authorsnote: didn't plan this, it came to me and demanded to be written - aren't our babies sweet? ;-;
I do hope you enjoy, do review with your thoughts, d'you want more jonsa? of course you do! (but lemme know)
songrecs: dark horse - sleeping at last
'I knew you were; you were gonna come to me, and here you are, but you better choose carefully'
The crown of iron, all harsh spikes and practicality sometimes slips on his head when he's hunched over, frowning at figures, and grimacing at troop movements. He'll take it off, forgetting he's kept it on since dinner, annoyed at himself for forgetting, for the vanity.
More often though she's there, laughing at his disgruntled expression, adjusting it rather than removing it. She sometimes wears it, even though she has her own tiara, far more delicate, she often prefers his, proud and gratified, sat atop her pretty red head. Otherwise, she'll laugh as he tugs it off, places it carelessly on the table, and will sooth him with a kiss or two.
(Though on those nights he doesn't work much).
She always has a laugh for him, a pretty smile, a kind word, a soothing tone, a kiss on his cheek and then lips. She'll sit on his lap whilst he works, legs thrown over him, head on his chest as she slumbers, or tucked under his chin as she reads.
They'll be found like that on long nights, his head resting atop hers, she tucked into him. Sometimes they're reading, intent, ignoring the servants and guards, sometimes they look up, and quickly try to straighten up, though not as formal as before, more in love with languishing with one another than propriety. Occasionally they'll be fast asleep, and the servants will laugh and leave them too it.
Sometimes she'll curl up in the corner, by the fire, like a cat, desperate to be basking in the heat. But she's not a cat, but a wolf, and when the embers burn, she seeks out her pack and is back on his lap in minutes.
Sometimes another pack member comforts her, his direwolf, the size of a small horse now. She'll fall asleep in front of the fire, plans for the glass gardens and inventory stocks discarded on the floor as she cuddles into Ghost's fur. On those nights he carries her to bed, tucked into his arms, trusting him completely to ensure she gets home.
Home, their home.
'Cause I'm capable of anything, of anything and everything'
When they sit in the great hall, they sit apart. Rigid backed, he in his crown, she in hers. She's on his right-hand side, always on his right-hand side. Other Lords and Ladies will dine with him but only on his left, even if she's not present, the chair to his right is always hers.
They take court, they listen to their subjects and people always comment on how in tune they are. They never contradict or openly disagree. They are in accord. He handles matters of war, of law, of justice, she handles those of petition, of worries. They both have their own style of leading, and they both compliment one another.
None who come to Winterfell to seek their support, help or council leaves feeling wronged or unresolved. Lords and Ladies who attend for name days, dinners and celebrations always feel welcomed and included. The regular attenders are well used to the harmony of their King and Queen.
And when the Lords and Ladies filter out for the night then she'll go to him, to his lap, or she'll sit on the table in front of him, parting her legs to allow him to shuffle forward. Sometimes they just hug, sometimes they kiss, twice he'd taken her there and then, her worries about someone seeing kissed away, and then fucked into the table.
Ever since then she can't look at that spot without blushing.
'Make me your Aphrodite, make me your one and only. But don't make me your enemy, your enemy, your enemy'
He takes her in many places. His hands on her, his lips on her, whimpers and breathy little moans leaving her lips.
He adores the sounds she makes, the whimpers, moans, little squeals sometimes. He loves coaxing them from her, sometimes makes it his life's mission to hear as many as possible.
He'll dip his head to her neck, her breast, in between her legs. He'll work her for hours if needed, his tongue flicking back and forth, his hands stroking, squeezing, flicking. He leaves bruises at her hips sometimes, when he grips her too hard, but she insists she only wants him to grip her harder. She leaves bruises on him too, at his neck, purple and blossoming. She's practically claiming him.
Mine.
He claimed her long ago, the night they'd both known, both admitted it after months of dancing. He'd been her first, her maidenhood closely guarded from Kings Landing to the Vale to Winterfell again. There'd been pain, a little panic, and then a long effort to soothe her, be gentle, and bring her to a peak before he'd met his.
It's easier now, with practice. He knows where to hold, how to push forward, how to swipe his fingers and roam with his tongue. She knows how to squeeze, how to push down, and where to bite on his bottom lip, soothe with her tongue, a gentle flick.
Her favourite place is in their solar, her legs spread as she sits on the desk, him between her, one leg hitched up, her head thrown back, the warmth of the fire chasing away a chill. Sometimes she asks him to sit in his chair as she rides him, a few times she makes him wear his crown.
He'll do anything she asks when she looks at him in a certain way, rosebud lips pouted, her milk white skin on display, her red hair mused and ready to be grabbed.
His favourite place is their bed, where he can take his time, between her legs, licking, kissing, stroking, biting (gently). Then he can slide into her, and make love, bringing her to fever pitch again and again, until she's a writhing mess, barely able to speak.
Sansa always gets off on the power, his and hers. Sitting astride him, his hands gripping her wrists, his crown on, hers sometimes too, her spread for him in their seat of power.
Jon gets off on having her come undone. Shaking and sobbing as he takes her over and over, writhing as he licks her to desperation in their solar. Twice trying desperately to keep it together as he toyed with her under the table during petitions.
They each have their things, but pleasure is always guaranteed.
'So, you wanna play with magic, boy you should know what you're falling for. Baby do you dare to do this? Cause I'm coning at you like a dark horse'
After a long war council meeting, after a day full of petitions, after hours and hours of troop movements and levies for him, food stocks and trade routes for her, they sometimes just like to sleep.
They've shared a bed long before their marriage and will now and forever. The furs are piled around them, the fire roaring, Ghost guarding at the door.
Her head is usually on his chest, but sometimes he holds her from behind, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. They're always connected in some way, hands held, his fingers brushing her waist, her head resting on his shoulder.
Connected.
Always.
'Are you ready for, ready for? A perfect storm, a perfect storm? Cause one you're mind, there's no going back'
There was never any going back, not since they'd vowed forever.
They had said the words under the Weirwood Tree, never any hesitation or pause. Her words clear and brimming with tears, his strong and honest, full of love. The gods had smiled down on them, the gentle snows the perfect backdrop to their declarations and promises.
It had been a small affair, family, and close friends, they had dined their Lords, Ladies, and subjects later. The wedding had been just for them.
They had sold it as a political match, after Jon's parentage was revealed, but all new the truth.
Their King and Queen are in love.
They love the North, they love Winterfell, they love their subjects, but most of all they love each other.
As she adjusts his crown with a giggle, as he strokes her hand when they walk, as she kisses him fiercely upon reunion, as he makes her a squirming mess with just his fingers. They are who they are, in love, in concert, always.
Connected.
Jon and Sansa, King and Queen of the North.
Always.
sooo thoughts?
a lil, lil peek at jon/sansa as king and queen. I loved writing this! d'you want more oneshots like this? snippets into jonsa ruling? do let me know!
as always hope you enjoyed, fav to show your support and love jonsa always!
speak soon