#tyrion lannister x you

[fandom-puff]

It's absolutely fine if you are not comfortable with it, but could I please request happy, tipsy sex with Tyrion Lannister? Preferably with an established relationship? Again no pressure if that doesn't work, thank you! xx

Thank you for your request- hope you enjoy!!

Tipsy

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Warning: drunk sex (both Tyrion and reader are at the same level of tipsiness; neither is blackout drunk), alcohol consumption

Gif creds to owner

“More wine, my lady?”

You nodded and with a grin held out your goblet for Tyrion to fill, not moving until he had filled it to the brim, making Bronn laugh.

It had been a pleasant evening; a new shipment from Dorne had come into King’s Landing, and Tyrion had a few bottles of the finest Dornish red brought up to his chamber. Between you, him, Bronn and Podrick, you had cleared off nearly all of the bottles and the effects were beginning to show. Podrick was slumped in his chair, dozing with a small smile on his face, the occasional snore sounding from him. Bronn had started to slur and put a ‘fuck’ or a ‘cunt’ in every other sentence.

And you and Tyrion had been eye-fucking each other for the best part of an hour.

Tyrion drained his cup before setting it down. “Bronn, Podrick, leave us,” he said suddenly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Bronn kicked Pod’s leg. “Come on, lad. Else you’ll end up watching your Lord fuck his lady,”

Any other time you would’ve shot the sellsword an indignant look… but right now you had eyes only for your Lion of Lannister, but when the door slammed shut, it was you who pounced, your lips pressing to his in a feverish kiss.

“My, my, sweet YN,” Tyrion groaned between kisses. “It seems the Dornish gets you hot,”

You tugged on his lower lip, your fingers knotting in his hair, one hand trailing down to the straining bulge at the front of his breeches. “Should say the same for you, Husband,” you murmured, voice low and sultry, your hand closing around his cock. Tyrion watched with amusement and longing as you fumbled with the strings of his breeches, releasing his pulsing cock and taking it (albeit clumsily) into your mouth.

“YN,” he rasped, tugging at your hair until you released him with a lewd, wet noise. “I won’t last long in your pretty mouth,” you pouted up at him, your lips slightly swollen. “I’d much rather spill my seed in your tight little cunt,”

He laughed at how quickly your face brightened, and he pulled you up from the floor. You grinned, pushing him back on the plush couch, squealing as he reached up and tore the bodice of your dress, admiring the swell of your breasts as he tugged at the strings of your corset. Soon you were stripped bare, straddling him on the couch. He grasped at your thighs as you lowered yourself to his cock, his fingers fluttering through your wetness briefly. He grunted as his tip slid between your folds, before your plunged him deep inside you with a throaty moan.

“Gods,” he groaned as you rode his cock. “Oh, Gods,”

“Now’s not the time for prayer, my Lord,” you reminded him. “Unless, of course, you want to fuck me in the Great Sept of Baelor,”

Your words spurred Tyrion on, and he met your movements with thrusts of his own, and he relished in the way your eyelids fluttered. “Such-ah- blasphemy, my sweet wife,” Tyrion groaned, “wine turns you into quite the little harlot it seems,”

“Tyrion,” you moaned out, gripping onto his shoulders for leverage, and he smiled as he felt your movements stutter. “Tyrion, please,”

“Too focused on my cock to listen to me, Hmm?” Tyrion teased, pinching your nipple. “Come for me then, YN, let me feel you,”

You would’ve came with or without his bidding, your cunt fluttering around his thick cock as you cried his name, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his orgasm quickly following yours as he filled your clenching pussy with his seed. “Fuck, YN, good girl,” he praised, and as you fell forward onto his chest, he smiled, kissing the top of your head.

Clumsily, you managed to make it to bed (tripping over an empty bottle along the way) and into your Lion’s arms. Your head would ache on the morrow, but the ache in your thighs would be worth it.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

My Future Haunts Me - Tyrion Lannister X GN (Witch) Reader

Title: My Future Haunts Me

Tyrion Lannister X GN (Witch) Reader

Additional Characters: Oberyn (Mentioned), Ser Gregor (Mentioned), The Mountain (Mentioned), Tyrion's father (Mentioned), Shae (Mentioned), Cersei (Mentioned), Joffrey (Mentioned), and Jaime (Mentioned)

WC: 2,582

Warnings: GOT canon violence mentioned, banter, death mentioned, GOT stuff in general mentioned, friends to ???, angst, and light fluff

The cell Tyrion was stuck in was cold, and the bits of sunlight shining through the small, high-up windows did hardly anything to warm it up. The walls were dirty gray stone, covered with stains and dirt from who knows how long ago. There wasn’t even any furniture or other decorations in the cell. Only a simple wooden bed for him to rest and sit upon. It had been so long since Tyrion had watched Oberyn's duel with Ser Gregor and then his untimely death by The Mountain. Tyrion was horrified, his fate had been sealed. He was going to die.

The sun was setting in the sky, the cell darkening further, the air chilling. Shadows surrounded the youngest Lannister sibling as he sat on the uncomfortable wooden slab, trying not to shiver in anticipation of the cold that would soon come when the night arrived. His hands were clasped tightly together, fingers rubbing against each other in an attempt to keep himself warm. His lips were chapped, and his eyes and throat dry. It was quiet, aside from the voices he could hear in the far distance. A breeze of crisp air blew past him, making goosebumps appear along his skin, making him rub his arms and shiver once more.

"Cold?" A voice asked, making Tyrion snap his gaze around the room. His eyes landed in the dark corner of his large cell. Squinting his eyes, he could hardly make out the figure; he didn't have to look for too long though. Stepping out of the shadows, covered in a black cloak, hood raised, Tyrion could faintly make out the face underneath the hood, but couldn't see much more than that due to the darkness of the cell. "What have you gotten into this time?" At the sound of the person's voice again, Tyrion let out a sigh, casting his gaze to the side. 

He knew that voice.

"Come here to mock me, have you?" Tyrion asked as he turned his head back over in their direction, a deep frown on his face as he spoke.

"Really now? After all these years..? Tyrion, do you really think so low of me?" You asked, sounding amused as you stepped closer, stopping to lean against the large wooden pillar in the middle of the cell. Pulling down your hood, you crossed your arms, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face as you peered at the young Lannister. 

Tyrion had known you for a couple of years, meeting you once when he was at a celebration in Joffrey's honor. He had noticed you, standing in the corner, eyes wandering the room until they met his. He was slightly taken aback, your eyes were piercing, like daggers, sharp and intelligent.

Despite the intimidating appearance, you seemed friendly enough. You even smiled at him, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight. That moment, however brief it might've been, changed Tyrion's life. In fact, you made it impossible for him to forget you. Throughout the years, you and Tyrion had grown close, exchanging pleasantries when passing, and even conversing on certain topics a handful of times. 

However, there was this sort of odd feeling Tyrion always got when around you. And it wasn't long until he figured out why he was feeling that way. To say it simply, you were a witch. Your magic and power were well-known to most people that you had encountered. And you were feared by many who fell victim to your wicked-witch ways. But to those you did not know, they simply thought of you as just a regular human being. But you were so much more. Your powers were not just any ordinary spell or hexes; they were something else entirely, something special. And Tyrion was fascinated with it and by you.

Though, it was not always easy. You and Tyrion had many different views on many different things which led to you both not agreeing and verbally fighting with one another most of the time you interacted. One thing was for sure, you were both stubborn, and most fights led to you disappearing or Tyrion leaving the room entirely. 

He sat, unmoving, with still the same frown on his face and hesitance in his green eyes as he stared at you. "If there is one thing that I do know," He started, shifting slightly in his seat, "Is that you are not to be trusted."

Sputtering a laugh, you rolled your eyes, "Not to be trusted?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at the man, "So I've played a few tricks on a few... Let's say, hardly innocent bystanders... It was purely harmless." You said, shrugging your shoulders innocently.

Tyrion huffed, "A few too many, I say," He retorted, glaring at you for being so dismissive, "Some of those who had been foolishly tricked by you, should not have had it done to them in the first place." The younger Lannister scowled, "You can't just turn people into puppets like that, not even for amusement."

"Amusement?" You repeated incredulously, letting out a little snort, "Oh, please. You know that they deserved it. I may be a witch, living a life led by darkness, but I know who is worthy enough for my tricks. In all honesty, Tyrion, dear, I’m doing this world good."

"Good? Is that truly why you did it?" Tyrion asked, looking up at you, "To punish Cersei with one of your tricks?" Tyrion asked, shaking his head, "You could have gotten hurt." He muttered under his breath, though you heard him.

"I can defend and take care of myself, Tyrion. You of all people know that of me." You responded matter-of-factly.

Tyrion sighed softly, nodding slightly. "I do not doubt that you are capable of taking care of yourself." He said, "It’s just-" He paused, trailing off. He took a deep breath in and out, closing his eyes briefly, and shaking his head once more. You hummed, looking around the cell. It was quiet before Tyrion spoke up once more, "Why have you come here?"

Your expression softened a bit, your gaze flickering over towards him and staying for a second before returning to where your feet rested against the floor. "I have come to see you, of course." You answered simply. Tyrion opened his eyes to look at you once more, and he was surprised to see the slight smile that graced your features. "I have heard about your young nephew's death. I know that you have been accused of it. Poison. I know that you have done no such thing..." You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, and Tyrion continued to stare at you as you trailed off. 

You did have a secret, you cared for Tyrion deeply. It was hard to ignore the feelings you felt towards him, even when you had tried. Ever since that celebration, your eyes locked on his... You were drawn to him, you were captivated by the sight of him. It scared you. You never wanted anyone to get close to you... Even if they were Tyrion Lannister. So you kept your distance, not wanting him to see how much he affected you, how much he meant to you. How much it hurt to lose him. This resulted in many arguments in addition to your other fights. 

But you loved him. You knew it was true. And after you heard that he was going to die, after everything... You had to save him. You could not and would not let him die. You would do everything in your power to save his life.

"Why?" Tyrion's voice was soft, but firm, "Why have you come to see me?"

Letting out a sigh, you answered, "Whether you agree with me or not, I like to believe that we are friends. Even though we may not always see eye to eye on certain topics and issues... I still care... If something were ever to happen to you..." You trailed off and looked away from Tyrion. "I needed to see you. Even though I wish it was under different circumstances." Your voice was small as your words ended, glancing at him. Clearing your throat, you pushed off the wooden pillar, pushing past your nerves to look at him, "I have come to help you. To warn you. This whole world is going to hell." You warned him, "You need to know that your brother Jaime will be coming here soon. In the darkest of the night, he will arrive to help you escape." You spoke with a tone that told the younger Lannister that you were absolutely serious about what you were saying, you were not fooling around.

Tyrion's eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth twisted, "Jaime will come to my aid?" He asked, his brow lowering slightly.

You nodded, "Yes, but I must tell you that the events that follow will not be pleasant." Taking another step towards him, you bent down beside him, looking up at him as he stared down at you, "I can get you out of here, I can send you to Pentos or anywhere else that is safe that you wish to be. But I have seen the future, going with your brother will lead to disastrous doom for all those involved." He was silent as you continued, almost frantic but staying calm, "I know that I can not force you to come with me, nor can I make you not do whatever you choose. I only ask that you trust me. Please." You raised your hand to cover one of his.

At the contact, Tyrion’s green eyes widened ever so slightly as his gaze moved to your hand holding his, and back at you. Staring into your eyes, seeing the desperation and fear that you hid within. You had never seemed more sincere in your plea than you did right now. You were worried for Tyrion. You were worried about his safety. Why him? Why did you seem to care about him out of all people? His insecurities were murmuring in the back of his mind, it was hard to ignore it. "Tell me what will happen." He eventually spoke, his voice soft.

"I do not think I can tell you... But I can show you." And with that, he nodded. Letting out a sigh, you closed your eyes, dropping your head briefly, "Are you certain you want to see it? I... I do not believe that you will like it... I know for sure that you will hate it... Despise it... And therefore, despise me." You mumbled as you lifted your head back up. "I do not blame you if you do not go with me."

Tyrion remained quiet, mulling over your suggestion for a moment. He knew that, whether he liked it or not, you were right. He was going to hate whatever he was going to see. "I could not ever despise you." He assured you, his free hand covering yours in his, "But I must see what is to happen." He added.

Nodding your head slowly, you squeezed his hand gently, "If you insist." With his hand still in yours, you shut your eyes. Hesitantly, you connected your mind with his, and Tyrion watched as images flashed through his mind. Shae, his father, their deaths... Arriving in Pentos, drinking, depression clouding and swirling in his mind... Then darkness.

He opened his eyes, wide and stinging with tears; but he would not let them fall. You let out a deep breath, feeling a bit light-headed, as you felt his hand drop from yours. Opening your eyes, you saw that he was staring down at you with a shocked expression. "I am sorry," You whispered, not really knowing what else to say. "I... I did not mean for any of this to happen... I only wished to warn you." 

He shook his head quickly, "It... I... No... No! That is not true!" His voice was filled with dread. You swallowed thickly, your heart clenching painfully in your chest at the agony that sounded in his voice.

"Everything that you have seen in your mind will occur if you follow him." You said, trying your best not to let your voice waver as you watched him grab at his hair and give it a forceful tug.

"And if I choose to go with you?" Tyrion questioned quickly, "How can I know that anything you show me is real? How can I trust that all that you have shown me is not one of your tricks?"

You frowned. "I do not think there is anything that I can do..." You spoke, defeated, as you reached for him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. Tyrion stared at you with wide eyes, then lowered his gaze. "Do you not trust me?"

"Of course not. I should know better than to trust a witch." He murmured, and you dropped your hand as you straightened up again, staring off up at the window.

Shaking your head, you pulled your hood up over you; feeling foolish, "I would not lie to you. It is all true. What I have shown you will happen if you follow your brother, whether you wish to try and change it or not. It will always end up the same." You let out a sigh, your shoulders drooping, "I know you. I know of your affection for Shae. I know why you wish for her to remain alive and well. The very fact that you even tried to protect her during your trial shows that there is an abundance of love for her in your heart." You fell silent for a moment, thinking carefully. When you finally turned to look at him, you could see that he was watching you closely, listening intently. "I understand why you had decided to keep her safe; lying during your trial. She means quite a lot to you, does she not?" You asked softly, his eyes widened slightly and eyebrows raised as you continued, turning away, "If only you..." Your voice trailed off, not wanting to finish.

Tyrion shook his head, standing from the wooden slab and taking a step towards you, "I must go with my brother. If what you say is true... Even though I do not wish to even fathom it... I must." He looked up at you, and you nodded.

"I understand... Completely. If that is what you wish to do, I will not stop you." You spoke before raising your hands and unclasping the necklace you wore around your neck. Holding it by the chain, you offered it to him, dangling between your fingers. "If you ever are in need of me. Use this. You are an intelligent man, you will know how to use it when it's time." Reaching up, he hesitantly took the necklace, staring down at the silver chain and the green gem that hung from it. “I can assure you, Tyrion, after the many years we have known each other; that I am a witch you can trust.”

Tyrion looked up to ask you something, but when he did, you were gone. Closing his eyes, he sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then placed the necklace around his neck before sitting back on the slab; lying down.

It wasn't even moments later when he heard the door to his cell open, his brother calling to him with a torch in hand.

---

Main Masterlist | Misc. Masterlist

[spxllcxstxr]

Main Masterlist

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Last Updated: July 6, 2024

Being a Tully and in an Arranged Marriage with Tyrion Lannister

[catsteeth]

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader 

+:✿ Chapter 2 ✿:+ : Beautiful Girl

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Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister.  You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his. 

CW: afab reader, SMUT, MDNI, Fingering, P in V sex, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of harassment, mention of NSFW themes.

Word Count: 5125 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you’d just finished getting Margery ready for the day she sat you down and began to ready you as well. It wasn’t custom for a Lady to dress and pretty her Hand Maiden but Margery had taken the responsibility voluntarily and happily. 

“Podrick was seen where?” You asked wide eyes, holding in a laugh.

“Little Finger’s brothel,” Margery replied with a smirk as she brushed your hair. 

You shook your head with a smile “I will not believe such rumors.” 

“I hear the whores did not receive a payment.” Her fingers twisting the front sections of your hair and braiding them together at the back of your head.

“You’re suggesting he didn’t pay them?” You asked with disbelief. He didn’t seem like the type of man to pay for a whore, much less the type of man to steal their time and effort. 

“I am suggesting they did not want a payment. I hear that he was so skilled, they wouldn’t accept his payment.” She said as she finished your hair and she sat in front of you, beginning to do your makeup. 

“Now that I can’t believe it.” You said holding back laughter,

“You never know for sure with men like him. Quiet, and sweet, they can be sensitive to a woman's needs.” She said putting 

“I’ve been pinned against enough trees on Bear Island by enough men to know, no tongue, fingers, cock, or even nose is good enough to turn down gold.” 

“Perhaps you’re right. But perhaps you’re wrong, there is only one way to find out.” 

“Oh please, he can hardly hold his gaze to mine.”

“Some would say that means he likes you, besides the poor boy gave you a flower. One of the sweetest, and pathetic things I have ever seen.” She jested.

“He doesn’t want me, not like that.” You always found it hard to believe that any man would be interested in you beyond bedding.

she rolled her eyes as she finished applying a rouge to your lips. She fixed your hair slightly and half a small compact mirror to your face.

“if i were a man i would ravish you.” she smiled as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

Margery had done your makeup and hair countless times. Every morning after you’d done hers, but each time always made sure to tell you how beautiful you were. even if you didn’t believe it. 

“a man would ravish a horse if desperate enough.” you pushed the compact away, you got up and began to select the gowns you’d both wear to the celebratory feast tonight.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

That evening was a celebration of the victory of Tywin Lannister. Nothing for you to feel celebratory for, but it gave you an opportunity to dance and drink. 

Most of the night you and Margrey had danced with one another, made quite jokes about the other men there. But once the celebration began to wind down Margrey had found an excuse to speak to Joffrey, part of her plan to seduce him. So naturally you made yourself scarce. Finding a corner of the room to stand in while you drank.

It would have been perfect to end your night in peace if a tall man didn’t approach you. 

He could have been some noble man or a knight, kings guard, even city watch, you didn’t know and more importantly did not care. 

“My, who might you be, my Lady.” He asked, his voice was low and attempting to sound seductive. 

“(Y/N) Mormont.” You said as you drank from your cup, your eyes wandered the room, paying little attention to the attractive man in front of you. As your eyes searched the large room, they landed on a pair of eyes already looking at you, Podrick’s. He looked at you with the eyes of a sad dog. 

It caught you so off guard you didn’t hear whatever the man had just said, only the mumbling of words. You tore your eyes from his and looked at the man, “What?” burrowed furrowed in frustration. 

“I said, then you are not much of a Lady.” He said with a twisted grin

“Is that so?” You said emotionlessly, unwilling to show any kind of offense that might have been taken. Fearing it would give him too much power. Besides, you did not care about the opinions of southerners. 

“Hand Maidens are not Ladies of any land, are they not?” 

“Perhaps.” You said your eyes returned to scanning the room, trying to find Podrick again, but having no luck.

“I could make you feel like one for tonight.” He held out his hand to you,

You held your cup to your lips as you spoke, “I’ve no wish to dance with you, Ser”.

“I cannot dance with a handmaiden,” The man smirked, his hand snaking around your waist. “I can enjoy one though.” He whispered in your ear.

You smirked back, and then you leaned in, making him think you were about to kiss him when you kicked him in the shin. “Oh!” You fained shock as he grunted in pain “My apologies Ser, I have always been quite clumsy.” Your concerned and shock demeanor dropped as you began to walk away. He began to spit some curse your way when you stomped on his foot. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord.” 

As you walked forward a few steps before the man grabbed ahold of your wrist.

“You northern who-” He was interrupted by Podrick’s voice. 

“My Lady, the Queen wishes to have a word with you.” He spoke louder than usual. His eyes were wide and looked almost angry. 

You ripped your hand away from the man's grasp and walked with Podrick out of the room. 

“What does she want?” You asked, rubbing your wrist. 

“Nothing, I made that up.” He said avoiding your gaze as you both walked down the hall. 

“You made that up?” You looked at him with wide eyes, he nodded still avoiding your gaze. “Well, thank you.” You said softly. 

He’d walked you all the way to your chambers with no other words were exchanged between the two of you, other than the occasional glance at one another. You had reached your chambers door, you looked over at him as you began to open the door. 

He was ready to nod and walk away when you said, “Podrick,” To which his eyes went directly to yours. You didn’t say another word, just walked into your chambers leaving the door open. 

He hesitated for a moment, but walked in after you. 

He stood there, showing just how intimidated he was. 

As you kicked your shoes off, and removed the necklace Margery allowed you to barrow for the night, you looked over your shoulder to him “Close the door.” You said softly, and so he did. 

As you turned to him and began to walk towards him, his eyes subconsciously went from your eyes to your cleavage. Now more exposed now that you’d removed your necklace. He couldn’t help it really. Your corset and gown were truly putting them on display, and the candle light from your room made your skin glow beautifully. You smirked when you noticed, making him swallow hard and return his gaze to your eyes. He was going to apologize but you reached for his hand making him choke back any words he had. 

You held his hand, looking at his now healed cut, now formed scar across the palm of his hand. 

You trailed the scar with your finger tip. 

“You’re seducing me-” He finally found some courage to spit out some words.

“You feel seduced?” You still held his hand, still admiring your work on his hand.

“Yes- I mean, it is intentional isn’t it?” He stammered, somehow a little out of breath.

“Do you want it to be?” You looked at him with a grin and mischievous grin.

“I don’t want to offend you-” He said softly, looking away.

“So you don’t?” You let go of his hand,

“No- no,” His eyes went wide as he stammered, “I want you to, want to seduce me.” He winced at his own words, not knowing how to phrase it.

“Why would that offend me?” You smiled softly, holding back a giggle.

“I am just a squire, my Lady.” He shook his head looking down

“And here in King's Landing, I am just a handmaiden they send to patch up knights and Lords.” You said softly 

“You are Lady Mormont.” He said, it made you smile. No one had given such respect to your name in so long. 

“You’re sweet.” You brushed his short hair around his ear with your fingertips “Have you ever seduced a woman?” You asked sweetly, you knew the rumors of the whore house, but didn’t know if you could believe it.

“No, no, not really.” He said like we were being honest… maybe he was.

“Show me how you would.” You said looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

“What do you mean?” 

“How do you think I was seducing you?”

“You, made me… feel-” he stammered.

“Mhmm, so try to make me feel…” 

He stepped closer to you, meekly, his head lowered. He reached out and lightly ran his hand over your hair. Taking a strand of it and looking at it, admiring the color of it, and its texture. He looked into your eyes, his head still lowered. 

“You are beautiful.” His hand then went from your hair, to trailing his hand gently down your arm and grabbing your hand softly. He played with your fingers, again, gently. 

“I believe you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” He didn’t stammer, his voice was earnest, and gentle.

“This is wooing, not seducing.” You smiled and corrected him as if he were acting, genuinely thinking he were making it up. 

“I’m not trying to do either, my Lady.” Your smile dropped, “I just wish to be near you.” 

“You shouldn’t.” You said pulling your hand away.  “How we first met, tell me that.” 

“Lord Slynt ordered you to pour him wine-”

“And I spit in it.”

“He deserved it.”

“I lied to him, and your lord.” 

“Not to me.”

Your hardened gaze softened “No, no not to you” You lowered your head avoiding his eyes. afraid you’d melt in his sweetness. found yourself feeling that warm feeling in your chest again. You reached for his fingers with your own. interlocking your index finger with his. 

“You are- different.” He stammered a bit “Special.” He corrected, thinking it sounded more flattering. 

“You really are sweet. I don’t believe I've met a man so sweet as you.” He smiled, and in turn you smiled back, “You are shy, more so normally than you are now.” 

He let out a small chuckle “I still feel shy.” He said as he looked down smiling

“Are you too shy for me to kiss you?”

Instead of responding to you he cupped your face in his hands. So gently it was as if you were made of the finest porcelain in the realm. He leaned in and kissed your lips. Soft and again, gentle. but also passionate and almost lustful. You were surprised how well he kissed. No, he didn’t kiss well, his kiss was intoxicating somehow. Maybe it was the wine on his lips or just skill. you couldn’t help but let out the smallest whimper into his mouth. It made him pull away and go wide eyed. 

“You’re quite good at that.” You said wide eyes, catching your breath a bit.

“I apologize-“ He said, still holding your head in his hands.

“For what?”

“I should have asked you first,”

“Too late for that now,” you said, slinging your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss. Your lips fell into a perfect rhythm as his hands moved to your ribs, careful not to touch your breasts. his thumbs moved against your ribs slowly and gently. 

You’d never felt this way with a man before. Normally it was sweaty, sloppy, and you ended it burnt out and covered in spit. This was like a dance, like you and he had kissed in every life. 

You felt terrified. An emotion you rarely ever felt. 

What if he was like every other man. They whisper sweet things in your ears, promises, and compliments. Then once they lifted your skirts and humped into you a few times they’d leave. You felt hurt the first time, maybe the second time too. But after that it was expected. So you never let yourself become invested in a man again. You used them as they used you. 

But this was different, this wasn’t only lust, there was something more. But was this feeling only yours, or did you share it? You needed to test him, only you didn’t know quite how. 

“Stop” You whispered in his mouth as you kissed, it made him stop immediately, and he stepped away from you, breathless. 

“I- I’m sorry” He said about to go for the door before you stopped him grabbing his arm.

“No,” 

“But you said-” 

“I can’t bed you like this.” You said running your hands on the tight fabric of your gown.

“Bed me?” He asked as if he had choked, it made you smile.

“Will you wait here for me?” You asked, petting his cheek, and he nodded slightly confused.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You had gone into the bathing room that was attached between your room and Margery’s. You bathed quickly, washed your hair, washed your face of its makeup, and slipped into your night dress. The only thing you wore to cover your nakedness. 

As you opened the door you saw Podrick lighting the fireplace in your room. He stood as he heard you open the door and looked in your direction as he said, “I thought you might be cold-” He was cut off by the sight of you. His eyes were enamored by the sight of you. 

You hadn’t shown him this side of you. Totally free of glamor and shine. “Thank you,” You said as you walked towards him. 

As you stood in front of him he still couldn’t let out any words. “Do you… not like it?” 

He shook his head quickly, “This is the most I have ever seen of you.” he placed a hand on your cheek. “You are truly the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” 

You searched his eyes for a hint of deceit and found none. You took the hand he placed on your cheek and sat down on the fur carpet that laid in front of the fireplace, pulling him down with you. You looked at the scar on his hand again, this time placing a kiss on the scar. 

“Thank you for what you did tonight.” He looked slightly confused, “The lie you told.” You explained.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but then I saw how he grabbed you.” He looked down, now beginning to simmer, “No one should grab you like that.” He said in a lower tone. “If I’d a sword, I wouldn’t have to tell a lie.” He became angered thinking of it.

You moved closer to him, beginning to undo the clasps on the front of his top. He looked intimidated again suddenly, “A sword hm?” He nodded, “What would you have told him?” 

“To unhand you, or I’d remove his hand.” He said, with a darker tone of voice, it made you smile as you pulled his red leather top off, leaving him in his tunic. 

“One day you’re going to be the only honorable knight in all of Westeros.” You saw heat rush to his cheeks when you said those words. “A big strong shining warrior.” You said crawling closer to him. 

“You’re seducing me again.” He said staring at your lips, his eyes drifted downwards again to your cleavage again now further exposed by the thin fabric and the angle you were in from crawling to him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked in a whisper,

He shook his head “No,” He said, grasping your face in his hands kissing you so deeply you let out a small moan into his lips, only making him kiss you deeper. 

His hands roamed your sides, as yours gripped the back of his neck and roamed his chest down to his stomach.

When your hand reached his stomach you felt his muscles twitch and he let out a small groan. The sound of his groan made you clench your thighs together. 

Mixed with the sounds of your breathless whimpers he felt himself stiffening, “Can I touch you?” He whispered in your ear, you nodded and he whispered back “Thank you,” As his hands cupped your breasts. He let out a moan into your mouth as he groped you, feeling the plumpness of your breasts. You couldn’t take it anymore and began to lift your night dress. You stopped yourself however, not wanting to push him, 

“Is this okay?” You asked, and he nodded frantically. To which you smiled and lifted the rest of it off. His hands gripped your breasts tighter, and his mouth moved from yours to your neck and shoulder. 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered against your hot skin, repeating it over and over again. 

One of your hands petted his hair, while the other went over his stomach to his now tenting trousers. You heard him moan into your neck and his hands gripped you tighter, making you moan in return. 

“You sound beautiful too,” He whispered 

“Take this off” You said much less elegantly as you pulled at the fabric of his shirt. As he did you laid down on the fur carpet under you. Looking up at him as he removed his tunic. You smiled up at him, “You’re quite pretty too.” 

He shook his head in awe of you, “Not like you… You could be a painting,” He said, dropping to his knees. He leaned down and kissed your lips. Both your lips at this point were slightly swollen, but that didn’t stop either of you from continuing. Kissing with a new kind of passion. 

You felt, for a moment, this might be much more. And if it was, you didn’t want to hide from him at all. You pulled away from his lips as you blurted out, 

“I’ve been with men before you.” breathlessly, “I feel I should be honest with you.” You felt even more naked revealing that, you felt heat spread across your face.

“That’s alright.” He nodded, trying to reassure you. “And I- I have- I’ve been with women before you.” 

Your eyes went wide, you thought back to the rumors you’d heard. “You have?” You shook your head to yourself trying to shake those thoughts out of your head. “That’s alright.” You said looking back at him, you smiled softly “It is, it’s alright.” You felt a hint of excitement, pulling him back into your body and to your lips. 

You two kissed for a moment until his mouth ran down to your neck, covering your body in as many kisses as he could, making you giggle. Giggle until you feel his thumb run down the slit of your folds. Which made you gasp slightly and then smile at him, and he smiled back. 

He leaned down and began to kiss and suck on your breasts. 

You felt yourself becoming a wet and sticky mess and his thumb continued to roll up and down the slit of your folds, masterfully avoiding your clit, teasing you. 

Finally his index and middle finger parted you, while his thumb gently teased your clit. 

“Mmmmmm” you let out as you closed your eyes. 

“Do you like that?” he asked softly into your breasts, all you could do was nod as he applied more pressure. 

his teeth grazed your nipple with expertise. As though he knew just the right amount to use, how much you liked. 

He continued to kiss, suck on, and sometimes lightly bite your breasts. You felt yourself clenching around nothing as he moaned soft praises into your skin. while he kept circling your clit. 

It was beginning to be too much and not enough. “More,” you whined, “Your fingers.” you said. 

He nodded, “Show me, show me what you like.” 

you reached your hand below, rubbing your clit only a little, then you pushed a finger in. He watched as your eyes closed from the pleasure

He inserted his finger alongside yours, feeling how you moved your own finger inside you. 

The extra digit in you stretched you so nicely, you let out a small sigh as you smiled at him and he smiled back at you.

You inserted a second finger, and he followed suit. The stretch burned slightly, it had been a while since you had been with a man, and now already you’d four fingers inside you. Albeit two were smaller than the other two but still. You whined a little as you winced slightly. It made him lean down and kiss your lips. 

“You’re wonderful” he said as he kissed your jaw and your neck, pumping his fingers in you with your own guiding him. You then removed your fingers, content to let him take control. 

His fingers knew when to curl and when to relax, when to push against the soft spot in you, and knew just the right speed. No man had ever known how to draw out such pleasure from simply his fingers with you. 

“Podrick-“ you gasped at certain curl of his fingers, 

“My lady?” he said into your lips, 

“Call me my name,” you said into his, 

“(Y/N)…(Y/N)..(Y/N)…(Y/N)..” he repeated softly as he kissed your cheek, then your other cheek, then your forehead, then your eyelids, nose, and finally your lips. 

You took his face into your hands, as gently as he took yours in his. You kissed him sweetly, as you pulled away you whispered “I want to make you feel good,” 

He smiled and let out a small chuckle “I feel very good,” 

You shook your head and rubbed your palm onto his tenting trousers, making him close his eyes tightly, “I want you to feel even better.” 

Your touching continued until he was grunting and bucking into your hand, “I- I have to take these off.” He said with a bit of shame as he fumbled with the strings of his trousers. You gladly helped him with a smile on your flushed face. 

As he was freed from his pants, you took him in your hand, looking at his cock. It was bigger than you had expected, and by far the prettiest one you’d seen. Most were crooked, too thin, or too wide but his was perfect. 

“Pretty thing you’ve got there,” You said with a smile as you pulled him into another kiss. 

As you did you pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, slinging your leg over his body. 

He looked flustered with your boldness but pleased. “Thank you,” he responded. 

“You’re welcome,” You said as you lined his cock, slick with precum against your entrance. His hands gripped your hips as you lowered yourself, pushing him inside of you. 

You let out the prettiest of moans from your lips as did he. 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you grinded him into you, in and out. The way his cock twitched inside of you hit the soft spot in you so deliciously each time, making you moan even louder. 

You looked down at him, you ran your hand against his cheek as he looked back at you with a soft smile while moans left his lips.

The look in his eyes as he watched you squirm and whimper was a look you were not accustomed to.

All of the sudden, he pulled you down and rolled you onto your back. You were face to face, his arms wrapped around your body and yours around his. Your legs around his waist as he bucked into you, again and again. The way he did it, was as if he had done it a thousand times before. 

He moved his hands to hold your face, and his other to hold your hand. 

His thumb rubbed against your cheek, sweetly. Just before it left your cheek and trailed down your body to your cunt. Rubbing your clit in circles. 

He could feel you clenching around him, his speed picked up and his mouth returned to your nipples. But his hand never left yours. 

“I’m cuming, Podrick, I- mmhmm” You whined, only making him speed up even more. 

You felt your legs shake, your toes curl, and the pressure in your stomach snap and the warmth in your core spread around his cock. You let out the prettiest of moans as you came. You gripped his hand tightly. And he peppered your chest and your neck in kisses. “I want you to cum,” You whispered as he continued to fuck into you.

“So warm… so wet.” He whimpered against your neck, “Gods, I need you.” 

His thrusts in you became more and more erratic, you anticipated his cum filling you, you anticipated the heat that would fill you. You wanted it, badly. You smiled as you saw his face contort knowing it was coming, but he pulled out and came on the ground next to you. 

You whined a little, “I wanted it,” You said in a whisper. 

“You?-” He looked confused “You wanted it?” 

You nodded, pouting a little. 

“Why?” He asked, not being able to understand it, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to- to sully your body.” He said, sweet sentiment. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈꒱꒱

After he cleaned it up, you had gotten in bed. 

He dressed himself back in his tunic and walked over to you where you pulled him into your bed. 

He held you against his body, and you held him back. He just stared into your eyes, as he pet your cheek. He admired the way you looked against the light of the fire. His eyes trailed down your body and he saw the bruises he left from his kisses on your breasts. His thumb grazed over them as he said “I’m sorry, I-’ 

“You did nothing wrong,” You said as you gripped his face and pulled him down to kiss his lips. “Do you think your Lord misses you?” You asked jokingly. 

“I think he is too drunk to notice.” He said smiling at you, “What about your Lady?” 

“I think she was too involved in Joffrey to notice.” You said with a giggle. 

“Sleep with me tonight?” You asked softly, 

He nodded and he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your neck.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

When you woke up, you were alone. 

You felt a little betrayed but you knew he had duties. 

Later that day you were ordered to check on Lord Tyrion’s injuries as the Maester was too busy to see to it himself. 

When you knocked on the door to Tyrion's chambers Bronn answered the door, he eyed you up and down, making you roll your eyes. 

“My Lord,” You said walking into Tyrion’s chambers, brushing past Bronn and avoiding his gaze. 

“Ah, the bear girl.” Tyrion said,

“(Y/N) Mormont, my Lord.” Podrick attempted to correct him, which made Bronn huff and roll his eyes. But you smiled at him, and he smiled back. 

“Yes, Podrick, I know her name. My family is holding her captive after all.” 

You smirked at his admission, ‘How’re you feeling?” You asked as you sat a leather bag of medicines and supplies on a table. 

“Oh quite pleasurable.” Tyrion said sarcastically,

You turned towards him, dropping your concerned demeanor “I need to know if it stings or itches, if it’s infected, it could spread to your eyes, you’ll go blind, it could spread to your sinuses which could make you go deaf, and if it spreads to your brain you’ll die."

“You’re a gentle flower aren’t you?” 

“Always have been. The Flower of Bear Island they called me.” You said sarcastically with crossed arms, making Tyrion huff a chuckle, “Yes and now they call me bear girl and whore, so if you could be so kind and cooperate I can see to it that you don’t die.” 

Podrick held back a smile at your strength.

“Alright, no burning, itching, or stinging. Satisfied?” Tyrion said as you sat beside him.

“Somewhat…” You said while examining the cut. 

Podricks eyes were entranced by the way your eyes darted around the Lord's scar, how you examined it with such expertise. How your eyebrows narrowed and your lips pouted slightly when you focused intensely on something. How when you wrapped a new bandage around the Lord's face you bit on your bottom lip. As he stared at your lips he thought of your first kiss, how warm and soft your lips were, he thought of your sweet taste. He wanted to grab your face and do it all over again. He was so deep into his fantasy he hadn’t even noticed Tyrion had called his name twice.  

Bronn smacked Podricks head, making him snap out of it as Tyrion repeated himself again. 

“Pod, see Lady Mormont to her chambers.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” Podrick nodded

“Oh I'm sure the lad would love that.” Bronn said as you and Podrick left the room.

Once the door to Tyrion's chamber was closed you turned to Podrick with narrowed eyes. 

“You told them?” You asked with venom.

“No, no, no I wouldn’t.” He stammered, not wanting you to believe he would do such a thing to you, “I wouldn’t. I believe I am just not very good at concealing my… interest in you.” He said softly so no one would hear. 

It made you smile. 

“I am sorry I couldn’t stay, My Lady. This morning, I couldn’t stay, Lord Tyrion would have sent someone for me.” He said softly again.

“I told you, you can call me by my name.” You said not willing to say it was alright but not willing to say it wasn’t. “Did you forget it, Podrick?” You teased him

“No, no (Y/N)” He said your name with a smile.

“Good, I thought your interest in me had finally subsided.” 

“I don’t think it could.” 

It made you smile again, 'seven hells' you thought, falling for such things.

You looked around and saw no one in the hall, you pulled him into another kiss.

NOTE:sowwy this took so long, i wuv you!

TAG LIST: @ryn-away @boojaynaqueen @holierthancunt @symonedoesart

[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

[thebookbutterfly]

Hey there! Could you possibly write a Sandor Clegane x gender neutral reader where Sandor has a soft spot for reader and reader feels the same? He tries to hide it but one day reader get’s hurt and he patches them up and maybe confessions come out?

🦋 Little Bird— Sandor Clegane x gn!Reader

Summary: You get injured in an ambush. Sandor carries you to safety and takes care of you.

Tags: #so much hurt/comfort, #a teensy bit of angst, #fluffy ending, #potentially OOC Sandor Clegane but personally I think he is pretty baby girl, #request

Warnings: Gender Neutral, no use of Y/N, descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of death, cannon compliant threats of violence, no beta and no ‘ragrets' [1,371 words]

AN: This is a request by @agender-wolfie. I really hope that this is what you were looking for! It came out a bit longer than I intended, but I am such a sucker for hurt/comfort tropes I really shouldn’t be surprised lmao. I wrote this all in one sitting and I haven’t done any editing so please excuse any errors. Happy reading! 🦋 Love BB

If you like this work my requests are currently open! So please give me your ideas ;)

You hissed a curse, gravelly and threadbare, as Sandor sidestepped another fallen tree.

A jumble of vulgar expressions that barely registered to you as they left your mouth. Almost all of them taught to you by the giant man holding you to his chest. The hound cradled you surprisingly gently, but his tension was evident. It was written all over him.

His scarred face, which you so rarely got the opportunity to study, was pulled into a broken grimace. The rest of him taut like a wire ready to snap beneath his armour. If you weren’t bleeding all over him, you might have reached up to prod the furrow of his brow. A silly attempt to smooth away Sandor’s permanent scowl.

The thought shattered as another wave pain tore through your ribs. Every bump in the path sowing fresh agony in the ruined skin and muscle.

Sandor ran a calloused thumb over the side of your knee in apology. Uttering clumsy noises of comfort as he picked up the pace.

“We’re almost there. Hold on just a bit longer, little bird.”

His gruff voice was cut with a noticeable amount of panic. Your brow scrunched at the unusual sound. You had gotten used to many things about Sandor as you travelled North with him. His rough sense of humour, bitter attitude, scarred face and huge stature were familiar to you by now. Underneath those things, his kindness and his softheartedness had become apparent to you too.

All the vulnerable pieces of himself that he smothered and choked beneath layers of vulgar humour and recklessness, had been presented to you in glimpses as you got to know him. But panic? Panic was new to you.

The farmhouse that Sandor had marked out in the distance finally drew into view. Up close it was a measly grey thing. The stone masonry looked haphazard at best but its chimney puffed with life. Behind it a barn lay with its doors open and rattling in the freezing wind.

You expected Sandor to head straight for the shelter of the barn but instead he strode to the front door. The family of four, seated around the dining room table inside, scrambled back as he slammed open the door with his usual subtlety. Which was to say— none at all.

You groaned as the sudden movement jostled your wound. Normally you would have chastised him for being so rude but your head was swimming. Too weak to lift your hand, you focused your energy on your eyes. Willing them to stay open, if not for your sake then for the sake of your worried companion.

An old man stepped forward to speak but Sandor cut him off, “One of you better be a healer, because if they die I will mount all of your heads outside on sticks.”

It was an ugly threat and they paled. The youngest boy whimpered looking suddenly ill. A younger woman with dark hair and a generous smattering of freckles stepped forward. She gestured a slightly shaky hand towards the table before him, before turning to her family.

“Clear the table, quickly. We can lay them down here,” her attention shifted back to the massive man standing in the doorway, “I’m not a healer by profession but I’ll do everything I can.”

Sandor seemed pleased enough by this answer. The rest of the family had been wise enough not to put up a fight and so Sandor stepped forward. He eased his grip and lay you down on the hastily cleared surface.

He moved to step away and let this stranger do her work but you whimpered. Fingertips clutching at air until he shifted back into reach.

A leather belt was stuffed between your teeth as your tunic was torn up the side. Unfamiliar hands grasped at your arms and legs. Holding you down with a bruising grip. All the while, Sandor brushed his bloodied fingers over your forehead and through your hair. The warmth of his skin a small consolation for the pain you were about to endure.

The woman lifted a needle and thread. With a glance at Sandor and his affirming nod she began to count down and you closed your eyes, unable to look.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fire. Your body was on fire. You arched off the table. Trying to escape the agony, the needle slowly piecing your flesh back together. The table shook as you thrashed but the hands holding you down didn’t falter. Sandor’s gravely words of comfort were the last things ringing in your ears as the world went black.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first thing that you noticed when you woke up was the lack of pain. Your side still ached, the wound tender, but it was a dull throbbing now. No longer, the screaming torture it was as Sandor carried you away from where you were ambushed.

The second was the warmth. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this warm since you and Sandor had journeyed across the border into the North. Sandor.

You opened your eyes slowly. The lighting was dim but from what you could tell you were inside the barn. The door was closed now though and soft orange candlelight illuminated the space.

You lay on your good side underneath a thick layer of blankets, and next to you lay the man your eyes sought for. His arm tucked you to him, large calloused hand resting somewhere on your lower back.

His heart thudded rhythmically beneath where your head lay on his chest. His even breathing and faint snores filled the quiet. Despite your inner protests it was the most comfortable you had been in years.

You gazed up at him, not wanting to wake him just yet. Sandor didn’t sleep nearly enough and you were content to watch the way the candlelight danced across his skin. It caught on his scarred cheek. Shadows flickering on the panes of his face.

Unable to resist you lifted a hand to his cheek. Your touch was featherlight but his eyes snapped open. Sandor’s gaze flicked to you immediately. Scanning you for distress and finding none, his body relaxed.

“Seven Hells, I thought you were going to die. Never do that again,” he said gruffly. His cheeks were flushed but he made no move to shift away from you.

Your voice was cracked from screaming but you still managed to mumble, “M’Sorry.”

Sandor sighed, “It wasn’t your fault, little bird.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a water-skein. Unscrewing the top he held it out towards you.

“Here, drink. Then you can go back to sleep,” he said.

“Thank you.”

The moisture eased the pain in your throat and soon you were snuggled back up under Sandor’s arm. The wind howled through the rafters and you both sat in silence for a little while.

Your thoughts broke the quiet, “Thank you for carrying me here. Thank you for staying.”

Sandor’s eyes met yours, they were unguarded and soft in a way that seemed reserved for you. Reserved for these conversations in the dark.

His voice was low as he replied, “I would have carried you to the ends of the earth, little bird.”

You studied him, the scars that mottled his skin, the cut on his brow and the curl of his mouth. Something deep within you settled, like a cat stretching out on a rug.

“You’re a good man, Sandor Clegane,” you said.

The conviction in your voice hit him harder than any blow on the battlefield ever had. The tidal wave of emotions that followed threatened to take him under but he swallowed them down.

You pretended not to notice his watery eyes and he lifted his spare hand to stroke your head. “Go to sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

You nodded sleepily, too tired to fight it off any longer. A few seconds pass before you feel it. The soft press of his lips on your forehead. They linger there for a while before he pulls back, the warmth that they leave behind searing like a brand on your skin. You smile as you drift off, lulled to sleep by his warm embrace and steady breathing.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

[joanna-lannister]

3x06 // 8x05

requested by anonymous

[novaursa]

eek! Hope I'm not too late! it's already 30th here!

If you'd write for Tyrion plz could I get a x wife!reader where she takes care of him (running him a warm bath, massages, pain relieving tea etc) when he has a particularly bad pain flare up?

As someone who knows first hand what chronic pain is like I know all too well how difficult it is to accept help at times, even when you probably need it, and I get the strong impression that Tyrion would be more stubborn than most, but sometimes its nice to have just one person that you trust enough to let help.

For Better or Worse

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Tyrion is in pain and refuses to admit it. But you are stubborn as any Stark.

- Paring: stark!reader/Tyrion Lannister

- Note: The reader was married to Tyrion instead of her sister, Sansa.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You watch Tyrion from the corner of your eye, his movements slow and careful. His usual swagger seems muted tonight, replaced with an uncharacteristic stiffness. He’s trying to hide it, of course—sipping his wine a bit too quickly, cracking a joke that lacks its usual bite—but you’ve known him long enough to notice the way his hand clenches around the arm of his chair, the way his brow furrows when he thinks no one’s watching.

It’s one of those nights. The kind where his pain flares up, gnawing at him like an uninvited guest.

“Tyrion,” you call softly, approaching him with the kind of ease you know won’t set him off. “Are you all right?”

He glances at you, offering a smirk that’s meant to reassure. “Ah, my sweet wolf, ever the doting wife. I’m fine. Really.”

You narrow your eyes, not buying it for a moment. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

“Is that what they say in Winterfell? In the South, we call it ‘selective honesty.’” He chuckles, but it’s short-lived, and you catch the wince he tries to mask with a sip of wine.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “You’re in pain.”

Tyrion waves a dismissive hand. “A minor inconvenience. Nothing to worry your pretty head over.”

“Right.” You give him a look that says you’re not leaving it alone. “You’ve been shifting in that chair for the past hour like it’s full of splinters. When was the last time you had some relief for your back?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your persistence. “Relief, you say? Are you offering, my dear?”

“Don’t distract me.” You step closer, laying a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension knotting under your fingers. “Let me help.”

Tyrion sighs, but there’s a softness in his eyes that betrays him. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but I’m fine. I’m not some frail thing in need of coddling.”

“I know that. But even the smartest man in Westeros needs a bit of care now and then.” You kneel beside him, looking up at him with a determined glint. “Please, Tyrion. Let me make you some tea, draw you a bath… do something.”

He huffs, leaning back in his chair with exaggerated annoyance. “You’re as stubborn as a mule, you know that?”

“Must be the Northern blood,” you quip with a grin. “Come on, just this once. You don’t have to be so damn proud.”

Tyrion stares at you for a long moment, his defenses slowly crumbling. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Gods, how did I end up marrying the one Stark who’s more persistent than the Other?”

You smile triumphantly and start preparing the tea. In the dim light of your chambers, the soft clinking of the teapot fills the silence. The scent of herbs wafts through the room, soothing in itself, and you bring the steaming cup to him.

“Drink this,” you command gently, “and then I’m running that bath.”

He gives you a mock scowl. “You’re bossier than I anticipated when I married you.”

“And you’re more stubborn than I anticipated,” you shoot back, gently pushing the cup into his hands. He takes it with a resigned sigh and drinks, the warmth seeming to ease him a little.

When the bath is ready, you help him out of his clothes, Tyrion muttering something about feeling like an old man. You ignore the remark, guiding him into the warm water with a care that surprises even him.

“This is… oddly nice,” he admits after a long silence, the tension in his shoulders beginning to melt away. “I might have to make a habit of this.”

“Only if you promise not to be so difficult about it next time.”

Tyrion grins. “No promises.”

Once he’s soaked long enough, you coax him out, wrapping a soft towel around him before guiding him to the bed. He watches you with an expression caught somewhere between appreciation and disbelief, like this kind of tenderness is foreign to him.

“Turn around,” you instruct as you straddle the edge of the bed behind him. He raises a brow but does as you ask.

Your hands move to his back, gently kneading the knotted muscles, feeling the way his body tenses and then slowly starts to give in to your touch. He sighs, a sound of relief that’s almost inaudible.

“You’re too good at this,” he mutters. “You should charge me. A Lannister always pays his debts, after all.”

“Consider it part of the marriage agreement,” you tease, your fingers working into another knot. “For better or worse, remember?”

“I recall something along those lines.” He shifts slightly, his voice softer now. “You’re a patient woman, you know. More than I deserve.”

“I think you deserve a bit of care,” you say quietly. “Whether you believe it or not.”

Tyrion is silent for a moment, letting your words sink in. “You’re… far kinder than I expected, marrying a Lannister.”

You press a kiss to the back of his neck, feeling him relax further under your touch. “Well, you’re not just any Lannister.”

“Flattery,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth to his voice. “It might work.”

It’s a quiet moment, one that feels both intimate and oddly vulnerable, but there’s an ease to it, too. For all his bluster and pride, you know that beneath it all, Tyrion is simply a man who’s not used to being taken care of.

And tonight, you’re more than happy to remind him that he doesn’t always have to carry everything on his own.

[fandom-puff]

Can I please request “It’s not my fault you keep turning me on” with Tyrion Lannister?

Thank you for your request!!

Warnings: references to smut, no actual sex tho, morning after a wild night.

“Hmmm… good morning,” Tyrion mumbled as he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet smell of your soap and sweat leftover from the night before.

“Mmmm…” was your response, your eyelids barely flickering open. Already you could feel the dull ache between your thighs as a result of your intense coupling, and Tyrion’s seed was smeared and dried on the inside of your legs. And more pressingly, you could feel the hardness of your Lion of Lannister pressing into your back. “Again?” You mumbled. “You’ve already worn me out, my lord,” you teased, though your hips circled temptingly on his cock.

Tyrion let out a gruff laugh. “It is not my fault you keep on arousing me, my Sweet,” he replied, his teeth already grazing against the back of your neck.

[queenbeyondthewall]

Final stop on the Lannister siblings/Hozier self-titled campaign is From Eden, one of my first Hozier infatuations and to this day one of my favourite songs of all time. The absolutely unavoidable aura of Jaime/Brienne that comes from this song motivated me to write these analyses. A romance between a completely disillusioned narrator and a youth whose idealism he recognizes, outwardly dismisses, and inwardly admires? I hope this is already screaming Jaime/Brienne at you.

Babe, there’s something tragic about you Something so magic about you, don’t you agree? Babe, there’s something lonesome about you Something so wholesome about you, get closer to me

Reading this as Jaime’s thoughts about Brienne is pretty straightforward, I think. Brienne’s story is rather tragic - she's an outcast due to the rigid gender norms of her society, lonesome and desperate for acceptance and respect (from people like Renly to Catelyn and eventually to Jaime himself.) The real tragedy is that we (and Jaime) can see that she’s one of the few truly good people in this story, despite the lack of appreciation from her surroundings. Her kindness, courage, skill, and honour are in short supply in Westeros.

No tired sigh, no rolling eyes, no irony No “who cares,” no vacant stare, no time for me

The Jaime/Cersei/Brienne triangle is pretty renowned, and not only for the obvious romances. These lines, especially in contrast to the warmth of the ones before, seem to highlight the aspects of his former life that Jaime has grown so tired of. The cool reception that Jaime receives from Cersei upon his return to King’s Landing, including the detachment of the sept sex scene and her mockery of his severed hand, contribute to showing him how the two of them might not be one soul in two bodies after all.

Honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me, I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

Now the chorus, aka the most braime set of lines that have ever been sung. On the face of it, this verse is gently dismissive of the idealism that Jaime sees reflected in Brienne from his own youth. Jaime would have us believe that he has seen through the lie of honour, of true knighthood, the lie that allows Kingsguard to be called the finest knights in the realm while they stand by and watch tyrants rape and torture and murder. Take this quote, for example.

“A boy knelt; a knight rose. The Young Lion, not the Kingslayer. But that was long ago, and the boy was dead.” - AFFC Jaime I

Really? If that boy and the idealism he represented died long ago, why does Jaime send Brienne off on a mission to rescue Sansa as his “last chance for honour?” Why does he name the sword he gifts her Oathkeeper? From Eden’s speaker dismisses the idealistic viewpoint of its subject in one breath, but is drawn towards it in the next, much as Jaime is drawn towards Brienne because of her relentless idealism, not in spite of it.

Babe, there’s something broken about this, But I might be hoping about this, oh what a sin.

There it is - hope. Jaime trusts Brienne because he hopes against hope that she can finally prove the ideals of knighthood as true and attainable.

A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree

Ok so this is a minor point but. THIS. This is the line that genuinely makes me stop and consider if Andrew Hozier-Byrne is secretly a massive asoiaf fan. WHY ELSE would he include a line like this that is so clearly a reference to the one and only Hyle Hunt?! Hyle Hunt, whose house’s sigil is that of a hung deer, who accompanies Brienne throughout AFFC, who was a suitor to her hand in marriage, whose last appearance on page is as he’s being hanged, and who is predicted to die in TWOW by hanging? I just. I can’t. It’s too much. Thematically I guess hanging is a motif throughout AFFC, especially in the Riverlands with Brienne and the BwB, and they will be very relevant to Jaime and Brienne's story early in TWOW. I guess.

This song is terribly romantic which fits because to me Jaime and Brienne are the main love story of the series. I had a lot of fun writing this and hopefully you can now join me in bashing my head against a wall every time I listen to this song and am reminded of them.

[promptthebear]

Oh my god I just found you through AO3! I'm so excited to read your other works! If you wouldn't mind, I would love to hear some of your headcannons for Tyrion! 🧺

Okay, so I thought a lot about this one and well, this is what I decided on so hopefully it’s okay 🫣

In my defence, I’ve been lurking on the Tyrion x Reader tag for a loooong while and always secretly hoped someone would do this first but unfortunately not so here goes.

PS. This ended up being so long holy shit. Some of these prompts ending up being almost mini fics in their own right. Wish I could say I'm sorry about it...but my Mom taught me not to lie so.

🔥Tyrion Lannister NSFW Alphabet🔥

CW: Brief mentions of canon typical assault and violence. Discussions of soft dom/sub dynamics. Also what it says on the tin, discussions of sex and sexual content.

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

Say it with me now, this man is an aftercare KING. To him, it’s almost as important as the main event, a good story needs a satisfying epilogue after all.

This is partially from his years of experience, but also his own desire to feel loved. We all know Tyrion’s met his needs exclusively with sex workers since Tysha left his life. He knows how awful it is to wake to an empty bed and cold sheets, but is also very much aware that’s part and parcel with the life he’s chosen.

When you come around, whether that’s through a spontaneous relationship or an arranged marriage, Tyrion wants to give you the full benefit of all he has to offer. It’s pretty normal for you to spend hours cuddled up in bed, basking in the after glow, talking about nothing in particular and feeding each other little bites of food and sips of wine.

If you’re really lucky, Tyrion might also read a little to you from whatever book he’s got on hand. He loves nothing more than to have you rest your head against his bare chest while he murmurs into your hair about history or herb sciences or whatever’s caught his interest this week.

Tyrion also isn’t opposed to helping you clean up or having a shared bath. You can bet he’d be extremely gentle and attentive, taking extra care with anywhere on your body that may be sore or sensitive. He’ll also get frequently distracted from the task at hand to stop and tell you how beautiful you are, how much he cares about you and to cover your face and body in soft kisses.

This man just has a lot of love to give, and when you have his trust and commitment, he’s going to be thrilled at finally having someone to share it with. Every once and awhile, you’ll catch him running his hands over your body while you’re together, like he’s trying to memorize every inch before you disappear. Enjoy those moments, it means he’s finally starting to let his walls down and accept you’re sticking with him for good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Okay, so these two are going to be really obvious but I’ll explain, I promise. There’s not a lot Tyrion likes about himself. He’s accepted what he is, but that doesn’t mean he always likes it. However, when pressed he’ll admit that what he’s most proud of are his mind and his cock.

His mind is a given. It’s what keeps him alive and valuable in the political minefield that is King’s Landing. Without that, who knows what would have happened to him? He also loves when he can use his wit to make you smile or gods willing, laugh. Your laughter is the most precious sound in the world to Tyrion and he loves that he can be the cause behind it.

As for his cock, well, it’s mentioned in the books that Tyrion feels like in the dark, he feels and can be the same as any other man. He truly seems to feel that in the bedroom, it’s the one other place his size doesn’t matter. His equipment works as well as anyone else’s, and he’s very proud of all the pleasure it brings you.

When it comes to his lover, Tyrion really only has two priorities. He likes breasts and a good heart. Everything else is just gravy.

Based on his love scenes with Shae in the books, I feel like Tyrion is a big fan of boobs. He even jokes about it when he meets Oberyn about how a tit in his mouth is the only thing that can still stop him fussing. Also, see the gif above lol. Whenever he’s had a hard day, Tyrion wants nothing more than to open your dress, and bury his face into your chest where he can lose himself in the softness of your skin and scent of your perfume.

Breast size also isn’t a deal breaker for Tyrion. As far as he’s concerned, any breasts of any shape or size are wonderful. If you’ve ever felt self conscious about what’s in your corset, that won’t be a problem after Tyrion’s got his hands on you. He spends so much time caressing and kissing them that you start to love them as much as he does. And if anyone makes any snide remarks about you not being well endowed enough? Well, Tyrion’s got some extra creative ways to make them reconsider that train of thought.

Above all else though, he needs someone kind. He’s been surrounded with liars and people who are trying to manipulate him for so long, that in the end he figures that's all there is for him. Of course, the second he realizes hes with someone a little too like Cersi or any number of the social climbers at court, then things are going to go tits up. That relationship will crash and burn so quickly, and the fall out is incredibly messy. Tyrion will then turn to drink and brothels to lessen his pain, meets a new distraction who smells an opportunity and the vicious cycle starts all over again. Which is not to say any of the women Tyrion finds himself with during this time are to blame for being insincere, they're trying to survive same as anyone else and hes a promising meal ticket.

If anything, the fault for this lies with Tyrion’s own self destructive tendencies and all the bullshit Tywin’s put into his head over the years. His father has allowed his son so few opportunities to have love and be loved, that whether he knows it or not, Tyrion keeps choosing poor matches to keep one step ahead of Tywin and be hurt on his own terms. Heartbreak is heartbreak, but having pain you control is slightly better than having it forced on you at any given moment.

The best chance you have of breaking this pattern and actually have a genuine relationship with Tyrion is by being sweet with him. He’s going to fight it at first, kindness is so alien to him that he takes it as exploitation at face value and will either brush it aside with a well placed quip or outright deny it to your face. Have a little patience. Tyrion has wrapped his hurt around his heart like a protective shell, but once he realizes you’re different and truly care about him, hooo boy. The flood of affection and loyalty you’ll get from him will be unparalleled, so it’s well worth the wait.

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

Over the years, Tyrion’s found some pretty creative places to deposit his seed. It just kind of happens when you frequent brothels exclusively. As much as those places PROMISE the women won't give you a bastard, pretty words don't mean a whole lot when an unplanned child shows up on your doorstep, so Tyrion’s learned to be extra cautious.

If the two of you aren’t married or just casual lovers, Tyrion will probably keep that same practice if only to preserve your honour. Your mouth, breasts and stomach are perfectly good options as far as he’s concerned, be ready to hear some “pearl necklace” jokes out of him.

If the two of you are married though? Inside, hands down, 100%. With your consent that’s always where he wants to finish, both because of the closeness it creates between the two of you and also the added benefit of possibly getting you pregnant. To Tyrion, this is a true testament to how much you love and trust him, and a way to mark you to others as his and his alone. Just knowing you want to be with him and bear his children can be as much of a turn on for him as the actual sex itself.

Sometimes when he’s done, he’ll sit back and spread your legs to have a nice, long look at his handiwork. It‘s just so satisfying to see his cum dripping out of your cunt, and odds are this’ll have him raring to go again before your first orgasm is completely out of your system. The two of you won’t have any problems producing an heir, trust me.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There’s not a lot Tyrion keeps to himself when it comes to sex. He’s a pretty open book, and when you’ve visited every brothel from the North to the last port before the Free Cities, sometimes your secrets get told for you.

However, the one thing Tyrion’s managed to keep out of public knowledge is an ongoing fantasy he’s had about fucking his lover or wife in his father’s bedroom at Casterly Rock.

It’s not that Tyrion wants to be his father necessarily, as much as he jokes about being Tywin made again on half the scale. It’s more so about taking control in a way that would shock and appall Tywin, with a hint of added vengeance for what happened to Tysha. His father has had his fingers in Tyrion’s private matters for so long that he’d love nothing more than to finally turn the tables and truly make Casterly Rock his “whorehouse” like Tywin’s always feared.

I don’t think this is a fantasy he’d ever admit to anyone though, not even to you, no matter how drunk he gets or how long you’ve been together. It’s too strange and too petty to suggest to anyone…right?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We all know it, our boy has had more lovers in the short time he’s been alive than some men will ever see in a thousand lifetimes. The benefit to this, though, is he’s had some amazing teachers and has learned some pretty special skills he can’t wait to try with you.

If you’re a virgin when the two of you meet or married, then Tyrion will take excellent care of you, making sure you’re safe, comfortable and cumming until you don’t know your own name. But if you're on the more experienced side? Well, get ready to be put through your paces, Tyrion wants to see what you’re really made of and maybe show you some new things along the way.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Now, Tyrion’s tried every position in recorded human history and invented some new ones just for kicks. But, unfortunately, if there’s a significant height difference between you two then his size is something you'll need to be mindful of. There are some positions that just won't be comfortable or even pleasurable for either of you, regardless of foreplay or flexibility.

Since he’s aware and very accepting of his limitations, there are a few tried and true positions Tyrion falls back on because he’s found that they’re consistently enjoyable for both him and his partner, while still allowing for some variation.

The first of these is, unsurprisingly, cowgirl. Having you on top is the easiest way to negate any major differences in height or physicality. It’s also a lot less painful for Tyrion’s legs, and allows him easy access to your clit and breasts, as well as having full view of your face so he can gauge your enjoyment. This position also affords itself to different paces, whether you're going for something soft and sweet with gentle words whispered between quiet grasps, or something more frantic and rougher where Tyrion meets you thrust for thrust by grabbing hold of your ass and pushing his hips up against yours.

There’s also just something about letting you have control of your pleasure and the sight of you hovering above him like some kind of sensual goddess that leaves Tyrion entranced. He absolutely loves watching you come undone above him, every slight shift in your expression, every little noise you make, they’re all incredibly precious to him. If he’s ever particularly distracted in his work, if he’s messing up his sums or seems miles away listening to petitions at court, you know it’s because he’s reliving these beautiful moments again in his mind and wondering how to make next time even better for the two of you.

Now, while Tyrion values sex for the romance and intimacy it can create between partners, there are also many times where he’s in desperate need of stress relief and the only way he’s going to get it is by fucking it out of you. On days where court has gone on for longer than usual, or the council is being extra stupid or Joffery has somehow managed to reach new levels of depravity yet again, the only position Tyrion is interested in is doggy style.

Everything about this position with him is going to be fast, rough, and probably a little messy. As soon as you’ve given him the go ahead, he’s pushing you onto the nearest flat surface and rucking your skirts and petticoats up to your navel. Any foreplay you have is going to be rushed, Tyrion’s not normally a selfish lover but when he gets like this, all he wants is to have you ready enough so as not to cause you pain. You can expect him to work you over quickly with two of his fingers thrust into your cunt and his mouth attacking your clit relentlessly. The second he feels you start getting wet, it’s all he can do to mutter “turn over” between clenched teeth and then he’s on you like a man possessed

From this point, the best advice I can give you is to hang on for dear life, because this isn’t going to be the Tyrion you’re used to. He’s basically going to use you like a human cocksleeve, gripping onto fistfuls of your skirts and thrusting into you at breakneck speeds. The change in angle would also allow him to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars, again and again. It’s both too much and not enough all at once, and you’d be a whimpering mess within minutes, not that Tyrion would take any notice. Normally, he’s very attentive but in this moment he’d been far too concerned with chasing his own pleasure, a far off look in hi eye as he grunts and moans softly with each push of his hips.

When he finally cums, it’s like some strange spell over him finally breaks. He’d bed over your back, shoving his face against the fabric of your dress to muffle his half strangled cry. You’d be pretty much collapsed at this point, your elbows long since given out supporting you in the face of so many quick fire orgasms. Tyrion would pull out of you, shaky and breathing hard, and somehow manage to walk on wobbling legs around to where he can look you in the eye. He’d push your sweaty hair back from your face, and cup your flushed cheeks in his hands like he’s afraid you might break into a thousand pieces.

The first words out of his mouth would then be “I’m sorry” as he pulls you into his waiting embrace and brings up a hand to cup the back of your head. He’d hold you like that for a long while, apologizing profusely for being so rough with you and explaining about all the bullshit he endured today, and how thankful he is that he can come home and have you here to take care of him. He’d be so worried he’s hurt you, and all but weeps in relief when you manage a tired smile and a soft “It’s alright. I know, things have been tough on you. You didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.” Expect lots of extra attention from him and treats tonight, as well as a long hot bath in your future.

When Tyrion isn’t trying to screw his problems away, I can also see him actually enjoying missionary a fair bit. While it isn’t the most ideal position, he can’t kiss you as much as he wants and being on his knees for so long will have his legs spasming for awhile afterwards, it does have its merits. He loves being able to play with your clit so easily, and the feel of your ankles hooking around his back. This position also gives him the perfect angle to bury his face in your breasts and he’s cum like that on more than one occasion.

Tyrion is also a bit of a romantic at heart, though he wouldn’t admit that for love or money. The fact that this position is so traditional in its essence is actually something he really enjoys. It reminds him of his first time with Tysha, the two of them fumbling and in love and having no clues about sex beyond this one basic thing. There’s so little that hearkens back to happier times in Tyrion’s life, the few things that allow him to do so, he’ll want to cherish them at every opportunity.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh gods, Tyrion is secretly the biggest goofball. You see a little bit of it in the books when he’s teasing Tysha and Shae, and if you’re receptive to that kind of thing he’ll be more than happy to provide it for you. This man could be buried in you to the hilt and pausing to crack jokes. If someone happens to fart or make a strange sound or maybe experience a sudden onset cramp? No worries, Tyrion will take it in stride with plenty good humour.

When you’ve had sex as many times as he has, you quickly realize it’s not as pretty or seamless as the stories and songs often depict. In the real world, people and their bodies are flawed. Things don’t always go as planned even when you’re being intimate, and being able to experience everything you have to offer no matter how embarrassing is what Tyrion considers to be one of the many pleasures of being with you. Besides, if you don’t laugh at yourself first, other people don’t hesitate to do it for you, so why not beat them to the punch?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the caret match the drapes? etc.)

So I feel like shaving and waxing isn’t really a “thing” in Westeros, outside maybe some of the more exotic brothels closer to the Free Cities and such. This means that Tyrion goes au naturel so to speak, and while he’s not as hairy as some men, he’s got a healthy patch of thick, reddish blonde curls down there. If it’s causing you discomfort or itching, he’d be happy to trim it back the same way he would his beard but I doubt he’d ever go completely bare down there either.

The added benefit of this is also that Tyrion wouldn’t expect you to remove your pubic hair either. If anything, he’d probably be a little uncomfortable with the idea? It would make you seem almost child-like, which would most certainly turn him off completely. He wants to be with a grown woman, and all that implies. A little hair isn’t going to bother him any.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

So, if the two of you are friends with benefits or this is a “transactional” relationship let’s say, Tyrion isn’t going to really push for intimacy. This is mostly because he doesn’t want to get too close to you, in case it gets him hurt again. He’ll be friendly and respectful, but don't expect any spontaneous compliments during sex or for him to stay with you too long afterwards. As far as he’s concerned, that kind of entanglement doesn’t end well for anyone involved but we also know this man is going to have a hard time keeping his emotions out of it no matter how hard he tries.

If the two of you are married or have a committed relationship? Oh. My. God. Extra won’t even begin to cover it.

A much as he claims to be selfish and cynical, Tyrion’s a giver by nature. When he falls for you, he’s going to fall hard and he’ll want to let you know any way he can. He’ll basically be spouting off the cuff poetry while the two of you are having sex with the compliments he’s giving. He’ll shower you with sweet talk, kisses, anything you want. If you’re a rose petal and candle kind of gal, you can expect that too. If he can’t provide what you want, he’ll learn how to or find a way to get it for you. Hell, if you mention your favourite colour to him even just in passing, he'd probably redecorate his bedhcambers to suit your preference. After a lifetime of being treated like dogshit, you’d have this man wrapped around your little finger, so please please please be kind to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It’s pretty much book canon that Tyrion jerks off…a lot, and while his preference is always going to be to look to you for his needs, unfortunately his job calls him away a lot. If he’s especially fond of you, he might even move you out of Kings Landing entirely and into The Rock at the first opportunity, just to keep you safe. When distance is an obstacle, he’d probably go back to the company of his hands most evenings, though now he’s at least got you to fantasize about. Don’t be surprised if one of your scarves or hair ribbons or even some of your smallclothes go missing right after Tyrion leaves home again. You’ll get them back, I promise, your lover just needs a little “motivation” while he’s away.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Acts of service/ Service dom: So, most of his life, Tyrion’s had to take care of himself and also has been denied a lot of opportunities to offer his care to other people. The result of this is that he craves any chance to experience either, especially where any kind of intimacy is involved. I truly see Tyrion as a switch, so he’ll want to use acts of service as both the submissive and dominant partner, even if Westeros hasn’t provided the vocabulary to label these experiences as such.

For example, he loves taking care of you. If you want him to brush your hair, he’s happy to comply. Help you dress yourself if your maid’s been “given the morning off?” Yes ma’am. Run you a bath and assist you with washing? Say the word and hes there. Now, in these moments you may appear to be the dominant one, but thats nowhere close to the truth. By allowing yourself to be vulnerable, you’re giving Tyrion the power and control, but he’d never take advantage of it. At most, he’s a soft dom. He may occasionally give orders or make decisions for you, but he does so only after reminding you that you can ask him to stop at any time.

This is also just such a self indulgent fantasy, but I can see him being the type of dom to make a pet out of his lover? Not pet play exactly, but he’d refer to you as his “good girl” or precious one and have you sit, naked and kneeling on a silk pillow while your head resting on his thigh as he works or reads. He'd stop often to stroke your hair or speak to you softly, or maybe feed you a tasty little morsel or give you a sip of wine if you were willing. Theres no sadomasochism about this situation though, it comes from a place of nurturing and Tyrions desire to provide for you to the point where you don't have to do a thing for yourself.

When Tyrion plays the submissive, it looks very different. Your role as the dominant would be to assert yourself as a caretaker as well, so Tyrion actually takes a break from working and focuses on some selfcare for once. This can include massaging his back and legs, drawing a hot bath and helping him clean up or feeding him dinner, bite by bite. Tyrion would be the most willing submissive, and though he grumbles on principle he wouldn’t be bratty or need any sort of punishment besides maybe a gentle scolding now and again. Reaching this level of trust and intimacy with you is like his ultimate fantasy, so much of his life demands that he be in control that relinquishing it, even for a few hours, would be nothing short of paradise.

Overstimulation: So, we all know, Tyrion’s a very skilled lover. He knows tricks with his mouth and fingers that would surprise even Oberyn Martell, and he can make you cum faster than you ever thought possible. He loves to do this again and again, until you’re a shaking, babbling mess, only to push one more orgasm out of you. He really just wants to give you as much pleasure as you can take at any given moment and then a little more just because he loves you. It also can become sort of a competition thing between the two of you? I can absolutely see him looking up from between your legs, your release still on his lips while he smirks and you let out a “Fuck!” that indicates you’ve cum yet again. He’d give your cunt a gentle pat, arch his brow and ask “Do you think she’s had enough?” to which you’d let out a huff and stubbornly announce “Not even close” only to regret those words when you find yourself limping around the castle the next day.

The Book Game: I don’t know what else to call this, but basically that thing where you read something while your partner pleasures or fucks you and if you moan you don’t get to cum yet? This would be Tyrion’s absolute FAVOURITE thing, as it involves the best of both worlds, literature and sex. Watch out though, this man plays dirty and will probably hand you an erotic novel just make things more interesting.

Mutual masturbation: I don’t know why, but I just feel like Tyrion would be into this??? It probably comes back to how he wants to feel desirable and have someone look at him in all his naked glory without any outright disgust. If the two of you are doing this, expect Tyrion to light more than the usual amount of candles. He just wants to see you, to bask in your beauty as you get yourself off. Bonus points if he’s allowed to give you instructions while you do so.

Body worship: Oh Lord, is Tyrion ever into this one. If it’s your first time, he’d probably just do it to increase your pleasure and comfort with him touching you. And then it turns into a habit. The first time he does it, it’s while he’s undressing you. With your consent, he’d carefully remove your clothing and kiss each new inch of bared skin like his life depends on it. It’s only when you’re tingling all over and practically begging him to fuck you that he’d relent. Afterwards, I can see him making sort of a silly game out of it, naming each part of you he likes best before kissing on that same spot. Spoiler alert though, he loves all of you so he’s going to kiss everywhere.

Marking: Yes, but only for love bites and hickies. It’s a point of personal pride for Tyrion to show everyone that not only are you his, but you are more than happy to let him love on you. I can imagine that Cersi or his father are giving him shit one morning at breakfast because you aren’t pregnant yet, only for the two of them to immediately shut up when you walk into the dining room with a massive, fuck off hickey nestled in your cleavage. Tyrion would smirk into his coffee, and then wrap his arm around you shoulder and plant a kiss on your temple after you sit down next to him. You'd probably be beet red, knowing everyone is staring and why, but Tyrion doesn’t give a single fuck. He’d look his family dead in the face and ask “Anything else to add?” but all he’d get is a stony silence from Cersi and some derisive muttering from Tywin. At the very least, you’d have a few peaceful meals for a little while.

Spoiling: So this one is a little dicey. On the one hand, Tyrion doesn’t appreciate feeling like he’s being used for his family’s money. On the other hand, it’s deeply satisfying to him to use said money to get you whatever your little heart desires. All you have to do is mention you like something in passing and it’s yours. If you have any particular hobbies, Tyrion will make sure you’re well stocked with any supplies you need to do them. He also loves keeping you adorned in the finest jewels. I’ve always had a personal headcanon that he’d give his wife a very extravagant House Lannister pendant, a golden lion the size of your fist with ruby eyes on a thick, braided chain. Tywin would of course gripe at him for the extravagance, which Tyrion would wave off without a second thought. Also, he'd probably fuck you at some point while you’re wearing it lol.

Lingerie: The selection available in Westeros for this kind of thing probably isn’t super extensive, but what is available Tyrion will take full advantage of. It really gets him all hot and bothered that he’s the only one who gets to see you in this kind of stuff, and the feel of silk and lace under his fingers is an added bonus in an already pleasurable experience.

Praise Kink: Oh gods above and below, does Tyrion ever have a praise kink. Hardly anyone has had a kind word for this man in his whole life, so when he does hear any he goes completely feral. Please, tell him what a good boy he is and how good he’s making you feel and how handsome he is. He will absolutely lose his goddamn mind, as well as sell his soul to you on the spot. Tyrion will also return the favour if that’s something you want. He’s going to lavish on the compliments and flattery every chance he has, he’ll tell you you’re his stunning goddess of love and beauty and mean every word from the bottom of his heart.

Breeding: It takes a lot of work to get him to admit it, but I truly think Tyrion wants to be a father. Not because of any Lannister legacy bullshit like Tywin, he’d be thrilled if you gave him a pack of daughters. It’s more so that he really just wants to have a family of his own and to try and give his children the love he was denied in his own childhood. He’d be nervous about it at first, what if his children are too much like him? What if he loses you during the birth? Give him lots of patience and reassurance and before you know it, he’s dragging you off to put a babe in your belly ASAP.

Part of the attraction for Tyrion is watching you go through the experience of being pregnant. He loves your baby bump and your soft breasts. If the hormones have you riled, he’d be incredibly gentle while making love to you, not wanting to hurt you or the baby. He’d rub your ankles if they’re sore and have the maesters make hot compresses if your back hurts from carrying his child. You’re so beautiful to him like this, and any complaints about weight gain or stretch marks would be silenced with deep, open mouthed kisses. As long as it’s not any danger to you and you’re happy being a mother, Tyrion wants you pregnant as often as you can be. Don’t be surprised if you have a few “stepladder twins” who are less than a year apart.

It also comes back to a possession thing. Having you bear his children is the best way he can think of to show the world who you belong to. It would also be the one thing that would get Tywin off his back about “an heir and a spare” while deeply infuriating the man because there’s no way anyone would tolerate his son to conceive even one child, let alone two, but here you are all the same. Tyrion would be extra attentive to you while you’re pregnant in public, taking every opportunity he can to rest his hand on your growing belly and caress it gently. Even if people stare, he doesn’t give a shit. He’s proud of you and the baby you’re going to have, those idiots are just jealous because they know it’ll be the most beautiful child in all of Westeros and their little sprogs could never compete.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Now, even if the two of you were married while the Lannisters are in the Red Keep, Tyrion will point blank refuse to fuck you there unless his family is away, and even then maybe not. Its not that he doesn't want to or doesn'tlove you, it’s just that the walls have ears in this place. If it’s not Tywin or Cersi sticking their noses in his business, Vary' will probably have his “little birds” keeping a close watch on the two of you.

No, anywhere in Kings Landing is out of the question. You’re too important to Tyrion to risk having you used as a pawn in his family’s schemes. There’s no way he’s going to be ever able to completely let his guard down while you’re there, so first chance he’s got Tyrion is going to try and send you away somewhere safer.

Casterly Rock would be his first choice. With his father and sister busy stirring shit up in King’s Landing, they’d totally ignore the Rock despite it being their homeland, and as far as Tyrion’s concerned that makes it the perfect place. In spite of his rough childhood, he’s always felt protected there, and there would be so many things he’d want to show you. The library where he learned to read, the beach and its tide pools,the gardens and all the other secret places hed discovered as a boy. Also, having you stay in his childhood bedroom with him would be so special for Tyrion, the two of you snuggled up under familiar covers with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance. Casterly Rock was, and always will be his home and Tyrion wants nothing more than to make you a part of it for good.

If the Rock isn’t an option, I can also see him trying to negotiate the rights to some out of the way holdfast outside the city limits. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it would certainly be less suffocating than The Red Keep and at least there he could choose his own guards to watch over you. Tyrion might even push for Jamie to come and mind you for a few days a week, in spite of Cersi’s protests. He trusts his brother more than anyone else, and knows that Jamie would do right by you even with their sister whispering in his ear because he loves Tyrion so much.

Once he has either one of these options secure, Tyrion would probably want to keep your sex life limited to the bedroom. He really doesn’t want you to be the subject of gossip, even if he’s hired the household staff himself. He values your privacy, as well as his own, and also loves the ample amount of time being in the bedroom allows. I can also see him going as far as to have new locks made for your shared chambers, and you two would be the only ones with keys. He really doesn’t want to run the risk of your maids or Podrick walking in at an inopportune moment, even if they do knock it’s better safe than sorry.

However, I do think Tyrion also harbours a fantasy about taking you on his desk in the Hand’s Office someday. Whether or not this ever comes to fruition, at least he’s got something pleasant to think about during those long, redundant days.

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

I wouldn’t say it takes much to get Tyrion going. We all know he’s got an ample sex drive, and isn't the type to pass up a little love no matter the occasion. However for him, there's a couple of things you can do that really, really just push all the right buttons.

The first is watching you mouth off to someone. If you’re shyer or more softer spoken, don’t worry about it. Tyrion will always play your gallant knight and saviour. But if you’re the type of person who speaks their mind? Oh boy. There’s nothing Tyrion loves more than getting to bear witness to you giving some fool a well deserved tongue lashing. He’d watch the whole thing over the rim of his goblet, smirking with a particular twinkle in his eye.

When he first heard you call Joffery a “craven little pissant” he truly thought he might die from delight. Thankfully, that didn’t happen and Tyrion had enough sense to whisk you off before his nephew could react, something about “She’s not herself your majesty, women’s troubles and the like. I’m sure she has no idea what she’s saying”

Of course, instead of the scolding you thought was coming, Tyrion would pull you into the nearest alcove and kiss you until you were breathless. When he’s done he’d announce “You wonderful, mad woman. I’ve been wanting to do that since the little shit could talk, but PLEASE pick your fights more carefully or we’ll end up in matching gallows.”

After that, you’d have to see sense, at least where Joffrey is concerned. Anyone else though? Totally fair game, especially if they insult Tyrion. You’ve told off his sister more than once and even gone up against Tywin on his behalf. Naturally, the two of them would complain to Tyrion about “making his wife mind” but to that Tyrion would respond “I told her not to start fights, but she is more than welcome to finish them” most likely while he’s pulling you towards your bedchamber to finish things his own way lol The two of you are the snarkiest, sassiest couple in all of King’s Landing and mutual bitching is your favourite couple’s activity.

On the other side of the coin, being particularly soft or compassionate is the other way to get Tyrion’s attention. It doesn’t just have to be with him either. If you’re particularly gentle with Tommen and Myrcella or with any animal you come across or the small folk in the city, Tyrion is just going to melt. He can hardly believe he’s found someone who’s genuinely good hearted in this rotting shithole, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t grateful for you either. When he sees you being particularly sweet, his motivations are less “I am so turned on right now let me have you” and more “I love you so much, you are literal sunshine please let me show you how much you mean to me”

More than once, you’ve glanced up while playing with Myrcella and Tommen to find Tyrion watching you with an expression on his face you can’t quite read. If you’ve already given him a couple children, odds are tonight you’ll conceive another one. If you haven’t yet, your first is most likely coming along nine months after this.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tyrion’s pretty adventurous but even there’s a couple things he’s going to have boundaries about.

The first of these is any kind of impact play. If this is after what happened with Ros (Alayaya in the books) and Sansa’s own beating, Tyrion couldn’t bring himself to do it even with your consent. Hurting you would bring back too many unpleasant memories, and the world already thinks the worst of him. The implication that he beats his wife on top of everything else would be too much.

With that in mind, consensual non-consent is off the table, as well as any kind of sharing. The trauma about Tysha runs too deeply for that. Tyrion also is too insecure to share you with anyone else, even if he tries to play it off. Deep down, a part of him worries you’ll leave him for a better, taller man, so why run the risk by letting one into your bed?

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

Now, Tyrion isn’t the type to pass up getting his cock sucked but honestly? He prefers going down on you.

If the two of you are married and you were a virgin, Tyrion isn’t going to expect you to go down on him, especially if you’re of high birth. Unfortunately, in Westeros that act is usually associated with brothel girls and Tyrion wouldn’t want to demean you. But if you’re still offering after an extended period of time? Well, who’s he to say no when you ask so nicely.

Tyrion would be really sweet with you while you’re going down on him though. The last thing he wants is to make you feel pressured or like he’s manhandling you too much. Expect a lot of praise, him stroking your hair and face and begging you to look up at him so he can see your beautiful eyes. Use that last one with caution though because it’ll have him cumming in seconds.

When it’s your turn, Tyrion’s going to show just as much enthusiasm. This man eats pussy like it’s his goddamn job, and he will take it as a personal failure if you don’t have at least three orgasms while he’s down there. The only thing he loves more than a nice glass of Arbour red is the taste of you on his lips, if they could make that in a vintage he’d literally drink himself to death.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

So for Tyrion, this really depends on his partner and what they want because he can get what he needs from both.

I’ve mentioned this a couple times, but if you’re a virgin he’s going to go like molasses slow. I’m talking like hours of foreplay, getting you used to his mouth and fingers, making you’re absolutely relaxed and stretched out comfortably before he even thinks of introducing his cock into the mix.

If this isn’t your first rodeo though and you want something hard, fast, and even a little disrespectful? Tyrion’s happy to provide, he’s a man of many talents after all.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Again, Tyrion is versatile. Does he prefer to have these long extended love making sessions that go on for hours? Of course, especially if it’s in a romantic relationship. He wants that intimacy and time with you.

However, there are going to be some weeks where everyone is up his ass, Joffrey has managed to squander what little money the crown has again, some minor lords are picking fights over the tiniest slights imaginable, and the Black Brothers are asking him to produce more men from thin air to fill their ranks. All in a day’s work for Tyrion.

When things get like this, clearly he’s going to be super busy and strung out. So if all you have time for is a quick romp before bed or before he leaves in the morning? Not his favourite but he’d rather have that than nothing at all.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Tyrion’s down for a little risk now and again. It keeps things fresh and exciting for the two of you. Just so long as it doesn’t cross any of the boundaries set in N, he’ll try anything almost once.

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

Honestly? If you can keep up, Tyrion’s willing to go all night. His years of practice have given him an almost god like stamina, if you can outpace him he’s going to be pleasantly surprised because it hasn’t happened yet.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

So again, I don’t think toys are really a “thing” in Westeros, but someone with such a “diverse” palate as Tyrion will probably have a couple of surprises. However, this will probably be more kink type gear like blindfolds, ropes and maybe a gag somewhere. If you wanna use these things on yourself or him, he’s more than happy to oblige, but won’t be upset if you’re not interested either. He just wants you to be happy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease

Oh gods. Bring your patience and self control because this man is a MENACE.

Nowhere is safe from him either. The two of you could be in the fricking SEPT and he’d slip a note into your hymnal detailing all the filthy things he wants to do with you. Meanwhile he’s got his eye on the septon and the most placid expression, like he didn’t just commit you both to the Seven Hells via sacrilege He’s also not above getting handsy with you under the table while you’re having a meal with his family or in court. Like I said, nowhere is safe.

Revenge would be easy enough to get though. Just whisper something spicy in his ear and grab his trouser lacings right before he’s for a Small Council meeting. He’s going to be hot, bothered and ready to boil over for the next few hours and unable to focus on anything except the highlight reel his mind is playing of you. You’ll absolutely pay for it when he comes back to your rooms that night, but it’s also completely worth it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I'd say Tyrion makes about the average amount of noise for any man, you get moans and grunts, which get louder when he cums. The one thing that kind of stands out about him is he's maybe a little bit more talkative? Expect lots of dirty talk, compliments and cursing. The only way to truly shut him up is to put his mouth between your legs or on your tits lol.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think it's probably because Kings Landing as a city reeks so goddamn bad, but I can see Tyrion having a thing about you wearing perfume? It would most likely start on your wedding night when a nice perfume is tradition along with the wedding silks, and Tyrion enjoys the scent on your skin so much he makes it a habit to keep adding to your collection. You'd probably own quite a few exotic and rare bottles after you've been together a few years, Tyrion would have most likely sought them out from merchants from the Free Cities and the Summer Isles. Wearing them can have like an almost pheromone type effect on him, especially if they're scents you've worn exclusively during sex.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

So, I'm just going to go off how Tyrion's cock is described in the books. I figure he's about average size for most men, around 5 inches, so not as small as everyone likes to speculate about. Girth wise I wouldn't say he's too big, maybe a smidge wider than most but not enough that it's going to cause you pain. The most notable thing about his cock is the head, which darkens a fair bit in colour when he's hard and is exceptionally sensitive. He's also uncut bc I can't really see that being a thing in Westeros again unless you travel out to the Free Cities or Dorne.

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

How high you got? :P

Honestly, we know Tyrion is always down to clown. All you need to do is give your consent and he's raring to go. He's also a grown man, however, and has absolutely immaculate self control. Don't ever expect him to pressure or try and manipulate you into fulfilling his needs, your comfort comes first and foremost. He'll make do with his hand if needs must and won't make you feel the least bit guilty about it either.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

In the books/show, it's stated that Tyrion is pretty much an insomniac (same bro) so when you first get together it's pretty rare that he sleeps after sex. Instead, you can expect him to stay awake and cuddle you until you're asleep, and then he'll either read until dawn or shuffle off to his office to get some work done.

It's only when you start making an active effort to help him sleep that he'll be able to doze off next to you. The surefire way to get him to rest is by having his head on your chest or your lap and stroking his hair while you sing to him. It doesn't matter what, lullabies, ballads, tavern songs, he just likes the sound of your voice and the warmth of your skin against his.

He wouldn't tell you this, but Tysha would do the same thing for him back when she was around. He always managed to sleep fine for her, it was only after she left his life that his insomnia began. Maybe now that you're in his life, he can finally be well rested again.

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Swords and Winterfell

Part 3

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

It had been almost a week since Chezney and I had traveled to King's Landing. Jaime and I had only simply said a few words and shared silent glances with one another. So nothing really worthwhile in my opinion. Staring at the ceiling above me the sun had already risen and brought light into my chambers. "How am I supposed to act about all this? I didn't have a mother growing up." I mumbled to myself in thought.

Sitting upright on the edge of the bed I run my hands down my face remembering that Chezney's mother had taught me about most things that my mother would have but I still wasn't as confident as she always seemed. "Haelesa!" Hearing three knocks I sighed in relief.

"Chez, finally I have been here bored counting the tiles on the ceiling waiting for you." I sighed in an over dramatic tone flinging the chamber door open revealing my friend.

She quickly pushed the door shut and locked it. "Sorry this place is much more massive than Driftmark. I got lost a few times trying to find your room."

"Then let's go exploring." I responded instantly.

She flopped back on my bed with a confused expression. "Are you serious? Did you forget the part where I said I almost got lost getting here?"

"I've been trapped in a castle surrounded by the ocean my whole life. I don't intend to stay locked up here in a city like this one. I want to go explore and see what else is supposedly out there." Putting one hand on my hip I sent her a half smile.

Chezney didn't waste another moment getting up to her feet. "That settles it then."

"And if my so-called betrothed has a problem with it then he can come find us." I looped my arm through hers and we quickly left the room rushing down the hallway.

I was still wearing the same outfit that I arrived in but I had let my hair loose since the climate was much warmer than I had ever felt. And I would never wear uncomfortable heels unless someone forced it upon me. Chezney and I took a few wrong turns yet we did manage to find a doorway out of the castle. Placing one hand on the brick wall the wind blew my hair in my eyes until I brushed it behind my ear. There was an open fenced yard out in front of us. "Maybe we took another bad turn."

"Nah I don't think so...look swords." Chezney moved past me and picked up one of the blades that was laying on the dirt a few steps away from us.

Shrugging my shoulders I ran over to her taking the handle of the other one she held out for me in my own hands. "Ah you're right. This should be fun since neither of us are probably good at this."

"You're telling me you've never watched Antler train?" She asked me.

"No, have you?" I asked her back and she avoided my gaze meaning she was lying. I gasped, teasing her back. "Oh you have!"

Chezney grips her handle slightly swinging at me. "Shut up!"

"Ah!" I squeaked, raising my blade and heard our metal clash together meaning I blocked her hit. "Hey don't get defensive, it was a genuine question that you brought up."

She shakes her head. "Just because I have watched him train sometimes doesn't mean that I have feelings for him."

"Actually it kind of does mean exactly that, Chez." I smirked, spinning the blade in my hands trying to balance the new weight in each hand to get used to the new feeling.

Gaining a firm grip on the blade I made my first advance on my friend but she was somewhat ready for me. We both ran at each other and swung at the same time hitting the other's blade. We separated them quickly and I swung upward and she went downward hitting my blade again until we heard someone speak up and catch us off guard. "Ladies aren't supposed to be playing with swords from the lessons I was forced to sit through."

"Ser Jaime." Chezney stumbles dropping the sword and doing the best curtsey she could for him.

Yet I kept my fingers wrapped around the blade but lowered the tip of the weapon down into the dirt. My eyes focused on his letting uncomfortable silence fill the air and I didn't bother to address him like a lady should. "Jaime. I'm shocked you came looking for me. From the day I arrived you didn't seem to have much interest in getting to know me."

"Hmm you are right that I am not really concerned with the whole idea of marriage. But here we are since my father was very demanding of the king to release me from my guard title." Jaime moved away from the doorway we had came from reaching me until there was little gap between us.

Lifting my gaze upward he was slightly taller than me but I wouldn't let him know that I was worried about what he would do. "At least we are in agreement on not wanting this arrangement. Come on Chezney, let's keep practicing."

"Oh I don't think that's a good idea." My friend's demeanor completely changed around the oldest lion son.

Whipping my head around to her I scoffed. "Come on, Chez. You don't really think he is going to judge us when we are just having some fun."

"He's the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms, Haelesa." She trailed off.

Snorting out a laugh. "I'll see about that."

"Is that a challenge I'm hearing, Haelesa?" I sucked in a breath hearing Jaime's voice closer than I was expecting when I had put my back to him talking to my friend.

Slowly turning around on my boots, Jaime and I were almost pressed chest to chest now. "I wasn't calling a challenge with you, Lannister."

"That's not what I heard from you, Haelesa." He smirked smugly. "If you're not calling a challenge, let's still just see what you can do."

Jaime moved around me picking up the sword that my friend had dropped. Chezney parts her lips in shock watching me before I gasped, not sure I heard him correctly. "You're joking."

"Actually I'm not in the slightest. If you want jokes you should meet my little brother Tyrion." He responded holding the blade in his right hand.

Blinking a couple times I still remain where I was originally. "I'm not going to fight you, Jaime."

"As you said it's just for fun and I'll take it easy on you if you truly want to learn how to wield a blade." The Lannister lion smiled at me.

Chezney moved off to the side and nudged her head in the direction of Jaime telling me to go. Sucking in a breath I finally caved in wrapping my fingers around the blade a little tighter than a minute ago. "Okay I suppose we can practice a little." Stepping forward I take the first swing towards him thinking that this might not be as bad.

Yet Jaime only let me have confidence for a brief period of time where he swung at me and I ducked, dropping to my knees. Our swords hit one another but he pushed me into the dust. "Relax your dominant arm. If you use the same move all the time your opponent can learn which arm is the weakest."

I raise my sword trying to strike him but he lightly elbows me in my side to strike me from below. "So why did you really come out here for -uh!" I grunted out, pressing my sword against his. He pressed his sword against mine, never losing gaze with mine. His green eyes holding love with his face remaining the serious one he uses in battle. We never break the hold on each other as he finally answers my earlier question.

"The king has informed me that we are to ride North. He claims to be wanting to make Eddard Stark his new Hand of the King." He lowers his blade and takes a few steps backwards away from me.

Lowering my blade I tilted my head to the side. "Why would we need to ride North?"

"It's a command by the King, Lady Velaryon. You don't go against the royal family unless you wish to lose your head." He told me to slide the sword in the holder on his hip.

Chezney came over to my side where I slid the blade in the belt that was attached to the tunic I was wearing. "I suppose you're right."

"I'd suggest you ladies dress warmly." He responded.

Chezney looped her arm through mine once more about to leave. "Thanks for the advice, Ser."

"I assume that you'll be riding a horse with the men, Haelesa and not in the carriage." Yet he spoke up one more time, having us halt in our tracks one more time. Sending him a head nod I glanced over my shoulder and then Chezney and I went to pack some things for the second trip.

It took many long days ahead that I did spend in the carriage with the queen and her children until the guards had informed us we were near Winterfell. The next time we stopped Chezney followed me and Jaime on horseback not caring what looks his sister had given us for not acting like proper ladies. The wind ran through my hair and my nose ran a little stuffed up from the new sense of cold that surrounded us. Glancing out in front of me I came into a view of a large castle in front of us that had some torches burning around its entrance clearly to keep some warmth there. The royal family enters through the gate and I turned my gaze hearing King Robert struggle to get off his horde from how fat his stomach appears to be as he stops in front of the man I assumed was Lord of Winterfell. "Your Grace."

Robert eyed the man in front of him. "You've got fat....Cat!" The two men laughed before he embraced both him and his wife with red hair.

She greeted him once they broke the hug. "Your Grace."

"Nine years. Why haven't I seen you, Ned? Where the hell have you been?" Robert asked the man Ned who was clearly his friend.

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." The queen and her other children descend from the coach as the lord of Winterfell responds.

Chezney got assistance climbing down off her horse and I was about to do the same until I heard a young girl's voice. "Where's the Imp?"

"Will you shut up?" The girl that was older with hair that looked like her mother's snapped back.

Shaking my head I couldn't help but watch the whole scene before me. The king began going down the line first stopping at the oldest boy who appeared to have dark curly auburn hair and the same eyes of his mother. "Who have we here? You must be Robb." He shook hands with the king and then glanced my way making me look the opposite direction.

Next the king went to the two girls. The one all dressed properly like her mother smiled. "My, you're a pretty one...Your name is?"

"Arya.' Said the young girl who looked to be rather uncomfortable in the dress she wore and honestly I could relate with her.

The king went to one of the young Stark boys who showed his muscle to him. "Ooh. Show us your muscles. You'll be a soldier."

"That's Jaime Lannister. The queen's twin brother." Whipping my head back around at Jaime he removed his helmet tossing around the blonde hair and dismounted his horse.

The oldest Stark girl grumbled to her sister once more with the queen approaching the family. "Would you please shut up."

The king spoke to Eddard. "Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects."

The queen sighed clearly tired. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." But the king led Ned off and ignored her sentence altogether.

Arya looks around before everyone starts breaking off in different directions. "Where's the Imp?"

Jaime had left after talking with Cersei leaving me and Chezney on our own. Running my hands over my horse he made a quiet nose where I attempted to get off the horse without any help. Yet my boot got caught in one of the foot straps where I screamed gripping the saddle thinking that I'm gonna hit the dirt. "Agh!...huh." I felt strong arms that couldn't belong to my best friend hold me up when my boot fell from the strap and my body was pressed against the front of whoever it was.

"It's a good thing my mother sent me over here to help you otherwise you would have had a nasty fall, my lady." I recognized the voice of the young Robb Stark who helps me to my feet and doesn't remove his hands until I'm stable on the ground.

Turning around to face the Northern boy I smiled getting a better look at him. His eyes were bright and I could see the curls better now. To my surprise I found him more attractive then Jaime which I could only assume was because Robb was near my age of seven and ten. "Thank you for catching me, my lord. I must sadly admit this is my first time on a horse."

"It's quite alright you'll get used to it in time. And please my father is Lord of Winterfell so I'd ask you'd just call me Robb, my lady." He suggested staring down at me but he wasn't nearly as tall as Jaime was.

Shaking my head, I corrected the wolf boy. "I'd prefer if you'd call me Haelesa, Robb. We're not in fancy lessons at the moment." Running a hand down my tunic I changed into some thicker pants and stole one of the Lannister red cloaks over my shoulders for warmth. Chezney was wearing a simple ocean blue dress, some brown winter boots, and a yellow fur cloak and her brown hair put up in a messy bun.

"It's nice to meet you, Haelesa." He greeted me with a cheeky smile.

Chezney came over to us and extended her hand to him in excitement. "Hi Robb, I'm Chezney. Her best friend and lady in waiting."

"It's nice to meet you both." Robb shook her hand firmly gesturing his head back in the direction of the castle offering me his arm. I looped my arm through his and Chezney followed him on his other side. "Come, I'll personally show you Winterfell." I sent him a smile, already feeling better about being around the young wolf than the oldest lion.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[bellarkeselection]

I was woundering if could do a tyrion lannister short were there just newly wed and y/n bother is makeing a Speech about how his y/n is a trader to the family for agreeing to marry Tyrion

Could you also use this gif

Traitor to the Stark’s

Staring at myself in the mirror I brushed my hands over my dress I was so nervous. I was even more nervous than I was the day of my arranged marriage a few months ago. The chamber door opened and my husband Tyrion came in seeing that I hadn’t moved when he came to check on me once he was ready. “Y/n, my darling wife is everything okay?”

“I’m more nervous than I ever been in my whole life. Tyrion, I know I shouldn’t be since we are back in my childhood home. But…everything feels different now.” Running my hands through my straight hair I sighed heavily.

Tyrion moved away from the door taking my hands in his meeting my gaze when I was looking down at him. “You have absolutely nothing to fear dear wife. For it is I who should be more worried than you. Since this is the first time I shall be presented as your husband.”

“Tyrion, you have only ever been so kind and gentle to me. If my parents can’t see past the Lannister name then they are fools. I’ll be there for you.” Squeezing his hand in mine he let me lead him through the hallway since I knew the castle better than he did even though I hadn’t been there in a few months. We entered the great hall seeing my mother and father Lord and Lady Stark waiting with my twin brother Robb watching to,learn the duties if a Lord one day.

My father got to his feet bowing to greet us both with a smile on his face seeing me again. “Lord Tyrion, Lady Y/n, it’s so good to have you in our home as honorable guests.”

“As you it is you father - uh I mean Lord Stark.” I corrected myself blushing at the mistake I had made calling him something other than the Lord of Winterfell.

Tyrion nodded towards my mother even though she wasn’t quite as warmed up to him after what happened to Bran. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Lady Stark. I know my darling wife has missed you both dearly.”

“I’m shocked she even remembers who we are. Considering she’s been transformed into a Lannister in the short mouths away from her former family. You can’t even recognize that she used to be a Stark with the way she dresses and she doesn’t even carry her dagger on her hip like she used to. I’d say she’s a traitor to the Stark name!” My twin brother got his feet snapping sharply at me.

Sucking in a breath I felt some tears falling down my face at his words thinking that he might be right. “Robb, I…I’m still your sister.”

“You may share my blood but you’re not even acting like your old self. You weren’t always proper and here you are in a dress rather than trousers and a tunic. I know my sister and you’re not acting like her right now!” He raised his voice stepping in from of me growling through his teeth.

Our mother finally came forward yanking him away for our father to talk alone with him. “Robb that’s quite enough. I’m so sorry Lord Tyrion. We will continue this visit later.” She walked out of the room to find my father and brother leaving us alone where it was just me and Tyrion.

“Y/n, Y/n, look at me. Please look at me.” Tyrion pulled me from my trance of tears and just watching the door that had already shut in my face. Seeing that I was crying through some tears and clutching my hands into fists at my side.

Shaking my head I cleared my throat yanking my head down to stare at him in those soft green eyes. “Yes Tyrion, what were you saying?”

“I said it’s not your fault that you’re brother looks at you differently. You were forced into a marriage with me but I thought I was doing a good job and letting you remain to be the girl I met that day I said our vows to the gods.” He dropped his gaze to the floor with a weak smile feeling like he had failed somehow.

Dropping to my knees so I could be eye level with him I didn’t care what happened to the now stained red Lannister dress. “Tyrion, don’t think for a moment that you have been a bad husband to me. I have heard the horror stories of girls my age marrying brutal men who are rough, who are old men like Walter Frey or who only spend time with their wives to put a heir in their belly. But you are none of these things.” Placing my hands on his shoulders he finally looks me in the eye.

“Thank you, Y/n my dear wolf. Even if your brother won’t see it. You will always be a Stark first and foremost before you were a Lannister.” Tyrion sent me a smile resting his hands on my face leaning down giving me a gentle kiss.

Kissing him back I squeezed his shoulders smiling into our soft kiss. “You will always be the best husband that I could have asked for, Tyrion.” We would be there for each other even if our families weren’t friends.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[justsomerandomfanfic]

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[feyhunter78]

Chapter Three - Your father has taken notice of your blossoming interest in a certain dark-haired northerner.

Ch 4

“The boy is looking at you again.” Your father drawls, moving his elephant across the cyvasse board with disinterest.

You take a sip of your wine and hum in response, moving one of your trebuchets forward.

He clicks his tongue. “Bad move, little lion, that leaves me free to attack your king.”

You glance at the board and curse internally; you have been far too distracted by Jon’s barely subtle stares to properly play the game. “Perhaps I am simply letting you win, you are getting older, Father, it is only the kind thing to do.”

Your father raises an eyebrow and delivers his final move. “Ah yes, it is kindness that distracts you, not the strapping lad who seems he will burst into flames if he does not look at you every three seconds.”

You glance over at Jon, who swiftly turns his attention back to Arya, correcting her stance out in the training yard, the ground freshly cleared of snow.

You and your father have taken a seat on one of the benches within one of the entrances to the guest chambers that spills out into the yard. It’s the perfect mixture between the warmth inside and the crisp morning air outside.

“I have not the faintest idea what you speak of.” You say, popping a grape into your mouth and chewing slowly, trying to hide your smile from your father.

He sighs and shakes his head. “All those years spent teaching you to mask your emotions, to have the perfect expression that never reveals anything, gone with the simple presence of a dark-haired northern boy who does naught by train and brood.”

“He reads as well.” You say, unable to stop yourself from defending Jon.

“Oh, does he now? Someone send word to the Grand Maester, we have found his newest acolyte.” He snorts, taking a drink from his glass.

You wrinkle your nose in response. “You are quite humorous, Father, truly you could put the court fool out of a job.”

He sets his wine down and heaves a heavy sigh. “You know I only ever wish for your happiness.”

“Yes, it is why you are my favorite father in the whole continent.” You smile teasingly, pulling your cloak closer around you as the wind picks up.

“But he is a bastard—”

“You said all dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes, and yet you are still a man worth respect and titles.” You cut in, surprising even yourself with your outburst.

“Y/N.” Your father says sternly, laying his hands flat on the table.

You duck your head. “Sorry, Father.”

“He is a bastard, he cannot be your husband. A lover, or a guard, yes, but not a husband. If we were not Lannisters, if our house was not as it was, then perhaps it would be allowed. Gods know I do not wish to force you into a marriage you despise, but you are still a lady, still have the potential to win over great victories for our family.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning his words over in your mind. “Are you suggesting I proposition him, like Queen Rhaenyra did Ser Criston Cole?”

“I am not suggesting anything, I do not wish to think of my only daughter as a lady grown, but if you must follow Queen Rhaenyra’s footsteps…perhaps it is a Lord Harwin Strong you should seek instead.” His tone is careful, teetering the line between fatherly advice and the words of a Lannister.

You toy with the edges of your cloak. “Jon cares much for his honor, it would be shameful to even ask him such a thing.”

Your father’s hand covers your own. “That bleeding heart of yours, it comes straight from your mother.”

You smile. “And you, as well, do not downplay your kindness. An unkind father would have shipped me off to the richest man who asked for my hand the moment I first bled.”

He shivers in disgust at the thought.

Your eyes drift over to Jon and Arya, the latter who has been distracted by the appearance of Sansa and Joffrey.

“Perhaps a guard then, you could do worse than a guard you have grown alongside, it breeds loyalty.” Your father muses, watching how Jon shifts to put himself between Arya and Joffrey.

You cringe when Joffrey challenges Jon to a playful duel, ignoring your father’s words. “This will not go well.”

“Perhaps it will be good for your cousin’s ego to be beaten into the ground by someone he deems below him.”

You meet your father’s eyes and you both burst into laughter.

“Y/N, Uncle, stop laughing and come, all must witness this display of skill.” Joffrey calls, beckoning you both over.

“I cannot, Nephew, I must meet with your Uncle Jaime.” Your father calls back, hopping down from the bench.

“Father.” You hiss, silently begging him not to leave you with Joffrey.

He pats your hand. “You will be fine, stiff upper lip, little lion, remember?”

You groan and pout at him, but he shoos you forward.

Sansa crushes your hand as you watch Jon and Jeffrey spar, it’s clear Jon is holding back, you’ve seen him training, he puts more effort into hitting the dummies than he does attempt to hit Joffrey.

“Should you not cheer for your cousin?” Sansa asks.

The thought has never crossed your mind, and now it makes your stomach turn. “I would not want to break his concentration.” You say gracefully, trying to keep your eyes on the clashing swords and not Jon.

“Who cares?” Arya cheers, “Go Jon, knock him flat.”

Jon flashes her a smile, one born of confidence and the rush of near victory, and your heart skips a beat. For a moment, you can imagine him competing in a tourney. His polished armor flashing in the sun, ripping his helmet off and letting it fall to the ground, his curls set free as he directs that smile towards you, the crown of roses in his hand naming you his Queen of Love and Beauty.

“Good work, My Prince, hit him hard.” Sansa cheers in direct opposition of her sister.

Joffrey turns towards Sansa, basking in her praise. A fatal mistake, his distraction allows Jon to knock him to the ground.

The action rips a gasp from you, not many aside from your Uncle Jaime would dare to knock Joffrey off his feet.

Your cousin lies there stunned, then he darts up, sputtering, his face turning red as he hurls insults at Jon, before storming off, Sansa jumping up to follow after him.

You catch her arm. “Lady Sansa, I would leave him to his solitude, my cousin is not fond of sharing in his embarrassment.”

Sansa looks as if she wishes to argue, but relents and turns to scold Arya for her cheering.

Jon’s gaze falls upon you, he hasn’t even broken a sweat, his eyes the color of a winter storm in the sunlight.

Perhaps a guard then. Your father’s words echo in your mind. You didn’t need to follow in Queen Rhaenyra’s footsteps, you could follow in Queen Alicent’s. Your maester had spoken of the pure and courtly bond between her and Ser Criston Cole when you were young, and you had been enraptured by the devotion Ser Cole had to his queen.

“Well done, Lord Jon.” You say, giving him a smile and a slight nod of your head as you take a step forward, then another until you are standing before him. Then you lean in, “though I would not have protested if you bruised his jaw when you knocked him flat.”

A slight smile tugs at Jon’s lips, and your eyes dart down to them.

He sucks in a breath, then takes a step back, putting more space between you, an overly appropriate amount of space. “Thank you, Lady Lannister.”

“Y/N, or if we must use titles, Lady y/n.”

Jon swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his pale throat. He has a nice throat, well-formed, pale with a smattering of dark stubble where it meets his chin. He must be freshly shaved, there’s a slight nick near his right ear.

You must get a hold of yourself, a nice throat? Y/N, you are shameful. You chastise yourself internally, tearing your eyes from him.

“As you wish, Lady y/n.” He whispers, his voice nearly stolen by the wind.

Jon TL: @mostclevermiss