#jorah mormont imagines

[justanoasisimagines]

Eyes Forced Open

Summary; Jorah has feelings for you who would have guessed his jealously would have saved your life. Pairing; Jorah Mormont x Female Reader WordCount; 1,465 Warnings; Angst, Jelously, mentions of usual canon violence A/N; Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

Jorah observed as you followed Daenerys quietly as she interacted with her guests. You were a perfect picture as your dress flowed graciously around you. You were breathtaking.

The two of you had been with Daenerys from the very beginning. You'd traveled far and wide reinforcing Daenerys claim to the Iron Throne. Over time, Jorah liked to believe you'd grown close. Late-night discussions as you both attempted to figure out the next course of action. Seeking comfort from each other when times got tough.

Jorah was no fool. He could admit over time he'd developed strong feelings towards you. His heart yearned for you in ways he couldn't understand.

He'd questioned if you returned his feelings. He remained unsure. It is why he'd kept quiet and yearned for you in private.

Jorah examined the room searching for any potential threat. It was his duty to protect the Khalessi. He'd also made it his duty to protect you. He'd do it gladly even if it cost him his life.

Jorah stood with a hand on his hilt searching the room, when his eyes found something. You were standing posed while Daenerys interacted with one of the attendees, yet his attention wasn't fixated on her or the conversation.

It was on you.

Jorah felt unsettled as he focused on the interaction. Slowly biding his time observing it play out. Jorah could not allow Daenerys to be seen as weak. He would not create a spectacle.

The attendee moved a lock of your hair out of your face, Jorah could stand no more. Advances were one thing, physical touch was another.

Jorah made it over to you both in five large steps. Brushing your bare back with his fingertips, he alerted you of his presence. Glancing up you extinguished some of the jealousy coursing through his veins.

Despite the man ignoring Jorah, now he'd gotten closer, something appeared astray. The man's eyes were glancing around the room. Tension was rolling off of him like waves crashing on the shore.

A subtle nod of his head, Jorah alerted Ser Barristan. A fraction too late as the man drew his sword. Daenerys took several steps back as you gripped hold of her hand. The room suddenly diverted into chaos.

Screams and thundering footsteps while the scraping of swords unsheathing. Men moved swiftly to protect Daenerys. There were fights surrounding her. Blood and body parts smothered the once pristine floor.

Jorah fought seasonedly, yet he remained distracted as he attempted to keep you within his eyesight. He moved deliberately always attempting to adjust his position.

Jorah focused on defeating the enemy at hand, it was his duty to protect the Khaleesi. It's what continued to drive him. While her safety was paramount, Jorah was concerned about your safety and well-being. This is why Jorah cut down man after man smothered in blood, unsure who it belonged to.

He was fighting on pure instinct.

As he swung his body around sword swinging high in the air, his blood ran cold. Somehow you'd been separated from the group. Now three men were circling you like predators on prey.

Jorah released a mighty yell as he sliced down his opponent in two strikes. his focus tunneled in on you. Jorah moved with the purpose from opponent to opponent. Strike after strike. He fought hard and quick.

Nothing would hurt you.

Jorah's rage drove him. He took his anger out on the enemy. It was mere moments before he stood behind the three assailants.

"Get away from her!" The men faced Jorah in response swords drawn. Their attention was drawn to him. They played into his hand as he battled them. They were younger and quicker. Jorah was by far more experienced. Jorah is no fool. He knew the numbers were stacked against him.

"Jorah look out! The third man had sunk up behind him. While the second shoved you forcefully out of the way. You landed hard on the floor. It was the final straw, Jorah found renewed energy and brutalized the three men.

His energy depleted, Jorah collapsed to his knees. Jorah glimpsed over at you, dressed crimpled and smothered in blood, you were grasping your ankle. Pain creased your expression.

"Are you well M'lady?" Jorah asked between breaths.

"My ankle hurts" Jorah nodded. He needed to get you both somewhere safe. Jorah stumbled as he rose to his feet as he made his way over to you. Holding his hand out towards you, you took his hand and he lifted you into his arms.

Jorah stumbled as he carried you out of harm's way. He could rest soon. When you were safe. Jorah felt you bury your head into his neck. he wished it could have been in better circumstances.

Jorah could see Ser Barristan in the distance. He was so close. As soon as he was behind the double doors, he collapsed onto the ground. He dropped you and you landed to the side of him.

"Ser Jorah! Jorah! You dragged yourself towards him, you attempted to search for any sign of injury. Yet it was difficult to see as his shirt was now a stained bloodied mess. Lifting Jorah's shirt, you saw a mighty wound in his side. Ragged and red in appearance. You'd wondered how Jorah had managed to fight for so long.

"I need some help over here!" Soon, a Maester was attending to his injuries. Unable to do much more, a tear slid down your cheek. Concerned for the man who'd done everything to protect you.

Jorah slept for three days and three nights. You remained by his bedside for the majority Only leaving to freshen up. You did not want to be in a state when he awoke. He'd fought valiantly; the least you could do was show bravery while he recovered.

Pushing the needle through the fabric, you concentrated on the needlework. You'd been stitching the bear from Jorah's sigil. It made a difference from your usual flowers, but you found it beautiful nonetheless.

A twitch of a finger unseen by you. You continued to work until a groan broke through the silence of the room.

Your eyes snapped up, placing the needlework to the side. Jorah's arm twitched as you suddenly moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Immediately you moved so you could go and find the Maester, yet Jorah's hand clasped around your wrist.

"Stay…with…me" Jorah croaked, you moved only a fraction so you could present him with some water. Undoubtedly he'd be parched after days of being in a slumber.

"Here, have some water. You must be thirsty." Resting a hand against the back of his head, you helped him lean up so he could take a drink. He drank slowly, soothing his dry throat.

"How long has it been?"

"Four days and four nights. You had everyone worried you would not wake" You replied, placing your hand on top of his, unable to meet his gaze.

On several occasions, during that time you'd been worried Jorah might not awake. You might never know his warmth or his smile. You'd never experience him walking alongside you whenever you were traveling together. It had taken nearly losing him for you to realize your feelings.

You were very much in love with Jorah.

"I am lucky to awaken to such a beautiful sight." Your eyes flickered up, as Jorah gave a weak smile. He'd longed to see your smile again. It was powerful enough to create a rainbow on a stormy day.

"You nearly died. Why would you put yourself in harm's way like that?"

"Are my intentions not clear enough? What of my feelings? I'd do it again to protect you." Jorah observed your eyes widen as he entwined your fingers together one by one.

"You can not possibly mean what I believe you do" Jorah beckoned you closer soon you were leaning close to his face. By the lines under your eyes, it was clear you had not slept a lot recently.

"You were the reason I approached you both. I could not bear another man touching you. When you are not his to touch. My heart yearns for you and I believe yours does the same, so why don't we stop pretending."

Jorah was right. Nearly losing him had forced you into a realization. Leaning down you pressed a gentle kiss onto his lips.

"You are right. Promise me you will not nearly die on me again." Jorah nodded as he brought your hand to rest directly on his chest on top of his heart.

"I will see fit to protect what belongs to you now." Both of you smiled as you got lost in one another. Sometimes it took an incident to bring two oblivious people together.

[mostfandomimagines]

Imagine: Jorah finding you unharmed after a battle

[shadeysprings]

Wilting Blossom

—Jorah Mormont x F!Reader

Summary: Trapped in the dungeons, the Lord Commander comes to make a bargain.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, age gap, size kink, vaginal fingering, coercion & entrapment. There may be more but thread carefully as this is a dark fic.

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's Week Four Challenge: Across the Universe. I started this event with Jorah and I feel it was only right to end it with him. GOT is one of the universes I love to dabble in and Jorah, if you know me, is the one that holds my heart.

Your feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support content creators! And of course, I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

With your hand outstretched, you try to catch the rays of the sun as it trickles through the small window of your cell. You bask in what little warmth it offers, the heat kissing your skin and slowly staving off the cold emitted by the stone walls that surround you. 

But just as quickly, you pull your hand back and push yourself against the wall, hugging your knees to your chest and shrouding yourself once more in the darkness when you hear the dungeon doors open. Heavy footsteps echo through the narrow hall, guards shouting and banging against the bars that confine you and your fellow prisoners, who in turn, retaliate by shouting curses in their wake. 

The tension in the air then thickens when you sense the band stop by your cell, their presence imposing and looming. 

“Unlock it.”

You stiffen and huddle closer to the wall when you catch the familiar timbre of Lord Commander Mormont amidst the low rabble of the dungeon. The sound of keys jingling and the lock going undone, your chest constricting in fear as the hinges of what keeps you separated from them creak as it swings open.

He’s the reason you were thrown into this purgatory. His profession of mercy when he stands beside the Targaryen Queen proves false when he gave no chance to hear your apologies. Though, deep down, you know you’re just as much to blame as he is. 

“Wait outside.” He instructs one of his men. “We are not to be disturbed. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” Another familiar voice responds, Ser Jaime Lannister’s, but you hear nothing more than retreating steps and the pounding of your heart as you’re left alone with the leader of the queensguard.

His footfalls are slow and measured, akin to a predator circling its prey. You hide your face from him, not wanting to see the demon clothed in fine gold. 

“Don’t hide from me.” A command and you contemplate doing as you’re bid but he makes his impatience known when he nudges you with his boot. You swallow thickly as you tilt your chin up, taking in his tall stature as he towers over you, his golden armor glinting against the light of the sun and his sapphire eyes burning with devious desire as he stares down at you. 

A silent gasp then leaves your lips when he crouches at your level,  “How was your stay here, thief?” He asks, a smirk forming on his lips and you divert your eyes away. “Cold isn’t it? You’d rather be out in the sun?” His tone makes your blood start boiling, anger burning in your chest as he taunts you with freedom.

But your chest quickens when he reaches behind him, your arms instinctively shielding yourself as you expect him to pull out a dagger and give you your sentence right there on the muddy floors of the cell. Yet, the blow doesn’t come, instead, you hear him chuckling, mirth present in his voice and you peek through your arms to see him holding out a loaf than a weapon. 

“Take it,” he urges. “I know you’re hungry.” You stare at the offered food, stomach growling at the sight. “This will taste better than the slop they feed you lot down here.” His voice is calm yet calculating all the same, but all at once soothing, if you’re to be honest with yourself. 

Hesitation fills you, eyes shifting from the loaf and then at him. For you know there are more creative ways to kill a peasant than to throw them under the blade. 

“It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking.” The Lord Commander chuckles and rips a piece of the bread before tossing it in his mouth.

As soon as he finishes, parting his lips to expose the empty cavern, you snatch the fare from his grasp and bite into it with greed, the spongy texture tickling your mouth and settling your hunger, humming a moan at the taste. 

Ser Jorah laughs once more, his eyes light with amusement as he watches you feast. “There’s more where that came from,” He coos, and you watch him closely when he shifts to near you, keeping the bread to your lips in fear of him taking it away. “Maybe some meat and cheese, lemon cakes too, if you wish. Wouldn’t you want that?” You feel your mouth water as he lists down the items, your stomach rumbling once more. 

“I can give you so much more, petal,” He continues, your body going rigid as dread crawls up your spine when his gloved hand reaches over to caress your arm, the blue pools in his turning darker and you hear his breathing grow heavier. “A warm bed, a full belly, a better life.” The knight breathes, “And you need only give me what I want in return.”

“And what is that?” Your voice comes out in an instant, startling both of you, the Lord Commander’s grin widening at your question. 

“You.”

Your brow furrows and the anger from before returns in a burst of flames, throwing the half-eaten loaf at his face and quickly pushing yourself from the ground and making your way out of your cell.

But such an attempt of escape is fruitless; Ser Jorah easily recovers from your pitiful attack and grabs you by the ankle, making you fall to the ground and cry in pain and soon in fear when he crawls over you, gasping when the length of his arm pins your shoulders to the muddy ground.

“Ah, ah,” He tuts and laughs as you struggle against his hold, nails scraping on the cobblestone floor as you try to get away from him, but you choke when his arm slips to the back of your neck, weeping uncontrollably and begging for his mercy upon feeling his other hand slip underneath your skirt. “Disobedient girls don’t get that privilege,” Hot breath fans over your cheek when he leans closer, crushing you with the weight of his armor. “They are left to rot in cells while men come and go as they please, to rape them, torture them even.”

“Ser—” You cry, “Please—”

“And I would hate to see a pretty flower like you be ruined, watching your petals wilt away.” Your lips tremble when he presses his nose against your hair, disgust blooming at the pit of your stomach when he rolls his hips, feeling the erection in his breeches press against your ass. “But I am a forgiving and generous man, and I can save you from such fate.” He slowly eases off of you and you groan when he flips you to your back, only to pin you down once more with his arm over your chest. 

You lock eyes with him, your mind swimming in the words of the Lord Commander, drowning in them for you know them to be true. How whispers fly across the city of women taken into captivity, treated like whores, and leaving with either a babe in their belly or hanging at the center of King’s Landing.

But should that alone be the drive for you to take his offer? A life of servitude to the knight? A bed warmer? You regale in the thought and realize it makes no difference if one man or several take you against your will because all the same, you’re nothing but a thing to be used, an object to the eyes of the nobles and ones of power, keeping you bound to whichever hell they see fit. 

You’ve heard stories of the Lord Commander, the once Lord of the northernmost island, knighted by King Robert himself at the Siege of Pyke. How he was exiled to the neighboring country for his misdeeds yet found back his honor at the side of the Dragon Queen. 

They said he was a just, merciful, and honorable man, but what you see before you are anything but, for there is no mercy dripping from his tongue nor honor looming in his eyes, only hunger for the flesh—your flesh—and greed for control over the ones who have none.

Still, you are nothing compared to him; a peasant of the city—no power or riches to bargain for your freedom.

“So, what will it be, thief?” He asks, looking up into his sapphires with fear as you decide and give your answer.

That was but a year ago, the dregs of the dungeon are now washed away by the cool waters you’re allowed to indulge in the vast chamber. Your rags, replaced with sheer silk dresses—luxurious as they seem, they give you no sense of decency as they expose everything underneath. But food is no longer scarce, one you treat as a blessing yet such gifts are nothing but a tether to your new prison. 

You sit by the plush chaise, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks that hold the fortress of the Red Keep filling your ears while you watch the strong winds blow against the sails of the ships that come in and out of the capitol. You can’t help but long to set foot on the sandy beaches once more, to bask in the freedom you once knew before being found by the Lord Commander himself stalking in the royal kitchen.

You may have simply been surviving in the past—fleeting through the narrow walk of Flea Bottom and rummaging through the wastes of the highborn for something to eat—but, at the least, you were free.

The door of the chamber swings open and you immediately stand from your perch, folding your hands at your front as you watch Ser Jorah walk in, his golden armor glowing in the afternoon light and you swallow thickly when he flicks the lock within. 

His eyes meet yours and your spine tingles in fear when you see the hunger within them. He unties the belt holding his sword from his waist and hangs it by the hook at the side of the door before slowly walking over to the chaise, measured hand pulling off his gloves and tossing them on the plush surface. 

“Wine.” He says after dropping himself on the settee and you quickly reach for the jug on the table in front, kneeling as you pour a generous amount into the goblet. 

With careful hands you hold it out to him, giving you a smile before taking the cup from your grasp and holding out his hand to you in return. You take it and follow his lead, standing between his parted legs before settling yourself on his thick thigh when he nudges you to sit. 

He then lifts the cup to his lips, taking long and heavy gulps with some of the red liquid spilling from the sides and clinging to his golden beard. As soon as he finishes, he leans forward to set the goblet on the low table before focusing his attention on you, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist while his other hand rests on your knee, kneading it before caressing the expanse of your thigh. 

“How are you while I was away, little flower?” He asks, “I hope you weren’t too lonely.”

“The view of the sea kept me entertained, Ser.” You murmur, squeaking in surprise when he pulls you flush against him. 

“I bring you good news then.” He drones, shifting you on his lap and you grab his arm when he presses your back against his plated chest, hooking your knees over his and spreading your legs wide when he parts his. “I sail for Dorne in a fortnight and I’m taking you with me.” His voice is low, whispering against your ear and your chest tightens when he bunches the skirt of your dress over your waist, shivering, skin tingling when his hand skims over your inner thigh. 

“A m-most generous o-offer, Ser—” You mumble, your other hand gripping his wrist as you try to push him away, gasping as an aching need bloom at the pit of your abdomen when he finds purchase of your cunt and rolls a finger against your sacred bud. “But p-people will s-see—the queen—” The words die on your lips when he quickens the movement of his hand, your lips parting, mouth hanging open as you try to catch your breath. 

“I care not of whispers,” He growls against the crown of your head, and you gasp sharply when he slips two fingers past the folds of your weeping blossom. “Everyone should know who it is you belong to.”

He clutches your waist tight, keeping you pressed to him as he fucks you desperately with his hand, the walls of your cunt stretching wide at the thickness of his fingers and the soreness from the night before burning within once more along with the fire of your unwanted desire. 

Words of pleas for him to stop linger at your lips but never leave, your legs shaking as your arousal spikes, your cunt slickening further, allowing him to thrust deeper to his knuckles. His arm on your waist moves, but only to frame his fingers around your neck, turning your head for you to face him and capture your lips to pull you into a heated kiss. 

He swallows your moans, devouring every sound you make and your stomach quakes, making you pull away from his lips when you let out a silent scream as pleasure crashes over you, your eyes blowing wide and gasping heavily when you shudder at your release, coating his fingers with your essence. 

Deep chuckles emit from him and you tremble when he slips his digits from your cunt, your walls clenching on nothing and your mind protesting against the longing of your body. You pant heavily against his chest, daring to peek up at him when you hear him produce such lewd sounds and watch him slip his fingers into his lips,  licking them clean. 

“Such a sweet nectar from the sweetest flower.” He drones and you whimper when he gives your lips one last kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue before staggering forward when he pushes you off of him, holding onto the small table to keep yourself from falling to the ground

You hear him shuffle behind you, sounds of clasps being undone, and you startle when he grabs your arm, pulling you to stand before nudging you towards the bedchamber. 

“On the bed, petal.” He instructs, “I’ve given you pleasure, and it’s your turn to return the favor.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

Also, I just want to thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @navybrat817 for hosting this event. It was truly such a joy to write with the themes you've set and I've met such amazing and talented people along the way.

[luulaloops]

Recent GOT FAN..

Looking for good writings for Littlefinger, Jamie & Jorah…your girl is WAYYY behind on jumping on the bandwagon

[folkloresthings]

if anyone wants to send some game of thrones requests….

[winterfell-fantasy]

jorah mormont masterlist

old friends - prompt: “stay here tonight.” // "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me". reader being and old friend or something like that.

[just-some-random-blogger]

SANDOR AND JORAH HAVE ME FUCKED UPPPPPPPPPPPP

They're all so wonderfully written and lovely. Tyrion being smug is like 🙄🖐️ 🫦🤣 That's cuteeeee najmMmkdjsjHAHAHAHH

PLEASE! reactions to sandor, theon, jorah, jon, tyrion, sansa and missandei for praising them during sex?

I just did the men for this one, my character limit is 4 but I couldn't choose so I did all of them

Sandor buries his face into the crook of his lovers neck. His face flushing at their words, his hips don't slow however. He opts to kiss at their delicate skin, trying to ignore the praise. It's not as though he doesn't like it, he just feels as though he doesn't deserve it. The praise keeps coming however, his lover keeps mumbling how good he feels and how amazing he is.

He sits up, bringing his lover with him. Sandor holds them close, their chests pressed together, then his lips find theirs. A desperate attempt to silence them as he keeps thrusting, bouncing them on his cock. Their arms wrap around him, as well as their legs. Clinging to him as he fucks them mercilessly. They make a note to praise him like that more often if this is how he'll react.

Theon is cocky about it, smirks and thrusts into his lover even harder. "You like that huh?" his hands wander and he gropes at every part of their body. Even if he doesn't fully believe that he's the best man out there, he makes his lover moan and squirm and cum. That's all that matters to him. Theon makes sure they'll remember him even if they leave him, he's the best cock they'll ever have.

His fingers pinch at his lovers nipples, he loves the way they squeal at the sensation. His cock plows into them, the wet sound of their slick and his hot precum is downright selacious. He wants to hear more about how good he feels, how hot he is. If he had it his way, he'd never leave his lovers bed.

Jorah can't help but get flustered when he hears the praise. His heart climbs up his throat as his lover moans and tells him how amazing he's doing. He leans down, his head resting against their chest. His thrusts don't slow down, in fact he angles his hips to go deeper. He opts to kiss their soft skin and hide his face from them. Jorah knows he shouldn't feel embarrassed, but how can someone so perfect love someone like him?

His hands roam their body, tracing down their sides and groping their hips. Pulling them against him and losing himself in their love. He believes that if he doesn't acknowledge the praise, he doesn't have to accept it. He can't accept it, not a man like him.

Jon doesn't register his lovers words at first. He's so lost in them, wanting to make them feel as good as possible. When they repeat themselves, it hits him. He can't help but pick up his pace, he wants to hear it again. His hips angling in such a way that his cock goes deeper than before. Again and again his lover praises him, calling him a good boy and moaning that he feels heavenly.

He doesn't believe their words, not really. But it doesn't stop Jon from drinking them down like a deserted man. He knows that outside of this bed he isn't good, though he tries. No, the only place he's truly good and thoroughly skilled is right here between his lovers legs.

Tyrion lives for praise, craves it and works hard for it. He knows he's good in bed, downright godly even. The words of his lover fuel his ego, he'd laugh and smile, asking if they want him to fuck them stupid. He loves to hear how good he's doing, how good his cock feels up inside them. He's thrusting his hips into theirs, hands roaming, he wants to hear more. Tyrion will keep going long after he and his lover cum, he doesn't want them to stop praising him.

He knows that when he pulls out, and they get cleaned up, that the praise ends. He doesn't want it to, perhaps that's why most of his free time is spent in brothels. Either way, he'll revel in his lovers words for as long as they can last.

[goodqueenaly]

Hello Good Queen Alysanne, I have a question about Jorah Mormont and Lynesse Hightower. Was the marriage doomed from the start? Was there anything they could do to make it work (e.g. Jorah temper her expectations about the Bear Island)? I remember Catelyn said something along the line of she was unprepared for a life in the North, but eventually adapted to it.

Here’s the thing, though: we’re talking about a marriage not just between two very different people from two extremely difficult cultural backgrounds, but one which had not even been on the radar for either until maybe a week or so before it took place - and that I think is being generous with the timeline. Catelyn and Ned had certainly not known each other, in any deeply personal way, before their wedding, and each had certainly grown up (though perhaps somewhat less so, for the Jon Arryn-raised Ned) in a family and a society very different the other’s, but Catelyn had been taught from a young age to be the dutiful inheritor of her father’s political designs - and from the age of 12, had understood that duty meant eventually marrying the heir to Winterfell, becoming its lady, and continuing the Stark dynasty. Likewise, while Ned had never expected to become Lord of Winterfell or marry his brother’s fiancée, he had certainly understood the wartime necessity of taking Catelyn as his bride and preserving the rebellion’s alliances via marriage. This is not to say, of course, that Catelyn immediately adapted to being Ned’s wife and that she never experienced any struggles during her marriage; it took her time to “[find] the good sweet heart beneath Ned's solemn face”, and some aspects of life in the North always remained foreign to her - the godswood sacred to Ned’s faith, or the (ostensibly) bastard son whose origins Ned angrily refused to detail . Nevertheless, I think it’s fair to say Ned and Catelyn’s marriage succeeded, at least in part, because Catelyn came into the marriage understanding the politico-dynastic duty impressed on her for a large chunk of her pre-marital life by her father, because Ned too understood and accepted the the duty he had to marry her during the Rebellion, and because both Ned and Catelyn spent years developing passion and devotion toward one another, alongside that duty.

By contrast, what could even be said of Jorah’s and Lynesse’s respective expectations going into their wedding and marriage? Jorah very explicitly had only married Lynesse because he “could not take [his] eyes off her”at the joust, purely acting on his physical attraction to her. Lynesse, for her part, had no reason to have known who Jorah even was, except perhaps on the most general level, ahead of and even during the tourney: if she was pleased to accept the favor of a hero of the recent war, a lord in his own right and a bannerman of the victorious king’s closest friend, she likely had as little knowledge of Jorah personally as he did her. Compounding that is, as I mentioned, the incredibly short timeframe of their marriage: Jorah asked for Lynesse’s hand immediately after winning the joust, and they married while Jorah was still in Lannisport for the tourney, meaning that they were going to the altar having been quite literally complete strangers at most a week, if not a few days, before the wedding. Even if Jorah and/or Lynesse had wanted to get to know each other as marriage partners before their wedding day - and Jorah certainly doesn’t seem to have been interested, in any event - there was simply no time to do so: before either, but especially Lynesse, may have realized the full implications of what to come, Lord Leyton had already signed away his youngest daughter’s future to Jorah.

In Lannisport, in those bare handful of days, it may have been easy for Jorah, and perhaps Lynesse as well, to imagine their future as one of sunshine and roses. Literally riding high on his very recent and illustrious knighthood and his unstoppable victories during the joust, in the warmth and wealth of the oldest and southernmost city in Westeros, Jorah may have thought that the realities of Bear Island life seemed physically and culturally very far away. Lynesse, still just a teenager and one who, as the youngest of a large and wealthy family, had likely lived a pretty sheltered life, may have seen Jorah as no more and no less than what he appeared as before her - a spectacularly talented tourney knight and war hero, a lord in his own right who could make her a lady of her own castle and House, as her sisters Leyla and Denyse were not. (Let’s never forget the creepiness of Jorah being almost two decades older than Lynesse.) The deliberately fantastic environment of what for lack of a better term we have to call their courtship and engagement - even for the most high-ranking Westerosi aristocrats, life is usually not feasts and tourneys 24/7 - only heightened the lack of reality at the foundation of their marriage; their entire experience of one another had been defined by a purposefully temporary world of pleasure which could never have been sustained.

Consequently, I think both Jorah and Lynesse experienced, on their return to Bear Island, disillusionment so profound that there was no making the marriage work. Jorah tells Dany that Lynesse resented that Bear Island was “too cold, too damp, too far away”, that the Mormonts “had no masques, no mummer shows, no balls or fairs”, and that the Mormont “cook knew little beyond his roasts and stews”, but I think these complaints reflect a more fundamental alienation Lynesse was feeling in her new role. Bear Island wasn’t just different from Oldtown; it was a world whose entire life and existence could not be compared to that of Lynesse’s native city. Her faith, her experience with Oldtown’s intellectual and artistic culture and the Reach’s tradition of chivalry, her training as a southron lady - none of that had any place on Bear Island. She was, as Jorah’s aunt and cousins may have reminded her (or commented in her hearing), the lady Jorah “won … in a tourney”, a lady whose “soft hands were never made for axes … nor her teats for giving suck” - in other words, a failure compared to the Mormont ideal lady who had a baby on one hip and an axe in her other hand. She had married a lord, a war hero, and a champion jouster, only to find herself stuck as lady of a castle only so called by courtesy, on an island that to Lynesse probably seemed physically and culturally in the middle of nowhere, with a husband who never again either took up arms in war (at least in Westeros) or distinguished himself on the tourney field.

Jorah clearly grew to resent and eventually hate Lynesse, but he was far from blameless in this situation. It had been Jorah who had, on no greater impulse than his physical attraction to Lynesse, taken a likely sheltered teenager from the only home she had ever known to one only he of the two of them knew and understood; it had been Jorah who had courted (again, to the extent we can call it that) the daughter of one of the wealthiest lords in Westeros from one of the most ancient reacher aristocratic families with absolutely no practical plan on how he could make Lynesse comfortable and happy in this new world; his best option in his mind was to spend money he very well knew he didn’t have and pursue a jousting career in which he knew very well he wasn’t cut out to succeed. Could Jorah truly be shocked that Lynesse “grew wild when [he] spoke of pawning her jewels”, or “moved into the manse of a merchant prince named Tregar Ormollen” after he, Jorah, became a sellsword? Far from fulfilling whatever expectations (again, likely at least founded in unreality) Lynesse may have had of this marriage, Jorah was now asking Lynesse to give up her remaining connections to those expectations and that foundation - the jewels she may have easily received as the daughter of rich Lord Hightower, the position of Westerosi lady marriage to Jorah had offered her.

Ultimately, I think this marriage was destined to fail because neither could ever be what the other may have gone into the marriage expecting. Lynesse could not be forever the tourney fantasy he had encountered at Lannisport - the beautiful highborn maid cheering him on from the sidelines as he won tilt after tilt in a tourney on the heels of his wartime fame. Jorah could not be forever the image Lynesse encountered at that tourney - the lord in his own right, the recent war hero and royally dubbed knight, the spectacular tourney champion. Jorah could not offered Lynesse the life of ease, security, and aristocratic culture she had grown up living with and perhaps consequently expecting; Lynesse could not offer Jorah the perfect highborn southron maid who would at the same time perfectly accept life as a Mormont bride.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 28th Tilt

“The Player”, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (1990) VS. King Richard, Galavant (2015-2016)

Propaganda

“The Player”, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (1990) Portrayed by: Richard Dreyfuss Defeated Opponents: - Lord Ravenhurst [Basil Rathbone], The Court Jester (1955) - Ser Jorah Mormont [Iain Glen], Game of Thrones (2011-2019)

“A total DILF.”

King Richard, Galavant (2015-2016) Portrayed by: Timothy Omundson Defeated Opponents: - “Unnamed Elf Escort” (“Figwit”) [Bret McKenzie], The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) - Azeem Edin Bashir Al Bakir [Morgan Freeman], Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

“DILF? GILF? King Richard has the range from dark to very funny. He's in touch with his feelings and has a pet dragon, plus an amazing singing voice.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For The Player:

No Additional Propaganda Submitted

For King Richard:

“He SUPERBELIEVES in you and has a surprisingly sensitive side and actually can smash, it turns out.”

Richard is THE kitten character. So endearingly pathetic that he keeps collecting the most badass knights as best friends no matter how hard they try not to like him. Zero compunction against violence on massive scales. Fragile as glass. Just wants to have fun. More oblivious than you can imagine but so affectionate if anyone will just let him be. Immediately out-villained by anyone who tries.

[starry-eyer]

Finished my reread of Daenerys i, and my god, I love her so much. I don’t personally relate to Dany’s endless wandering or her search for a home, but it evokes a visceral sadness and hopelessness that’s hard to ignore.

To Dany, Westeros is just an idea—her “home” exists in forms that are “foreign” (Rhaesh Andahli, the Sunset Kingdoms) to Westerosi. But for Dany, who has spent her entire life on the other side of the Narrow Sea, these names aren’t foreign at all (which is why I put foreign in quotations). And yet, she doesn’t see herself as belonging to the Free Cities either—she holds herself apart from them, despite having spent her entire life in Essos. What a terrible thing it is to feel forever lost, to always see yourself as an outsider.

Important locations like Casterly Rock and Highgarden are nothing more than words, not tangible realities. When she tries to picture Westeros, it’s almost childishly idealized: green hills, flowered plains, blue-grey mountains. That tells me she has very little concept of what Westeros is actually like. Yet, for all the homesickness and the sense of being forever lost, she is such a stark contrast to Viserys. Her quiet detachment versus his desperate fixation is deeply tragic.

That detachment, though, will serve her well when she finally reaches Westeros. She has never truly set foot there, so she will be able to see the land for what it is rather than what she’s imagined it to be. Unlike Viserys, she hasn’t shackled herself to a fantasy. And because of that, she’ll have the ability to move forward in reality. That clarity will be a strength—once she overcomes the inevitable disappointment.

There are so many strangers in Drogo’s manse, but Jorah Mormont is the strangest of all. Like Dany, he’s on the wrong side of the Narrow Sea, and that alone makes him intriguing to her.

Illyrio is truly terrible, but it’s this next part that always breaks my heart:

Dany is someone who creates her own stability, crafting happiness wherever and whenever she can. This is both a trauma response and a testament to her adaptability.

And yet, for all her efforts, she is still so so lost. She is constantly being pulled in different directions—mentally, emotionally, physically (!!). This becomes painfully clear in her very first chapter, where she has no agency, wearing a literal golden collar as she is sold as a bridal slave to a man she fears. She is reduced to a pawn when she should be playing in plazas, dancing with other children her age.

All because her erratic brother has a direction and a dream he refuses to let go of—a direction and dream that Dany lacks. But she doesn’t get the option to say no or dig her heels in. She is the chip used to push Viserys forward.

And yet, his fixation on the future made him incapable of appreciating the present. His mind drifted across the Narrow Sea until he became nothing more than a gaunt shadow—one Dany no longer loved. And that shadow sold her to a man twice her age, from a culture she doesn’t understand. A man she fears at first sight.

:((

Eventually, Dany will become the player Viserys only dreamed of being. I can’t wait for her to find her purpose and step into her confidence. But until then… these next Dany chapters are going to be rough. Oh my poor pookie 🥺

[thee-kurojo]

im cryingggg the way sandor won ���😭😭😭 NOT EVEN OBERYN HELPP, MY PEOPLE FR!

Not all these men are dad's technically but they all either have Dilf vibes or look older than 25 and didn't fit into part one of this vote with Robb, jon, podrick etc which you can find here

[justanoasisimagines]

Dearest Y/N

Summary; Jorah writes to you to ask you to meet him when he returns home A/N; Requests are open! Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider and the banner

I am writing this before I set sail towards Dragonstone. I have asked too much of you over the years. Selfishly I am about to ask something of you again. Would you head to Dragonstone so we can be reunited once more? I know I ask too much. For us to be reunited again after all this time. Yet my heart still yearns for you, my love. It aches to stand in your presence, to be able to touch and hold you. To hear the sound of your voice. For you to be the last person I see before I fall asleep. More importantly, I want to introduce you to Daenerys Targaryen, so she can finally introduce her to the woman she's heard so many stories about. The ship will take about two moon cycles. I hope to see you there. Yours Always, Jorah

[dalekofchaos]

Targaryen restoration au

Imagine if the following happened.

Rhaella lived through childbirth and got to take care of Dany and Viserys

Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys were able to escape to Dorne before the sacking of King's Landing

Arthur Dayne took a pregnant Lyanna to Starfall to find proper care to deliver Jon. But let's say in this au Rhaegar told Arthur the Prince that was promised must be named Daeron III

Jon Connington is called and returns to serve his lord's children

At some point they all link up and begin to plot to restore House Targaryen and take what is rightfully theirs. With Fire & Blood

With Rhaella, Ser Willem, Elia and Arthur around. Viserys never descends into madness and becomes more well adjusted.

Lyanna survived childbirth. Lyanna could not return home. She's too ashamed after her actions led to the deaths of Rickard and Brandon and she knows if she returns with her son, Robert would kill them. Arthur and Lyanna raised Daeron together. One thing led to another and they fell in love.

With outside forces preventing the crown from finding them(Doran, Varys and Illyrio) the Targaryens are never found.

Dany has a happy childhood and while they move every often, she has happy memories with her mother, brother and cousins.

With Rhaella, Doran, Oberyn Arthur and Jon Connington around, Aegon, Rhaenys, Viserys and Daenerys all grow up well versed into politics. Arthur and Oberyn properly turns Aegon, Daeron, Rhaenys, Dany and Viserys into warriors.

Because of Arthur's presence, he would not allow or tolerate Jorah Mormont.

With the vast wealth of Illyrio and Varys influence, an army of sell swords are at their disposal. They have the Golden Company, Windblown, Second Sons, Unsullied, and Storm Crows

With an alliance with Dorne, Aegon is betrothed to Arianne, House Tyrell are known Targaryen loyalists. Daeron is betrothed to Margaery and Daenerys is betrothed to Willas, The Targaryens could reach out to the Greyjoys and promise revenge and plunder. Viserys is betrothed to Asha.

I don't know if the dragons would factor into this au. Maybe there is a ritual, magic via the red priests/priestesses or something they found that could hatch the dragon eggs. If so the dragons are given to Rhaegar's children because prophecy. Aegon's Dragon will be named Visenya(Drogon) Rhaenys' dragon will be named Meria(Rhaegal) and Daeron's will be named Ghost(Viserion)

The War of the Five Kings turns into the War of Kings & Dragons.

Renly runs back to Stannis after he finds out the Tyrell's true allegiances. The brothers put behind their grievances and stand together.

When Cat goes to treat with Renly, she is surprised that Stannis and Renly stand together. They offer Robb a choice, join us. The Lannisters must be dealt with and then deal with the invading Targaryens.

Battle of the Blackwater ends with the Stark-Baratheon alliance victorious. Robb rescues Sansa and Joffrey is executed. Cersei is executed and Tommen is fostered at Casterly Rock by Tyrion. Tywin falls in battle.

Littlefinger is executed and Varys escapes in time to meet with the Targaryens.

The Targaryens arrive. They are met with Dorne, the Ironborn and the Reach.

All out war.

The Targaryens obviously win. But they are smart. They give their enemies the chance to bend the knee.

Then the Targaryens, Starks, and Baratheons unite their forces and marches North. to face their true enemy.

Aegon VI's small council

Hand of the King:Jon Connington

Grand Maester:Marwyn

Master of Whispers:Varys

Master of Laws:Oberyn Martell

Master of Ships:Mace Tyrell

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard:Arthur Dayne

Meanwhile I can see Euron return and hire a Faceless man to kill Willas Tyrell. Euron tries weasels his way into Dany's good graces. There are two ways we can play this. Dany sicks the Kingsguard to kill him or he slowly begins to corrupt her. Blame Viserys and cause Targaryen infighting. And after Viserys is out of the picture. Euron helps Dany take the throne and cement the Targaryens and the Greyjoys alliance through marriage, let the Long Night kill her cousins and they can rule the Iron Throne together and he has the means to bind the dragons to her will.

In the scenario where Dany stays loyal to her family. Euron is captured and is awaiting his execution. With no dragons to burn him. Dany has him executed by Wildfire. "Dracarys"

Ending 1:Rhaegar's prophecy is true and his children save the realm from the Long Night

Ending 2:Aegon, Rhaenys and Daeron sacrifice themselves to end The Others, while Dany brings peace to the realm

Ending 3:The unholy union of Euron and Dany plunges the world into darkness.

[greenandsorrow]

Not a request, but can you make a list of the fandoms and characters you write for? Not to be rude! <333

Disclaimer -> There are fandoms I've already written stuff for, or I will in the future, but they're not in the following list because I don't take requests for them (the Matrix, Prometheus, DC, Marvel, etc.) There's no particular reason, I just don't feel like it.

character x reader only, unless I say otherwise (Be as creative or as specific as you wish with the reader. Your request = your personal treat!)

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR -alphabetical order

DEAD POETS SOCIETY:

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

The poets x reader

Mr. Keating (platonic!)

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S:

William Afton (either from the game or the book trilogy, not movie Willy -still love him tho)

Springtrap

The Puppet

Comfortingly scary stuff with the animatronics of the first six games.

GAME OF THRONES:

Petyr Baelish

Varys (don't ask me why, probs platonic?)

Jorah Mormont

Sandor Clegane

Brienne of Tarth

maybe Arya Stark (for smut only S8)

maybe Eddard Stark

maybe Tormund Giantsbane

GILMORE GIRLS:

Luke Danes

Michel Gerard

The reader being a citizen of Stars Hollow/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

GRAVITY FALLS:

Stanley and Stanford are the only two characters that smut is permitted (even threesomes)

The reader being part of the town/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

HAZBIN HOTEL:

Alastor (human, giant demon, cursed cat, something from your imagination)

Lucifer Morningstar

Angel Dust

Vox

Sir Pentious (can be shipped with Cherri)

The Hazbins x reader

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen

Scenarios that include multiple characters

?Dragon bonding¿

HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE:

Anything that you desire

IT:

Pennywise

Not sure about any other ships but shoot your shot ig

The reader being a citizen of Derry/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

LEE JINUK:

Pyeon Sang-Wook (and I'm open to writing for Sweet Home in general)

Player 246

LOTR/ THE HOBBIT:

Bilbo Baggins

Thorin Oakenshield

Fili Durin

Kili Durin

Thranduil

Gandalf x reader (platonic!!)

Thorin & company x reader

The fellowship x reader

Sauron in any form

The Witch King of Angmar (🤭)

OMORI:

I'M NOT AGING ANYONE UP FOR SMUT/ I WON'T PUT ANYONE IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS (aging up for character development is acceptable ig).

Omori (can be shipped with Aubrey)

Sunny (can be shipped with Aubrey/Basil)

Stranger

Basil

The group x reader

The reader just experiencing or being part of Headspace, Black Space, White Space and the characters there.

PEDRO PASCAL:

Joel Miller

Din Djarin

RYAN GOSLING:

Ken

Officer K

Sierra Six/ Court Gentry

Colt Seavers

SHERLOCK BBC:

Sherlock Holmes (platonic mostly)

John Watson

maybe James Moriarty

maybe Molly Hooper

SQUID GAME 2:

The Front Man/ Player 001

Player 246

Thanos

The Salesman

Hit me up with anyone from S2 actually. Men and women.

Scenarios that include multiple characters.

STAR WARS:

the WHOLE Skywalker bloodline (expect Ray, but no hate to anyone who likes her)

Han Solo

Ahsoka Tano

Captain Rex

Obi wan Kenobi

General Grievous

Darth Maul

Darth Malgus

Din Djarin

Captain Phasma

Some droid fluff

Don't limit yourself since there's a good chance I forgot someone

STRANGER THINGS:

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper (don't ask why)

Vecna/ Henry Creel

The reader being a citizen of Hawkins/ Scenarios that include multiple characters

THE DA VINCI CODE:

Silas

THE SECRET HISTORY:

Anything

Absolutely anyone

I mean it

(no incest, no orgies/ threesomes)

UNDERTALE/ DELTARUNE:

Sans

Papyrus

Toriel

Asgore

Azriel

Ralsei

Scenarios that include multiple characters

WIZARDING WORLD:

While I don't deny my love for HP since I grew up with it, I want you to know this is a safe place.

Any Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts character

Scenarios that include multiple characters

masterlist of all work

requesting rules/ info

*my paypal link can be found on my masterlist & fics

[samthepotterhead]

"after they freed themselves, they had something to eat, so it must be hobbits" is very relatable.

now gimli said "I will go wherever you go" to legolas as well. do people ship those two? probably unnecessary question since you can find any ship imaginable on ao3 etc. (only catelyn stark/jorah mormont seems to be missing. I know this…for reasons.)

and gimli having such a huge crush on galadriel that he's like "yes??" when legolas asks whether he would like a message from her of his forboding death as well. and then the message gandalf gives him that is clearly made up on the spot xD it's not even in cursive like the others.

[anthonycrowley]

imagine being jorah mormont and after being exiled for doing slavery, selling out and subsequently falling in love with the last female targaryen heir, wondering around pentos for years and years, being sold into slavery, etc you finally return home and you’re like hey is my dad gonna give me my cool ancestral sword and someone has to be like errrrrr no sorry he gave it to the guy who exiled you’s bastard son. i’d lose my mind.