Robb Stark:

Robb knows he can get a bit mean during sex.

He's dominant, very dominant. A strong, controlling weight on top of you that knows exactly how to order you around in the most pleasurable way for you. He gets off on being controlling dominant, and he also really gets off on how insanely obedient he's taught you to be.

You trust him so much that he could ask you to anything and you'd do it because you trust him to take care of you. It drives him mad how much you submit to him.

How he adores you with all his heart, but Robb degrades you like you're a whore in some brothel he's paying a copper for. And how much you love it. He so easily calls you a needy little slut, his whore of a Queen and you will whine everytime he hisses those things in your ear.

He also admits, that perhaps what helped him get used to being called a King, was hearing you say it as he fucked you. Having his Queen beg for her King to fuck her certainly made Robb learn he enjoyed it, at least as long as it came begging out of your pretty mouth.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

One might think his favourite place to be with you was the privacy of his own room, but it was really the opposite.

Jon had five siblings, three of the youngest which liked to barge in on him at any moment during the day, meaning anything he and you did in his room like that had to be very easily hidden.

Most of the time, you and Jon liked to just go for a ride on horseback for a while, and wherever in the wolfswood you would end up was where the most exploration you two had with the other. No one was around, the likelihood someone would find you exactly there was so minimal in the vast, large expanse of the not very populated North.

You both loved being outdoors like that, where no eyes would find you and you could be as close and affectionate with the other with total freedom.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon has two similar favourites, and a guilty pleasure.

Mostly, he loves taking you in his room. Either he wants to lay you out on his own bed where he can climb over top of you and take you as many times as he wanted, or Jon would do so as you were both bare on the fur in front of his fire. His room always ran cold, but between the heat of the fire he diligently would tend to, and the quite warm temperature of Jons own body heat, even on the coldest nights he could have you sweating if he fucked you in front of the fire for long enough.

He loved the intimacy, the freedom of fucking you where was the most personal to you both, and now his position and title meant being barged in on was unlikely. Jon would pull you into his arms, and let you tuck into his chest bare as anything as you fell asleep. If in his bed it was easier to cover you up. But if he laid with you after out on the fur, if someone walked in now, that was their fault.

He did however, have a more perverse pleasure in fucking you up against the Weirwood tree in the Winterfell godswood, the night sky all around. Jon loved taking you deep for only the unjudging eyes of the old gods to bear witness to his need for you.

Robb Stark:

If Robb is a traditional man in any way it's how he has no interest in fucking you anywhere but in his room, in his bed, or at least what tent acted for your room out in his army camp.

He's fine with people hearing you, if anything he hopes his men have had a few good nights with their own hand listening to the degree to which you whine and beg when his cock is pounding into you. But he never once would let them see even a glimpse. Not a chance.

One time Theon had walked in, and Robb got so mad at what he almost saw that the Greyjoy later swore Grey Wind was about to rip his head off. After that, Robb would have Grey Wind guard right outside your tent together, as long as he was there, no one came in for any reason.

The direwolf would come in to sleep when it was all over, but he kept guard so Robb could fuck you into the mattress as hard as he wanted without any more risk of someone seeing you so pretty as you took his cock over and over.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

For a man who was terrified of getting you pregnant, Jon knew it was strange to get worked up watching you with children. So much of the time you were stoic and serious. But you were so soft and easy to smile with children that he couldn't get enough of it.

Much more specific, the first kiss you shared after each time you would return to Winterfell would work Jon up. You two always having to wait until the dead of night, and finally when he was able to kiss you after however many months it had been, it inevitably turned into you both kissing passionately for quite a while.

Jon had to learn how to be very controlled when he wanted you, knowing neither of you had the freedom of just being able to express that whenever you desired.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Were you to strip Jon down to his bare essentials, he would honestly just be turned on by you at any time. It took mostly, for you to even be a thought in Jons head for him to want you.

Your soft eyes gentle smile and even more gentle and caring touches worked him up. Worse so, the more innocent your kiss, the more genuine your touch that wasn't sexual, it would make Jons cock the hardest the quickest.

You two were together and had the freedom to show it, Jon had no more reason to want to hide how much you made him want you. It definitely wasn't always sexual, but sometimes it was a struggle for Jon to not let it turn sexual.

He didn't want you thinking he saw you as an object to fuck, sex was something he trusted so much between you both that it was an extension of how much he loved and adored you. But it also meant, you made his cock stir more often now then Jon had likely even been hard in his entire previous life.

Robb Stark:

Jealousy was one of Robbs most blatant traits. He was so jealous of the way other men looked at you or spoke about you to the degree that it made him noticeably possessive.

But what made it so strong as a need to fuck you, was how little you noted or cared about any attention that didn't come from Robb. You ignored or didn't know what men were leering at you like, but the second Robb came over with rough touches and a strained voice he was so jealous, you'd ease it by instantly going to him with gentle words and a soothing, innocent touch.

He wants his men to hear you, because none of them with their whores visiting their own tents get from them, sounds anywhere near what Robb pulls from you for free.

You are the love of his life, and what turns him on too much is how easy it is for you to remind men of that just by your innocent dedication to his love in public. He would keep a hand on you, kiss you, be sweet with you in front of his men and you would get flustered over it but let him do it because you knew that's how Robb liked to treat you.

Robbs own jealousy was a motivator, but he also knew he was easily turned on by your continued ability to be so damned innocent.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

You would tell him it's ironic, considering half of the time he spent with you in the training yard over the years was him knocking you into the dirt, but Jon would never do anything that would hurt you.

His touch was sure to always be gentle no matter what, and never too rough or demanding. He also knew that he didn't want to treat you the way he knew a lot of men treated women they were with. Or if he were honest, the way Jon reluctantly knew Theon was with women. You shared a stretch of corridors with Theon where your own chambers were and thus you and Jon spent much time when in your chambers, coping with what was inevitable to hear.

Jon didn't want to be harsh and vulgar, treat you in a way that would make you feel as if you were just like a whore in a brothel he paid for. You had brought up, or tried to nervously bring up something you'd heard about from one of the girls around and Jon shot it down.

He knew somewhat of the girls you meant, and a few of them worked the brothel just outside the castle walls in Winter Town. And Jon just didn't want to treat you the way most men treated those women.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

A lot of his previous turn offs remained the same. Only now, Jon had to work on his own intense possessiveness versus his needs. He was a lot rougher with you now, and he had to consciously remind himself that he didn't want you to feel used.

He didn't fuck you hard like that beacuse he wanted to treat you that way, Jon would just lose himself in how you felt around his cock. But it all tied into not liking to feel out of control. He struggled to let you suck his cock, beacuse he would too easily lose control and overwhelm you by going too rough.

Jon didn't like being out of control, but he knew he was lucky that you did not want to be the dominant one in bed, as much as Jon did not want to be the submissive one. It worked well, you trusted to hand your safety over to Jon and he got to be the one to take care of you entirely. He wasn't really much interested in the opposite, he didn't want to be ordered around or told what to do, not for this, not with you.

He knew he had to work on how intense and rough he would get, but Jon sometimes just didn't realize how rough he was getting. You never seemed to dislike it, but he didn't want you thinking you were just here for someone to fuck. He loved you, he adored you, and he wanted to be the one to take care of you.

Anything less then being in charge, Jon just wasn't interested in anymore. If he ever really was in the first place.

Robb Stark:

Robb really only had two hard limits for himself. He didn't want to fuck you with any risk that someone was going to see you, and he refused to do anything that would genuinely hurt you.

He went rough and played dirty but not once did Robb like the idea that you could get hurt by his hands. You trusted him with your safety in bed and Robb would always take that responsibility with the heavy weight it deserved. He knew your limits and would never push you, if he thought he was at risk he would stop.

Check in with you, gauge what kind of response you gave and decide if he needed to ease up for your sake or not. Robb would slap your ass until it was red and painful, but only beacuse you liked when he did it. That smacking would never go anywhere but your ass, and maybe your cunt when you were being particularly needy.

Otherwise his biggest no is having anyone see you. Again, he ended up having Grey Wind stand guard outside his tent anytime he intended to fuck you, just to make sure the King in the North was given the proper time with his pretty little wife that he needed without interruption. You were his, and he wanted none of these men in his camp to have a chance at seeing you no matter what he teased with.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

It was ironic that you ended up being the one married with more experience, considering that Jon knew you had so little idea about sex it almost was endearing.

He had joked once that if your chambers were by Theons, how did you still know so little about sex. And you'd shove him all flustered, muttering that just beacuse you could hear sure as hell didn't mean you listened.

You had come to him one day about taking his cock in your mouth, and Jon knew you had learned it from those girls who worked in and around the Winter Town brothel. You weren't a whore he was paying for, he didn't want you on your knees like they would for any brute who had a copper to spare.

He had known somewhat about tasting a girl between her legs, but by the time he heard about it, you weren't graced with enough time for him to even try and bring it up. It was a story Theon had told when he, Jon, and Robb had a little too much wine one night. Robb had shoved the man and gotten up to find a tree to piss on, leaving Jon to listen to a drunk story but he was far too unconfident to ask a single question about it. By the time Jon might have wanted to bring it up to you, you had to leave for Kings Landing and wouldn't return until you did with the royal company to marry Robb.

And that was the end of anything he assumed.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If Jon could abuse his new title, and simply order you to not suck his cock anymore, he might have. But that was too authoritarian, and way too controlling.

The issue for him was, Jon didn't like being the one not in responsible control, and he was too wild and unpredictable when you took his cock in your mouth. Jon would much rather live and die between your legs.

It was one of the first things he did when he had come back, and maybe that turned it into an addiction. Jons mouth watered at the very thought of tasting you, and he a time or two had done it for a few hours continuously beacuse he truly couldn't convince himself to leave. He never tasted something like the wetness he would drink from you, and he never would anywhere else. It was like an oasis crafted for him alone.

Sure, it felt unbelievable when you sucked his cock, but if he was going to lose control he'd rather it be with his mouth attached to your cunt where the most pushing he could do was shock you from too much pleasurable stimulation. Rather then pushing your safety and your anxiety too far, with his cock in your mouth when he knew it could go from enjoyable to unpleasant for you in a second.

Robb Stark:

There was no point in lying about it. Robb lived for you sucking his cock.

It was one of the first things he fantasized about still during your wedding night. He imagined guiding your mouth over him so often when you and him were separated after the wedding, that when you came back to him, it was the first thing he properly did with you. Had you suck his cock like a good girl, and ever since he was obsessed.

How well you did, how much you truly, desperately wanted to be able to take all of him, how you'd close your eyes and barley realize you were letting out hums of moans and needy whines the more you sucked him. He'd guide your head at his own choice of pace, and he loved filling your stomach with his seed as if that was all you needed to live off of.

He'd known somewhat about putting his mouth on you, but by the time he had wanted to try, you two were at war and there just wasn't a whole lot of places to figure out what he'd be doing properly, and he wasn't about to go asking whatever whores his soldiers hired, to ask how to taste his own wife. That, and Robb didn't want to make you feel nervous by introducing something so intimate, and so brand new to you so suddenly.

He desperately wanted too, but it was just something he didn't know quite how to bring up to you yet.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Without ever having sex, pace wasn't exactly something Jon payed attention to. The rate in which your actual relationship developed was slow.

You had known each other for fourteen years, been together for six by the time you both wanted to try having sex, and even then you both realized neither of you were ready.

Everything he did with you was slow, he didn't rush, he didn't push, and he made sure everything he did do, was gentle. Exploring exactly what you liked, and making sure you felt loved when doing so. Something more of an urge in him sometimes whispered in his ear to go faster, or rougher with you but he could push that down easy. In your minds at the time, you both had all the time in the world.

If it all took a slow, loving pace to get there, then so be it. Or so you both once thought.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon tries to be gentle, he really does.

He often starts out slow. A loving gentleness rooted in how heavy you make his heart feel, but the more into it Jon gets, the more of something of a darker animal inside him does he let out.

He never contains himself the entire time, it's impossible. At some point, even if just right at the end, Jon will end up pounding his cock into you fast like a true wolf with his mate . Whatever dark, needy filth locked away in his head accidentally pours out in a deep husk in your ear beacuse he can't stop it.

Don't get him wrong, its passionate, intimate, and always ensuring you feel safe, loved and protected, but once Jon can hear how wet you are each time his cock sinks into you, its the beginning of the end. That's music to his ears, and he returns such a harmony right back. Fucking into you rough enough that anyone within 50 feet can probably hear how loud and rough of a slap Jons hips rutting into yours becomes. If the slap of your skin together echos in his ears, hes likely already too deep into the darker part of his mind to slow down.

He would never push you too far, never once. But Jon is unpredictable. He can start slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out before pushing himself back in as deep as he can, all the while you feel every inch of him beacuse he's just going that slow. But eventually, he picks up the roughness, and right near his final orgasm, that slap of skin becomes a steady smack as he rushes himself towards being able to cum one last time deep inside you.

But Jon knows his limits, and he is always hyper aware of how close he's getting to pushing you to yours and never once in his life will Jon ever actually cross that line. He'll get right up to it as close as can be, but never will he even slightly tip over into pushing you too much.

Robb Stark:

If there ever was a man who was a real wolf in the bedroom, it was Robb.

Slow was saved for when he used his fingers on you, and that was it. As soon as that man gets his cock inside of you, it's done. He is fucking you rough and fast until you are soaking his cock around him in a desperate cry.

Hes slow when he's in your mouth, beacuse he knows that's something you both enjoy, and he doesn't want to hurt you by pushing you too far, but your cunt is another story. Robb will fuck you fast to the point you can barley catch your breathe before he's pounding back inside of you.

The slap of your skin together is telling of how rough he goes, and the men have sometimes joked they're shocked you can ride a horse the next day, let alone bloody walk. Sex with Robb is fast and dominating, and he is happy to slow down and take his time doing everything else with you, just not when your warm cunt is clenching around his cock.

He knows if he could take you home to Winterfell, he'd be much better. He'd take you slow, take his time with you, but you were both out at war and he didn't have the luxury no matter how much Robb wished he could take you gentle and slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

When Jon thought about in in retrospective, it might have been the perfect time for you two to have quickies.

Always in secret, never having as much time as you both deserved with the other. Were you two actually having sex, fucking you fast and quick would have been optimal. But as it stood, you never had sex. So you two never did anything even close to that.

But, in Winterfell? With his father, the household guard, Lady Catelyns judging eyes, and the varying rambunctious nature of Jons five siblings, having you quick like that would have been risky.

Someone would catch you. Anything you did had to wait until you knew you were alone. Hell, Jon once got a little too eager to gently kiss you one evening, and as it turned out, Arya had spotted you both in the stables, and that's how she found out. Jon trusted her not to tell, but he never took anything of that risk again.

In total private where he could take his time, or not at all.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If you went to Jon right now and asked if he liked quickies, he'd say no. He would say he hates them. And that would be the biggest lie he's ever told in his life.

It's possible he was abusing his status as King in the North to do so, but if he were a little late to the meeting, no one was going to say anything. And he was far better at pretending everything was fine then you were, so if only Jon walked in, no one would know. Except Tormund. Somehow Tormund always could tell, and Jon would spend the next 20 minutes actively ignoring that prideful but amused glint in the mans eye.

But he loved quickies. Jon loved fucking you needing and fast. Finding an empty wall to shove you against, sinking deep inside you and overwhelming you in seconds to the point you were powerless to do anything but let Jon take you. The way you'd cling to him in those seconds after, knowing this was all you had for now when normally Jon would kiss and hold you tenderly. It just made you needier for that later.

He never would admit it, saying he only wanted you when he could take his proper time and care. But the amount of times Jons almost gotten you both caught, beacuse he desperately needed to fuck you out of nowhere, was starting to stack up quickly.

Robb Stark:

One man truly and honestly hates quickies with all his being, and his name is Robb Stark.

If he has to fuck you quick, he's not going to do it and that is without exaggeration, the end of that. Robb wants to take you apart, he wants to ruin you for hour and hours until you have nothing left but his cock inside you, and then he'll build you back up like the Queen you are. That takes time, and patience.

Robb almost gets more worked up the more he cums, he hates the idea of fucking you quick in the middle of the day. Robb has things to do, he can control himself long enough to just get over it if he wants you. Part of it goes hand in hand with not wanting anyone to see you or come close to catching you, since Robb has no shred of privacy to touch you outside the isolation of your tent at night.

You're the love of his life, he wants to make sure you never question that fact. He may whisper in your ear like you're a whore in a brothel, but he won't fuck you like one. Not like he's here to throw a copper at you, cum and then leave. He hates that idea, it doesn't even appeal to him.

Robb wants you proper, in a bed, where he can fuck you hard, and then show you how much he loves you. He can't do that if he just ruts inside of you like an animal, roughly against a wall in the middle of the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? Etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Technically, Jons entire relationship with you was the risk. He was a bastard, you were a highborn girl and niece to King Robert of all people. You were supposed to be courted by men like Robb, not a bastard with nothing to offer you but his heart.

He didn't try any experimenting or risk taking in sexual terms beacuse you two didn't have that freedom. The risk, was what Jon already did.

The risk was that night in the pouring rain in the wolfswood. He was 18 and you were nearing 16, he and his brother would hunt you and Theon in the wolfswood and see who could make it until midnight without being caught by the two wolves who knew this land like the back of their hands.

It was close to the end, Theon had been caught and Robb had given up once the rain started, so it was only Jon and you left, and Jon had finally caught you. Grabbed you from behind and held you to his chest with a low rasp of his victory, teasing in your ear.

He didn't know at first if you understood why the air changed. You were younger and certainly more innocent then him, but you were suddenly nervous enough that Jon felt confident it wasn't just him anymore. You tried to run, escape the way the air between you two changed to something heavy you didn't understand, but Jon didn't want this to stop. If you left now, he may never be confident enough again. So he grabbed you once more, tossing your back against a tree to make you stop running. You were soaked from the rain, eyes so wide and bright with lips just slightly parted in confusion, and it was too much for him to hold back.

It was the biggest risk Jon ever took, but he moved quick. Cupping both of your cheeks and leaning down to press his lips to yours. But the fact that you arched right up into him? Kissed him back eagerly and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck?

Jon knew there was no risk of him getting caught being with you that could outweigh how much this one payed off that night.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Risks were half of what Jon took now. Risk this fight, risk that battle but none were more worrying then every risk he took with you.

At every turn since having you back, it felt as if something threw a new test between you at every opportunity. Put on question how much Jon could protect you, and too many times did he not know how to stop it.

But, if there was a solace, it was that risks were only not unwilling to be taken when it came to taking you. Neither had done much and Jon fantasized about more and at every turn, he was fairly certain you would want what he wanted. He worried about it, worried that he was too rough, was too demanding, his intentions too forward but each time you came back to him with as much eagerness as the first time.

He knew he was gaining advice from either the best or worse sources, as the free folk around him all spoke rather blatantly about the sexual things they had done. Some of which Jon barley heard of, most of which Jon knew you had never known existed. And it took some work to tell himself not to try everything, but he certainly thought about them. Would hear the men go on about it, and just as he wondered why do it if it wasn't good for the woman, he'd hear just that other side from them and suddenly Jon learned far more about ways in which he could take you that you might enjoy, then he ever imagined. And he was willing to do them all, as long as you liked the idea, and it didn't harm you?

Jon might never say that he wants those things, but if they came up between you, he'd want to do it in a heartbeat.

Robb Stark:

One may think Robb would be a risk taker considering the degree to which he can fuck you any and everyday with his dominating mind and desires. But in truth, he doesn't like to take risks with you. That scares him, no matter if it's innocent or sexual in nature.

You're his wife and he came so close to losing you the way the Lannisters murdered his father, should Ser Barristan Selmy not have helped you to escape Kings Landing.

Taking new risks with you, while can be fun to playfully bicker about when you are naked in his lap as he keeps his cock sunk deep with a silent hope he's helping his seed take, he rarely will introduce anything that would be considered one.

You both are at war, you fight by his side in battle, that's more risk then Robb ever wanted with you, and he won't do any more beyond what you two already have.

He wants you home in Winterfell, swollen with his child before the proper start of Winter, he doesn't want to risk you in anyway that delays that anymore. He knows it's a big paranoia considering how much you trust him with your body, but Robb knows what your limits are and what his limits are and he refuses to go beyond those in any capacity.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon didn't have much way of gauging what he'd be like with you, at least in that manner. Much of what you two had done could've taken of their time and wasn't too taxing on either of you.

He'd draw it out as much as he could for you, and on the nights he managed to be weak enough to have you perched on his lap in his bed, he wasn't really aware of the time which passed. Of course, the time that passed sometimes went well over two hours without realizing. Sometimes he'd cum, but he could keep going after, likely the most he had in one night with you was three, but again, it wasn't quite direct touch and he had no way of knowing what being inside you might be like.

On his own, where he'd have too much of you he missed and no way to see you? It depended on how worked up he was. If he was mostly just horny, he could look to a memory of you and not last long and be satisfied.

But on nights he really missed you, he'd take out a stashed article of clothing of yours that he kept close. Grey eyes drifting to a letter of yours, and trying to read it and hear your voice in his head. Bracing a hand on the stone wall near his window, and the other on his cock, Jon could keep himself that consistently worked up for at least an hour straight on those nights.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Whether it was always in him to be like this with you, or if something about returning to life changed aspects of himself, Jon didn't know. But he could last for longer and stay hard so much longer then most men.

Jon could cum four times in a row and still be as hard and desperate as before the first. As long as something of his cock was inside you, Jon seemed to be able to last as long as it took to wear you out. His cock having that aggressive drive to fill you until he was empty just so he could do it all over again the next night. Hours it would last.

That night in the Ice Cells of Castle Black, Jon had no concept of how long he had been fucking you, but it was certainly past the hour mark by the time he pressed your back into the floor.

Again, Jon knew there was something not normal about the degree of his stamina, judging by the fact that he could spend hours fucking you so much that you practically would pass out in his arms, and Jon still would lay you down under the furs of his bed, telling himself that he can't just take you when you're this sensitive and already falling asleep.

If you truly tested his resolve, Jon would start at sun down and still be taking you by sun up. He'd need good few rests of a couple moments in between, for you and him, but it wasn't as if he needed much recovery time. On a good night, Jon wouldn't even get anywhere less then still more then half hard when pulling out of you until you two were fully exhausted.

Robb Stark:

Gods be good, the more Robb cums, the longer he can go it seems. You'd think he actually gets more hard after each time he cums inside you.

He has to rest in between, normally beacuse he knows he is rough on you and he doesn't want to accidentally push you from sensitive to in pain, but once the dust has settled? He's ready to go and Robb will tell you to just lay there and take it like a good girl if you're too tired to do the work.

He's perfectly content with doing the heavy lifting in bed for you, doing the hard work beacuse this is nothing compared to the hell outside your tent.

There are some nights his men are fully aware neither their King nor Queen got a wink of sleep, beacuse the guards near his tent could hear you both all night without exaggeration. If something could magically give Robb more energy when it made no sense, Robb had found that magical source in sinking his cock deep inside you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon hadn't even gotten his cock inside you for the first time, he certainly wasn't about to let some pleasure toy get there before him.

He didn't really see the point as well, but he considered that maybe since he's a male, he might be unfairly overestimating the ease in which women would pleasure themselves. Men were a no brainer, but Jon had to take his time learning to fine tune your pleasure like a delicate instrument and toys might help in that capacity alone.

But he knew you didn't even realize such a thing existed, and he wasn't about to introduce that to you when he himself didn't like the idea.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Not a chance.

You had a significant amount of trauma behind you now, and thus you trusted Jon to take every step of the way to ensure you were safe and alright. Jon had no interest in using anything like a toy on you, he wanted to feel you, he wanted you to feel him.

Neither of you liked fucking in a way together with little physical contact and using a toy felt so lacking of intimacy. So lacking of passion. He couldn't gauge how you were feeling, or if you were close with a toy. Jon knew where you were at by the tiniest of clenches of your cunt around his cock or fingers and he'd never know with some toy inside you.

You wanted him, not something just used by him. And Jon wanted you, he wanted to feel you not just watch you get that feeling alone.

Robb Stark:

He wouldn't consider them toys, but he has tied you up before. Not much, just by the wrists but he wouldn't say that was a toy.

He knows what toys are out there and he dismisses that idea. What would something not real do for you that Robb couldn't give you himself in droves. He already has a cock that drives you insane, he has long fingers that reach your sensitive walls beyond what any toy could provide you.

Robb wants to tie you up more, blindfold you even but that was more of a, he wants you to trust him even more, sort of thing, rather then he wants to get wild with what he fucks you with. He wants what he introduces into sex to be a tool to help make the sex more pleasurable for you, not something to act as the sex itself without him.

Robb recalled once asking Theon what the point of them was, and having a good laugh between them that it's probably just what some Southerners invented beacuse their too boring with small cocks to actually pleasure a woman with what they barley have themselves.

And judging by how much you are utterly weak for Robbs touch, he would consider that to be likely more true then not.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon had to be subtle about it, but he was relentless.

Knew the exact look to give you to make you stiffen up and hide how flustered you could get. Knew just how briefly of a touch of his hand across your lower back as he passed in public to make your breathe hitch. Jon of course, also teased you just in words. He was quite good at teasing you at all stages of your friendship together but he was sadistic once you were were involved.

Some teasing was normal, others sounded more biting and mean to people around when you knew he was just trying to get you worked up. Get you annoyed, so that he could feel you melt against him later when he finally kissed you at your most irritated at him, and tease more that you were quite predictable.

This passed to touch as well, the first time he pleasured you was simple. A nice, exploration of his fingers on your clit as he worked out what you liked best, and just as he payed attention to what it is you about to cum looked and sounded like, did he pull away. Then he worked you up and did it again as you almost whined.

He loved it, he loved keeping you on an edge that had you not being able to do anything but rely on his touch, before he took it away at the perfect moment.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Gods be good, he is one of the seven hells sent directly to torment you. Jon no longer has to be subtle or secret, he can just tease you. It doesn't matter.

He doesn't act that way in public, no. But he doesn't need to hide his wants, desires, intentions. No, Jon can work you up in seconds and just keep you dangling over a free fall all day long. It's in his words, they aren't filthy, but they are needy. He wants you and he tells you, but he won't take you. He saves it, and torments you with his own patience.

He some days, won't let you cum. Gets you right there, and takes it away. Sometimes more then once in a row, and many times, he will keep you like that for days. Some times he teases you all the same the next night, sometimes Jon takes your orgasm away at the last minute in one overwhelming night and will just leave you like that for a week.

He loves it. He loves keeping you that way, keeping you needy for him, that the second his voice rasps low in your ear, you shiver for him.

If teasing you in and out of the bedroom could be a feat worth crowning one of, Jon would've been a King months earlier.

Robb Stark:

Robb wishes he had the patience to tease you, he does. But he doesn't.

He does it in small doses, will yank you to him and whisper that he wants you naked in his bed when he returns or that he expects his good girl to show her king her appreciation later that night. But it doesn't tease beyond that really.

He prefers to take his time with you, and teasing you like that doesn't really fit into that mindset for Robb. If he wants you, he wants you then so why would he tease you for later? Part of it stems from how much you are by his side. Robb constantly has you beside him, often with a hand on you somewhere. Leaving a kiss to your hair, or a gentle kiss as he runs his thumb along your cheek in front of his men beacuse he needs you to breathe more then the air around him.

Robb doesn't want to tease you more then the little bit he does, he just wants you. And out in a war, there isn't a worse place he could think of to be a tease. He will work you up as much as it takes for you to know he wants you in his tent that night before it got too late to take care of you, but he has no patience for teasing beyond that. He already has you, he doesn't want to waste that time.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

If he and you are in the castle in Winterfell? Jon tries his best to be very quiet. He wasn't loud, more of a growl or a hiss at the sensation.

But sometimes a deep gutted groan could leave him, and that certainly was not common enough of a sound from Jon to pretend it wasn't for something filthy.

He had one trick though once he and you got comfortable enough. Jon would yank down the front of your dress, usually pulling your arms from it or unclasping it enough so it pooled around your waist, and occupy his growls or grunts with his mouth on your breasts. It was the most perverse thing the two of you would do, but it kept Jon quiet, while his other hand honestly? Well if his mouth wasn't hiding your high pitched, beautiful gasps and whines in his kiss, he'd reach a free hand up and roughly cover your mouth as you grasped at his wrist with both hands. Burying in each other to hide the sounds of your sinful secret together.

If you two were out in the wolfswood alone, it was a bit easier. Jon would let himself rumble deep, and freely encourage your breathless gasps with a gentle press of his lips over your cheek, forehead, neck, whatever he could reach.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Take that growling and grunting, and multiply it by a hundred. Jon once more, knows he no longer has any need to hide what you two do. No one cares that he has you in his bed, and so no one who could even hear through the thick stone walls that muffled much noise, would think twice.

They knew you two were together, it didn't matter now.

Jon could growl and hiss as you clenched tight and soaked around his cock, bite at your neck until he could rasp deep and strained in your ear, as he spoke the first things on his mind usually much more needy and filthy then he intended.

If he was trying to be discreet, he would bury his mouth into your neck with kisses, licks, bites, sucking rough bruises into the skin and it would cover the deep noises from within. But in turn it made you gasp and cry for him so loudly that everyone would hear anyways.

Jon wasn't really a talker, not with sex especially. The closer his orgasm got the more his heart rambled, but it wasn't intentional. He spoke from his deep desire for you with raw intense honesty. All in between rough breathing to keep him collected, only to feel that hiss or growl in his chest at how beautiful you felt around him.

If no one heard you two in low tones though, many would simply be able to hear the smack of skin as he fucked into you rough, or the hard bang of a table slamming against a wall, if he took you somewhere more public.

Robb Stark:

At the most dense, Robb has had an army camp of almost thirty thousand men at the start of the war, when he had joined with the River Lords. If someone had told him that all thirty thousand men had heard Robb and you fucking at night, he'd smirk with pride and say he hopes they got off nice and hard to how perfect you begged and pleaded for your Kings cock.

Robb is a talker in bed, he runs his mouth as filth pours out. In return, you cry and moan and beg for him, and it all is a harmony of filth that he knows so many men by now have heard from you and him.

Robb doesn't moan, he growls and he groans rough when he's deep inside of you, his voice normally warm and soothing dropping to a strained roughness that scratches at your ears as much as it soaks you between your legs as well. Robb knows just what to say to make you an obedient little mate, and he takes full advantage of that the entire night.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jon Snow:

If the only thing Jon was allowed to do for the rest of his life was kiss you, he'd never have a single thing to complain about. Last life or this one, Jon was addicted to your lips.

The way they were so soft, moulded to his perfectly, how sweet they tasted and how much you let his tongue explore your mouth with strong desire. He adored having his lips on you somehow, and the only thing that changed one he came back was he could now do it without fear of being caught. But the love for it stayed the same.

Kissing foreheads was something he always did with everyone, his brothers and sisters and you, but what was different is how rare it was that he gave you any passing kiss alone. A brush of his hand, lingering too long and getting too close to your lips when he pulled back.

To Jon, kissing you is practically a hobby. He finds his lips to you in some way constantly, and if he's inside you then he adores keeping your lips pressed to his. He loves to cum deep inside you, keeping your lips trapped against his kiss. Jon wishes to hear your moans, and swallow them into his own mouth, just so he can lick into yours and demand more sounds gifted into him.

If Jon would be able to say he has one talent, he was confident enough to say he's quite a good kisser. And he wants all of that to go to none but you. Jon kisses you more, then an entire brothel of whores will kiss all their paying men in their entire lives.

Robb Stark:

Telling you now would be so unfair, he knew. If he said it now, the man wasn't there to defend himself or refute it, and beacuse of that, he didn't want such a comment to change your view of your best friend.

But Robb was not stupid. Robb was more observant then he was likely given credit for on this one, but it didn't bother him so he didn't bring it up to a soul, not him, and definitely not you.

He didn't know the true extend of how strong it was, or if he had feelings, or for how long he felt this way. Robb didn't know those details, but he knew without any doubt, that in one way or another, Jon Snow wanted you.

He had suspected it for a while since your last visit. The way Jon would look at you, was so much more then the man thought he was giving off. He was so brooding and grouchy the month before you arrived with the Kings company, and Robb truly felt bad. Here Jon was, desperately wanting to fuck you, his best friend, only to now watch you get married to Robb.

But now, Jon was at the wall, and you were Robbs wife. Telling you now would just be rude, and a breach of trust that Jon didn't know Robb had been holding onto. But the real thing that he wasn't saying, was that if for some miracle, Robb won the war, and brought you home to Winterfell, he had seriously considered it.

Either Robb would get lucky enough to find a way to bring his brother home where he belongs, or Jon would simply come visit, the way their Uncle Benjen came to visit their father. There was no harm, you were Robbs wife after all, that wasn't breaking a vow.

But Robb couldn't help but wonder, if he could at the least get Jon to come visit from the wall, he wondered how easy it would be to convince his brother to fuck you. Now, Robb wasn't just handing you over to his brother, but just maybe, Robb wondered, Jon might be open to sharing at least some parts of you, if just your body.

Robb held out hope he could bring you home one day, and just maybe, find enough in his jealous heart to share at least something of you with Jon. He was at the wall after all, and you were his best friend.

It wouldn't be much, but maybe the wall would be a little less lonely for his brother, if Jon were to go back with the freedom to know what it felt like to slide his cock into his best friend's sweet, soaking cunt, and more perversely, how it felt to willingly fuck his brothers wife.

X = X-ray (let’s see what��s going on under those clothes)

Jon Snow:

Jon had an ongoing joke with Tormund, just taking any opportunity the free folk could find to make some comment about how small Jon was.

It had stemmed from a nickname which Tormund called him all of his own choosing anyways. The tall, lumbering man with wild orange hair, thick beard and loomed over most. He would joke and call Jon "Little Crow", and that turned right into jokes about his size. But in honesty, that was the furthest from the truth.

He didn't quite realize at first if he was well endowed, Jon having little to no interactions that would end up at discussing cock size, all he knew was the nights he'd help guide your clothed self over his covered cock, at his most hard Jon knew he would sometimes feel you shake, hold tightly onto his shoulders and try to hide the nervous exhale at the feeling. Well, if the free folk were anything, it was not shy about that sort of aspect of them. Only realizing internally that there weren't quite many who matched up to him.

He was long, yes. And it showed even when he wasn't at all hard, how long he was. But it was how thick his cock was that was the intimidating factor, at least in terms of fucking you. His cock was long, but adding just how shockingly thick his girth was, he always left a stinging burn when he slid inside you.

Jon was just lucky that you craved that very feeling as much as he wanted to give it to you.

Robb Stark:

Robb has a distinct memory of when he had sex for the first time, how the girl afterwards when getting dressed, made a comment that for someone whose never been inside a woman before, Robb knew how to use a cock like that.

At the time Robb just wanted to put his clothes on and leave, but she then kept going. Saying that most men with a big cock were idiots, and that Robb fucked like a man who was compensating for a small one but without the small part. He didn't care about that until he married you. Then suddenly, Robb was all too aware that yes, he was well endowed and knew how to fuck.

Because now you were his little innocent wife about to take her first cock, and it was long and thick. He had kept your eyes on his when he finally undressed so you didn't get intimidated, only to then make you watch as he slid inside you for the first time, so you understood how much you were taking inside you.

He knew you would feel that sting the next day constantly from his size, but that just meant Robb knew he needed to work you up and make you wet as could be to reduce the chance of his thick cock hurting rather then being a perfect pleasurable amount of pain.

Though, Robb would admit, he got off way too much at how wide his cock stretched your pretty mouth when you sucked him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Sex wasn't something he thought of all too often. Honestly, most of Jons sex drive in those days were also tied simply with how much he missed you.

He felt more worked up about being with you when you were in Kings Landing and he couldn't do a single thing about that. He never told you just how often he'd read your newest letter to him, sitting it on his desk, bracing one hand against the stone wall in front of him and stroking his cock with the other as he read it. Trying to hear your voice, pretend as if he knew what your hands on his cock would feel like, pretend he had any clue what being inside you could feel like.

He ruined a few of your letters with that habit, not that he ever said it to you. But it was just something desperate really. He felt lonely without you.

When you were in Winterfell, he wasn't that worked up. He knew his time with you had to be careful, and you two would enjoy the other to the fullest when you got away alone. But when you were gone, you weren't just the woman he loved. You were his best friend, and being in love with your best friend meant that a lot of how much he just missed you, ended up tying itself into how much he yearned to touch you.

You were so much more then just a woman he wanted to touch, but when you weren't there to calm him down with your mere comforting presence, Jon had no outlet but that.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

If putting gold on it, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive. And if he did bet on it, he would wind up being the poorest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.

It wasn't out of control, Jon had a strong drive and focus as a leader, but he could take you any time of the day. He didn't ever not want you. Jon could control his want when he needed to, and that was easy but the moment he could find any excuse to take advantage of your alone time, Jon felt his need clawing at his chest like an animal desperate to rut.

He fucked you quick during the day all the time, beacuse he was always just that ready to take you, always wanted you even when he was skilled at never showing it. He didn't want you thinking he just wanted to fuck you like an object, you weren't a whore in a brothel he wanted to use.

Jon absolutely adores you, but both your pasts have made sex something a bit strangely tied to how Jon shows he loves you. A lot of sexual trauma sat between you two, you from Ramsay, Jon from Ygritte but together you and him were learning to move forward and find a healing together. That just meant learning that Jon was a wolf with a ridiculously large appetite, but it was always with love.

He didn't want to be without you, and sometimes the only way Jon, a brooding, stoic man of not many words, knew how to express that was to taste you, kiss you, and fuck you. It was a way to express his feelings as well as move together past something that still deeply haunted you both in your own ways.

But if you asked him, Jon would say he doesn't have a high sex drive, and Tormund and Theon who have to stand there and watch how ridiculously turned on Jon would get around you constantly, would just glance at the other with an exasperated shake of their heads at Jons degree of denial.

Robb Stark:

It was a bit complicated, essentially, Robb only had much of a sex drive when he knew he had time.

First leading a war, then becoming their King and having so much of the Lannister regime fighting against him alone that he had to split his mind into two. If he was thinking about the war, he didn't want to distract himself, and you were a perfect Queen by his side and knew exactly when Robb wanted to focus.

But then at night, when it was quiet and Robb could have you all to himself, then he suddenly felt that drive come crashing through the walls of his tent and bombard him. Once alone, you worked Robb up to wanting to fuck you in seconds. You just had to look at him alone in your tent and Robb was already almost fully hard, you made it so easy.

Sun down to sun up, Robb wanted you again and again and he could think of nowhere else he wanted to be then with you, and inside of you. You were his perfect girl, and your drive matched his perfectly too. You always wanted each other at the same time, so once Robb wanted to fuck, you were ready to hand yourself over to his cock and his mercy or lack there of, depending on the day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pre Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon never slept very well. Always would either wake up and be unable to go back to sleep, or he couldn't fall asleep in the first place. And in truth, it left a lot of nights where all Jon wanted to do, was leave his room, go down the stairs to the corridors your room was in, and find his way into laying in bed with you. He'd imagine how gently he'd crawl in beside you, gently guiding you onto your side so he could pull your back against his chest and hold you tight.

But he couldn't do that, no matter what you two did, sexual or otherwise, as soon as you and Jon were with the other, falling asleep in the others bed was a bad idea. You or him would gravitate into the others gentle embrace fast asleep too unplatonically to explain it away should one of his siblings walk in.

Which Jon hated, considering during your first visit to Winterfell, you sometimes had difficult nights you couldn't sleep or a windy storm would blow through the castle and more then once you'd find your way to Jons room asking if it was alright if you slept in there, you feeling a bit nervous being in that corridor all alone.

So now, Jon would spend his nights with you, exploring you, kissing you and he'd have to part ways to sleep separately and he never slept more then 5 hours at the most after that. He missed having you close too much.

Post Resurrection Jon Snow:

Jon still didn't sleep well if you weren't there.

His bed too cold, his arms with nothing to pull tenderly into his chest, he couldn't lean over and press a tender kiss to your sleeping lips beacuse you were too beautiful to resist. He wanted you in his arms at night.

But when you two would fuck, Jon willingly didn't sleep for a while after as well. He'd run his hands gentle along you until you fell asleep, then he'd switch between watching you in more peace then you ever looked in your waking hours, or running his hands along your bare skin beacuse he loved how soft you were under his rough, large hands. On nights he wore you out particularly rough, you'd fall asleep so easily and he loved doing that for you.

You had nightmares now, more then you were ever willing to admit, and the more exhausted Jon made you with his cock, the better you slept after. And Jon liked to hold you, watch you sleep and ensure he was keeping you safe even now from the horrors in your own mind. And only when you had been quiet and peaceful for a good half hour to an hour, would Jon finally fall asleep.

You were the most vulnerable when you slept in his arms, and Jon was there to protect you. And he just liked staying awake to do that, getting some time to himself to admire you blatantly without you getting flustered over his loving gaze for so long.

Robb Stark:

Robb only slept well with you twice since marrying you.

Both of those times when you were in his bed in Winterfell after becoming his wife. Robbs room was decorative and the fabrics draped around kept the heat in well so it was always cozy in there, and under the furs of his bed. Robb never treasured a nights sleep more then the only two times so far he had in his bed with you as his wife.

He slept terribly in the war. Some nights he was so busy you couldn't even convince him to come and sleep at all, and you'd have to try again the next night. So when it was all said and done, Robb would lay with you asleep in his arms and be awake for a while. Longer then he was honest with you about.

He'd run through war strategy day after day, and at night try and piece together the life he wanted to bring you home to once this was all over. You didn't sleep well either, but as long as Robb fucked you, you slept better then he did and so he'd do it every night if it were that easy. When he did sleep, it was more what he wanted, being in bed with you in his arms, but Robb never got as much sleep as he would have, should he be able to bring you home safely to Winterfell.

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