#robb stark x reader fanfiction

[welldonebeca]

Lookalike - Bonus chapter

With @cosmic-darikano Summary: Robb finds you leaving Winterfell and has an interesting proposal. WC: 3.6k words Warnings: Canon divergence. Smut. Role play. Virginity Kink. Dirty talk. Prostitution. Gentle sex. Possessive sex.

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Masterlist

You strode through the halls with your bag over your shoulder, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible as you walked through the dark walls. 

“Sansa?” someone called behind you in a new whisper. “Sansa!” 

You turned around, a little surprised and fearful, and stood straighter when a tall man walked to you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, surprised.  

You blinked, unsure of what to say, recognising his voice as the same person who had knocked on Theon’s door. 

And then, you recognised him. 

Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell. 

You bowed without thinking twice. 

“You have me confused with someone else, milord,” you said quickly. 

He strode a little back, and picked up a torch, taking it to your face, and you watched as his face moved from recognising you and then realising you were not his sister. 

“Gods,” he exclaimed under his breath. “It’s uncanny.” 

You gulped. 

“So I’ve heard,” you whispered. 

He opened his mouth, but stopped himself from speaking as he recomposed himself.

 “What are you doing here?” he asked. “This is not the servant’s quarters.”

You swallowed down, thinking about your lie. Yes, you could use the lie Theon had invented, but you were leaving now. You might as well be honest. 

At least it wasn’t Lord Stark you would have to confess to. 

“Lord Greyjoy invited me,” you said simply. “And now I’m leaving.” 

He looked like he was thinking for a moment before rolling his eyes, seeming to realise the truth. 

“That idiot,” he shook his head. “He shouldn’t have let you leave so late. You’ll freeze before you get wherever you’re going.” 

You scoffed. Didn’t he know you were a daughter of the north? You were well used to the cold. 

“Come,” he ordered anyway, holding out his hand. 

For a single second, you were grateful, thinking he would lead you to the servant’s quarters again, but quickly realised it wasn’t that when you started climbing up a new set of stairs. 

Of fucking course. 

Take the whore to your room, she will not say no to fucking you.

Still, you followed him, not knowing where else to go, and stood outside his door when he opened it. 

“Milord, there is no need,” you whispered, looking around, afraid of being caught. 

“My parents won’t be back for another fortnight if that’s what is worrying you,” he told you. “They are attending a wedding.” 

You looked for words. 

“Milord-” you started, and then corrected yourself, knowing how those fancy people liked their fancy names said right. “My lord, I’m not sure if you are thinking what I’m thinking.” 

He raised his chin. 

“You are a… woman of a certain profession,” he spoke slowly. “Aren’t you?” 

“A whore,” you told him. “Yes.” 

Lord Stark nodded. Gods, you were sore, he couldn’t possibly think you would want to fuck more. 

“But I have a hard day of work,” you reminded him. “You would not ask a farmer to work another field when he’s already settled his crops.”

He swallowed down, and you could see his eyes running over your face and your body, but then chuckled. 

“I supposed you’re right,” he agreed. “But I would compensate you if you just allow me to have your company for the rest of the night.”

You watched his face for a moment. Well, you were always a betting woman. 

Finally, you agreed, following him inside, and he offered to take your coat silently, pointing to a table by the corner of his chambers. 

“I have food,” he pointed out. “Have Theon fed you?” 

No, he hadn’t. You had had to have lunch with a few servants. 

“Go eat,” he commanded you. “The fire is warm.” 

You stepped away, sitting on the near table, and looked down when he knelt in front of you, slowly taking off your boots. 

Why was he being so nice?

You wanted to ask but didn’t want to push your luck, so you just ate, feeling his eyes on you as you did. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard all about it, but you are very beautiful,” Lord Stark noted. “You look a lot like my sister.” 

You chuckled. 

“Yes, I know that,” you smiled at him. 

Yet, his eyes continued to analyse you and raised a hand to his nose. 

“But you have a bit of a curve here,” he pointed out. “A bump. It’s charming.” 

You swallowed down, watching his face. 

Maybe he was like his half-brother and his ward friend. 

“And your eyes,” he pointed. “Look at me.” 

You raised your gaze to his face, obedient. 

“Her eyes become grey under the firelight,” he told you. “Yours look hazel. You have green on them, don’t you?:” 

You nodded simply. 

“My mother always said I had green speckles on them,” you answered simply. “I’ve never found a mirror good enough to see it.” 

Lord Stark walked closer to you, and put a finger under your chin, raising it. 

“Let me be yours, then,” he whispered, eyes still watching you. 

You swallowed down dryly, his gaze almost unsettling now. 

“You are more freckled,” he realised. “Sansa doesn’t let the sun touch her skin too much.”  

Of course she did. Prickly little lady. 

“I used to work in the fields with my father before he died,” you told him. “You’d be surprised at how much more freckled I could get.” 

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked. “Because he died?”

You looked at him uncomfortably. That was a sore subject. 

“I was an only child, milord,” he reminded you. “My mother was sick, and I needed to feed her and couldn’t keep the farm running. There are only a few jobs who will take a bony girl with no skills, and I am lucky I’m pretty.” 

Lord Stark pulled away. 

"Apologies," he sighed. "I hope I didn’t upset you."

You thought for a moment. In truth, he hadn’t. 

"You didn’t,” you assured him. “It’s good to talk about myself for once, in my line of work it can be hard to remember who you are."

He nodded, watching you with attentive blue eyes. 

“Would you leave it?” he asked. “Your line of work, if you had somewhere to go. Something else to do.” 

You watched him, confused. 

Somewhere to go? Something to do? You didn’t have any of that. 

“I’m not becoming your kitchen maid, Lord Stark,” you told him. 

Lord Stark chuckled. 

“I am not suggesting that,” he assured you. “It’s an honest question.” 

You relaxed in your seat, looking away, a little embarrassed by your quick assumptions. 

“I always wanted to be a seamstress,” you confessed. “My mother said my grandmother did that, that it gave their family a comfortable life down South.” 

He made an intrigued sound. 

“In the South?” he asked. “And why did she leave?”

You chuckled a bit. 

“She saw a handsome red-headed man with curls to die for, once,” you smiled, remembering your father. “Not very tall, but very sweet. And when he left, she followed him home.” 

Your parents were very much in love. He never thought little of her, even when they couldn’t have children, and they were both very good to you. 

“My mother taught me most of what I know,” you told him. “Her dresses were beautiful. Mine too, but… you know. Whore can’t show off pretty dresses.” 

“I would love to see your dresses,” he told you. 

You raised your eyes to his face, surprised. 

“Just for me,” he added in a whisper. 

You didn’t answer, wary, and Lord Stark licked his lips. 

“I’m sure you know of arrangements, of…” he looked for words. 

“Whores being exclusive?” you asked him. 

He pressed his lips together. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “That’s one way to put it.” 

You chuckled, understanding.  

“Then the word you might be looking for is mistress, my lord,” you decided. “You give her a house, pay for her servants…” 

“Yes,” he agreed. 

You watched his face, considering and waiting. 

“I’ll give you a house, of course. A big one, with servants I will pay for,” he listed. “And I’ll buy you houses that you can rent out so that you can have something concrete in your name while you build up your business.”

Houses and servants of your own? 

From a man that you had yet to fuck? 

It was too good to be true.  

“And what’s the catch?” you asked him. 

He pressed his lips together. 

“You’d have to play a part,” he told you. “When I’m with you. Make your hair in a special way, wear special clothes, special perfumes…” 

“Make myself look more like your sister,” you assumed. 

Lord Stark’s jaw clenched. 

Just like his bastard brother. 

“Oh, don’t look like that,” you scoffed. “I’m not here to judge you.” 

You tapped your fingers on the table, thinking. 

“Won’t your parents find out?” you asked. “If I am to become your mistress.” 

He looked at you, surprised by your question. 

“They trust me enough not to get in my business, and we’ll give them no reason to even think anything about you,” he assured you. “And even if they do, isn’t it best that I have my own mistress and don’t go around hiring prostitutes?” 

You continued to think. Being a whore wasn’t exactly something you loved doing. Not every man was nice and gentle, or even considerate enough with you. 

“Is that all you ask of me?” you asked him. “That I play her part?” 

He nodded. 

It was nice, trying to think of what could go wrong. 

“And what if you get tired of me?” you asked. 

“You’ll have your houses,” he reminded you. “And your business.” 

“And what about children?” you asked him. “What if I get with child?” 

Lord Stark looked at your face, shaking his head as he seemed to think. 

“I would ask you that, if you want a child,” he spoke slowly. “You wait. Until I’ve had my wife, and my own children. If you do not, I’m afraid our agreement will be finished, and your pregnancy too.” 

Smart, very smart.  You squinted at him. 

“Are you afraid a son of mine might want to take your seat from your legitimate children?” 

“I might have strange ideas, but I’m not a fool, my dear,” he reminded you. “If we have a good relationship, I might give you a child for you not to feel lonely. But I’ll have my heirs before I risk having any bastard.” 

He was reasonable. He was also very sure that you would stay with him for that long of a time, that you’d never part your ways. 

“You sound like you know I’ll be around for a long time,” you smirked. 

Lord Stark stared you in the face with desire in his gaze. 

“I do,” he agreed. “If I wanted someone for a short time, I wouldn’t have a mistress.” 

You hummed, and Lord Stark continued to watch you, expectant. 

“What do you say, my dear?” he asked, at least. 

You looked at his face, realising, at last, how he didn’t even know your name. 

“Y/N,” you told him. “My name is Y/N.” 

Lord Stark simply nodded, waiting. 

“Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll be your mistress after you buy me my house.” 

He smirked, chuckling. 

“Smart girl,” he agreed. “It’ll be done this week. I’ll have a man take you from your brothel as soon as it is done.” 

You smiled, resting, and he cleared his throat. 

“But… do you mind if I take some… early liberties?” he asked. “An early experience of my own.” 

Another no-surprise. 

“Of course, my lord,” you confirmed. 

“Robb,” he corrected you. 

You changed your posture, softening your voice. 

“Of course, Robb,” you answered instead. 

He smiled, at last, and walked to you, kneeling by your feet. 

“You’re such a pretty girl,” he spoke softly. “Did you braid your hair for me?” 

Men. Always thinking all pretty things were done for them. 

“Oh yes!” you giggled a little. “Do you like it?” 

He smiled. 

“Yes, I do...” Robb hummed, pulling you close and standing up, raising you along with him. “It looks very pretty.” 

You nodded along, and he pulled you, switching places with you and sitting back down. 

“You haven’t finished your dinner yet,” he realised. “You should do so.” 

His hands moved to your hips, and he tugged you gently. 

“Here,” he spoke softly. “Take a seat.” 

You tried to play innocent, sitting on your dear brother’s lap, and relaxed against his chest when he put his arms around your waist. 

“Always smelling so good, pretty girl,” he purred. “I need to get you another bottle of that oil, don’t I?” 

Your eyes widened. 

The fucking oil! 

Theon must have stolen it from Lady Sansa. 

“It’s almost over,” you mumbled, instead, taking a bite of the bread. 

His hands skimmed your waist, lower and lower, touching your hip.

Robb caressed you slowly and you could feel your dress being pulled up bit by bit, slowly and almost sneakily. 

“Open your legs for me, will you?” he whispered into your neck. “Be nice for your big brother.” 

He pushed your dress and put his hand on your thigh. 

“Robb!” you gasped. 

He just shushed you. 

“It’s alright,” he hummed. “It’s just me, Sansa.” 

He climbed up, and you shivered. Maybe because this was so illicit, or you were just too sensitive from being touched so much just before he did. 

“Am I not nice to you?” he asked softly. “Don’t I give you such nice gifts?” 

“Yes,” you squirmed. 

“Don’t I always protect you?”

“Of course, Robb.”

He hummed along, hand continuing to climb up as he kissed your cheek. 

“I have to make sure you’re okay,” he purred. “That you’re feeling good.” 

He spread your legs more, and his hand stopped right at your cunt, and you could feel his body tense. 

“Is this cum in your cunt, Sansa?” he asked in a near growl. 

You gasped. 

“No!” you protested.

He pushed two fingers into your cunt, not even waiting for you to look for words to explain yourself. 

“And why is this cunt all lose, uh?” he asked. “Taking my two fingers like that, all smeared with wetness?” 

You squirmed, and he grabbed your neck, pulling you flush against his body, and you moaned when his heel pressed your bud. 

“Why is this pussy so sensitive if I hadn’t even touched it before?” he growled. 

You moaned, squirming as he moved his hand with a maddening pace, slapping your skin as he did. 

“Who has been fucking you?” he accused, furious.

You wanted to deny it, but you knew you couldn’t. 

“I’m sorry, Robb,” you whimpered. “I’ve just been aching so much I need to be filled, I… I had my hairbrush, and…” 

Robb pushed you off of his lap, and you expect him to take you to his bed, but he just made you lay across his thigh, and pulled your dress and shift up, exposing your bare bottom. 

“You fucked yourself with your hairbrush?” he growled, “Like a stupid slut?” 

He moved his hand down, slapping your ass. 

“Bad girl, Sansa,” he smacked you again. “Very bad girl.”

You cried out, pouting, but he didn’t stop. 

“I’m sorry, Robb,” you insisted. 

“As your older brother, I have to punish you,” he affirmed simply. “I can’t have my baby sister acting like a stupid slut around the rest of Winterfell.”

His hand smacked your cheeks, and you yelped when it hit your cunt, slapping your folds. 

“I just wanted to be filled,” you argued. “I’m sorry, Robb, I’m sorry.” 

He hummed along with you. 

“You want to be filled, sweet girl?” he smacked your ass. 

“I should have come to you,” you whined, feeling his cock against your belly, hard and ready. “I’m sorry.” 

He stopped. 

“What did you say?” he asked, voice softening. 

“All I want is my brother’s cock,” you insisted. “I’m sorry, Robb, I’m so sorry.” 

Robb stopped, and his hand slowly moved down your ass, caressing it for a moment, soothing your ache. 

“Oh, sweet Sansa,” he hummed. 

Suddenly, he pulled you off his lap and lifted you up, making you stand, and put his finger under your chin. 

“You want my cock Sansa?” he whispered. “Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded, and he picked you up, carrying you to his bed. 

“You should have asked me,” he spread your legs. “You could have just told me, sweet girl.” 

Robb moved a hand to his pants, and you watched as he pulled his cock out, gasping for a second. 

Gods. He was fucking thick. 

Not ‘whore fakes surprise’ thick, actually thick. 

"I’m the only one that can fill you up. Not a stupid brush, me!” he rubbed the head of his cock against your folds. “I’m your big brother who is always here for you.” 

“Yes, Robb,” you whimpered, and gasped when he pulled you, flipping you on the bed and raising your ass. 

“Like that, sweet girl,” he growled. 

Before you could even think, he was already rubbing himself on your entrance. 

“Wait!” you gasped. “It’s too big.”

He clearly didn’t care, and you bit into the closest pillow when a moan a little too loud broke through your lips as his cock pushed into you, stretching your walls, both making you ache and giving you pleasure. 

“You can take it,” he hissed. “You can take all of it.” 

Robb pulled back and pushed into you, more and more, and all you could do was grab the sheets, moaning as your sore cunt was used again. 

“Good Sansa,” he panted. “Such a good girl for me, such a good little sister.” 

You whimpered into his pillows, and gasped when his balls hit your sensitive bud, and he buried his cock all into you, bottoming out. 

“Robb,” you moaned. 

He pulled back, fucking you hard and fast, his hips hitting your ass so hard you could hear it in your ears and feel it sting as much as his hands had done. 

“Sweet little Sansa,” he grunted. “All mine.” 

“All yours,” you cried. 

His cock rubbed against your sweet spot, and felt yourself getting close just your ass burned. 

“Please, Robb,” you cried. “I need…” 

He slammed into you once more. 

“What do you need?” he moved his hand around you, pinching your bud, and you screamed. 

“I’m so close,” you panted. “I need to cum, big brother, please.” 

His finger circled your bud, testing it, and you felt your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Is this the place you want me to play with, sweet Sansa?” he asked, cock slamming into you. “Is this how you want me to make you cum?” 

You nodded, whimpering. 

“Yes,” you cried. “Please, Robb, please.” 

“Then cum for me, pretty girl.” 

You closed your eyes, and he played with you, quick and insistent, holding you close as you cried into his pillow, peaking so loudly it was almost embarrassing. 

Robb continued to fuck you carelessly, stretching your cunt out to the brink as he brushed down your hair, rubbing his nose over your skin, taking every single drop of your scent. 

“My pretty girl,” he hummed. “I’m going to cum in you, sweet Sansa. And you are going to take it, aren’t you?” 

You whimpered, too overwhelmed now, and he kissed the back of your neck. 

“Robb,” you cried, remembering who you were supposed to be. “We can’t.” 

Lady Sansa couldn’t have her brother spilling inside her, she couldn’t risk having his bastard baby. 

“I’ll give you tea, sweet girl,” he promised. “No one will know, you don’t need to worry.” 

You cried, but he didn’t seem to even care, grabbing your hips, hammering into you in an erratic rhythm.

“My Sansa,” he growled. “Taking my seed like a good little sister, letting me put my baby into your womb.” 

You just lied there, moaning along. 

“And you’re going to take all of it,” he rambled. “Every night now, aren’t you, sweet girl? ‘Cause you’re mine now, all mine.” 

You felt his shuddering as he came inside you, but he didn’t stop pushing his cock into you. 

"We're a pack,” he hugged, finally stopped, burying his cock so deep it made you ache, as if he was trying to make sure his see would stay inside. “I will give you so many pups, sweet girl.” 

He stopped, at last, kissing the middle of your back, and you expect him to pull out and let you go. Instead, Robb took his cock from inside you and pulled you along to lie by his side, holding you close.

“My Lord,” you sighed. 

You had to leave before they noticed you.

“Stay here,” he squeezed your middle, kissing your shoulder. “You can leave in the morning.” 

You hesitated, unsure.

“We’ll pretend you were a kitchen girl,” he spoke softly. “Say you didn’t get the job, and I was nice enough to walk you out.” 

Still, you were unsure, and he just brushed your hair back. 

“I’m acting lord of Winterfell,” he reminded you. “It is fine.” 

You forced yourself to relax in his arms. It wasn’t the gossip that worried you - let the people talk, she didn’t plan to step into Winterfell anytime again soon - but Sansa Stark. 

You couldn’t bear to face her if you accidentally walked past her. What would you even do, seeing the woman you were going to pretend to be for… well, you didn’t even know how long, starting now. 

Still, you were a whore. Well… a soon-to-be mistress - the whore of a single man - and this was the man you had to obey. 

So, you tried to get comfortable, and it was easy. Lord Robb held you close in his strong arm, warmer and sweeter than anything you had ever experienced in your life in a protective hold that rocked you to sleep.

Well, there were many worse places you could be. This wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all. 

. . .

"Lookalike" was posted on my Patreon back in October 2022! To read have early access to my stories, consider subscribing to my page! It's just $2 a month, and it helps a lot!

. . .

No tags because I realised I don't know if the people in the taglist is alright with this content.

[bellarkeselection]

[countrymusiclover]

Do I want to write a Robb Stark book while I am writing a new chapter for my Jaime fic (Fire OF A Stark) yes. Yes I absolutely do! 🤣 🤣

[maisy1111]

pov: you’re scrolling trying to find a cute little fluffy fanfic to read but everything you get is smut 

no smut hate, i just want to giggle :(

[entitled-fangirl]

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Back to Main Masterlist

Cregan Stark

Cregan Stark masterlist.

Robb Stark

A change of sigil.

Jace Velaryon

I won’t burn you. SMUT

I can't promise that.

Unknown.

Staying warm. SMUT

Aemond Targaryen

I hate you.

The middle of war. Part 2

Thunder.

Reading late.

Chance. Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The crown.

Gwayne Hightower

Lady Hightower.

Cheeky. SMUT

Never happier.

A good father.

Benjicot Blackwood

Devotion.

Violence through his veins.

[glossgojo]

the starks (cregan, robb, jon) headcanons

cregan who loves to be soft with you, loves to look in your eyes and hold your hand when you’re fucking. he’ll kiss every inch of your body, tell you what he loves about you, praise you to high heavens even when his pace is making your head hit the wall. he worships you night and day.

cregan who can be mean when he needs to be, usually you’re testing him on purpose or plainly asking for him to be rougher, he’ll always prioritize your safety and make sure you know to stop him if he goes too far

cregan who treats you like royalty after, he knows he’s bigger and stronger than most men, in many ways ;) , but he’ll be at your beck and call after leaving bruises on your skin from how hard he clutched your waist to drive you down onto him when you tried running from his girth, or gripped your thighs as he kept them open till your third orgasm was running down his chin

robb who is almost always fast and rough, he rarely has time to spare so when he does get some time with you alone in his tent he’s making it quick and dirty

robb has you coming undone on his fingers first of course, bending you over the planning table and making sure you’re well prepared and dripping before he takes you. he’s rough and passionate, pulling your hair, maneuvering you to his will and of course you love it

robb who always makes sure you come first, unless you’re under the table sucking him off between meetings that is. even then he’ll try and coax you to give him a taste and prop you up on his desk as he makes you gush onto his tongue while he sits like the king he is between your legs

robb who loves you endlessly and will always listen to your desires, even if he wants nothing more than to fuck you both dumb, he’ll treasure the times he can look into your eyes and get lost in the love there

jon who always wants you, it’s his constant state of being, any sign from you that you need him he’ll jump at and give back tenfold. (the biggest service dom in the world fight with the wall). in the beginning of your relationship he would get hard from a look alone and you had to adjust to his insatiable sex drive.

jon who could eat you out for hours and would much rather drink from you than touch a drop of water ever again. who loves when you tug at his hair when he’s down on you, he’s instantly groaned into and getting firm. when you’re in pain, when you’re sad, when you’re angry, when you’re just bored, jon will want to distract you. fucking you deep and slow, fast and rough whatever you need

jon who sometimes can’t control himself, especially when he’s nearly lost his life, and he’s fucking into you and breeding you again, and again, and again until his eyes look more black than anything else and you’re crying from overstimulation. he’s lost count of how many times he’s come nevertheless how many times you have and he can’t scratch the itch that he has to have you forever.

cregan, robb, and jon who live and die by “wear whatever you want i can fight”

cregan, robb, and jon are by nature protective and possessive but they never let bleed into controlling you, they only want you to be safe and no one dares to try anything when they’re over your shoulder, intimidating any and everyone possible

cregan, robb, and jon who can smell other people on you, chalk it up to the wolf ancestry, and immediately get irritated that anyone would dare get close to you, they need you to smell like them or just yourself. it’s something primal they don’t even realize until you’re coming back smelling like rancid fruit, nothing like your usual scent or their own. they’re on you in moments, holding you close and rubbing against you like a feral wolf

oh my god i was possessed by a horny demon writing this in one fell swoop

[missswritesalot]

Can i request some possessive, maybe even a little mean, Robb Stark nsfw? i need that man in a way that borders on obsession 😭

A/N hope you like it anon. Gets soft at the end. Will edit later for historical accuracy. Requests open.

"Your grace," you began nervously as your husband threw open your bedchamber door. Opening it was hard enough so thinking of the force it took to rattle the hinges made you wince. Perhaps you could finally see the King Robb that maidens swooned for and bards sang of.

"Like a dog? A beast? Numbskulled brute? Is that what you said?" He spat out. His anger, so hard to provoke but equally hard to quell. Now it was righteous too.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” you nervously said. “I only wished to entertain.”

Robb walked towards you and you took a step back. You were vulnerable, only wearing your shift.

“And what did you call yourself? Little more than a whore I paid two coppers for? A greedy little queen, at the mercy of the king?” Robb said. “I can’t even repeat what I heard. Yet you said it when I have done nothing but treat you gently with kindness.”

“It was only my ladies, and I didn’t wish to disappoint, husband.” You said. You placed your hand gently on his chest. “They dream of you, and I couldn’t appear jealous. I needed to show you didn’t lack passion in bed.”

“Wasn’t just the ladies. My men heard you recount your pleasure and now they’re the ones salivating.” He shouted.

“Cease this! It’s childish and I will speak as I wish.” You said, feigning annoyance.

Robb looked madder with each word out of your mouth. He gripped your wrists to the point of pain and spun you around. With a hand on your back, he pushed you face down onto the furs.

"You talk like a whore you get taken like one."

He pushed your chemise up and you felt his fingers find the most sensitive parts of you. He shoved two in roughly, making you scream. Thank the old gods, your plan worked better than expected.

“And what of my men guarding you? Did they have to hear your of escapades? Know how you enjoy in my chamber?” Robb demanded.

The twist of his fingers in your unprepared cunt made tears spring to your eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked. You refused to reply. You shook your head.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” Robb yelled. He slapped your arse to make his point. No need to trigger him even more, you decided. “Who owns ye?” He asked again.

“You do,” you mumbled.

“And I am your King, and your husband. And you had better remember that.”

“Yes, husband.” You whispered. You heard the sounds of him undressing. You didn’t dare move.

Robb held your hips on either side of you and pushed you into the bed.

“Who’ll take you now?” He demanded.

“You, my lord and husband.” You replied submissive. His breathing behind you told you he was still furious.

His hands tightened around your hips and you felt the impossible thickness of his member at your entrance. He'd taken you before, he was your goddamn husband, but never in anger and never like this.

He began to push in, deaf to your cries.

"Robb," you pleaded, your will breaking. He was deep in you but not to the hilt yet. This new position was physically uncomfortable adding to your humiliation. "Please, please." You begged. You didn't know what you were asking for, for him to let you go or for a moment to adjust. But you were so hot you could barely see. You had never felt desire like this. You anticipated your release like Robb returning home.

"No," he said quietly. "You will accept this, wife." He sheathed himself to the hilt within your body. You were glad he'd let go of your arms, so you could twist your fingers into the furs on your bed.

He was deeper than before in this new position, you felt like you were being split open. You reminded yourself you were trying for this reaction. Some part of your heart hurt most of all, knowing that your husband didn't care about the pain he inflicted upon your body. He was mean.

He pulled out again and pushed back in slowly. The deep pleasure knocked the breath out of your lungs. It added to everything you felt from the stretch of his girth.

Your cries grew louder due to pleasure, and you were screaming in abandon at how good he made you feel.

“More, husband, Robb, please.” You begged incoherently. The snap of his hips against yours set a harsh pace.

He tried to stop, to tease you, but he couldn’t. He was too excited looking at your body beneath him.

It didn’t take long before you were clenched around his cock in your pleasure, and he spent in response to you.

Robb collapsed atop you. He rolled over to the side, breathing heavily. You took a moment to calm yourself down and turned to face him. You took his hand in yours carefully, you wanted to know if his anger had been quelled yet. You were pleased when he brought your hand to his lips to kiss it.

“I love you,” he said. “And I have no desire to share you. Not this. Not our time together when we get so little.” Robb confessed. Your heart broke for him. Perhaps you’d gone too far in seeking his passion.

His face grew tense as you didn’t reply. “Have I hurt you, love?” He asked, caressing your cheek. You leaned into his touch with a sigh.

“No, dear husband. I love you too,” you said softly, content.

[llonelygoddess]

Yandere House Stark Headcanons

A/N: I ended up not doing Bran and Rickon only because I wanted to get this out sooner rather than later and they were a little difficult to write for. If you'd like to see headcanons for them I can definitely make another post for them, just let me know.

Let's say you are a low born person looking for refuge in Winterfell after your village was sacked by Wildlings. You had hoped to find some tavern to hold up in or even a brothel, but unbeknownst to you the Stark family kept an eye on newcomers. When they received news of your arrival, they requested your presence. It was only to talk about the possibility of nearby Wildlings, but when YOU showed up beaten and scared for your life- how could they not offer their Stark hospitality?

This is where the yandere tendencies begin.

Ned Stark, as a yandere, is protective and definitely has a savior complex. He's an honorable and just man that can't help but bring home strays, so when he sees you it's like finding Jon all over again. A deep sense of responsibility comes over him and he knows in that moment that you are just as much his as any of his kids. From that day forward he assigns a room for you in the castle and a handmaiden to keep you company, not that you'll be needing it. The family of course is shocked at his sudden interest, but they all love to see him happy and nothing makes him more happy than seeing you taken care of.

Now Catelyn is initially worried that Ned has taken a romantic interest in you, but when she sees the way you both interact she understands the fatherly bond he is trying to create very similar to his own kids. It didn't take long for her to fall into her own yandere tendencies; checking in on you in the mornings, making prayer wheels even when you're not sick, helping in the kitchen to make sure your food was perfect ( and not poisoned). She takes her role as your surrogate mother very seriously,sometimes to the extent of watching you sleep or ordering guards to discreetly watch over you and report back. Her biggest worry is that you'll be taken away from them so she takes extra precautions to keep you safe.

Robb is head over heels for you instantly. Man is down bad. Much like his father, Robb has a savior complex and finds himself wanting to be YOUR savior always. He does this by training extra hard with Jon, keeping an eye on you at all times, and giving threatening looks to any man or woman who gets too close to you. He doesn’t mean to scare away any potential friends but he does mean to scare away potential lovers. He couldn’t bear to see you with anyone outside the family, and even then he has a sword up his butt about it. 

On the other hand, Jon takes a while to warm up to you. He loves his family and is vicious to outsiders who could harm them. Eventually, seeing how you interact with everyone makes him a tad jealous. Not of you, but of his family and how easily they can approach you. I definitely see Jon as an overprotective/stalker yandere with strong jealous tendencies that make him beg for your approval. He finds himself wherever you are, lurking in the background, waiting for the right moment to catch you alone. Jon feels like himself around you and the more time you spend together the more addicted to your presence he becomes. 

Theon is hands down THE worshiper of the group. It's a hot take for sure but as a yandere, I see Theon's insecurities and fears taking over, slightly similar to reek!Theon. He sees you as a deity, above the Lords and Ladies, even above the King/Queen themself. If it were up to him he'd be the one giving you your meals, running your baths, standing by your side as guard. He cherishes your very presence and hopes one day you'll see his never ending loyalty to you and only you. 

Sansa is very quiet about her obsession, you almost couldn't tell. She's the perfect friend, always sitting next to you at meals, gossiping about the Lords and Lady's of court, and helping you stock your wardrobe. Whatever hobby you choose to pick up, she's always there to praise you in your efforts and guide you in whatever way she can. She especially loves teaching you how to embroider as it's her specialty. It was all but normal until you came upon her private journal filled with both your names in beautiful cursive surrounded by hearts. You begin to notice the closeness she silently demands, eyeing everyone else to stay away. You see the way she longingly watches you from afar when you choose to spend time with anyone else. And your dresses, that you both so carefully picked out, seem to have a little embroidered "SS" on the nape of your neck.

Arya sees you as her golden older sibling, the one who can do no wrong. She is constantly dragging you around Winterfell - riding horses and trying to shoot arrows (and failing lol). She finds comfort within you, the only person who doesn't expect anything of her except to be herself. And for that she will never leave your side. Most nights you'll find her trying to sneak into your room to share a bed, but whether she can get past the guards Ned and Catelyn have posted outside your door is another story.

[feyhunter78]

Description: During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival. A thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together. Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion sees the need for a sworn sword in his beloved daughter's life.

Ch 2

You should know better, truly you should, but you’ve always had a weakness for pitiful-looking creatures, or at least that’s what your father has always said. He stands a pace ahead of you, watching as your uncle, the King Robert, embraces Lord Ned Stark with a boyish joy you have never seen in your uncle. Your Aunt Cersei stands to the side of them, smiling politely at the Lady Catelyn Stark, Joffery all but hanging from her skirts, demanding attention. Usually, you would scowl at the back of the boy’s head, but the sight of Ned Stark’s bastard son has you quite distracted.

He is pitiful, even his name, Jon, it’s so common, so often used it cannot differentiate him from others. He stands stiffly, with gray eyes so dark they almost seem black set beneath thick brows. He has curly dark hair that frames his face, an unchanging frown upon his face, and his hands clasp and unclasp nervously as he watches the mingling of your two families. Jon’s dressed like all the other Starks, but somehow lesser, as if he has chosen only the drabbest of colors in an effort to blend into the dreary landscape. There’s a solemn softness to him that intrigues you. What secrets does he keep? Why does he look so mired in grief? He notices your gaze, and his face tints pink as he ducks his head further into the fur collar of his cloak. You bite back a laugh, for a moment he looked like a turtle.

The boy beside him, Robb, stands an inch or so taller with cornflower blue eyes, and auburn hair. The clear son of Lady Catelyn radiates confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, as he surveys the servants unloading your family’s belongings from the wheelhouses. Beside him stands a boy whose arrogance you wouldn’t mistake for confidence, even if you were less astute than you are. But the arrogance rings false, you can see the cracks in his bravado, the insecurity leaking from every pore. It’s in the way he hovers so close to Robb, as if he fears to be away from him would be his undoing. This one you know inside and out; your father had drilled you on everyone you were going to meet before you even stepped foot outside King’s Landing.

Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, a war prisoner disguised as a ward, the closest companion to Robb Stark, both accepted and held at a distance, Lord Stark’s sword an ever-looming threat should his father ever revolt once more. Theon has eyes like the sea and tousled hair the color reminiscent of the mahogany desk in your father’s study. He is lankier than the other two, hungrier, and when your eyes meet his, he winks. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in response, you were a lady, a Lannister, you were not so easily swayed. Theon is handsome, but if your father’s reports were true, he spent much of his time in brothels. The tactics that worked there would not work on you.

“And this is my eldest daughter, Sansa.” Lord Stark says, motioning to a girl that was perhaps two or so years younger than you. She is beautiful, with fiery red hair, eyes like Robb’s, and high, graceful cheekbones. She curtsies with the air of a Southern lady, and smiles when you do the same. This is who you are meant to befriend, and it does not seem it will be too difficult, Sansa’s eyes eagerly drink in every aspect of your being, as if she wishes to glen all she can of Southern life before it is ripped away from her.

“She is as beautiful as her mother.” Your father says, giving her then Lady Catelyn a smile.

They both thank him, Lady Catelyn beaming at the praise, while you notice Sansa’s cheeks flush with color. She is easily flattered; you must remember that.

“Allow me to introduce my own daughter, Y/N Lannister.” Your father introduces you, putting emphasis on your surname, the very fact that you have one. You are not a bastard, no matter what awful Joffrey likes to say. Your mother and father had married in secret, she died giving birth to you, it was tragic and left your father quite saddened, but you were not a bastard.

Your eyes dart back to Jon taking him in subtlety. You wish to see him blush again, but you will not make your actions so easily observed.

“It is too cold, why must we stand here all day?” Joffrey whines, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot resoundingly.

Your aunt fusses over him, and Lord Stark leads you all inside, talking jovially with your uncle as you hurry to catch up with your father.

It is loud in the Great Hall of Winterfell, made of gray stone and smelling of smoke, meat, and a hint of dog, which you must assume is from the Direwolves. It is well lit and filled with people, all enjoying the bountiful feast set before them on long wooden tables. You’re seated away from your father, something you despise. He is closer to your Uncle Jaime, nearer to the King and Lord Stark, while you have been seated with the other children. It has only been you and your father for so very long, a part of you feels anxious to be separated from him, but you are a Lannister, if you cannot charm the strangers around you then can you truly call yourself such?

“Will you tell me more of King’s Landing, Lady y/n?” Sansa asks, looking enraptured by the mere thought of it. She is dressed in a gown of blue silk, her fur lined cloak on the back of her chair, her hair done up in a style you’re quite familiar with. She is very beautiful, and you spot many men staring at her, one of them being Theon who is seated at the lower tables. You catch his eye and smile knowingly. In response, he scowls and ducks his head.

You must mention this observation to your father.

You smile and return your attention to Sansa, regaling her with tales of festivals and feasts, of tourneys and services in the Great Sept. Her siblings either listen as well or turn their attention elsewhere, which you don’t mind. They are not who you are here to befriend.

Sansa sighs dreamily and turns her gaze to Joffrey, who is seated next to his mother further up the table and is staring down at his food as if it has offended him. “And what of Joffrey? Surely you must be close?”

Your cousin, and closest companion, Myrcella snorts into her drink, and you shoot her a look. Myrcella was meant to be sitting next to Joffrey but had convinced someone to switch with her so that she could be next to you.

“Joffrey is a…spirited boy, he has many…passions.” You say carefully, running your finger along the rim of your glass.

Your father suspects Robert will wish to wed Sansa and Joffrey. It’s a strategic match, but your cousin is a horrible bully, you have marks hidden beneath your sleeves to prove your words, and you do not wish to see innocent Sansa suffer in such a way. True, you have not spent much time with her, but she has been warm and welcoming, her innocence shining through like the sun on a spring day.

“Does he enjoy tourneys? I have heard the King was quite the warrior, he and father fought together.” Sansa continues, resting her chin in her hand.

You smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in your skirts. “Joffrey has not competed in any tourneys quite yet, Lady Sansa, he is too young.”

“He is three and ten, is he not? Most squire by one and ten, why has he not been sent to one of your bannermen like his uncle?” Robb says, taking a long drink from his glass.

“My mother does not wish for him to get injured; he is heir to the throne, after all.” Myrcella chimes in, saving you from coming up with another excuse for why Joffrey has not been allowed to leave King’s Landing.

Sansa nods and gazes longingly at Joffrey once more. “That seems most wise, what a dutiful mother Queen Cersei is.”

“Where is your mother, Lady y/n? I did not see anyone else arrive.” Bran, one of the younger Starks asks, his round innocent face not dulling the sting of his words at all.

Myrcella takes your hand under the tables and squeezes it. She has been privy to the nights of crying, of mourning the mother you would never know.

“Bran, that is not polite.” Sansa hisses.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “My mother died giving birth to me, but I am told she held me in her arms before the Stranger came for her, that she named me and spoke of how dearly she loved me.”

Bran makes a soft noise of apology, and the conversation lulls, until finally you have finished your meal and are free to retire to your chambers.

You wave off any offer to escort you, telling them all you wish to admire the architecture of Winterfell in solitude.

It’s not wholly a lie, though you cannot say you ever wish to be alone , you enjoy the company of others, are invigorated by it, but tonight feels different. Perhaps it is the mention of your mother, or the false face Joffrey is putting on for the Starks and their bannermen, the sound of his laughter ringing about the hall. You wander the halls of Winterfell with a faint knowledge of where the guest chambers lie, when you find yourself approaching the training yard. The night is quiet, snow falling gently, the brisk air seizes your lungs, purifying them with an icy chill.

You are not alone, the thud of blunt metal upon wood, the sounds of exertion, the turn of boots in snow covered dirt. You slowly move towards the sound, knowing your father will scold you later for such carelessness. There are countless people here, and you cannot be assured they all wish you well.

Jon Snow, the ever so distracting bastard, stands in the middle of the yard, training alone, the moonlight shining down on him, making his pale skin glisten. You rest your hand on the stone archway, one foot on the dirt, the other still firmly planted on the stone. You should leave him alone, you know it, but you’re mesmerized by the sight, the tension in his muscles, the expanse of his back, the strength in his arms. He is a little older than you, six and ten to your five and ten, both old enough to be married, yet both remaining unbetrothed.

There had been offers for your hand, even though you were the imp’s child, and many wondered if you would sire broken children, if you would pass on your father’s curse. But for the gold that backed your name many were willing to risk it. You didn’t like your suitors, they were too brash, too lewd, too old, or simply just not right.

Jon stops and lifts his tunic to wipe the sweat from his brow. His stomach is toned, his skin mostly smooth, though there are some faded scars.

Yes, they were simply not right, they did not look like that.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you avert your eyes. What were you, a child? A lovesick maid? You have spent no more than mere minutes in his presence, and already you are lusting after him like some silk street whore? It must be the chill that is muddling your mind, yes, the chill. Not the kindness that you saw within him as he played with Arya and Bran in the courtyard earlier in the day. Or the way he stood stiff lipped while Joffrey threw barbed insults at him as he passed him in the hall, or the stack of novels you had overheard the maester say were to be set aside for him. Merely the chill. The chill and the flights of fancy all young girls are prone to.

With that in mind, you wait until he has returned his tunic to its rightful place and step fully into the snow.

He turns on his heel, weapon at the ready. He is perceptive, you note, good reflexes, excellent hearing, fine form, carved from marble, glowing like a god in the moonlight.

Gods y/n, pull yourself together.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You say, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. It is thin, far too thin to wear in the chill of night.

Jon lowers his sword. “Lady Lannister, why are you not inside at the feast? Are you lost?”

“Yes.” You lie, batting your eyelashes at him, crafting your expression into one of helplessness. “I wished to return to my chamber, but I lost my way.”

Jon stows his sword and retrieves his cloak from a nearby rack. “I will escort you, if you do not take offense?”

You tilt your head in faux confusion. “Why would I take offense?”

He shuffles his feet and busies himself with his cloak. “You are a lady of a great house, and I am…” He lets the unspoken words hang in the air, and you have the grace to act surprised.

“Oh, yes, right, you are a Snow.” You say, taking a step towards him and extending your hand, waiting to set it on his arm. “Well, I care not if you are a Stark or a Snow, I am sure you are more than capable of escorting me to the guest chambers of your home.”

He ducks his head, that delightful blush returning to his cheeks, and he holds out his arm for you.

You take it gratefully, allowing him to guide you back towards the way you came. The wind blows through the yard as you walk and cuts straight through your thin cloak, a shiver shooting down your spine.

Before you can blink, Jon has draped his cloak over you, clasping it shut with a surprising boldness. “It is far too cold for such a thin cloak; you must remember to wear your furs if you find yourself wandering out here once more.”

You look up at him through your lashes, your heart skipping a beat at the proximity between you and him, the depth of his dark eyes. “And if I were to wander out here again…might I be able to count on you to escort me? I must confess I find the halls of Winterfell quite confusing.”

He lingers for a moment, drinking you in, his head nodding almost imperceptibly, then he wrenches himself away, his gaze set forward. “Anyone in Winterfell would be more than able to escort you, My Lady.”

You nod, feeling the sting of rejection. It’s no matter, this is only the first night, there’s still plenty of time.

Yes I used a Hozier line bc it's perfect for the vibe of this fic

[maysileeewrites]

distracted

Robb Stark x fem! Reader || 18+, MDNI! 

Synopsis: „How am I supposed to sit here, planning a war, when you’re over there, looking like that?“ 

c.w.: smut!! (seriously, this is really just smut with barely any plot) - piv, unprotected sex, hints of praise kink, breeding kink (never thought I’d ever tag one of my fics like that, but here we are, the things Robb Stark gets me to write …); established relationship, wife!reader 

w.c.: 1.7k || masterlist

AN: more plot-heavier Robb fics are coming soon, but I just had to write this purely self-indulgent smut fic first ... Hope you enjoy!

Usually, you’d describe yourself as a fairly patient person. 

Usually. 

However, there are certain situations in which you tend to be the complete opposite of patient - like tonight, for example. 

In your defense, you’ve been waiting for Robb to join you in bed for quite some time now. And you know that he’s not keeping you waiting to spite you - by the seven, you know that he’s got a war to plan, and thinking about that gets you frustrated even more with your own impatience tonight -, you know what’s keeping him so preoccupied, know how important that is, but somehow, you can’t help it.

Not when Robb is right there, sitting at the table in your tent, several maps spread out on the table around him, tousled curls falling into his face, wearing nothing but a thin robe that’s already started to slip off his shoulders, revealing the planes of his broad, muscular chest. 

You can’t help the soft sigh, full of yearning that escapes you then - finally earning you Robb’s attention. 

When he looks over at you, his eyes visibly widen. Suddenly, you feel your cheeks burning up and fight the urge to grab the thick fur covers lying next to you to cover up your naked body. 

You’ve been lying here in bed, waiting, for what feels like an eternity now, and with the thick furs covering you and the warm fire crackling a few feet away from you, you’d started feeling incredibly hot under the thick covers, so you’d thrown them aside. Purely for the sake of not feeling like you’re being roasted alive anymore, of course. 

Though you can’t deny that Robb’s reaction to seeing you like this is even better than the sensation of relief that washed over you after you’d thrown the blankets aside. 

He bites down on his lips, and you can see him clenching his fists. It’s too bad that the table is blocking the lower half of his body from your view - 

Just then, Robb groans, the sound low and intense. 

Suddenly, you feel even hotter than when you’d still been under the covers. 

Robb shakes his head at you, his eyes hungrily taking in your naked form. „How am I supposed to sit here, planning a war, when you’re over there, looking like that?“ 

At Robb’s words, you bite down hard on your lip, feeling your cheeks burn up. You can’t help it. 

Sometimes, when you’re together with Robb, you still feel like a maiden, young and innocent, as if you and Robb haven’t been married for some time now. 

As if he didn’t already touch you in ways that have desire pooling between your legs, just thinking about them. 

As if he didn’t already say things to you that turned your entire body to jelly in his arms. 

Thinking about that night a few days ago, when he was moving inside you, one arm slung across your stomach, pressing your back to his broad chest, while he took you from behind, his other hand drawing teasing circles over your clit, causes an all too-familiar, bittersweet ache to settle between your legs. Especially when you recall the words he whispered into your ear right after you’d reached your peak. 

That’s it, don’t hold back. Come for me. Going to fill you up- 

„What, already speechless?“ 

Robb’s teasing words draw you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you see how his eyes have darkened with desire. He’s still sitting at the table, still clenching his fists, and suddenly, an idea enters your lust-filled mind. 

Oh, you’ll show him speechless. 

Smirking, you get up from your bed and slowly walk over towards Robb, taking your sweet time with every step you take, enjoying the way Robb seems completely transfixed by you. 

You come to stand in front of him, just looking at him for a moment - his pupils have widened and his breathing has grown quite shallow -, before reaching out towards him and teasingly running a hand across his bare chest. 

Robb’s breath actually hitches. 

You smirk. „What, speechless already?“, you taunt, throwing his earlier words back at you. 

Robb’s eyes widen, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Still smirking, you sit down on his lap, laying your free hand on Robb’s shoulder to steady yourself. 

Robb groans and you have to close your eyes for a moment. Not just because you love eliciting these kinds of sounds from Robb, but also because the friction is almost too much to bear for you as well. There’s nothing more than Robb’s thin robe between your aching core and Robb’s stiff, erect member and if you grind yourself against Robb-

Just then, Robb’s hands settle on your waist, mercilessly keeping you in place. You want to protest, you really do, but when you feel Robb’s lips grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck, forming any coherent thought suddenly feels impossible. 

Robb seems to sense this as well, because he chuckles quietly, before his lips start trailing lower, down from your neck to your collarbone, to your breasts. 

Your breath hitches, and even though you can’t see it, you’re pretty sure that there’s a triumphant spark in Robb’s eyes right now. He loves to tease you. In fact, you think that he enjoys it just a little too much. 

Not that you particularly mind, though. How could you, when Robb’s teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your bosom feels so heavenly? His hands are still keeping you in place, but his grip on you has loosened. 

When you try to shift forward this time, there’s no protesting from Robb. Instead, the only reaction he shows is a low, deep groan, before his lips close around one of your nipples. 

A sigh escapes you, morphing into a groan, when Robb starts flicking his tongue over your nipple, while suddenly tightening his grip on you again, only this time it’s to re-position you in his lap. Now, he has you even closer to him and when you feel his stiff cock at your entrance, a breathless, desperate whine escapes you. 

„Robb“, you breathe out, one of your hands moving up from his shoulders to tangle in his auburn curls, tugging at them the way you know always drives him crazy. 

Finally, he looks up at you. 

And by the seven, the image of him with his head between your breasts, his lips still wrapped around one of your nipples, looking up at you with a deep, dark yearning in his eyes is enough to get you clenching around nothing. 

„Robb, please“, you whine, trying to desperately to grind yourself against him, but his grip on your waist has tightened once again. 

Another whine escapes you and you bite down hard on your lips. Somehow, you feel as if you could almost cry from frustration. You need Robb, and you need him now. 

So, you tell him. „Robb, I need you, please-“

The rest of your words are swallowed by the hungry, bruising kiss Robb gives you. You’re so dizzy, so distracted, that you almost don’t notice Robb’s hands moving to lift you up - until you feel him lowering you down onto his cock. 

A surprised hiss escapes you, and your grip on Robb’s curls tightens at the sudden contact. 

Robb, however doesn’t give you any time to adjust to him like he usually does - usually, he’d also make sure to prepare you for him with his fingers or preferably his tongue, but tonight, the same hungry, desperate frenzy you’ve been feeling seems to have taken over him as well -, he slams right up into you, filling you up completely. 

Pain and pleasure mix together, and you cry out. Your grip on Robb’s shoulder is so desperate that you’re convinced your fingernails are going to leave marks, but right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Not with Robb mercilessly bucking his hips up again, one hand still on your waist, keeping you in place, the other tangled in between your hair. 

„Gods, I love it when you’re so desperate“, Robb whispers, looking right at you as he enters you again in a merciless, powerful thrust. 

You whine again, meeting Robb’s gaze. Coming up with any kind of coherent sentence in reply seems impossible, and so all you can do is look at Robb and take his powerful thrusts inside you. 

„You’re so beautiful like this“, Robb continues, just as his hand suddenly leaves your hair, trailing down from your neck to your breast and over your stomach until his fingers start to draw teasing circles over your clit. 

„Robb.“ 

„Looking all fucked out and cock-drunk, with that hazy look in your eyes and your lips swollen - makes me want to fill you right up, because you’d look even more beautiful with your belly swollen with my child-“

And somehow, that does it. You come - harder than you’ve ever come before. 

Crying out your husband’s name, you come, shaking, burying your head in the crook of Robb’s neck as white-hot waves of pleasure wash over you and you clench around him. 

Robb thrusts into you once, twice and once again, the friction nearly too much for your aching, sensitive core, before he comes as well, spilling his hot seed inside you. 

„Robb“, is all you can manage to whisper. 

You’re still shaking, and when Robb closes his arms around you, drawing you into his chest, you nearly collapse onto him. 

For a moment, you stay like that, with you in his arms and him still inside you. Robb’s hands draw gentle patterns on your skin and he starts to whisper sweet nothing into your ear, a stark contrast to the rough, dominant husband you’d witnessed just moments before. 

Eventually, you find the strength to lift your head from his shoulder again. Robb slips out of you, but his hand immediately moves between your legs again. 

„Robb, please, it’s too much“, you whimper, completely overwhelmed as he pushes his fingers inside of you. 

„Sh, love“, Robb whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. „I’m just making sure that we’re not wasting a single drop.“ 

When your eyes meet his again, he’s smirking.

„Who’s speechless now, love?“ 

Robb tag list: @justmymindandstuff @rheanyraaaa @prettydeeryess @inkandarsenic @strrvnge

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Heirs

Pairing: Robb Stark x Baratheon/Lannister reader

Tags: NSFW, Arranged marriage, Robb is a bad boy in this one, corruption, innocent reader, first time, angst,

CH. 2 - He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

Chapter tags: fingering, semi-public fingering, voyeurism, corruption kink,

The music from the instruments was loud, and the atmosphere in the tent was filled with excitement, but you sat in your spot, glaring.

You didn't care that you were the only one. It wasn't fair. In Westeros culture, men were not expected to remain virgins until marriage. Robb took great pleasure in this fact.

You tried to focus on the conversation your ladies were having around you, but your eyes kept drifting towards him across the room, surrounded by girls from all over the country.

He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

One Northern girl boldly kissed Robb, baring her sharp canines while he laughed into her lips as another girl ran her arms around his barely covered torso. He turned and gave you a sly wink, running his tongue across his own sharp canine teeth, knowing that it would only infuriate you more. And it did.

From his point of view, the delicate princess sat wide-eyed, chest rising in her expensive dress as she inhaled and exhaled harshly through her flared nostrils. So responsive.

Robb enjoyed provoking you - he didn't know why yet. Perhaps he was doing it to see how you would react, testing your feelings for him, or because he was unsure how to express his growing attraction. When he winked at you, it was not just to anger you—he wanted to see you break your perfect demeanor, to understand if this was just duty for you or if you had feelings for him.

Your mother taught you that wives must be composed, no matter how foolish their husband's behaved and how their behavior humiliated them. She would glance at your father on occasion, chin up and confident pose, while her eyes betrayed the anger she felt. You now understood the patience your mother exercised as you were experiencing the same thing with the Stark Prince. Jealousy made you realize your feelings for Robb, despite his behavior. You were torn between your upbringing as a lady and your raw emotions when it came to him.

As the night progressed, Robb kept up his game. You had had enough. Jealousy rendering you unnable to look anymore.

You released a grumble of frustration before getting up, lifting your skirts in a less than ladylike fashion and storming out of the tent, leaving your friends behind calling your name in confusion.

The cool night air hit your face as you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Disregarding your safety, you wandered through the beach grounds, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You couldn't understand why Robb insisted on playing mind games with you.

It was just the second time you two had crossed paths, yet he somehow made you feel inferior.

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The previous morning

Robb Stark arrived in King’s Landing with a small Northern contingent for the summer tourney. You were seeing him for the first time in years, and it was immediately clear how much he’s grown—his transformation from the boy you once knew to the formidable man standing before you now. His physical growth and his commanding presence were evident.

You stood alongside your mother and siblings as he walked into the great hall alongside his bastard brother, Jon. The two were close in age, and both had formidable height and posture, that of trained soldiers. Jon seemed calmer than Robb, more inspective of his surroundings, while his older brother took confident strides.

Robb wore a leather jerkin, the dark material molding to his broad chest and wide shoulders, accentuating his muscular frame. Beneath it, a simple linen shirt was tucked into his trousers, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows to combat the heat, revealing strong, veiny forearms. A leather belt rested at his waist, bearing the Stark sigil and his sword at its sheath.

As you stood with the ladies of the court, their laughter and hushed conversations filled the air. Your attention was briefly stolen by the sight of Robb Stark entering the courtyard, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. The women around you fell silent for a moment before erupting into a flurry of excited whispers.

"Gods, look at him," one sighed.

"Have you seen those arms?" Another chimed in, leaning in to get a better view.

The first giggled, her gaze never leaving Robb as he moved through the courtyard and kneeled in front of the king. "He’s nothing like the men of the south... I wouldn’t mind being captured by a man like that."

You weren't sure if you wanted to agree or roll your eyes.

"Do get up, boy." Robert Baratheon drunkenly grinned at the young wolf. "Your father is like a brother to me, I dont need his eldest kissing my arse."

Robb stood up, offering a respectful nod. "As you say, your highness."

"You cheeky..." Your father shook his head, grasping Robb by his shoulders and laughing how he's changed since he was a boy. The two exchanged a few words about the Starks, including messages from Ned.

Then they both turned to look at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat. Those grey eyes, which you recalled as teasing, were now alight with something else as they roamed over your figure. Robb briefly glanced to your side where your personal guard stood. His eyes narrowed on him before blinking back to you.

You hoped to impress him with your wardrobe. Your gown was a rich velvet, dyed deep red. It clung to your frame in a way that accentuated your curves. The fabric cascaded softly around your hips and flared slightly at the hem, skirts flowing elegantly around your legs.

Your hair was woven with gold thread, pinned up in a way that highlighted your cheekbones and neck, a delicate chain with a small ruby resting against your chest, his eyes zeroed in on it.

Robb turned to say another word to the King, and you watched your father nod before dismissing the young man. Conversations arose in the court as your betrothed approached you.

"Princess," Robb offered a warm smile, bowing respectfully. "How lovely you've become."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," You offered a bow in return, hoping he didn't hear the gasp in your voice.

He regarded you with admiration, his eyes glancing condescendingly at your guard before falling back on you. He leaned down to wisper in your ear. "May I have a moment with you? Alone."

His lips skimmed the skin of your ear, his breath tickling your skin. You shuddered. You overheard your ladies giggle behind you as you nodded, straightening up and collecting yourself.

He held his hand for you to take, then walked you out of the room, Ser Oliver and Jon followed close behind.

You and Robb had a pleasant conversation about your time apart. Speaking about his training and your studies. He listened patiently as you spoke about the health properties of herbs and plants, grey eyes gazing intently as you passionately discussed your favorite topics.

At last, you guessed you've spoken long enough, asking him to tell you how his sisters were doing.

He chuckled, his eyes creasing. "At each other's throats. It can be quite amusing so long as you're not in the line of fire."

You nodded. "And your brothers?"

He turned back to Jon. "They like to watch as Jon and I spar and offer useless advice."

That image made you laugh. You've always wanted a big family to watch your kids grow to be friends as you saw the Stark children did.

Your eyes switched back to him, landing on his lips, full and framed by recently shaven stubble. You caught yourself staring, opened your mouth to respond when a young voice called out your name-

"Y/n!"

You turned in the direction where your sister, Myrcella called, running up to the two of you to grasp and pull at your skirt. "Sister! He's hurting the frogs again!"

You blinked, trying your best to understand what she was talking about.

"Joffrey!" Your youngest brother, Tommen, ran up to stand alongside his sister and pull you by your hand. "We were playing with them, and he started kicking them! You must help."

Robb saw you sigh and shut your eyes like this was not the first time. He turned back to exchange a look with Jon, who shrugged in turn.

You let them pull you, turning to offer Robb an apology. "Apologies, my lord. This will just be a moment."

"Take your time, princess. I do hope the frogs are alright." The corner of his mouth raised slightly when he said it.

So, Robb considered, this is what you were up to all day, mending small animals and nannying your siblings.

Jon walked to stand alongside his brother, watching you rush into the garden to stop Joffrey from crushing a frong with a rock, scolding him while carefully taking the injured animal in your hands. "Must you always hurt the poor animals, Joff?"

Joffrey gave you an ugly glare and spat, "Why do you care? You're going to be Stark's pet soon enough, anyway."

Myrcella gasped. Tommen stared between you and Joffrey awkwardly.

Both Robb and Jon both froze, exchanging a look of disbelief at the young boy's cruelty to his own sister. Even Arya never spoke this way to Sansa.

Despite Joffrey’s words, you remained calm toward him, shielding Tommen and Myrcella from his sneers. "This is not how a future king behaves, Joff. Very poor manners, especially in front of guests."

Joffrey rolled his eyes. "A king behaves however he wants."

You opened your mouth to speak again, but he got up and walked away. Your shoulders dropped with a huff of frustration.

"Can you treat it?" Tommen spoke. You followed his gaze down to the frog in your hand. The poor animal had a cut along its limb.

"If you hold him, I can try my best." You smiled at your brother, taking your small sewing kit from your sleeve.

Over the years, you had gotten quite good. Practicing by sewing up Joffrey's scraped knees when he would fall. Tommen gently held the frog as you washed the wound with water, sewed it shut, and wrapped a small amount of gauze around it.

Jon and Robb observed from their distance.

"That's our future king..." Robb murmered quietly. "And my future brother."

Jon, being naturally perceptive, quietly pointed out to Robb. "At least her and her other siblings' kindness contrasts with his."

Robb grimaced still.

"I notice the way you glowered at her guard." Jon added before teasing him. "Perhaps your feelings for her are more complicated than just familial duty?"

"Perhaps you should..." Robb turned to sass him off, but Jon’s observation lingered on his mind. "Perhaps we should step away. This seems to be a family matter."

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Jon stood by Robb’s side, serving as support. He noticed Robb’s distracted, jealous glances toward the royal stands where you sat, observing the archers beside your guard, occasionally exchanging a few comments with the man.

Jon nudged Robb, “Could you be more obvious?"

Robb tore his gaze away from you. "Sorry."

"You’ve faced worse foes than a well-dressed guard.” Jon spoke, assessing the archers stance and technique.

Robb pulled at his bowstring, typing it to his bow while speaking, "You were always the cool-headed one," he spoke quietly. "Sometimes I envy your ability not to get so... emotional."

"It comes with the title." Jon offered, referring to his bastard blood.

"Stop it, Jon." Robb shook his head. "You know we dont think of you that way."

Jon nodded, not responding to Rob's obvious lie. "Don’t mess this up. You're the best shot in Winterfell, besides me, of course."

Robb snorted, lightly shoving his brother.

Jon continued. "This will be target practice for you. It's easier than half the game you bring back home."

"Sure," Robb wasn't concerned with the Archery contest. In the slightest.

And surely enough, you sat in the Royal stands, watching him best the other archers, hitting the center of the target from multiple distances to cheers from the crowd.

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Present Time

You were hiding behind the flap of a tent, sneakily observing a knight kneeling in front of a courtesan from Essos.

He seemed to be kissing her sex. You were confused by the position. It defered from everything you'd learned about lovemaking. The women made sinful noises. You were curious as to why.

Your eyes narrowed. But surely that wasn't right.

"He's quite good." A male voice spoke close to you.

"Gods -" Gasping, you jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to see Robb leaning beside you, hair disheveled and shirt undone at the top, a drunk bkush spread across his cheeks.

His words registering in your mind, you huffed. "As if you would know."

He chuckled, then took you by the arm and turning you to face him, your skirts swooshing between your legs as you came face to face with him, your lips a breath apart. Stormy eyes were focused on your lips with such intent that you found it hard to look. Visions of him embraced by the northern girls flooding your mind again. Your cheeks heated up so much that you had to back up away from him.

Only there was no room, and you were stuck between himself and one of the thick tent posts. The wooden surface hard against your back.

"Do I sense some hostility, princess?" He hummed.

She shushed him, whispering. "Be quiet. Let's go,"

"And miss the performance?"

"Robb!"

He laughed and let you slip under his arm to drag him away. By the time you had walked off into a more deserted area, you had reached the water's edge, away from the camp and the crowds. Your bodice clung to you as you took in much needed deep breaths to calm yourself.

"So," Robb cleared his throat behind you. "Are you gonna tell me what you were doing creeping up on the swordman coupling, princess?"

You screwd your eyes shut. "Dont you have two girls to get back to?" You tilted your head mockingly. "Or was it four?"

You heard a huff behind you. "Ah, so it did bother you." His lips were by your ear in instead to wisper. "Good."

"How much ale have you had?" You felt goosebumps running up your arm.

"Less than you think."

You rolled her eyes. "It would anger anyone."

He shook his head, his curls brushing against your locks. "It wouldn't anger an un-caring wife. I want my wife to be selfish over me."

Your breathes were speeding as his warm breath tickled your skin. His words tickled some other parts of you.

"So," he wispered. "Are you gonna tell me what you were you doing? Have you picked up an interest in the art of love-making?"

You chuckled. "If you can even call it that."

You felt his head tild behind you, as if confused. "You absolutely can."

You scoffed. "He wasn't even doing it right."

He chuckled, throwing her own words back at you, "As if you would know."

For some reason, that made you feel self-conscious, so you turned to glare at him.

He pursed his lips, throwing his hands up. "Apologies, princess. That was rude. What did he do wrong?"

You wrapped her arms around yourself. "He didn't even... he wasn't..."

He raised a brow, anticipating.

"Well," you insited, before finally, quietly saying. "... penetrate."

"Well. You can't simply begin from that." He said nonchalantly.

That made you pause. "What?"

"Princess," Robb grinned, bringing his hand to his temple as if rubbing at a headache.

You blushed, facing away from him. "You're laughing at me."

You couldnt see his eyes crease at the sides as he smiled down at your hair. "Darling, no."

"You are!" You turned back to him again, her skirts blowing with the small breaze, your eyes withholding tears. "I may not be experienced like you-" you pointed your finger at him. "-but I know enough! You can't have children by... through... what he was."

"You're right, you can't." He confirmed holding up his hands in surrender. "But who said children were the only outcome of sex?"

You remained quiet, now thoroughly confused.

"There is also pleasure." He hinted.

"Oh!" You nodded. "Well, sure, it can occur, but..."

"It must." He spoke like it was obvious. "You do know there are other ways to induce pleasure than mere penetration?" He asked.

You blinked at him.

A grin spread across his face, wolfish canines shines in the moonlight. "Oh, you're going to enjoy this study, princess."

Your mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but looked unsure.

"Trust me. The maesters won't-teach-you-this." He slurred slightly. "And if they do, that's bad. Then you have to tell me."

Curious eyes met confident grey ones, and you gave him a soft nod, taking his hand, letting him lead her down to an empty cove.

The two of you sat by the sand. At first, you took a seat side by side with him, but he pulled you to sit in front of him with you back to his chest. Never having been this close to someone of the opposite sex, you swallowed nervously.

"Breathe, princess. You're in good hands."

"The last time you said something like that, I fell out of consciousness."

"Well, this time don't. I'd hate for you to miss this." He ran his hands along the uncovered skin of your arms, you collarbone, shoulders, you skin tensing up everywhere he touched. "You shouldn't rush into things when giving pleasure."

You nodded. "Right,"

He leaned down and trailed, sticking kisses from your ear to your neck, sending a trail of goosebumps that made you gasp.

"There are other sensitive zones on your body, not just inside your cunt."

You nodded, your toes curling against the sand. "Okay,"

"Like your ears and neck," He spoke through kisses. His hands reached to her your bodice, unlacing the front exposing your breasts, giving your nipples light touches.

You gasped, arching your back against him. "Mhn,"

"Or your breasts," he continued to play with your hardened peaks, rolling and pinching them lightly. You closed her eyes, your hand eaching to grasp at the sand. His hand trailed down to your skirts, pulling them up to your waist and exposing you to the cool night air before palming your heat between your thighs.

You jumped at the feeling.

"Or this spot between your legs,"

"What is it?" You asked, voice trembling.

"It's your special spot," he replied, his fingers teasing you gently.

You couldn't hold back the whine that escaped as he continued to touch you just the right way. You had never experienced pleasure like this before, and it was intoxicating.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "you should explore your own body, princess. It's full of hidden treasure."

Your breaths quickened as he continued to rub you, faster, and faster. "I... oh-"

Unable to hold back any longer, your body tensed up and shook as you experienced the first orgasm you had ever felt. You were overcome with pleasure, and your body shook with the force of it. He pulled you by your hair, craning your neck towards himself, and kissed you roughly. You reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm, still shaking as his hand teased you through your climax.

When you pulled apart, he was happy to see your eyes still glazed over.

Robb had struggled with his feelings for you, wondering if they might be desire, or duty, but he also questioned how much power he truly had over you.

Going from girl to girl in Winterfell was a norm, but something about you was not the same. He wanted to corrupt you, to introduce you to a world of pleasure that you had no idea existed. Hed wanted to be the first to deflower the heir to the throne. It had been a long time since he had felt this type of curiosity. The image of you writhing in pleasure, your body arching, and moans of his name filled his mind, making his eyes shut to take in the fantasy.

"Is it like this every time?" You wispered, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"It should be," he leaned down to nibble on your throat. This girl. He needed to see her come undone again.

"Princess!" A male voice called in the distance.

Robb cursed. That fucking guard...

"By the gods! What time is it?" You jumped up before rushing to lace your bodice and pat your skirts back into place, tidying up her hair. Robb leaned back on his arms and stared as you rushed off, his teeth grinding.

You hadn't even said anything. Just left as if you didn't just share an intimate moment together. He chuckled to himself, running his hand down his face and lying back against the sand.

[welldonebeca]

Lookalike - Masterlist

Summary: When Jon Snow’s name day arrives, Theon Greyjoy hires you as a gift for him. But will you awake feelings they’ve been trying to hide from themselves? (Theon and Jon pretend you are Sansa.) Warnings: Canon divergence. Smut. Role play. Virginity Kink. Innocence Kink. Dirty talk. Prostitution. 

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Chapter 1 - Theon x Reader (Coming to Tumblr on the 30th of January)

Chapter 2- Jon x Reader (Coming to Tumblr on the 6th of February)

Bonus Chapter with @cosmic-darikano

Summary: Robb finds you leaving Winterfell and has an interesting proposal.

Bonus Chapter (Coming to Tumblr on the 13th of February)

"Lookalike" was posted on my Patreon back in October 2022! To read it before anyone else and have early access to my stories, consider subscribing to my page! It's just $2 a month, and it helps a lot!

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Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega​

Game of Thrones tags: @izbelross @ietss

[justmymindandstuff]

welcome home soldier -Robb Stark x WifeReader

summary: Your husband Robb Stark defeats the Lannister army in the Battle of the Whispering Wood. His first real battle. But the only thing he could think about was you and that he might never see you again. You gladly welcome him back into your arms.

words: 3.160

warnings: angst, talk about battles, blood and death, smut, MDNI (18+)

a/n: Robb Stark lives rentfree in my head. I will never get over him// English is not my first language //no beta// A03

Hope you like it

requests are open // main-masterlist // GoT-masterlist

Restlessly, you pace back and forth in your tent. Hot anxiety burns into your stomach and does not let you rest for a single second.

"Lady Stark. You should get some sleep," your guard sounds a bit concerned while his watchful gaze never leaves you.

"I will sleep when my lord husband is back beside me," you snap at him.

Robb hat left twenty-five men here with you. To protect you and bring you back to Winterfell, if something happened to him. Just the thought that he might die brings tears to your eyes.

Was the kiss you gave him before he rode into battle the last one you will ever share? Was it the last time you saw his blue eyes? Was it the last time you heard his warm voice? "I will be back soon, my sweet girl." Gods, please bring him back to me. You chew on your bloody nail bed as you pace back and forth. You listen outside. Waiting for war drums or the trumpeting of a horn that announces their return. The sun is slowly rising again, and the fear within you grows with each passing minute.

Is it normal for it to take so long? Should you have heard something? Is Robb still alive? You wish you had an answer to at least one of these questions. But this is Robb's first real battle. This is the real war. With real consequences. And the real death.

As you took Robb as your husband at Goodswood and he draped the cloak around your shoulders, you never thought you would someday be sitting in a war camp waiting for him to return from battle.

He will come back, won't he? The thought makes you feel sick. You stop, take a deep breath, and sink to your knees. You close your eyes and begin a new round of prayers to the old gods. If you just pray desperately enough, they must listen, right? There are no weirwood trees here, how can the gods hear you if they have no ears here? You shake off the thought and focus on your prayer.

But it doesn't take long before you hear loud shouts from outside. Immediately, you are on your feet and running.

"Lady Stark, we don't know…." your guard tries to hold you back, but you pay him no mind and storm into the cold morning. The sunlight briefly blinds you, but after you blink you see the Stark banners on the horizon, drawing closer. They are back.

But has Robb returned with them?

The army is approaching quickly and you now recognize the faces of the banner bearers, but you pay them no attention. You just want to see Robb's face. Your eyes search over the front row of men. You see Grey Wind and at his side, Robb. Your gaze meets his a wave of relief washes over you and tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. You close your eyes for a moment and send a prayer of thanks to all the gods of this world.

The noise around you swells as the soldiers stream into the camp. But you ignore them all, your gaze fixed on Robb. He recognizes you and his lips curl into a smile. You run towards Robb. He dismounts his horse, the mud splattering lightly over his boots as he lands on the ground. When you reach him, you crash into his arms. His Armor feels cold and hard, the dirt and dust clinging to him ruin your dress, b ut it doesn't matter to you. Robb's arms wrap around you in a bone-crushing embrace as he pulls you close. You snuggle into him. He smells of sweat, blood, and death, but you don't care.

"Hello my sweet girl," he whispers into your hair. When you hear his warm voice a shiver runs through your bod, and you let out a relieved sob. "hey hey hey." he slightly moves away from you to look you in the face. "Don't cry."

Your gaze sweeps over his face, it's a bit dirty, there's a scratch above his eyebrow but otherwise you can't see any injuries.

"You are alive," you say. "You've come back. Are you hurt?"

He laughs softly. "Yes, I have come back. I will always come back to you.” Robb gently wipes the tears from your cheek. “Just a few bruises.” He lets his hand rest on your cheek and leans down to you. His lips meet yours, the kiss tasting slightly salty from your tears. You are surprised by the intensity of the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close to you. Breathless you pull away from each other after a moment and Robb leans his forehead against yours. His eyes never leave yours.

"I was so scared for you," you whisper.

"I was scared too," he whispers so softly that you can barely understand him.

You reach for his hand and only now notice that he is slightly trembling. He closes his fingers around yours. You notice how tears gather in his eyes, but he blinks them away. He can not cry here. Not in front of his men. You scratch the sweaty curls in his neck to calm him down a bit.

"Do I get a welcome kiss too?" Theon's voice pulls you both out of your little world. You look over at him, he also seems exhausted but uninjured.

"Gladly, if you're ready to take my husband's sword through your heart afterwards," you reply to him with a slight smile. You are glad that he is unharmed. You release Robb and pull Theon into an embrace. "It's nice to see you."

"What a happy little family you Starks are." at the mocking voice of Jaime Lannister you flinch. You look at the Kingslayer, who is being led through the camp in chains. He looks miserable and defeated. Only the arrogant smile of the golden lion who not so long ago rode through the gates of Winterfell has remained.

"Lock him away." Robb uses his Lord Stark voice as he gives his command and his men drag the prisoner away.

"You have captured the kingslaye,” you say incredulously.

"Yes." Robbs hand finds yours again and he pulls you a little closer to his side.

"What do you plan to do with him?" you ask. Robb's jaw tightens slightly. He would love to chop off his head, you know that. But he can't do that. Not as long as the Lannisters have Ned, Sansa, and Arya as hostages.

"I don't know yet," Robb replies quietly.

"Let's think about it later. Now you need a bath and sleep.” you order, trying to adopt his commanding tone.

"As you command, sweet girl. But first I have to make sure the Kingslayer is well guarded. Can you do me a favor?”

“Everything.” you answer.

“Please make sure that the injured are adequately cared for."

"Of course." you say, squeezing his hand and standing on you tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the lips. You turn to leave and your hand slips out of his. You immediately notice how you are getting a little restless again. But you straighten your shoulders. He is Lord Stark and you must be Lady Stark now.

"Grey Wind." you hear Robb behind you and the next moment the Direwolf presses his wet, warm snout into your palm. Flanked by the wolf, you get to work.

When you later return to your tent with Grey Wind at your side, the camp has gotten a little quieter. You feel the sleepless night catching up on you.

Robb has taken off his armor, his curls are still a little damp from his bath. When you enter, he looks up. His eyes look tired, but he still smiles at you. Grey Wind's large body scurries past you as the wolf lies down on his blanket next to the entrance. You walk the few steps to Robb. On the way you take a cup of wine and hand it to him. You notice how his whole body slightly trembles as the tension of the battle finally falls away from him and he finds a bit of peace. He takes a few deep breaths and drowns his cup.

"Your guard said you haven't slept." it's not a reproach, he sounds a bit worried.

"Did you really think I could find sleep while you ride into battle?"

"Don't you have any faith in my war skills, wife?" he asks with a slight smile.

"The greatest faith my dear husband" you reply. "But I have only contempt for our enemies and fear that they will take you away from me."

Robb reaches for your hips and pulls you closer to him. You place your hand on his chest, you can feel his heartbeat. Nothing ever made you happier than the steady pounding in his chest.

"No one can ever take me away from you," he says his voice trembling slightly. It sounds like a promise. But you know that he might not be able to keep that promise. From his look, you can see that he knows it too. Tears well up in your eyes.

"I was so scared," you whisper softly.

"I know. I was scared too." Robb buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. You snuggle into his arms. "The kingslayer. He screamed for me and slaughtered our men in the process. I thought for a moment he would reach me, and then I could only think that I would never see you again." his voice trembles slightly. You dig your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. You never want to let him go. "The fear almost paralyzed me."

Fear grips you again and you have to press yourself closer to him. "I want to go home." you whisper. You wish to return behind the safe walls of Winterfell. Back with your family.

"Me too. We will win this war and then we will go home and never travel south again.”

You nod. "That's a good plan." your voice still trembles.

You just stand there for a moment in your embrace. You let it sink in that Robb really has come back. He survived this battle. You don't want to think that it was just one of many. Now you want to enjoy that your husband has come back to you. Robb's warm breath on your neck tickles lightly.

When you suddenly feel his lips on your skin, you shudder. Robb's grip on your hip tightens slightly as his lips kiss their way up your neck. You tilt your head slightly to the side and close your eyes. He kisses from your neck to your cheek and then your lips. The passion, longing, and desire in his kiss surprise you and ignite a hot fire in your lower abdomen. The fatigue is gone. Your lips move in sync with his. You press yourself closer to him. A hot shiver runs through your entire body.

Breathless, you part your lips from each other again. Robb leans his forehead against yours. Your gaze meets his. His hand glides up over your hip. His knuckles glide over the side of your breast, over your collarbone and up your neck. Then he places his warm hand on your cheek.

"I need you." he whispers.

Instead of answering him, you lean forward and place your lips back on his. Your hands begin to unbutton his shirt. As your fingers caress his chest, he moans into the kiss. His fingers unfasten the clasp of your cloak and it slides from your shoulders. Robb breaks the kiss, places his hands back on your hips, and turns you around.

Immediately, he begins to untie the strings of your dress. He is skilled at it, you notice how the dress loosens. Robb's lips find your neck again. This time, you can't suppress a soft gasp. You lean against him. You feel his body heat on your back. Robb pulls the dress over your shoulders and you slip out of the sleeves. Immediately Robb's lips attack the newly exposed skin. He pushes his hips slightly forward, and you feel his hardness against your butt. In your lower abdomen, a pleasant throbbing spreads. All the fear, the uncertainty, and the panic flow out of you and are replaced by desire. You pull at the skirt and the dress slides down your body so that you are left standing there in your white undergarment. It is made of thick wool to keep you warm and not particularly sexy. You turn in Robb's arms, catch his lips in a brief kiss, and then tug at his shirt. Robb raises his arms and you pull the shirt over his head. He tosses it carelessly into a corner.

You examine Robb's bare chest. Apart from a few bruises and scratches he really seems to be uninjured. You send another thanks to the gods. Then you look into Robb's face. His eyes are on you.

"I told you, just a few bruises." He kisses your forehead. "You are beautiful," he says before taking a step back. Robb extends his hand to you. You reach for it and let yourself be helped out of the dress. He kisses your hand. Then he gently pulls you closer to him. Your lips find each other again as your hand rests on the back of his neck and begins to caress his curls. "I'm so lucky that such a beautiful woman is waiting for me at home," he whispers against your lips. You apply gentle pressure to his chest so that he has to take a step towards the bed.

Robb's lips curl into a smile as he pulls back a bit from you. "Eager sweet wife." But then he reaches for you and lifts you in a swift turn. He takes the few steps to the bed and sets you back on your feet. You feel the edge of the bed in the back of your knee.

Robb quickly sheds the rest of his clothes while you slip out of your underwear and boots. You let yourself fall backward onto the soft covers, and in the next moment, Robb is above you.

You open your legs for him while your arms wrap around his neck. He supports himself with one arm next to your head. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss. You feel as if your entire body is on fire. You lean into his warm body, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. Robbs kisses along your neck while his cock rubs between your wet folds. You let out a soft moan. Robb's hand wanders over your body, your breasts, and then rests on your hip. He gently pushes you back into the soft furs.

"Fuck," Robb curses softly against your neck. His voice heavy with his northern accent. His tip rubs over your clit, your fingernails lightly scratch over the skin on your neck, leaving red stripes.

"Please, Robb," you moan and in the next moment he sinks completely into you with one thrust.

Your wet warmth envelops him. You both moan. You wrap your legs around his hips and push yourself forward to bring him even closer to you. Robb's body trembles and you feel his breath on your neck. Gently, you tug at his curls, making him look at you.

His eyes shine with warmth and love. His gaze sends a warm shiver down your body and makes your heart beat faster.

You lean up and your lips meet again. Robb pushes his hips back a little and starts to move. You move your hips in sync with his. Feel him deep inside you. Robb intertwines your hands on the pillow. You notice a pleasant tension building up inside you. Your other hand rests on his muscular shoulder. You feel that even now he is still not close enough. You never want to let him go again. Here he is safe. His deep thrusts make you moan again. Robb kisses your cheeks and then looks into your eyes.

"Please never leave me again," you say softly. His thrusts become slower, he hardly moves inside you anymore, and this fullness makes your toes curl.

Robb smiles sadly and then gently kisses your lips. "I will always come back home to you," he whispers. His eyes find yours, and after a brief moment, you nod slightly. you press your calves slightly into his lower back, making him thrust into you a little faster again. Robb moans. Hearing those sounds from him makes your lower abdomen flutter.

Robb picks up a faster rhythm again. His lips wander back to your neck and with his next thrust, he bites. Your scream of his name is so loud that you are sure the guards outside have heard you.

"The whole time out there I could only think about coming back to you. To feel you in my arms again.” He kisses the bitemark gently. "Wanting to kiss you. I cursed myself for not kissing you enough.” his words are followed by a passionate kiss on your lips. Your legs tremble slightly. "To be able to feel you around me again." his lips wander to your ear.

Robb lets his hand wander from your hip between your bodies and he begins to draw circles over clit. You lean into his hand, feeling yourself start to pulse around his member. He gasps, and his hot breath tickles your neck. You can't focus on anything else but Robb. He picks up a faster rhythm. You match your movements to his. Your bodies tremble together. Your orgasm washes over you, and as you clench around Robb, he follows you and comes. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer as he gently thrusts his hips a few more times. A shiver spreads across your entire body, and you let out a soft moan. Robb lets his weight sink a little further onto you, and you wrap your arms around him.

After a moment you notice how your breath and heartbeat slowly begin to calm down again. Robb sits up a bit and wants to roll off you. But you press your crossed legs together behind his back so that he falls back onto you again. He laughs warmly.

"Don't go away." you whisper and start to scratch his neck again. Robb's cock twitches slightly inside you.

"I'm not going anywhere." Robb buries his nose in the crook of your neck as he shifts his weight slightly, so you are not crushed by his weight. He distributes gentle kisses on the skin of your neck, and you sigh contentedly. You close your eyes and wish that the war, the soldiers and the whole world out there to disappear. You want to live forever with Robb in this moment.

[countrymusiclover]

The Dwarfs Daughter readers I might be changing the face of my OC Raegan from Celina Sinden (Greer) to Tamsin Egerton (Guinevere)

To this...

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

A Mended Heart || D. Targaryen x oc, Robb Stark x oc

GIF by @lady-arryn DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Alysanne's marriage to her older brother, Daemon was once full of prosperity. As thirteen years and six children pass by, their marriage starts to crumble, his loyalty was nowhere to be found and so an annulment was requested. Years later when Daemon's second wife, Laena, dies tragically, the Prince attempts to rekindle his relationship with his dear sister. But is she willing to leave the life she built in Winterfell?

a/n: note that this a request!! i just made it into a lil series :)

P.t 1

"An annulment?" Viserys' eyebrows raises at his brother's absurdity. "She's our sister, your wife, and mother to your children, Daemon. What possible reason do you-" "People change, brother." The Prince taps his finger on the table, already bored and wanting to leave.

Viserys sighs, his hands rubbing his forehead. "And she agreed?" A scoff leaves Daemon's lips. "Whether or not she fucking agrees is her problem. I get to make this decision, not her." He spat, the King was baffled at the words of younger brother. He was treating their sister as if she was simply a commoner.

"And what of the children?" Daemon's mind goes to the image of his six children. A sigh leaves his lips, his head leaning back on the chair, "They are mine. But Alysanne will take them, and, they are still my heirs." Although their marriage was going to be annulled, he still loved his children. They still hold their titles as Prince's and Princess's.

Viserys nods. "I had hoped you and Alysanne were to be together till death parted with the two of you. Please, think about what your wanting to do right now, brother. For the sake of me, Alysanne, your children!" Viserys pleaded, he did not want his family crumbling apart because of this.

"We were always told we were to marry since birth. We were forced into this. |love her as my blood, my sister, but we weren't made to marry each other." Daemon voiced out. The elder lets out a sigh of defeat. "I cannot force you to stay in a marriage with her, but please, I do not want this to be the reason our family is split apart," the King sternly says as Daemon gets up from his seat.

"Of course, your Grace," He bows his head and leaves the room. Viserys watched with sadden eyes, saddened for his younger sister.

"It's done. We are free from each other," Daemon leans back on the chair, his voice flat. Alysanne rolls her eyes as she continues her embroidery. "Where are the children?" He questions, "With their wet nurse, why?" She finally looks at him. "To say goodbye." He stands up, the Targaryen Princess furrowed her eyebrows at him “Where are you going?" Daemon chuckles, "To Dragonstone, sister. Do you think I would stay here in King's Landing?"

Alysanne was surprised that Daemon was leaving so quickly. She did not care though. "No. I know how much you dread it here," She mutters, her hands back working on embroidering. Daemon looks stares at her. She could feel his stare so she looks up with a sigh. "Yes?"

"Goodbye then. Let me remind you that I get to see our children whenever I want-“ “Yes yes I know. You've not only told me about a hundred times Daemon. I'm not cruel, they're still your children," Alysanne replies, annoyed at the constant remindering. "Good, l'll be on my way" He nods curtly at before walking to her.

He awkwardly stands infront of her. Her gaze on his shoes before she turns her head and lets him kiss her on the cheek. Although they used to be Husband and Wife, they were still Brother and Sister. No words were exchanged and Daemon left what used to be their shared bedchambers.

As she sat there alone, she pondered back on their marriage. It was once filled with prosperity but things changed. They both changed. She never forgot how loved she felt from Daemon or how loving he was to their children. His loyalties changed, and they both mutually agreed that this would be for the best.

Alysanne didn't realise she was crying until she felt something wet on her cheeks. "Mother?" Her sons voice called out as she quickly wiped the salty tears away. "Yes, darling" She smiled at her eldest son who was ten-and-two. "Why is father going to Dragonstone without us?" He asks as the Princess moves aside to let him sit beside her.

She smiled, her hands brushing through his blonde hair. "Because your father is staying there from now on, okay?”He still loves you all very much but it is best he stays there and I, here with you all." Her hand moves to his chin to make him look at her. Aegon slowly nods.

"Come on, I think we should go for our walk now," She says brightly, setting down her embroidery, but Aegon doesn't budge. "Father won't be there," He points out. Alysanne sighed, sitting back down. They would all walk together every afternoon when they can, with all the children. But now that Daemon was gone, it was only to be Alysanne and her children.

"Why don't we ask uncle if he would like to join us?" She suggests, attempting to cheer Aegon up. He thinks before nodding. Of course, Viserys was more than happy to go on a family stroll with his sister and nieces and nephews.

"What a fine day it is today isn't it, children?" Alysanne smiles at them as they reply with yes. "What do you plan on doing now, sister?" Viserys asks, Alysanne’s youngest, Visenya in his arms. She sighs, watching her twins, Rhaena and Baela chasing after each other.

"I'm still the Princess, brother. I have many options." She assures him with a smile for Alysanne knew that Viserys was worried. “Oh stop worrying about Daemon and I Viserys. You have more urgent things to worry about as King. We will greatly benefit from this, I can assure you" She pats his arm, “If you say so" The King sighs as Alysanne walks ahead to catch up with the rest of her children.

~

2 months later…

“You look handsome, sweet boy” Alysanne kisses the crown of her Daeron’s head. He was sat on her lap as she brushed through his hair, he was dressed handsomely for the celebration of Rhaenyra’s name day.

Before the Princess could say anything, a knock comes from the door. It was her handmaiden, Dyana. “Princess, I have news” She bows as she urges forward to Alysanne. “What is it?” She asks, intrigued. Dyana awkwardly looks to Daeron who was busy playing with the jewellery on the table.

“I think it’s best if Prince Daeron leaves the room,” She quietly says, her gaze stuck on the floor. Alysanne gives her a skeptical looks but nonetheless takes her advice. “Ser Harwin!” She calls out and the door immediately opens revealing her sworn protector. “You wouldn’t mind if you watched Daeron for a bit would you?” A kind smile makes it to her pink lips.

“Not at all, Princess,” Harwin sends back a smile, “Come one Daeron,” He beckons the young boy as he happily runs to Harwin. After the sound of the door shut was heard, Alysanne focuses her attention back on Dyana. “Now tell me,” “Prince Daemon is betrothed to Laena Velaryon,”

It didn’t faze the Princess that Daemon was already betrothed to another. It did surprise her though, how quickly her brother moved on. Alysanne chuckled, “Oh Dyana, you know I care little of what my brother does. Are they expecting a child yet?” She jokingly says, turning around to choose out her jewellery.

The Targaryen was met with silence. Her eyes move up to the mirror to look at Dyana. “Yes, they are.” She quietly answers. Alysanne did not expect the answer but yet again, she was not much surprised. “Well, I am happy for them. Laena is a sweet girl,” Alysanne smiles, fidgeting with the necklace.

Dyana studies the Princess, she seemed bothered. The door opened, “Princess, the celebrations are to start soon” Harwin says as Daeron peaks his head in the room. “Wonderful,” Getting up from her seat, she takes ahold of Daeron’s hand and leaves the room. Ser Harwin close behind.

It pained the heart of Alyssane in an unexplainable way. Maybe it was because it had only been 2 months since the annulment of their marriage and that he had moved on so quickly from her. Though they used to be husband and wife, Daemon was still her older brother. And she still loved him as an older brother.

Walking into the throne room where Rhaenyra’s celebration was held, Alysanne was accompanied by Ser Harwin Strong. Her six children, Aegon, Visenya, Daeron, Rhaena, Baela, and her youngest—only 10 months old—Maegor with her. It never failed to amaze the realm how much Daemon and Alysanne’s children looked like them.

They were spitting images of their parents and a nod to the people of old Valyria. “Sister,” Viserys stands from his seat and places a kiss on Alysanne’s cheek. “Brother,” She smiles back, sitting down at the Royal table. The celebrations commenced and it was in full swing.

The thought of Daemon marrying and expecting a child still lingered in the Princess’ mind. Biting her lip constantly and tapping her finger on the table, Viserys noticed the signs of his sister’s anxiousness. “Are you alright?” He leans to her and speaks in a hushed tone.

Stopping her finger tapping, she sends Viserys a look before facing the front and sighing. “Our dear brother has remarried,” The King sighs, shakes his head and takes a sip of his mead, “And they are expecting a child.” Alysanne finishes, this time it was her turn to drink the alcohol as Viserys stares wide-eyed at his sister.

He knew what kind of person Daemon was, but lately it seemed like he doesn’t know what Daemon has become. Viserys holds Alysanne’s hand and gives her a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “I can always make that child illegitimate you know? Aegon is your firstborn, a male. And all your children are heirs-“ Alysanne laughs at her brother.

“Viserys, you know if you did that, you would be denying your own blood. I am not worried about Daemon’s heirs with Laena, he too knows that Aegon is the heir and so are our 5 other children. He would be a fool to not acknowledge that” Her eyes stay focused on her children dancing.

Viserys smiles and nods, “Yes, you are right. Like you always are, sister” He pats her hand and the two siblings smile at each other. Conversations fell on the Royal table before a man presents himself in front of Viserys and Alysanne. “Lord Stark, what a pleasure seeing you here!” Viserys smiles at the insanely handsome man standing there.

Alysanne listen quitely, Robb’s and her eyes often connecting. “Yes, always a pleasure to come visit King’s Landing, Your Grace” He chuckles, showcasing his pearly white smile. Then his attention shifts to the Princess. “Princess,” He bows his head at her as she does the same,

“My Lord, how is business up in the North? I’ve always been meaning to come visit with my children. Visenya loves the snow,” Alysanne smiles, her mind going back to her second eldest.

Robb stares with a wide smile at the Targaryen Princess. Something, only Viserys notices. Truth be told, whenever Robb was in King’s Landing, his eyes never seem to keep themselves off of Alysanne. She was beautiful, the realm’s beauty they would call her.

The Stark man was an honourable and respectful man so he never initiated anything with the then married Princess. When news arrived at Winterfell that the Princess and Prince’s marriage was annulled, Robb was secretly celebrating.

Viserys’ yes move back and forth from the Lord of Winterfell and his younger sister. “The children seem to be having fun dancing,” He comments with a mischievous look. Alysanne hums mindlessly. Robb chuckles to himself, giving a nod to the King as a small thanks. “Might I have a dance, Princess?”

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P2)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself back with Cregan, and she's beginning to feel something for the past Wolf of the North.

Warnings: unwanted advances, talk of gore, consensual kissing that leads to the start of... some other stuff

Part 1, Part 3

Masterlist

...................................................

Two weeks back with Robb, and it seemed that she was beginning to forget about the interactions with Cregan entirely.

She had hit her head, after all. Maybe her mind had simply messed with her. 

Robb had noted that something was amiss with her, but he knew better than to pry. When she was ready, perhaps she'd come to him.

"The History of the Wolf. That's an ancient book, that is." Robb mused with a grin as he entered the library.

She turned her head and snapped the book shut in surprise. "Oh… I… I had no idea."

Robb's smile grows and he walks to her, "Interested in Stark history, are you?"

Her face showed a look as if she'd been caught in a crime. "I… I just wish to know more about you and your house is all." 

"That's admirable," Robb said. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his stubble scraping her as he did so.

"You must shave," she said instinctively with a laugh. "It is like rubbing sand across my face, Robb."

He chuckled. It was the first time in two weeks that she had jested with him like she had before that day in the Godswood. He loved her most like this. 

He brought at hand to his face, "Shave? Or perhaps I shall grow it into a great beard!"

She laughed and took his face in her hand, "Only when I am long gone will you have a beard, Stark."

He tilted his head playfully and a tint came to his eyes, "Or perhaps I will just make you watch the hairs grow by the day."

Her hands moved to his chest with a playful shove, "Don't torture me so!"

His smirk grew, "I will torture you how I see fit, my love."

"You shan't catch me then!"

Abandoning the book in her hands, she began to sprint from the library. 

Robb watched her go with a playful grin before willing his legs to run as well.

She held her skirt up in one hand, rounding each corridor half—hazardly. 

Robb had longer legs, but he had to admit she was a quick little thing.

She made the mistake of turning around once to see where he was, only to find him a few paces behind. 

She let out a surprised laugh, and quickly set herself on track again. 

Even as they ran passed the staff, the servants paid no heed.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were much in love, and seeing such things were common. 

Finally down one corridor, she looked over her shoulder. 

She had managed just a bit of distance from Robb.

She grinned wickedly as she rounded the corner from him.

Into a stone wall it seemed.

She fell onto the ground from the force.

"Gods, my love," a voice commented.

Cregan Stark.

He knelt down and quickly brought a hand to the back of her head. He was holding back a chuckle, "That was quite a hit. Are you alright?"

She nodded quickly, "Fine." Her hand came up to her forehead, "Just fine."

"Let's get you up then," he chuckled. "I can't have the staff whispering of why the Lord and Lady were on the dirt ridden floor of the corridor." 

He helped her up, keeping a hand under one arm to guarantee her balance. When she was indeed balanced, he let go, "Running from Brandon, I assume? A game of some sorts?"

She took a few steps back to look down the corridor she had just run down.

Robb was gone. 

"Yes," she lied. "I'm to be hiding."

"Well," he smiled. "I can't have him catching you, can I?" He held out his arm for her to take.

With one last look to the place Robb had once stood, she took Cregan's arm.

…

After an hour or two of enjoying the other's company over a light lunch, Cregan gave a light sigh and stood from the chair. "I must attend to the people. I shall come collect you-"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, "May I accompany you?"

"You wish to… accompany me out?" He was a bit shocked from her request.

"Please, my lord. I truly wish to."

That seemed to make something wash over Cregan. He blinked suddenly and nodded, "Get in something warmer. There's quite a heavy chill out there."

…

The two had journeyed out of the Winterfell walls. 

Cregan had promised to help a farmer days before, and was now making true to his promise. 

A Stark never breaks an oath, after all.

So the two on his horse, as well as some ten men behind them set out to the man's farm. 

The man was welcoming and kind, beyond grateful for the help. He was an older man and held a deep regard for the younger Stark man.

As they entered his home, Cregan grimaced, "What exactly do you believe the problem to be?"

The man shrugged, "I wanted to believe wildlings, my lord. But… wildlings do not kill as viciously as these deaths have been. No man is willing to work for me because of it."

Cregan's eyes wandered over to her, who had distracted herself with the man's dog- a long haired shepherd dog who had no idea that one of the most influential woman in the North was the one scratching behind his ears.

"You said the East side of your land?" Cregan asked.

"Yes, my lord."

"Very well." Cregan turned to his men. "Go saddle up. Have your swords at the ready." He turned to the older man, "You'll lead us there."

The man nodded, "On my honor, my lord."

She stood now, her attention lost from the dog to Cregan.

"No," he began as soon as they made eye contact. "You'll stay here. I'll not have you out in that."

"Cregan," she sighed. "I'll be with you. That's as safe as-"

"-My lady," the older man began. "If I may. I found one of my men without a throat in that field. We shan't have that for our lady."

Cregan nodded along with him, "You're to stay, my love."

She nodded, "That's fine."

"If it helps, my older son should come around soon. He'll keep you company," the older man said. 

She nodded again with a forced smile, "That sounds lovely. I shall remain."

Cregan gave a soft sigh, "Just for a few hours." He pulled her to him and placed a kiss to the crown of her head. 

…

The man's son did come after an hour or two, walking into his home sweaty and tired.

It took him a while to notice the lady's presence. 

He immediately began to apologize, "Lady Stark. Forgive me… I did not-"

She laughed lightly, "-There is nothing to forgive. I am the stranger in your home, not the other way around."

He nodded. He then took a moment to see her in front of him. "Believe me or not, I've never seen the lady of Winterfell before. And now that I have, I've not seen a pretty lady in all of the North."

His words took her by surprise. "Oh. Those are quite flattering words."

He smiled and shrugged, "I would not lie to a lady. You're lovely. Lord Stark has been blessed by the gods to have you."

"How did you know it was I if you've never seen me?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"Your cloak, my lady." He pointed to it, "Stark sigil on it."

She looked down to indeed to the pin on it with the wolf of Stark on it. "Ah. I see."

"Tell me, my lady, why you are in our home unaccompanied?"

"My husband and his men are with your father dealing with your… problem. In the east field, I believe?"

The man's eyes lit with recognition, "Is he? I had no idea he'd be here today or I would have welcomed him. And accompanied him as well. I do apologize."

She shrugged, "Cregan does not care for propriety. Do not worry yourself."

"Perhaps I may just… keep you company here then until their return?"

She smiled, "I'd like that."

…

The man, who she had learned was named Johnathan Glover, was lovely at first. Easy to converse with, and not overbearing towards her. 

But it quickly shifted. 

He had slowly moved his chair closer to her. His hands would wander. His eyes grew sultry. 

And soon, she was becoming uncomfortable. 

"Something wrong, my lady?" He asked. 

"No. Worried for Cregan, is all."

"You seem so tense." He sighed. Johnathan stood up and rounded her chair to stand behind her. His hand moved to her shoulders and she immediately tensed more. 

"You need to relax," he whispered in her ear. He began to massage her shoulder, pushing a little too harshly into her shoulder blades. 

"He… he will return at any moment," she had tried to reason. 

The man smiled, "I know."

A kiss was placed on her neck. 

She froze in place for a moment. 

This man would die at Cregan's hand. 

Robb was a merciful man, but the man's payment would have been just the same under his watch.

"Stop," she commanded.

"This is what I'm speaking of," the man continued with another kiss to her neck, "So tense."

She moved to stand, but he held her down by her shoulders.

The door swung open suddenly and Cregan stood in the doorway. 

Bloody and caked in dirt, Cregan Stark stood with a set jaw at the sight before him. 

She stood this time, managing to get away from the man's hands and goes to Cregan, "Are you hurt?"

But his eyes didn't move from Johnathan's. His voice was low, "I'm fine." His gloved hands covered in grime grabbed her wrist. "Let's go."

He pulled her from the home with no words uttered to anyone except a whisper to one of his men. The man nodded and moved into the house as the Starks left. 

…

"I leave you to slay wolves and yet I had left you in the jaws of one," Cregan huffed as he pulled off his boots. 

"It is alright. I am fine, Cregan." She tried to reason.

"No. No, do not give me pity. I left you alone there. I should have known better."

She sighed as she began to pull at her corset strings. "You could not have known that. You were tending to your people, as you should."

Cregan paused at her words, his hands gripping the bottom of his tunic. "I should be tending to you."

She pulled off her corset with a tug, "Then do so."

His eyes darkened as his eyes roamed over her body, "So I shall."

Cregan neared her, carefully and slowly pulling her various garments from her until she was left in nothing but her shift. 

He smiled and let his hands grip her waist, "You are a Stark." His thumbs traced lightly, "I can't have others believing otherwise."

She stepped a bit closer, nearing her face with his, "I will always be a Stark."

He leaned in the rest of the way, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

But he paused for moment, "I'm filthy, my love. Perhaps we should wait-"

But she had pulled him to her, cutting him off with a kiss once more.

The kiss was everything that Cregan wasn't- soft, delicate, careful, and needy. 

He let out a soft groan when she pulled the hair at the back of his neck. 

Cregan led the two towards the bed, carefully placing her on the furs. Only then did their lips part, and his began to trace down her face. His voice was soft as he spoke, "I'll banish any trace of that man from you."

She hummed as he kissed down her neck, exactly where the man had kissed her only hours before. But unlike then, she was completely relaxed under Cregan's gaze. 

She could feel his smile against her neck. 

"May I have you tonight, my love?" He asked softly.

She paused her thoughts for a moment. 

She was stuck in time with Cregan. Her husband. 

Was it wrong to Robb?

He noted her hesitation and pushed himself up to look at her, "Don't fret about it. I won't be upset with you."

Her hesitation continued.

He nodded and one of his hands wandered down her body, "May I pleasure you, at least?"

He wanted to…

She felt herself nod before she could register why.

His smile was bright, "Thank you, my love."

Much like Cregan himself, his kisses became calculated and neat. He did nothing on a whim. The kisses began to trail down her body, over her clothing.

When they reached lower, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her legs up. 

A final look into her eyes, "You're sure?"

Another nod from her, "Please, Cregan."

His hand began to pull her thin shift up, "Of course, pretty."

With her shift stretched across her thighs, she couldn't see Cregan once he disappeared behind it. His touch on her thighs left for a moment.

She closed her eyes and waited for the feeling to begin.

But instead she felt a cold chill run down her. 

And the sound of the door opening. 

Her eyes shot open. 

Robb ran in, panting. She paused when he saw her and his jaw dropped a bit. 

His beautiful wife in nothing but her shift, legs open on the furs of their bed. 

"So, this is where you ran off to, is it?" He grinned. 

When she didn't answer from shock, he continued, "I don't know how you managed this so quickly, but you shall hear no complaint from me." He stepped toward her like a predator, "My wife just waiting for me to catch her? So eagerly waiting on me?"

Robb approached the foot of the bed. He grabbed the top of her thighs, "Well, guess what, my love?" He pulled her down the bed and to him. His voice lowered, "I've caught you."

"You have." She finally managed to pant out. 

His eyes roamed over her completely, "So pretty," he muttered. "And all mine." He caressed her face, "Who do you belong to?"

"I…" she paused, thrown off by his question. 

His voice became a heated growl, "Who do you belong to, love?"

"The… the Wolf of the North." She whispered to him.

He grinned, "Yes, you do."

But she couldn't help but remember the feeling of Cregan's hands on her not only moments ago.

...................................................................

A/N: I think I'm about to start doing some Aemond x reader stuff- comment if you want on that tag list! Or the tag list for this fic since I'm guessing I'll be doing a part 3

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters