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19 January 2012 @ 02:02 am
so after the success of the ficathon, i thought why not spice things up with a kink meme? ;] 

all characters must be from the white walkers verse
leave a pairing in the comments below, along with an accompanying kink - eg, theon/robb, first time, jaime/cersei, bondage
- KINK ONLY, we have the ficathon for regular prompts and it's still active :D
- graphics and fanart is also accepted


the ricky the bartender fanatic.vorrothiel on January 19th, 2012 02:04 am (UTC)
Sansa/Theon, it's fucking Robb by proxy
leah rebecca: Theon Greyjoybloodofpyke on January 19th, 2012 06:17 am (UTC)
Her gasps are coming quick and breathy, and he just wants to gag her.

They’re upstairs, in Sansa’s room, the frilly girly stuff threatening to sober Theon up, while the rest of the Starks toast to their honor and winter or something, he doesn’t know, he hadn’t been listening.

She had been virgin, Theon knew, or near enough, but she would never admit to it. Too busy trying to impress me. Theon would have laughed if his mouth weren’t so busy.

Sansa hitched her legs around Theon, breathing an “oh” down the back of his neck, fingers scrambling to find traction. He slid his hands down her back, skimming down to her ass, hiking her up, closer to him. He bent his head, tongue flicking across a nipple, grinning in anticipation of her response (Theon liked to fancy himself something of an expert in this area). He wasn’t disappointed; Sansa arched her back, moving her tit into Theon’s mouth, shivering against his grip.

Her heart beat against Theon, and he cringed slightly from the closeness of it.

Theon kissed his way back up to her mouth, biting down on her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. The droplet stood there for a moment, a startling red, before Theon bent his head and carried on. His tongue dipped into her mouth while his hands guided her hips (yeah, definitely a virgin), urging her faster, urging himself deeper.

Sansa knotted her fingers in his hair, eyes locked on Theon’s, breath catching. “Oh Theon,” she whispered, eyes round as saucers, lips swollen, make-up smeared.

He finished a few moments after, hands balling into fists behind her back to keep from breathing another’s name. They lay there, entangled in the sheets, in each other, until Theon said, “Well, guess we’d better get downstairs, then. They’ll be wondering where you’d gone pretty soon.” He doesn’t fool himself into thinking anyone else would care where he’d been.

Theon watched her rummage through the mess on the floor for her clothes, shimmying back into her dress, fixing her make-up. It almost counts, doesn’t it? Cut the hair, get rid of the tits and cunt, and she could be him. He pushed himself out of the bed, grinning wolfishly at the Stark girl, kissing the side of her neck, hands reaching for her, running down her sides. He kept his eyes closed this time.
(no subject) - betsyisawesome on January 19th, 2012 11:29 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - vorrothiel on January 20th, 2012 12:30 am (UTC) (Expand)
mockyrfearsmockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:05 am (UTC)
dalla/mance, sex toys
mockyrfearsmockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:06 am (UTC)
rhaegar/jon c., blowjobs in public
Shothe_stark_words on January 19th, 2012 02:16 am (UTC)
the pretenders
These icy, haunted streets are good for little, anymore.

The haunted alleys, public once, are slowly freezing over, turning white over the wreckage, red, beneath, like insides spilled across the pavement. Their shows crush ice into stains made of exactly that.

Beneath a grey sky, there's little left for anybody but pretenders, which is what most people call the 'hopers' now. And that's what they do— pretend, not hope —with their hands knotted in each other's hair and their eyes pressed shut, icicles desperate to form on their steamy faces like fresh corpses but still barely held at bay.

Jon groans, anxiously, with words of hurry hurry faster yes like speed is all that matters, like Rhaegar's mouth taking him in is a respite from something easy like work and laughter and people and talk, and that around the corner there's someone waiting for them both. That there's something left besides pretending in the white and winding corridors of the night.

'Yes,' he hisses, silver strands coming away in his hands and falling to the ground. 'Yes, exactly there,' and when his orgasm comes rushing in, loud and furious, Jon can almost pretend that it's the sound of the crowded street, and that when he opens his eyes, it won't just be Rhaegar staring up with gaunt cheeks and wet lips and the glassy eyes of a pretender.
Re: the pretenders - mockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:20 am (UTC) (Expand)
the ricky the bartender fanatic.vorrothiel on January 19th, 2012 02:07 am (UTC)
Renly/Loras, they found love in an office space
unavalible: Geth and Finnunavalible on January 20th, 2012 03:36 am (UTC)
Sex On a Desk Pt. 1
“You’re going to be in so much shit if he finds out.”

“He won’t find out. Now get up on it.”

Loras had no idea why he did this—why he amused Renly with such asinine ideas that could very well end up with both of them getting killed. Or horribly maimed in an ‘accident’ that everyone knew wasn’t really one, but it wasn’t as if Stannis could just outright attack them in public. He’d hire someone to break their limbs and toss them in a trash compactor. Or maybe he’d dunk their feet in cement and toss them into the river Thames—feed them to the bottom feeders—like in those old gangster films. Either way, what they were doing was going to get them in so much shit, that some of the fun behind it was lost as he jumped up on to the desk of none other than Stannis Baratheon, resting his half naked arse on the expensive cherry wood with its perfect polish and its perfect wood grain patterns, almost knocking over a photograph of his wife in the process.

“If he finds out you’re the one responsible,” Loras murmured as Renly stood between his legs, a cheeky grin on his face as he wrapped his hand around Loras’ cock and began stroking. Biting his bottom lip, he jerked his hips upwards, the heat of Renly’s palm and the glide of his foreskin against the head of his prick already making him hard.

“He won’t because we’ll clean up. Although it’d be funny if he came back to see your arse print on the wood—“ Loras shut him up by bringing him down for a heated kiss, hand grasping the back of his neck in a tight hold as Renly continued to jerk him. Opening his mouth, Loras let Renly take over, their tongues sliding together as he slowly moved back on the desk, Renly moving down with him. If he kept his eyes closed and his legs wrapped around his lover’s waist, so close and warm and solid, Loras could delude himself into believing that they were in Renly’s office, far from danger and strife. That what they were doing would not get them killed or maimed, and where his family would not think back and say ‘Oh Loras—if only you hadn’t had sex on your boyfriend’s brother’s desk, you’d still be here with us! Alive and well! Not stuffed in a trash compactor!’

The lurch of the desk caused them both to freeze, and Renly stayed poised above Loras, one leg on the desk while the other stayed on the floor. Eyes wide and brows raised, they both waited to see if the desk would settle before it let out another loud, disapproving groan. “I think the soul of Stannis has manifested itself in his desk,” Loras whispered, causing Renly to let out a loud snort, followed by a few girlish giggles.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Renly said as he got off of Loras. The desk was made for the weight of only one man, it seemed. Although the fact that Renly was pulling away made Loras frustrated, his cock bouncing as it stayed erect and free from the confines of his boxers. Loras hadn’t been opposed to sex—since when had he ever refused a go with his boyfriend?—but he’d been nervous about doing it in Stannis office. Now that Renly was agreeing with his previous trepidation, he couldn’t help but visibly pout.

“Don’t just leave me like this,” Loras practically wined as Renly was grabbing Stannis’ large, black leather office chair and pulled it close.

“I’m not stopping, just going about it a different way,” he replied, moving to kiss Loras again, quick but heated, before sitting in the chair and scooting forward. Grabbing Loras’ hips, Renly tugged him to the edge of the desk and placed his feet on either armchair, smiling happily to himself as he gazed at Loras’ erect cock, the pink head already leaking precum.

Sitting up, Loras wondered if Renly was ever going to stop staring at his prick like it was the Holy Grail, before he moved forward and wrapped his full lips around the head. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, Loras bit down on his fist as Renly’s tongue swirled around the head, hot and wet as it collected the precum, the smallest of moans breaking forth around it as Renly worked him. Running his hand through his lover’s hair, Loras watched, trying not to thrust up and into his mouth as Renly, very carefully and meticulously, worked the tip of his prick. Even with a dick in his mouth Renly almost seemed to be grinning, obviously amused.


Re: Sex On a Desk Pt. 2 - unavalible on January 20th, 2012 03:36 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Sex On a Desk Pt. 2 - vorrothiel on January 20th, 2012 03:43 am (UTC) (Expand)
mockyrfearsmockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:07 am (UTC)
ygriette/jon snow, TAKING JON'S VIRGINITY (let's face it, she so did)
hear me roar: Stock --> b&w with a smilemagisterequitum on January 19th, 2012 02:34 am (UTC)
let me show you how it's done (Jon/Ygritte, R)
"You've never done this before have you?"

She doesn't say it to be mean or cruel or mocking. It's just a fact that she figures out. She'd bet the pound note in her back pocket that he's never fucked someone.

He, Jon, licks his lips, a stain of red flushing his cheeks. It's cute. "Is it that obvious?" He looks young in the dim light of her bedroom, the only glow coming from the corner lamp she'd remembered to leave on.

Ygritte grins, shrugging her shoulders. "Just a little." She steps forward, kicking off her flats, and kisses him, biting on his bottom lip and then soothing it with her lip. He tastes of the ale they'd had at the pub. Pulling back, she gives him a little push, catching him off guard and sending him on his back to her bed. Her eyes on his she pulls her shirt over her head, liking the way his eyes dip to her bra, black dark against her pale skin and red hair that falls around her shoulders.

She raises an eyebrow, hands on the snap of her jeans. "Go on. You must know you at least have to be somewhat naked."

He rises to her teasing, shucking his clothes as well. His boots near a book of hers, shirt on her desk chair, pants on top of her bra.

Ygritte slides into his lap, and he's warm skin against her, her nipples brushing against the small amount of hair on his chest. It's a pleasant sensation, the slight roughness. She kisses him again, more forceful.

He returns with equal pressure from his own lips, hands sliding down so one rests on the curve of her waist and the other fits between their bodies to touch the side of her breast.

A virgin, but one with some instincts, she thinks.

She rocks against him, moving her hips in small jerky circles, his prick rubbing against her cunt. Her hand grips the base of his neck, hard, and his mouth opens for her tongue.

Jon's breath hitches, and he's hard against her.

She's wet enough, aroused and impatient, unwilling for any more teasing and waiting. By the spasm of his hand on her waist and the pinch to her nipple, she doesn't think he wants to wait either. Time enough for that in round two; maybe she'll suck him off and teach him how to go down on her.

She takes him in hand, thumbing the head of his cock, smirking when that drags a moan from his lips as he jerks away from her mouth. It's easy enough to sink down onto him, take him inside her, and she sighs at the sensation.

Jon's eyes are wide as she rides him in the darkness of her flat's bedroom. His hands fumble, falling from her breast to both of them around her hips.

He comes before she does, not really needing much, an unfortunate thing. Embarrassed, he looks at her, saying, "Sorry."

Ygritte slides a hand between them and takes her clit between two fingers. Under his startled gaze and the heady knowledge of having been his first, and her fingers, she reaches her own release.

She smiles and kisses him, her own wet fingers, mixed with both of their releases, on the curve of his jaw. "No worries," she promises. "You can make it up to me."
Re: let me show you how it's done (Jon/Ygritte, R) - mockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:38 am (UTC) (Expand)
mockyrfearsmockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:07 am (UTC)
hear me roar: Game of Thrones --> king in the northmagisterequitum on January 19th, 2012 01:40 pm (UTC)
time enough to be selfish (Robb/Theon, R)
It's not supposed to be like this.

Meaning, this isn't how Theon wanted it to go. He'd barely even let himself fully imagine what it would be like to have Robb, to sink into the tightness of his body and feel him around him like this, but when he did it'd been late night thoughts that definitely imagined more than a quick fuck at the end of the world. His private fantasies and thoughts had always been more, and never just Robb letting him have him because of where they were, the Hell they were now living with; but even then, Theon can't bring himself much to care.

Goddammit, he's greedy and selfish enough to admit that if this is what he can have, then he's taking it.

Theon thrusts forward, and Robb jerks forward against the table. They're in an abandoned shop, what might have once been a restaurant judging by the lingering smells of oil even over the scent of decay that now made the entire area of London smell like death and shit.

He snarls when Robb whines and pushes backwards against him. He's not some fucking charity case for Robb Stark's goddamn feelings of honor and giving. Angry now, he drives forward, thrusting his dick into his friend, knowing that its much more than the two fingers he'd used to open Robb up with only spit earlier.

It must hurt, Theon thinks, and good. Let him hurt like he hurts. Like he did when he left him and went off and fucked that bitch-wife of his, and left him to find out about his mother alone. Good.

He grabs Robb's head with one hand, curls his fingers tight in the auburn curls there and yanks, a punishing hold that delivers more of those noises from swollen lips.

Robb's mumbling something, but Theon doesn't care. Or can't hear. Both, and he ignores it in favor of the slick sounds of their bodies moving against one another in an easy rhythm of push and pull. The way Theon's fucking him he knows that Robb's cock must be grinding against the table, and if he was more charitable or less angry he might find it in him to reach around and give him some more friction. He's not a bloody Stark though.

It doesn't matter. Robb comes from the table alone, and maybe from the thought of Theon fucking him. He doesn't know, and he won't let himself go down that thought.

Theon snaps his hips forward, hand in those red curls, and bows his body so he's laying against Robb's back. He pants through his release, blows puffs of air against his friend's neck. "Robb, Robb."

Robb says nothing.

Fuck, Theon thinks, and he shivers, his whole body shaking for one long moment.

Then, a hand that reaches up and pats the hand on Robb's head, fingers clumsily moving.

It takes Theon a minute to realize Robb's not trying to get rid of him, but trying to stroke his hand.

He exhales again, "Robb." and doesn't move his face from Robb's neck. They can spare a few minutes for this; and he's oh so greedy.
Re: time enough to be selfish (Robb/Theon, R) - miawkitten on January 19th, 2012 04:27 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: time enough to be selfish (Robb/Theon, R) - mockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 06:49 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: time enough to be selfish (Robb/Theon, R) - bloodofpyke on January 19th, 2012 09:09 pm (UTC) (Expand)
mockyrfearsmockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:08 am (UTC)
petyr b./sansa stark, office sex
I like you first and second and third.miawkitten on January 19th, 2012 02:53 am (UTC)
sound of a gun

They're locked inside the office, dead flesh pounding at the door, mindless shrieks echoing from the hallway, their guns still tightly pressed in their hands when he pins her to the wall. She doesn't struggle, not even when he locks her wrists firmly in his grip, his mouth hungrily attacking her own. Her legs wrap around his body easily and he lifts her up as though she weighs nothing, his shoulders simply moving and bringing her to his height.

There's a rawness in their kiss - is it a kiss or are they just trying to drink each other up - that makes her feel a little more alive and the blood in her veins seems to be pumping loudly as though compensating for every time it froze when she saw one of the undead. She has to gasp for air soon and it's then when he lowers himself to her neck, biting and licking and no longer treating like a girl. His hands - freeing her, letting her own run through his hair, pulling and taking - find themselves under her shirt and they're cold against her ribcage, against her breasts but it's good, it's so good to feel that. It's a frenzied shaking of her fingers that undoes the belt of his trousers and she allows herself a sly grin at how hard he is. For an awkward moment she fumbles with her own zip but he distracts her again, his teeth leaving bitemarks on her earlobe and he picks her up again when the goosebumps are running down her thighs and she's crying for release.

There's nothing on his desk to throw to the floor - at least we're spared that cliche she thinks and then doesn't - but the wood feels good against her back and she arches it anyway as soon as she feels him thrust inside her. The rhythm they settle in makes them pant in unison and she finally ignores the yells outside because they're nothing more than background noise. His sweaty forehead is pressed to hers and he spares her a grin, the grin he's only ever kept for her. She moans in reply, crushing her teeth to his lips, drinking in more blood, feeling alive, alive as she's ever felt.

It's only when he's rolled off her and they share the hard surface of the desk that she realises neither of them had let go of the guns.
(no subject) - mockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 03:25 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - bloodofpyke on January 19th, 2012 03:27 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - archaicisms on January 19th, 2012 03:38 am (UTC) (Expand)
mockyrfearsmockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:09 am (UTC)
jeyne/ygriette, cunninglus~
I like you first and second and third.miawkitten on January 21st, 2012 12:39 am (UTC)
raise me up

“Worst one?”

Absolute worst one.”

Jeyne takes a moment to think, playing with the empty shot glass on the bar, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her mind’s a little fuzzy, truth be told, after polishing off half a tequila bottle but it comes to her in the end. She puts on her best impression of a male voice.

“Can I stare at you from up close instead of across the room?” Ygritte shrieks and throws her head back in laughter and Jeyne smiles, appreciating the fact that she’s the source of amusement. She lets Ygritte fill her glass again and winces only a little at the burning sensation in her throat. “What about you? Worst pick up line ever. Go on.”

Ygritte gives her a toothy grin, not missing a beat. “Only because every single man on earth has said this to me. Does the carpet match the drapes?”

Jeyne fights to control the fit of giggles. “Even Jon?”

Ygritte bites her lip. “Well, OK, not Jon. But he’s Jon, he doesn’t count.”

Feeling a little brave - or maybe it’s the tequila finally getting to her - Jeyne leans her on her palm and asks. “So does it?”

“Does it what?”

“Does it match the drapes?”

Ygritte’s grin widens. “Are you hitting on me, Ms Westerling?”

Yes, the tequila has definitely gone to my head. “I think I am.” It surprises both of them that it’s Jeyne who takes Ygritte’s hand and leads the way but they’re a little drunk and inhibitions have been swept away and if Jeyne’s being honest with herself, the thought has lingered in the back of her mind for a while.

They fumble a little at first, awkwardly pressing kisses on each other’s lips but she enjoys the taste of Ygritte’s lipstick on her tongue. The bathroom is mercifully empty and the redhead clicks the lock with the same grin, her hands snaking around Jeyne and lifting her to sit on the sink. Jeyne frowns. “But I…”

“Shh,” Ygritte presses a finger to her mouth and winks. “I like to keep my secrets.” Jeyne’s first reaction is to gasp when she feels a wet tongue between her thighs, slowly snaking up. Her fingers grip the edge of the marble and she bites the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her voice down. She’s panting heavily, her breath hitching as Ygritte’s tongue moves in circles, too knowingly to have never done this before. But Jeyne doesn’t have time to dwell on it before her knuckles turn white and Ygritte is standing up, smacking her lips in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Something tells me Robb is about as good as Jon at that.”

Jeyne thinks it’s best not to answer.
(no subject) - mockyrfears on January 21st, 2012 12:49 am (UTC) (Expand)
(no subject) - ghostinsweats on January 21st, 2012 03:15 am (UTC) (Expand)
the ricky the bartender fanatic.vorrothiel on January 19th, 2012 02:09 am (UTC)
Margaery/Nymeria, gimme more
mockyrfearsmockyrfears on January 19th, 2012 02:10 am (UTC)
jaime/cersei OVER JOFF'S DEAD BODY
she's a salty little pissernorthernqueens on January 19th, 2012 02:10 am (UTC)
Theon/Ygritte, because redheads and assholes are kind of A Thing, and Ygritte's a better shot than he is and obvs that means they should fuck idek someone stop me
the ricky the bartender fanatic.vorrothiel on January 19th, 2012 02:11 am (UTC)

In the middle of coughpenetrationcough, Joff is surprised when she takes a chunk out of his throat.
the ricky the bartender fanatic.vorrothiel on January 23rd, 2012 03:22 am (UTC)
uhhh…just filing my own prompt here. this one is going to be short

Joff has the girl lying on the gurney, thrusting and grunting into her. She was a pretty thing that he pulled out of the security line, promising her safety if she came with him. Joff threw out his name, his mother’s position, his famous dead father – anything to let her bypass the security checkpoints. She’s pretty tight too and makes little moans and groans the harder he thrusts. But she stopped meeting his hips moments ago and Joff’s getting bored.

The girl seems to stir a bit, moaning more deeply than she had before. Good, she should be getting wetter then, digging his nails into her thighs. The girl rises, sitting up before him. She has a brilliant eye color – bright blue – why didn’t I notice that before?

The girl leans into his neck, sniffing. Then, she crunches down hard and Joff screams. He tries to push her away but her jaws are locked tight and his neck soon becomes slick with blood. He stumbles backward, landing hard on the floor. She continues biting his neck, devouring his blood and skin and muscle. Joff can only try to push her away feebly. Soon, he can’t feel the red hot blood gushing down his neck and chest anymore.
clashofqueensclashofqueens on January 19th, 2012 02:11 am (UTC)
dacey/dany - princess and the farmgirl role play. THINK PRINCESS BRIDE.
clashofqueensclashofqueens on January 19th, 2012 02:12 am (UTC)
jorah/lynesse - old habits are hard to break
the ricky the bartender fanatic.vorrothiel on January 19th, 2012 02:13 am (UTC)
Renly/Loras, peaches & whipped cream food play