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- Joined
- Feb 14, 2017
Hi there! I’m a huge fan of A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin (and by extension, Game of Thrones). The prompts that follow are more closely tied to the books than the show
Kissed by Fire: A Romance Beyond the Wall
Among the Free Folk, there are few taboos. Any man or woman may do as they wish, so long as they make no man their slave. A man eats what he wants, sleeps where he wants and can go wherever he wishes… And if a man wants a wife, he must simply steal her away in the night...
I don’t know you. You were from the next village over, and I’d never wandered too far save for the occasional hunting trip with my father. You passed through the village every now and then, acting as a guard for a trader’s cart, carrying furs and food between our two settlements. It’s during one of these excursions that you first noticed me.
I was a small thing, a fact that had always worried my father when I’d been growing up. The smaller boys rarely lasted through childhood, but as it happened, I had enough fight in me to grow into a man… Of sorts. My height had peaked at 5’3”, and although I was approaching my 20th nameday not a single hair had grown on my cheeks. My figure also left a lot to be desired: instead of the broad, strong build that made for the best hunters and raiders, I was lithe and thin, with the exception of my hips, which had widened considerably as I aged.
Most notable, however, was my hair. Hanging down to my waist, tied into a single, long braid, and red as a weirwood leaf. Kissed by fire, you thought. That’s good luck.
And so, every time you passed through the village, you found your eyes drawn to me. One time, when I’d come to trade furs, you’d been close enough to smell my hair: a soft smell, a warm smell, and more enticing than any woman you’d ever known. It was after this that you knew you had to have me.
You tracked my footsteps through the snow to my hut, and watched all night as the fire in my hearth shone through the cracks in the wooden walls. Every time you came to town, this became a ritual, until one night, you looked up into the sky. The red wanderer had crossed into that luckiest of constellations, the Moonmaid. There was no better time to steal a wife.
You knew I might fight as you stole me away. If anything it was expected of me. What mattered was convincing me to stay after you dragged me under your bedsheets. After all, you were making me your wife, not your slave. I could leave whenever I wanted to do so. The question was: would I?
A lot of potential for this one. Once we’re coupled, we can join up with Mance Rayder’s army, take part in the assault on the Wall, then go South and defend the Wall alongside the Nights’ Watch, alongside a myriad other things.
The Reavers’ Tale
There are few lands as harsh as the Iron Islands. Cold, damp, desolate, with few tracts of arable land and little wealth other than iron, lead and tin. Harsher still are its people, the Ironborn. Bred and raised to reave and plunder the Green Lands of Westeros, there is little room for weakness in Ironborn society. Still, Ironborn cannot shed the blood of other Ironborn, and a man who proves his strength can gain a great deal of respect, regardless of who he chooses to bed.
We’d been the best of friends since we were children. Some of my earliest memories were of playing at war with you in the hills, swinging and parrying at each other with mock axes we’d carved from pieces of driftwood. When these ‘weapons’ inevitably broke, we’d wrestle. When we grew older, the wrestling… Changed. Of course, our parents eventually put two and two together, but they didn’t particularly mind: so long as we grew into strong raiders, there was no shame in our ‘play’.
Many years later, that’s exactly what we’d become. You had grown tall and broad, with muscles to match the strongest fighter. I, on the other hand, had become agile: thin, but toned, quick on my feet and deadly with a blade. Best of all, you’d become the captain of your own ship, with a crew of brave men, and me as your first mate. At first, there’d been snickering and even some outrage over our habits, but that had been quickly silenced when the loudest man lost his ear to the edge of my sword. There was still the odd chuckle whenever you carried me off below decks, but no one dared raise any objections.
Now we’re once more at sea, the wooden planks gently rocking beneath our feet as our sails carry us along the waves. When you look at me, you can see all the signs: a gleam in my eyes, a certain tilt in my hips, a bite on my lip. It’s time again, and you need it as badly as I do.
Without ceremony, you sling me over your shoulder and carry me off, down into your cabin…
Once again, there’s some potential here: from where I see things, we can participate in general raiding/pillaging until the Kingsmoot, whereupon we can side with either Asha or Victarion, and roughly follow their plotlines. Fun stuff.
Anyway, here’s my kinks: Cumplay, cock worship, ball licking, petplay, oral (giving), anal (receiving), rough sex, light bondage, sweat, groping and grinding. Looking to play a bottom for this.
Hope I’ve caught your eye.
Kissed by Fire: A Romance Beyond the Wall
Among the Free Folk, there are few taboos. Any man or woman may do as they wish, so long as they make no man their slave. A man eats what he wants, sleeps where he wants and can go wherever he wishes… And if a man wants a wife, he must simply steal her away in the night...
I don’t know you. You were from the next village over, and I’d never wandered too far save for the occasional hunting trip with my father. You passed through the village every now and then, acting as a guard for a trader’s cart, carrying furs and food between our two settlements. It’s during one of these excursions that you first noticed me.
I was a small thing, a fact that had always worried my father when I’d been growing up. The smaller boys rarely lasted through childhood, but as it happened, I had enough fight in me to grow into a man… Of sorts. My height had peaked at 5’3”, and although I was approaching my 20th nameday not a single hair had grown on my cheeks. My figure also left a lot to be desired: instead of the broad, strong build that made for the best hunters and raiders, I was lithe and thin, with the exception of my hips, which had widened considerably as I aged.
Most notable, however, was my hair. Hanging down to my waist, tied into a single, long braid, and red as a weirwood leaf. Kissed by fire, you thought. That’s good luck.
And so, every time you passed through the village, you found your eyes drawn to me. One time, when I’d come to trade furs, you’d been close enough to smell my hair: a soft smell, a warm smell, and more enticing than any woman you’d ever known. It was after this that you knew you had to have me.
You tracked my footsteps through the snow to my hut, and watched all night as the fire in my hearth shone through the cracks in the wooden walls. Every time you came to town, this became a ritual, until one night, you looked up into the sky. The red wanderer had crossed into that luckiest of constellations, the Moonmaid. There was no better time to steal a wife.
You knew I might fight as you stole me away. If anything it was expected of me. What mattered was convincing me to stay after you dragged me under your bedsheets. After all, you were making me your wife, not your slave. I could leave whenever I wanted to do so. The question was: would I?
A lot of potential for this one. Once we’re coupled, we can join up with Mance Rayder’s army, take part in the assault on the Wall, then go South and defend the Wall alongside the Nights’ Watch, alongside a myriad other things.
The Reavers’ Tale
There are few lands as harsh as the Iron Islands. Cold, damp, desolate, with few tracts of arable land and little wealth other than iron, lead and tin. Harsher still are its people, the Ironborn. Bred and raised to reave and plunder the Green Lands of Westeros, there is little room for weakness in Ironborn society. Still, Ironborn cannot shed the blood of other Ironborn, and a man who proves his strength can gain a great deal of respect, regardless of who he chooses to bed.
We’d been the best of friends since we were children. Some of my earliest memories were of playing at war with you in the hills, swinging and parrying at each other with mock axes we’d carved from pieces of driftwood. When these ‘weapons’ inevitably broke, we’d wrestle. When we grew older, the wrestling… Changed. Of course, our parents eventually put two and two together, but they didn’t particularly mind: so long as we grew into strong raiders, there was no shame in our ‘play’.
Many years later, that’s exactly what we’d become. You had grown tall and broad, with muscles to match the strongest fighter. I, on the other hand, had become agile: thin, but toned, quick on my feet and deadly with a blade. Best of all, you’d become the captain of your own ship, with a crew of brave men, and me as your first mate. At first, there’d been snickering and even some outrage over our habits, but that had been quickly silenced when the loudest man lost his ear to the edge of my sword. There was still the odd chuckle whenever you carried me off below decks, but no one dared raise any objections.
Now we’re once more at sea, the wooden planks gently rocking beneath our feet as our sails carry us along the waves. When you look at me, you can see all the signs: a gleam in my eyes, a certain tilt in my hips, a bite on my lip. It’s time again, and you need it as badly as I do.
Without ceremony, you sling me over your shoulder and carry me off, down into your cabin…
Once again, there’s some potential here: from where I see things, we can participate in general raiding/pillaging until the Kingsmoot, whereupon we can side with either Asha or Victarion, and roughly follow their plotlines. Fun stuff.
Anyway, here’s my kinks: Cumplay, cock worship, ball licking, petplay, oral (giving), anal (receiving), rough sex, light bondage, sweat, groping and grinding. Looking to play a bottom for this.
Hope I’ve caught your eye.