Robb X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Forgive me daddy Father, for I have sinned

BELLLLLLLL

I WAS STARVED OF DARK ROBB STARK AND THEN YOU BLESS US WITH THIS GIFT

🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

"Say Your Prayers" - Priest!Robb Stark x Nun!Reader

Summary: Father Robb Stark desires you, the new nun at his church.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, religion kink, priest kink, hierophilia, fingering, semi public sex, blasphemy, breeding kink if you squint, p in v sex

Word Count: 850 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Robb Stark is a good, honest, God-fearing man. His family prizes honor above all else and he was raised to respect that. He was raised so devout that he, surprisingly, gave up his share of the family company and chose to become a priest, entering seminary school as soon as he was able, rising in the ranks quickly, and soon enough? He had a parish of his own. Everything was going perfectly for him. That is, until he met you.

A sweet little nun, innocent and kind, with wide eyes and a gentle voice. The first time he met you and shook your hand, he was immediately twisted by unholy thoughts, thinking to himself how soft your hands are, how smooth, how much better it would feel if they were the ones tugging on his cock late at night rather than his own.

You quickly became the subject of his most sordid fantasies - bending you over the altar of worship, fucking you in the confessional booth until you screamed his name. Every single thing you did drove him wild with desire. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way you filled out that nun’s dress so perfectly, the slightest bit of hair that managed to fall free of your habit. And the worst part? How fucking innocent you were. How good and trusting and naive. Robb thought perhaps he was in love with that and wanted to protect that innocence. To preserve it forever.

But soon, he realized that the truth was that he wanted to ruin it.

It is a day like any other when he finally gives in to his all-consuming desire for you.

You give him that soft smile of yours, greeting him with a “Hello, Father Robb.”

He stares after you as you make your way down the hall, the natural sway of your lips tempting him beyond belief. Robb feels his mouth go dry and fiddles with his collar. His collar that he feels he no longer deserves to wear.

After Sunday service is over, he pulls you into the confessional booth with him, smirking to himself as you gaze up at him, confused. His lips come crashing down onto yours, and while you’re shocked for a minute, you kiss him back. You’d be lying if you said you never fantasized about Father Robb. His sweet blue eyes, that stubble that lines his jaw, that streak of gray in his hair. Your hands thread in his curls as he removes your habit, lifting you up, pushing your dress to your hips.

“Such a filthy little girl for me, aren’t you, Sister?” he murmurs in his thick Northern accent, fingers tracing your pussy over your panties, “So wet for me. Were you thinking about this, little sinner?”

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

“I didn’t hear you.”

You gasp as he lands a light slap against your cunt, making you meet his gaze as you speak up, “Yes, Father.”

“That’s better,” Robb purrs, moving your underwear to the side and pushing two long, thick fingers inside of you.

You grip the roof of the confessional as he fucks you with his fingers, eyes fixed on yours, his gaze hooded and full of lust as he feels you squeezing around him. He rubs against your sweet spot, thumb drawing circles against your clit bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You close your eyes only to have him rasp in your ear.

“Eyes on me, little one.”

He pulls his hand away from you, undoing his pants, revealing his rather impressive cock to you, long and thick and achingly hard. You take some degree of pride in the fact, eyes scrunching shut as he pushes inside you. He stretches you out on his cock, lips pressed to your neck as he ruts against you, gripping your chin with one of his hands.

“Oh my God,” you manage to whimper, only for Robb to bite down hard on your neck.

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain, Sister.”

“Yes, Father,” you let out a strangled gasp as you feel his finger moving toward your backside, teasing your puckered hole, “Father, please-”

“What is it you want, Sister?” Robb chuckles, “Don’t be shy.”

“I want to come,” you whisper, “Please…”

He moves faster and faster, his cockhead brushing up against your most sensitive parts. You feel him so deep inside that you know you’re going to be sore the rest of the day, but you can’t bring yourself to care, especially when he pushes one finger into your puckered hole, past the tight ring of muscles, the added stimulation sending you careening over the edge with a near scream of his name.

Robb, seemingly not caring for the consequences, spills himself inside of you with a low growl of your name, burying his face in your neck as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your high together.

“You’d best say your prayers, Sister,” he murmurs, “And ask for our Lord to have mercy on you. Because God knows I most certainly will not.”

No one:

Bel: *posts Robb Stark x Reader fic*

Me: *crying, heaving, shaking all at once in joy*

BELLLL, you know that I am the biggest whore for Robb Stark, and you go and post this MASTERPIECE?????? LITERALLY HOW DARE YOU????? AND THEN HAVE THE NERVE TO POST IT IN FINALS SEASON WHEN MY SPIRITS ARE MOST DOWN, AND YOUR WRITING JUST PICKED ME RIGHT BACK UP????

"Last Christmas" - Modern!Robb Stark x Best Friend!Reader

a/n: a request from my beloved @foxyanon!!! i love you so much, bby, hope you enjoy this! 🩷

Summary: Last Christmas, Robb Stark broke your heart by getting back together with Talisa. But maybe this year, things will be different.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 1,500 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The last time you saw your best friend, Robb Stark, was last Christmas. He was dealing with the fallout of his breakup with his first serious girlfriend, Talisa. It had been a little over a month and from what you could tell, he was still pretty cut up about it. It hurt you, seeing him like that, red rimmed eyes and his lower lip trembling, his hair in disarray, especially when you’ve been in love with him for half your life. You’ve kept that secret close to your heart, never telling anyone, not even your female friends, that you’re in love with Robb.

And, for a brief moment there, you thought maybe he could love you back. You remember the holiday party at the Stark family mansion last year, where the two of you ended up under the mistletoe, the way he smiled at you, his eyes creasing at the corners in that way that always makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy. You looked away, avoiding eye contact, but he gently grabbed you by the chin, tilting your face up toward him, whispering in that rough timbre of his.

“We can’t mess with tradition.”

Robb’s lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss, the kind of kiss you see in movies, where your foot pops up and it feels like everything is right in the world. You lost yourself in the moment, letting him hold you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, his stubble tickling your face. Everything was perfect. When you broke apart, you smiled up at him, telling him you were going to grab some hot chocolate for the two of you, to which he nodded with that adorable smile of his.

But when you came back? There she was.

With her arms wrapped around him, her lips pressed to his. The girl you could never measure up to.

Talisa.

And so you walked away and never looked back. You never answered his calls, you blocked him on Instagram and Snapchat, every social media platform known to man really. And you decided to do something for yourself that you always wanted to but never got around to doing. You decided to take a year to yourself and travel the world. You traveled from Dorne to Yi Ti to Essos, all over the world, from the Riverlands to the Westerlands.

All in an attempt to forget him, which you never did.

It’s been 365 days since you last saw him, and now? You’re standing at the Stark family’s front door again. You tried to get out of going to this party, but Jon saw you at the grocery store and the moment he learned you were back home, he practically blackmailed you into attending.

The door opens and Sansa pulls you into a tight hug, instantly shoving a mug of hot chocolate into your hands, rambling to you about how much she’s enjoying university, how much everyone missed you in the year that you were gone, how Robb kept trying to get in touch with you but he couldn’t.

“I deleted most of my social media,” you mumble, taking a sip of your drink, “And I didn’t have an international calling plan.”

“Oh, well, I know he’ll be so happy to see you, let me go find him!”

Before you can stop her, Sansa has sprinted off, yelling for her older brother. You begin to panic, seeing that familiar mop of auburn curls from the corner of your eye. You duck behind the obnoxiously large Christmas tree, your heart pounding in your chest. You poke your head out slightly and see that he’s looking around the room frantically, no doubt searching for you. The thought makes your heart ache and every part of you wants to go to him.

But you can’t.

Seeing him with Talisa broke your heart, especially after he’d smiled at you like that, kissed you like that, given you hope that maybe he felt the same way about you. You try and make your escape toward the backyard, only to bump into Ramsay Bolton. He smirks at you, opening his big dumb mouth to say something crass, only to see the desperation on your face. You’re taken by surprise when he steps aside, allowing you to make your escape, hearing him tell Robb that no, he hasn’t seen you everywhere.

Ramsay Bolton not being a complete cunt? Seems everyone is getting into the holiday spirit.

You go out and sit on the swingset you remember playing with Robb and Jon on as kids. Jon, being the eldest, would take turns pushing the two of you, and once Sansa was old enough, she would take the seat beside you. Jon would push her and Robb would push you. Those days seem so far away now, you think as you set your mug down, gazing up at the sky, watching the snowflakes fall to the ground, the sight being every bit as beautiful as you remember from your childhood.

You wince as you hear someone taking a seat on the swing beside you, knowing there’s only one person it could be. You turn to face him.

Robb.

He lights a cigarette, placing it between his lips and taking a long drag, the smoke visible in the air as he exhales with how frigid the night is. He turns to look at you, with those big blue eyes of his, and he seems hurt. No, that’s not fair. He doesn’t get to be hurt. He extends the cigarette to you and you take it, wrapping your lips around it and inhaling. He stares at you, his gaze piercing, the two of you silent for a long moment. The silence between you two used to be comfortable, like you could communicate without having a need for words. This silence is different.

It’s tense. You hate it. You hate that your best friend feels like a stranger.

“Why?”

His voice is every bit as beautiful as you remember. You sigh deeply, your fingertips brushing against his as you hand him back the cigarette.

“Why what, Robb?”

“You left,” he pauses, “Without even saying goodbye. We kissed and you were just… Gone. Was it that horrible to kiss me?”

You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, “No, but you want to know what was that horrible? Coming back with hot chocolate and seeing you macking on your ex!”

Robb frowns, “Talisa? Love, she kissed me because I was standing under the mistletoe waiting for you. If you had waited two seconds, you would’ve seen me push her away and tell her I have feelings for someone else.”

You shake your head, not wanting to believe him, grabbing your purse as you walk toward the street, “Forget it, Robbie. I can’t do this right now.”

You hate the fact that your voice cracks, the fact that your eyes are stinging with your unshed tears.

And most of all? You hate the fact that he follows you out into the street, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you back toward him.

Robb holds your face in his hands so delicately, as if you’re a china doll, something precious, meant to be treasured, as he whispers, “I was so blind. For so long. I thought you would never feel that way about me, and so I tried to move on with Talisa. She was never my first love. It was always you.”

You look up at him, lips parted in surprise, “I… What?”

Robb smiles, that same smile with the corners of his eyes crinkling, blue irises dancing with mischief, “I’ve been in love with you since I knew what it was to be in love with someone. I was terrified you didn’t feel the same way, and so I hid it. I did my best to move on, but that’s the thing about you.” He tucks your hair behind your ears, leaning in as he whispers, “There’s no moving on from you, love.”

The tears finally begin to fall as he presses his lips to yours, soft and tender, filled with all the passion and love he has for you, years of unspoken feelings poured into this one beautiful kiss, this moment where the two of you finally admit how you feel for each other.

“I love you,” Robb whispers against your lips, “I love you more than anything in the world.”

You swallow thickly, barely holding back a sob, your voice cracking as you reply, “I love you too, Robbie. Fuck, I’ve always loved you.”

He smiles at you again, pressing his lips to your temple and pulling you into a tight hug, his warmth so familiar and so comforting. He takes your hand in his, leading you back inside the party, his mother and father giving the two of you knowing looks while Bran hands Arya a $20 bill. She smirks at the two of you, giving a mock salute.

And Robb? He kisses you again.

Literally me when Bel posts anything Robb Stark Related

"You're A Mean One, Mr. Stark" - Modern!Robb Stark x Wife!Reader

a/n: a request from @toms-cherry-trees!!! i love you so much, mars, hope you enjoy this little piece! 🩷

Summary: You do your best to get your Grinchy husband into the holiday spirit.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, oral m receiving, breeding kink, p in v sex

Word Count: 1,210 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

For someone who is from the Christmas capital of Westeros, Robb Stark hates the holidays. He hates the sheer amount of tourists who flock to Winterfell, the extra hours he has to work, the traffic pileups. He finds the music entirely cliche, thinks that most of the mall Santas are probably pedophiles, and hates having to put the lights up every single damn year. The only bright side for him? How happy you, his beloved wife, get during the holiday season. You adore your little holiday traditions - buying an ugly sweater each year, doing a family Christmas card with the two of you, the kids, and Greywind, leaving milk and cookies out for Santa. You absolutely adore Christmas and have raised your and Robb’s kids to feel quite similarly. So, he puts on a stiff upper lip and every year, he manages to eke through the holidays by the skin of his teeth.

This year, however, things seem slightly different. He’s more stressed than usual, being up for a huge promotion and having to work longer hours than ever. It’s also his first holiday season without his father, Ned having passed away earlier in the year. If there ever was a Christmas where Robb earned the right to be a Grinch, it was this one.

And you? You have the perfect plan to get him into the holiday spirit and bring some cheer back into his life.

Robb has never been able to resist you in fancy lingerie, after all.

So, you send the kids over to Jon and Ygritte’s, the latter giving you a rather mischievous smirk, having gone shopping with you to pick up the perfect set, while Jon just looks on in confusion. She rolls her eyes at her long-term boyfriend, slapping the back of his head while telling him he knows nothing, causing you to giggle at the look of offense on his face. You kiss little Ned and Rickard goodbye, waving them off as they climb into Jon’s truck, ready for a weekend with their uncle. Gods, you hope Jon doesn’t send them back all sugared up like last time.

When they’ve pulled out of the driveway, you close the door, smirking to yourself as you race to get everything ready for when Robb gets home. Scented candles, his favorite dinner, all of it. Robb typically does all the cooking - wearing only those gray sweatpants of his that make him look so fucking irresistible - but today? You want to let him relax.

So, the minute he walks through the front door, taking off his jacket, he smells his favorite food, following his nose toward the kitchen, grinning like a fool. He’s always been a sucker for your cooking. But when he gets to the dining table, it isn’t the food which catches his eye.

It’s you, dressed in a little red number with white trim. A naughty Mrs. Claus, if you will, lips painted red and a smirk on your face as you beckon him closer with a curved finger. And what choice does Robb have but to obey? He walks toward you, his jaw hanging open as you sit up on your knees, giggling.

“Welcome home, Mr. Stark,” you coo, “You’ve been awfully Grinchy this Christmas, so I think, as your missus, it’s my duty to instill some holiday cheer in you.”

He lets out a groan as your fingers tangle in his auburn curls, pulling him into a heated kiss, your tongues moving against each other as he quickly moves to get rid of his shirt. You eye him greedily, nails running down his chest before moving to the waistband of his trousers, undoing them with ease, palming at his cock over the fabric of his boxers. No matter how many times you and Robb make love, you’re always amazed by how big he is, how long and thick he is, and immediately think about the way he makes you feel when he’s inside you.

But as he moves to rid you of your red lacy panties, you shake your head, chiding playfully, “Not today, Robbie. Today, I’m taking care of you.”

He watches as you mouth at his cock over the fabric of his boxers, groaning as he tosses your little Santa hat aside, fingers twisting in your hair. You brace your palms against his thighs, tugging his underwear down and taking him into your mouth, moaning against his cock. You give him the tiniest of nods and he knows what you’re telling him to do. Robb slowly begins rocking his hips against you, admiring the sight of your crimson lips wrapped around him, the feeling of your hot, wet mouth as he fucks it being almost too much to bear. And gods, the way you’re looking up at him, your eyes sparkling with desire.

Every day, he’s amazed by the fact that he wants you just as bad as the day he met you. And he knows he always will. He feels himself getting close and pulls away from you, grinning at the little pout you let out.

“Robbie!”

“Want to cum inside you, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you close to him, bending you over the dining table. He pushes your hair away away from the nape of your neck, kissing your sensitive skin as he moves your panties aside, teasing your pussy, grinning at the fact that you’re wet just from sucking him off, “We said we wanted to try for baby number three, didn’t we?”

You nod, barely able to hold back your beam of excitement as you feel him enter you with one smooth thrust. Robb fucks you like he hates, you, his grunts and growls being almost feral in nature as he ruts into you. Gods, you’ve always loved how primal he gets when he’s like this. He’s every bit the wolf starks are said to be, and you’re all too happy to take it. He’s so big, filling you up perfectly with each snap of his hips, his cock brushing against your sweet spot every fucking time. You move your fingers to circle your clit, whining when he smacks your hand away only to do the job himself.

Your eyes roll back, toes curling as he pounds into you, one hand playing with you while the other holds your hips in place as he takes complete control.

“Feel so good for me, baby,” he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your skin, “You gonna let me eat that pretty little pussy after this? Gonna let me fill you up again and again?”

“Fuck, yes, Robb, please!” Your whines grow louder and louder in tandem with your pleasure, growing to a crescendo as you spill yourself on his cock, feeling him reach his own end a few moments after.

The two of you stay like that for a long moment, breathing heavily. Robb turns you around to face him, his lips capturing yours for a long moment before he speaks again.

“How long till the kids get home?”

“Jon took them for the weekend.”

The look on his face is downright wolfish as he hardens against your thigh once again, a promise of a very happy holiday season to come.

It’s 4 am here and I’m pretty sure God woke me up so I could read this 😇

Excellent work as always, definitely gave me some ideas for the Robb x OC stuff I’m writing 🤤🤤🤤

Robb Stark NSFW Alphabet

TW: profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

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

Robb is an absolute gentleman when it comes to taking care of you after ravishing you. No matter where the two of you are, he'll make sure he cleans you off, carries you to the bath. Makes sure that he's the one running it for you, bringing you wine. He enjoys the intimacy of it all very much.

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

Robb's favorite body part of his own is his beard when he's grown it out. He loves the way you whine when his face is buried between your thighs, his beard tickling your skin. His favorite body part of yours is a tie between your thighs and your hair. He loves tugging at it when the two of you are fucking.

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

Robb enjoys cumming inside of you. He almost feels disappointed in himself if he cums in your mouth because the thought of filling you with his pups makes him absolutely feral with need.

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

When you first came to stay at Winterfell, he managed to get Bran to steal some of your smallclothes and give them to him for... Reasons that he doesn't feel obliged to disclose.

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

Before you? None. But you give him allllll the experience he needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. Hitting it from behind, one hand in your hair or wrapped around your throat, the other grasping at your hips as he fucks into you. Also mating press. For obvious reasons.

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

Tends to err more on the serious side but if the moment arises, he can definitely joke and be goofy. Robb likes that he's comfortable enough with you that he can laugh at such an intimate moment.

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

Carpet matches the drapes (brownish red, curly, coarse). Before you, he didn't realize the need for keeping himself trimmed, etc. But now? It's an almost obsessive habit.

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

An absolute romantic when the moment arises. Words of praise falling from his lips like there's no tomorrow, declarations of love and how he'd slay dragons, conquer kingdoms, anything in the world for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Remember the aforementioned smallclothes that he had Bran steal for him? Let's just say that this was the reason.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Puppy play, breeding kink, primal play, spit kink, blood kink, impact play (spanking), pregnancy kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The Godswood. Does he feel guilty about it? Yes. Does he feel guilty enough to not do it? Absolutely not.

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

You smiling at him over your wine chalice, watching you act like a mother hen to his younger siblings, the sight of you bending over to grab something, your cleavage, the sight of you after you've done something physical and are a bit sweaty.

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

He would never share you. Ever.

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

Prefers giving. He could eat you out for hours. He lives for the sounds and faces you make, the way your thighs tremble around him. Going down on you alone is enough to get him off.

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

It's an even mix. Post battle or while at camp or after having had an argument? Fast and rough. All other times? Slow and sensual.

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

Not a fan, but being the King in the North makes it so that this is often his only option. Quickies happen more often than not.

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

Surprisingly willing and open to experimenting with new things.

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

Stamina of a wolf. He can genuinely go for 5-6 rounds at a time without even breaking a sweat. The two of you like to joke that it's the Stark blood. Lasts a decent while too.

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

Not really. Neither of you were very experienced before getting together, but if you suggest something? He's game to try it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Robb is a mean, mean boy. He loves to tease, to degrade, to bring you to the edge just to deny you and make you beg.

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

Quite loud. Growling, groaning, grunting, moaning. Talks a lot during sex as well.

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

Enjoys walking around shirtless in front of Theon and Jon to show off the scratches you leave on his back. Likes joking that he got into it with a "she-wolf" aka his wife.

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

Long and THICK. This man is hung like a fucking horse. And he knows how to use it.

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

Fairly high, especially after the two of you have been apart. Don't expect to leave your chambers for at least two days.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Falls asleep fast, crushing you to his chest, running his fingers through your hair and smiling softly as sleep takes him.

This is literally feeding me so many ideas of second in command!reader n’ Robb at Winterfell

being miserable on your moons blood at the war camp. robb can see it, notices the change in your attitude and demeanor. especially when it’s bad this time..

you’re hunched up late at night, trying to find a position to eliminate the constant pain in your lower abdomen. robb only frowns seeing your discomfort, moving to wrap you up in his arms as one of his large, warm hands comes to press against your womb. the heat & pressure from his hand does wonders to alleviate the pain.

n you just sigh. your entire body relaxing into him as you finally find some sort of relief from the cramps that have been damn near constant for almost three days now. robbs expression softens, glad that he can bring you some sort of relief.

& in the back of his mind, he curses this damn war. because if you both were back in winterfell, he’d take away your pain in a heartbeat. give you a child, make you a mother. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?