#jon snow smut
Text
𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jon snow
summary ― .ﾟ ˖ in which jon wanders too far north of the wall into free folk territory and is put under your supervision, mance rayder's daughter, after your voluntary offer of him staying in your tent. you never thought you would be willing to bunk with a crow, but of course, there's a first for everything.
warnings ― .ﾟ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), inexperienced!jon, reader taking jon's virginity, little bit of subby!jon, riding, handjob, mentions of blood ( reader bites jon's lip on accident whoops ), oral ( f! recieving ), jon having a praise k!nk, jon having literally no self-control, reader calling jon a crow about a thousand times lmao, minimal use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!
word count ― .ﾟ ˖ 3k +
pairing ― .ﾟ ˖ jon snow x fem!rayder!reader.
author’s note ― .ﾟ ˖ jon snow is so babygirl
honestly loved writing this, lmk what you think! also, should i make a part two with ygritte involved ?? wink wink
publishing date ― .ﾟ ˖ june 26th, 2023 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY
When you first saw the darkness of his furs sticking out so flamboyantly against the white of the northern snow, you knew Ygritte had struck gold on her hunt with the others.
You watched with a cautious but intrigued look on your face as she pulled him along behind her by a long rope tied around his hands, cradling a longsword in the crook of her arm with a wide smile on her face. But, the look on the crow's face seemed to be the total opposite.
Everything about him was dark, from his ratted furs to his hair that looked like it hadn't been given a good wash in ages, to even the disgruntled frown that didn't seem to leave his face until Ygritte finally untied him from his restraints. He was a crow, through and through.
You had seen plenty men of the Night's Watch before―even killed a few―but the one who stood before you as you made your way into your father's council tent was different. His eyes were a deep, darling brown, holding a youth that couldn't have been any older than your own. Most of the crows you had captured were all old and gray, not nearly as attractive and brooding as this one.
You didn't know there was such a thing.
"Where'd you find this one?" you whispered to Ygritte, your voice low enough for only her ears, your eyes raking over his figure that seemed disproportioned from the thick of the furs and leathers he wore.
"About a few miles north of the wall," she told you, watching him just as closely as you were. "He was just too pretty to pass up." The two of you shared a laugh as she handed you the young crow's sword, heavy and dull in its scabbard.
The Lord of Bones pushed him roughly towards the man sitting in the center of the tent, biting into a hunk of meat as if it were his last meal.
"I smell a crow," Tormund muffled with his mouth full, turning his head barely enough to get a good look at the young man. His scowl hadn't changed, if anything worsened since being shoved into the large tent.
His name had been Jon Snow, which he revealed to Tormund just before kneeling before him and muttering your grace. The entire tent seemed to bustle with laughter at the attempt of respect, you and Ygritte sending each other a knowing look as the crow's face reddened with embarrassment. Tormund may have looked and fought like one, but he was no king.
"Stand boy," a voice hidden in the back of the tent sounded, silencing everyone in the room within a matter of seconds. Your father, Mance Rayder, unveiled himself from the shadowy corner room behind Tormund, looking down upon Jon Snow as he stood.
Jon was quick to rise to his feet, looking up at him as the man stood taller than even Tormund. "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall."
Slowly, you moved towards your father from Ygritte's side, resting your hands on the hilt of the crow's sword as you allowed it to stand in front of you. Your father always valued your opinion when coming to decisions over the free folk, and this matter was no different.
Your eyes had hardened by now, catching Jon's gaze with a look that could only be interpreted as defensive. No matter how pretty you thought he was, he was still a man of the Night's watch. Your enemy infiltrating your land.
You watched him carefully as he went on to explain why he had left the Night's Watch, telling your father about the things he had seen in Craster's Keep.
"And why would that make you want to abandon your brothers?" Mance asked, his voice low and gravelly. His words seemed to intimidate the young man, his eyes flitting away from your father's before moving back to them hesitantly.
"Answer the question," you growled, leaning in towards him with a malice that couldn't help but send a chill down his spine. His eyes shot to yours, wondering why you were making such commands in the presence of Mance Rayder.
He explained how the Night's Watch did nothing to prevent Craster from giving up his newborn son to the white walkers, creatures that had been known to be gone for centuries.
"I want to fight for the side that fights for the living," he told your father, sparing you only a quick look as you stepped back to Mance's side. "Did I come to the right place?"
Mance mulled over the boy's words before looking down at you, the look on his face clear that he wanted your opinion. "What do you say, girl? Shall the baby crow stay?"
As you held his sword close to your chest, you stepped closer to Jon, your face inches from his as you gave him a good look over. He seemed nervous, his breathy shaky as it blew past his lips.
"I say he can," you paused, circling around him before meeting his gaze once more with a sly smrik on your lips. "But he stays with me."
He didn't speak much to you at first―or anyone really―only saying a few words when needed to and biting his tongue when you made some snide remark or called him a crow.
Since you had taken the responsibility of monitoring him, you practically stuck to Jon like glue until nightfall―as did many other girls in your camp, including Ygritte. She was an exception, but you had to keep running the rest of them off since their eagerness to catch a glimpse of him drove them to fights and quarrels in the snow.
Not to degrade any of the people in your camp, but men that looked like Jon Snow were not a common sight in free folk territory.
After showing him around the camp and getting him a new set of furs made of polar bear skin and boiled leather, you eventually gave him Longclaw back―which was what he called that heavy sword of his. He was grateful, but his disgruntled frown hardly left his face.
"Lose the frown, Jon Snow," you had told him as he joined you and Ygritte for dinner around the fire you had built near your tent. "You're not in the South anymore. There's no need to look so miserable."
When nightfall finally took the sky, you escorted Jon to your tent with a mischievous smirk on your face, earning looks from other wilding girls―most of them being of annoyance or jealousy. Their glares didn't go unnoticed by Jon, a look of confusion and concern evident on his face.
"Are they always like this?" he asked sheepishly, looking over his shoulder as the two of you stood still in front of the flaps of your tent.
You couldn't help but laugh, the scowls on their faces feral and sour as you led him into your tent.
"You're the first pretty crow they've seen in ages, Jon Snow," you told him with a grin. "They'll claw each other's eyes out to lay naked with you."
Your words seemed to surprise him, but he didn't say anything as a reddish tint rose in his cheeks. He had never been with a girl, he was too young before he joined The Watch, and his vows forbade him from lying with a woman. He had never gotten the chance, so the idea couldn't help but intrigue him.
"Your furs are over there," you pointed to the makeshift bed across from yours, "Though I know you'll be far much warmer over here with me."
He disregarded your comment, silent as he made his way over to his side of the tent and tried not to think too hard about laying with you.
It wasn't a large tent, your furs only a mere few feet from his. You still laid rather close despite being on separate sides.
Beginning to undo your outer layers and shedding them off, you were left in only a thin undershirt and pants that barely left anything to the imagination as you sat across from him.
Jon's eyes widened.
You could feel his eyes on you, his cheeks flushed at the sight of your hardened nipples poking through the fabric as you reached over to light a few candles between the two of you to brighten up the tent. He felt a sting of guilt run through his chest; he didn't want to betray his vows, or even think about betraying them, but you were making it very difficult for him to abstain on his side of the tent.
"What, have you never seen a woman's body before, crow?" you said playfully as you undid your hair from the braid it had been pulled back in all day, tousling it with your tired fingers to get ready for bed.
Jon only widened his eyes, gulping rather harshly as his lips parted, catching your eyes that seemed to be filled with nothing but seduction.
"What do you care?" he looked away, the tension too much for him to bare. His cheeks were flaming red at this point, embarrassment flaring in his chest. He could feel his hard-on begin to grow under his thick trousers, hoping to the Old Gods you couldn't see.
"Oh, right," you said sarcastically. "The Night's Watch will hack your hand off if you even think about touching a woman, is that right? Miserable bastards."
Jon tried to protest, his words caught dead in his mouth as you cut him off abruptly.
"Have you ever laid with a woman, Jon Snow?" you asked lowly, sitting up from your spot on your warm furs before slowly starting to crawl over to him, sultry laced thickly in your voice.
He shook his head, his eyes wide and blown out with lust. You were dangerously close to him, sitting down in front of him with your legs tucked neatly beneath you as you leaned in towards him.
"Do you want to?" you said slyly, your lips inches from his.
Your hand slowly reached out for his, grasping it gently before bringing it to your breast and allowing him to cup it. A shaky sigh blew past his plump lips, his gaze flitting down to your chest as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your sensitive nipple gently.
The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think. Before he could remember the vow that he had made not long ago. Your sweet scent of firewood and pine was like truth serum to his senses. "More than anything."
His gentle, pleading words were enough for you to bring your lips to his, enveloping in the taste of him as you moved swiftly onto his lap, lips moving in sync hungrily as if he would be your last.
His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard chest. As you lowered your hips down onto his lap, you could feel him hard against your core, making you gasp in surprise.
You laughed gently under your breath in excitement as his eyes fluttered shut, not being able to help yourself as you began to slowly grind against him, earning a low and shaky whimper from his throat.
It was like music to your ears; his soft whimpers and pants. When you had been with other wildling men, they grunted and groaned as they worked their way in and out of you, almost animalistic. Jon was different.
"Do you like it when I do this?" You cooed in his ear. His moans were soft and desperate as he yearned for more of your touch, his hands gentle and needy as they grasped at your hips and worked you across his lap slowly.
He had no idea how much of an effect it had on you. How his exasperated pants made something foreign blossom in your chest and spread down to your lower half.
"Please," he begged as he pulled away from your lips, looking up at you with an adoration you had never seen from any free folk. You had him wrapped around your finger, drunk on your warm touch. Nothing could've riled you up more.
"You can have me however you want," you promised him, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. Slowly, you pulled your undershirt off over your head before wriggling out of your thin pants, leaving your body bare and on display for him. "You're mine now, Jon Snow."
Your hand traveled down slowly between your bodies, running over the front of his trousers and cupping his hard-on, dancing your fingers across it tauntingly. "But first, let me help you with this."
Your fingers quickly worked at the ties at his trousers, pulling it open and helping him get rid of them before assisting him in removing his heavy furs and leathers and throwing them to the side, leaving him bare and warm beneath you, his pale, toned skin burning against your own.
Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, sitting at the edge of his knees so you could get a good look at him splayed out before you. Excitement buzzed in your chest at the sight of his reddened tip, leaking with precum practically begging to be touched.
With a soft look, your hand grasped his hardened cock gently, making him shudder at the sudden contact.
The feeling was foreign to him; Sure, he had used his own hand once or twice to relieve himself when he was feeling desperate, but his calloused and thick hands didn't compare to your small, soft, and experienced ones as you began to pump him gently.
"O-Oh," he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as you rubbed him carefully, allowing your forehead to press gently to his. You could feel his soft, warm pants fanning against your face, gentle moans falling from his lips every so often.
"You're so good for me," you whispered to him, your thumb running over the slit at the head of his cock, earning a shaky gasp from him. Your lips peppered kisses against his, before moving slowly to his cheeks and working your way down his jaw tauntingly.
The feeling of your lips leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the skin of his neck and collarbone made him ecstatic. He didn't know what he had done to earn such a heavenly gift from the gods, but he knew he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to be without your touch.
"F-Fuck," he whined, entranced by the look of desire in your eyes as you rubbed him.
His toned stomach contracted gently, his abs tensing as he inched closer and closer to his release. His moans became more guttural, incoherent mumbles to the sound of your name filling your ears.
"I'm g-gonna-" he warned, his eyes fluttering shut. But, before he could finish his sentence, hot, white spurts of his release shot onto his stomach, painting him sinfully as a shaky groan rumbled in his chest in response. It lit something inside you, the way he trembled beneath your touch and moaned your name as if it were a prayer. You could drown in it.
Carefully, you reached for the undershirt you had thrown off and wiped his stomach clean, not caring you had dirtied it and would have to wash it by hand on the morrow.
A calm silence fell between you, allowing his forehead to fall to the crook of your neck as his hands snaked around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. Your warmth was something he wanted to live in forever. He never wanted to leave this tent.
"You're so-" he mumbled against your skin, his breath faltering as he tried to find the right words. "You're so good at that."
You couldn't help but blush. The way he worshipped you made you ecstatic, your hands raking through his dark curls as you tilted his head up to look at you.
"Can I kiss you?" he rasped. His eyes were full of want, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he pawed at the flesh of your thigh. Carefully, you moved to bring your lips to his with a wide grin but he stopped you, pulling his head to the side tauntingly.
He shook his head gently. "Not there."
You didn't understand what he meant. Kiss you where?
Cautiously, he pulled you off of his lap and laid you down on the soft furs, his body hovering over yours as he slotted himself in between your legs.
He began to make his way down your body with gentle kisses, nipping at your supple skin as he trailed from the crook of your neck to all the way down between your plush thighs, leaving little love bites in the wake of his mouth as he inched dangerously close to where you needed him most.
"Getting brave, aren't we?" you taunt, his hands moving to tuck your legs onto his shoulders before he gripped your hips with both of his hands firmly, holding you in place as you could feel his warm breath fanning against your glistening core.
He ignored your snide remark, wasting no time before licking a clean stripe against your cunt and beginning to work away at you, his eyes fluttering shut at the sound of your euphoric moans.
Your face contorted with pleasure as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, gently sucking at it, before cautiously bringing his middle and ring fingers to your core and allowing them to curl in an upward motion blissfully.
You had never felt anything like this before. The way his tongue moved against your folds made you ecstatic, wondering what they put in the southern water to make him so good at what he was doing.
"J-Jon," you gasped, your fingers combing through his dark locks and giving them a good tug, earning a moan from him as it vibrated against your core and only pushed you closer to your high. Your thighs clenched around his head in an attempt to pull him closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit just enough to make you jolt with a shaky gasp.
He enticed moans out of you like never before, licking and sucking at your core in ways you didn't even know were possible. He seemed so skilled for claiming to have never touched a woman before. Could he have been lying to you?
Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you saw his hips begin to grind slowly against the furs as he lapped away at your core, his cock hard once more from the sweet taste of you. Moans grumbled in his chest as he squeezed your thighs tighter, his fingers sure to leave bruises on your supple skin.
The abrupt feeling of his fingers pulling out of your core made you whine. But his tongue entering you was enough to make you see stars, your back arching up off the soft furs as you could feel the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.
Your wanton moans filled his ears, loud enough to be heard by the rest of the camp, but you didn't care. Your only concern was him and your climax—which wasn't far off.
"Gods!" your heel dug into the middle of his muscular back as you gripped the furs at your side, your orgasm washing over you unlike ever before. Your thighs trembled gently around Jon's head, his mouth pulling away from your core, his chin glistening with your release as he watched you with a lazy smile while you writhed in pleasure before him.
He pulled himself up so he was hovering over you once more, his face a mere few inches from yours as your chest heaved up and down, coming down from your high. Your eyelids felt heavy as he gripped your hip, and the sheer look of lust in his eyes made your lips crash against his hungrily.
You could taste your release on his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth, not even thinking before wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over on the furs, now sitting on his lap as he laid breathlessly beneath you.
You smiled at the way he looked up at you with want, his hands playing with the flesh of your ass impatiently. His hardened cock beneath your wet core made it hard for you to concentrate, but you still managed to roll your hips against his tauntingly.
"Just lay there, sweet. Let me give you what you want," you rasped, your hands splayed flat on his chest as your teasing became nearly unbearable for him.
"Please," he pleaded. "I need to feel you."
Slowly, you brought your hand to grasp him gently, giving him a few pumps before guiding him towards your entrance as you hovered over him, your eyes not leaving his as you sank down onto him.
Relieved moans left your mouths in unison, your cunt stretching around him sweeter than he could imagine. Your warmth made his heart flutter, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he waited for you to move.
Soft whimpers filled the space between you as your hips slowly began to roll across his lap, your nails raking down the front of his toned chest as you fell into a steady pace. His mind was fogged with the sheer sight of you on top of him, finding the gentle bounce of your breasts with every movement entrancing.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, his head falling back as he screwed his eyes shut, which couldn't help but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You couldn't help yourself when your fingers trailed to your clit and began to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth, clenching around his length with each roll of your hips.
"Gods," he cursed, sitting up from his spot on the soft furs as you still guided your hips back and forth on his cock.
Your arm automatically slung around his broad shoulders as his own pulled you closer to him by your waist while he propped himself up with his free hand, allowing him to thrust up inside of you and reach deeper than before.
The way the tip of his cock just barely brushed your cervix enraptured you. You were finding it very hard to believe that he had never done this before.
"Right there," you panted out, gripping his bare shoulder so hard your fingernails were sure to leave tiny crescent indents in his skin. His pace quickened, slowly becoming more desperate and sloppy as your moans grew with it. You were sure the entire camp could've heard the lot of you by now.
His lips met yours in an instant, a poor attempt on Jon's part at silencing you as best he could. You allowed his tongue to roam your mouth, your fingers collecting at the nape of his neck to hold him closer to you. But to his surprise―with a sudden thrust of his hips―your teeth caught his bottom lip with a moan.
"Ahh," he hissed, the metallic taste of blood collecting at the front of his mouth. He pulled back, panting heavily as the look of lust didn't leave his eyes. Your lips were reddened and wet, and the way your tongue poked out barely to wipe them clean made a low groan rumble in his chest.
Within an instant, he smashed his lips back onto yours, pushing you back so you were laying flat on the furs now with his hips between your legs, his length still inside of you as he wasted no time to begin a steady pace pistoning in and out of you messily.
"Jon!" you moaned, his cock stretching you perfectly with each thrust. His lips attacked at the supple skin of your neck, peppering little love bites trailing down over your collarbone. You could feel him wince between moans against your skin as your nails dug into his back uncontrollably, leaving long, reddened welts along his pale skin.
Your fingers trailed slowly up to his hair, giving it a good tug as you brought his lips to yours. Your movements earned a low grumble in the back of his throat in response, his hips beginning to stutter as he could feel his climax rising.
You weren't far off either, with his sweet, incandescent moans that made the coil in your stomach tighten filling your ears. "Are you gonna come for me, baby?"
A guttural moan ripped through Jon's throat at your soft whispers, unable to form words as he nodded his head breathlessly. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, his last few thrusts hard and deep before pulling out of you—just enough to send you over the edge of your high.
You swiftly propped yourself up on your elbows, breathless from your climax as he pumped his shaft a few times before releasing himself all over your stomach and chest. His face contorted with pleasure as you watched him with amazement, a sly smirk creeping on your face as he came hard.
A gentle silence fell between the two of you as he caught his breath, moving to lay next to you on the soft furs and wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you close to his side. His warmth burned against your cheek as you laid your head on his chest, running your fingers lazily across his skin.
"You were right," he whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. You smiled against his skin, "How so?"
You lifted your head up, meeting his darling brown eyes as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I'm far much warmer with you."
#jon snow smut#jon snow#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#got#fanfic#scarlet was here!#jon snow x reader
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Jon Snow*Couldn't Resist
Pairing: Jon x f!reader (could be modern or not)
Kinktober Day six: over stimulation with Jon Snow – Jon is eager to please but even more eager to make you a mumbling mess who doesn’t know their own name by the end
Word count: 1114
Warnings: over stimulation, multiple orgasm, fingering, f! receiving oral, dry humping, neck kissing, slight begging, needy Jon, p in v sex, unprotected sex, smut 18+
Masterlist Here
Kinktober List Here
Soft black hair tickled the skin of your cheek, rousing you from your slumber. As your eyes fluttered open a moan escaped your lips as you felt soft lips against your neck, sucking softly on the skin. “Jon?” You yawned, glancing down at the man who was already all over you before the sun had risen.
He hummed against your skin, lips never leaving your skin as he worked his way down your neck. “What are you doing?” you asked, noticing his hand softly running up your bare thigh. After a long night with your husband under the sheets last night you had fallen asleep bare, something Jon found to be irresistible apparently.
“Kissing you,” he said, his lips trailing along your collar bones, “Feeling you,” he murmured, his hand running up your inner thigh. You shivered when his fingers ran over your wet cunt, “Touching you,” he finally added, his lips edging farther down your chest, “Need you,” he muttered against your skin making you chuckle lightly.
“You had me last night,” you giggled, “over and over, and over again,” you teased, your fingers toying with his hair.
“Not enough,” he said, his lips moving down your stomach. You sighed in content as he made his way further down, moaning lightly as his finger rubbed over your clit in slow circles, his lips edging further down. “Wanna taste you,”
You hummed, figuring you had time for now, “Just once sweetheart. I know what you’re like,” you said, hands still holding his soft locks.
Jon laughed as your skin, “Have no clue what you’re on about love,” he said and before you could chastise and remind him of last night, he had placed a soft kiss to your clit making you whine, your back arching slightly, “Just wanna make you feel good,” he said, warm breath fanning your wet cunt making shivers radiate up your body,
His hands held your thighs, pushing them over his shoulders as he licked a stripe up your cunt making you tense in anticipation. His hands locked around your legs, keeping your hips steady as he began to lick greedy tongues up your cunt, devouring you like a starved dog.
Your hands twisted in his hair, toes curling as his lips moved up to suck your clit, his fingers edging in your hole. You gasped when you felt him ease two fingers in but moaned as he began to move them slowly, curling them with expert position like he’d studied your body for a lifetime.
Jon moaned against your cunt, vibrations running up your body making your skin tingle. Your heels dug into his back, and you could feel the way he was humping the bed, giving himself his own slight release as he worked on yours.
It didn’t take long in your sleep ridden haze for a warm feeling to spread through your stomach. “Fuck,” you whined, as you came to your peak. Jons tongue did not stop even as your body did, your legs twitching around your head, “Just one,” you whined, pushing at his shoulder.
“Cmon baby,” Jon whined, his face wet with your juices, “One more please? I’ll be good after this I swear,”
You whined before nodding, “Fine,” you said, and the words had barley left your lips before he dove back in. this time his tongue darting inside you making your body shudder. These moans were harder to contain especially when his nose moved to nuzzle perfectly into your clit.
Your second peak arrived even quicker than the first but as you reached this one you felt your hips bucking, hand clenching Jons hair tight, as you grinded onto his face. Your movements only spurred Jon on as soon his fingers had return, this time slipping three in with ease as he moved up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves again. His fingers were faster this time, his teeth grazing your clit, and no sooner had your second orgasm finished did your third hit like a fallen castle.
You could barley contain the moans, biting into your arms to try stop yourself as your body twitched under Jon. His movements didn’t stop till your hands began to push his head away, not feeling like you could face another as your legs continued to twitch.
Jon crawled up your body, his lips kissing your cheek and jaw gently as his hips rutted into yours. his hard cock rubbing into your stomach as he searched for friction, “Please,” he murmured against your skin, “Let me fuck you please,” he begged, kissing your skin desperately.
You nodded making him look up from the crook of your neck, his eyes searching your face for approval. You nodded at him, not sure if you were even able to speak yet. Jon knew your signal to stop, a double tap on the shoulder, but with your nod and no tap he waisted no time in lining his cock up with your ready hole.
As he sunk his cock in you gasped, your hole already so sensitive from before. Jon however was still desperate for release so as his lips latched to your nipple, his free hand playing with the other, his hips began to snap against yours setting a relentless pace. “Fuck Jon I-I,” you gasped, interrupted by your own moans as you felt another orgasm approaching.
Jon moved his hand to under your back, pulling it up to arch your back to hit a new spot which caused your eyes to roll into your skull as a fourth orgasm crashed down on you. his thrusts did not stop but the way your cunt squeezed him just made his pace quicken.
He was determined to milk one more out of you as his hand dropped your back letting you sink into the bed but now his hand slipped between your bodies till, he was rubbing fast circles into your clit. His lips left your skin as he lent up, allowing himself to fuck you deeper as his hand came up to cover your mouth as your moans probably echoed through the walls.
You looked up at him through hooded eyes, admiring his body for the few moments you had before your final peak arrived making your legs clench around Jon which only pulled him in deeper. You vaguely heard cursing as you rode out your final orgasm, but you released why as you felt Jon spill inside you.
After a few moments of him catching his breath Jon rolled to lay beside you, glancing at you with a sorry smile, “What happened,” you started to ask, panting as you looked to your husband, “to just one?”
“Couldn’t resist,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy @valeskafics
#jon snow smut#jon snow#jon snow imagine#jon snow x reader#jon snow x y/n#modern jon snow fluff#modern jon snow imagine#modern jon snow#modern jon snow smut#modern jon snow x reader#jon snow fluff#game of thrones smut#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader#got#got smut#got imagine#got x reader#modern game of thrones#modern game of thrones imagine#modern game of thrones smut#modern game of thrones x reader
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Jon Snow Urges You to Be Vocal
Pairing: Jon Snow x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, praise, cunnilingus, encouragement, pussyworship, gentle sex
A/N: Little drabble commission. I realized that despite him being on my list no one ever asked for Jon Snow writing before.
It was understandable that you didn't want the soldiers outside to hear you being fucked. It was what you were here for, to be fucked by Jon Snow specifically. Still that didn't stop other soldiers from offering you money, or trying to talk their way to you, trying to lure you into their tents instead.
Jon was no fool, he knew their plans and he had a plan of his own.
"What did we agree upon? Should I remind you?" He spoke into your cunt from behind. "No covering your mouth. Those bastards need to know your my whore, and mine alone." His lips pressed back against you, tongue lapping at your sweet juices with gusto.
"It's embarrassing. Sir." You clung onto the sheets with one hand, the other keeping closed over your mouth as more sounds threatened to spill from it.
"Embarrassing? I am quite surprised you still have things to be embaressed about. This cunt has probably known more cocks then there are people stationed in this fucking hellhole." Yet he couldn't get enough of you.
Every night since you arrived he's been on you like it was his last day. It could have been. How long has it been since he's fucked someone, felt the warmth of someone else? You didn't need to know that, it was none of your business.
You were only here to be fucked. As far as that went he was pretty good at it, you'd wager almost as good as he was in battle.
"It appears a slut like you needs a firmer hand to listen when she's being spoken to." Jon bit his way up your thighs, your ass and your spine all the while aligning his hard cock with your pussy before sliding it all in without warning. You've had it a lot rougher before, he was actually being pretty gentle for now but you there was a reason for it.
You felt his firm hands grab both your wrists and pull you back, your spine tense as Jon began thrusting in and out. "Let them hear my whore be fucked. They should all know."
Little by little you let your voice out, combined with the rhythmic sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Everyone who passed by Jon Snow's tent knew from then on that he was the only man who would fuck you.
#game of thrones x reader#jon snow x reader#game of thrones imagines#jon snow imagine#game of thrones smut#jon snow smut#got x reader#got imagine#got smut#game of thrones drabble#jon snow drabble#smut drabble
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𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲
Paring: Jon Snow x f!Reader
Summary: You arrive in Winterfell lending aid to House Stark but seeing Jon brings back lost feelings you both share.
Warnings: mentions of drinking, kissing, fluff.
Word count: 1.4k
Your heart pounded in your chest as you rode through the gates of Winterfell the familiarity of the high stone walls and the sight of Stark banners bringing back the memories of your childhood. You had, in the past, spent many years in Winterfell growing up with the Stark children. Your father became a good friend of Ned Stark; while fighting alongside each other during Robert's rebellion. Leading to many years spent in the castle.
You arrived in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cloak you’re wearing doing surprisingly little to suppress the cold winds of the North. You had been called as a bannerman of house Stark to lend aid and fight the white walkers beyond the wall. You look around, all the people of Winterfell seem to have solemn faces ‘it’s quieter than I remember’ you think to yourself while dismounting your horse stirrups rattling, the stable boy rushes over to take the reins from your gloved hands leading your horse away. Your men follow you, dismounting their horses, gathering their things and moving supplies, all of a sudden the yard is buzzing with movement.
“Y/n!” you turn at the sound of your name to see Sansa walking towards you, “lady Stark” you bow slightly she lets out a small laugh as she embraces you, “you mustn't call me that y/n” she smiles “well you are lady of the North are you not” you ask “that I am yes, but to you it will always be just Sansa” she states “very well than Sansa” you smile “take me to Lord Snow.”
The castle is darker than you remember, as Sansa leads you through the doors of the great hall, you catch sight of Jon, the young man you once remembered as a solemn and brooding child.
Walking past the large tables in the middle of the hall you pull off your gloves, you look up to see Jon sitting at the high table reading a letter “Jon” Sansa says he looks up, his face breaking into a warm smile when his eyes land on you. You can’t help but smile back. You haven’t seen Jon in a long time, not since before he left to join the Night’s Watch. “My lord,” you take a slight bow, he stands and begins to walk towards you not saying a word, his gaze lingering.
Finally he speaks “My lady”. He lets out a small laugh before wrapping his arms around you, you can feel the warmth radiating off of him even with the layers of fur between you, he lets go resting his hands on your shoulders before they move to cup your face.
“Look at you” he mutters, eyes raking across you he pulls away “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I’m sworn to House Stark my lord” you reply “it is an honor to fight for your family.”
“My lord” Jon repeated “since when were you one to be so formal”? He teased.
You can’t help but smirk, while walking past him with your hands clasped behind your back making your way to the table running your fingers along the edge,the teasing tone in Jon’s voice luring out your own wit. “And here I thought that being declared King of the North automatically earned you the title of ‘my lord’.”
Jon chucked, a low rumble escaping his throat, “yes it does except, we grew up together there is no need for formality between us.”
“I suppose you're right” you agree, your voice lightening. “However don’t let that get to your head, a little formality never hurt anyone.”
Jon raises an eyebrow playfully. “Is that so? Then perhaps I should start using ‘my lady’ whenever I address you.”
You laugh “you can certainly try but, I can’t promise I won’t retaliate”
Jon shakes his head, a smile dancing on his lips.
A fortnight had passed since you'd first arrived back in Winterfell, and tonight you were dining with the Starks and their men in the great hall, enjoying the loud conversations and laughter ringing throughout the room. It had been a long while since you’d allowed yourself a good time. You spent the night laughing and socializing with the others. Not noticing the way Jon was looking at you.
As the talking and laughter slowly began to die, people began to retire to their chambers, you being one of them as the fatigue from the day's ride was finally wearing on you. Standing up making your way out to a long hallway lined with sconces providing a small amount of light as you pass various chambers while walking to your own.
Opening the door you’re greeted with warmth radiating from the fireplace, you walk to a small table in the corner of the room picking up a few letters that you had yet to open, before dropping them back down rubbing your temples knowing that the night would be full of endless reading.
Jon hadn’t put much thought into what he was about to do, maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just pure ignorance he thought to himself, as he was making his way through the dimly lit corridors. When he arrived at the door, his heart was pounding in his chest taking a deep breath before he raised his fist to leave a soft knock.
While on your 3rd letter of the night you hear a light knock at your door, getting up from your seat at the table curious as to who it could be. Unlatching the door expecting it to be Sansa you were startled to see Jon standing on the other side.
“Jon” you said surprised “it’s late”
For a moment he didn’t say anything, his gaze lingering on your face.
“Evening” he said “I hope I haven’t disturbed you”
“No, it’s alright” your eyes scanning his face for any indicator of what he was there for. Tilting your head slightly to one side. “Has something happened?” you asked
“No, no, may I come in?”
“Yes of course. Please come in.”
Moving aside Jon steps through, making his way to stand in front of the fireplace. He looks nervous, still thinking something had happened you ask once again.
“Jon” you pause, he looks up, his eyes finally meeting yours. The look on his face starting to worry you.
The silence hung like smoke in the air as you awaited his response.
He mumbles, moving one of his hands to run through his hair, turning back to face the fire watching the flames dance. You cautiously walk up behind him reaching to put a hand on his shoulder, he turns to face you leaning into your touch.
Long forgotten feelings wash over you.
“Jon, please tell me” you insist, your hand now resting at his jaw he leans further into your touch before covering your hand with his. You stayed like this for a short time relishing in the moment, the unspoken understanding filling the space between you. Removing his hand from yours to cup your jaw as he draws himself closer, his eyes searching yours for permission.
You quickly nod, before he closes the gap between you, lips brushing together. Your lips part slightly, letting his tongue slip inside. His hand glides to the nape of your neck, then moving to your waist, pressing your bodies together. You moan into the kiss, hands running through his hair while he trails gentle kisses leading from your jaw to your collarbone, small breaths escaping your lips.
Pulling away, his gaze meeting your own.
“You have no idea what you do to me” he whispers.
The look in his eyes was evidence enough revealing what he felt without uttering a word. Yet he continues to speak. Hands coming back to hold your face.
“I-” he pauses for a brief moment gathering his thoughts. “You are my every thought” He breathes. “The only person able to ground me, make me feel whole. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. How I wasted all those years believing I had no chance, only to be standing here right now. With you.”
Tears begin to swell in your eyes threatening to fall.
“You consume every part of me, body and soul.” He gently wipes away the tears that begin to fall. “You are everything to me.”
You smile at him, leaning into his touch.
“I love you.”
The words feel heavy.
He starts to speak afraid of your rejection, you cut him off colliding your lips together for a brief kiss before pulling away resting your forehead against his, shallow breathing filling the room.
“And I you.”
The words so lightly spoken, Jon wasn’t sure he heard them.
Leaning in to kiss you softly once more, running a hand through your hair, his eyes full of nothing but affection. “My lady.”
#game of thrones x reader#jon snow x reader#game of thrones#jon snow#sansa stark#winterfell#daemon targaryen x reader#jorah mormont x reader#robb stark#house stark#ned stark#jon snow smut#got
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They Will Suffice
Jon Snow x fem!reader
summary: a pleasurable moment during your pregnancy with your husband
warnings: smut, illusions to sex, fingering, sweet talk, a little bit dirty, pregnancy, slight pregnancy kink (if you squint really, really hard)
The wind is howling and furious outside, it rattles the shutters of the windows and whistles through the gaps it manages to slither through the walls creating a chill in the air in spite of the warm pipes within the walls of the castle.
You lie in bed with your husband, a quiet and comforting moment between two lovers. Basking in the afterglow of love-making leaning back into his strong arms as they wrap around your front and caress you belly.
His bare knuckle grazes where your child kicks. A budum rhythm over and over again.
"It appears we have awoken them," you muse, looking up to see him. His handsome face is wrought with concentration, dark brows furrowed close.
"He," he corrects you.
You huff a laugh, "he? So sure are we?"
"Yes. I dream of our son in your arms. Of him playing in the Godswood with Ghost," he presses a kiss to your brow.
"Every man wishes for a son. But dreams will not make our child grow a cock if they do not already possess one," you warn. You can't help but feel a little nervous at his surety of a son. What would happen if you birthed a daughter instead?
"I would not be disappointed with a little daughter, my love. I just know that this..." he strokes the underside of your belly where there is another thump, "is our son."
You hum in acknowledgment, a small smile curling at your mouth.
"And what shall our son's name be?"
"Edric," his response is instant.
Your eyes soften, "for your father?"
"Hm. Little Ned," he is smiling now, a small, beautiful and oh so rare thing. It makes your heart swell and tears well up in your eyes.
"When we have a daughter you shall name her," he tells you, as if it is a certainty.
"And what if we shall only have sons? Or only this one child?"
"Then you can name them too. You're the one doing all the hard work," he tells you.
"I suppose you are right. Though you certainly take care of me," you respond with a teasing grin.
"I do now, do I?" he teases right back, one hand going further down to your .
"Mhm. I find myself quite satiated in your presence."
"Careful, I might become unbearable with all this flattery," his teeth graze at the side of your face. You sigh as you sink further back into his arms.
"We can't have that now, can we?"
His hand slips between your thighs, your knees parting some more to allow him better access.
"I find myself not fully satiated tonight, however," you continue, a stir in your lower belly, an urge to squeeze your thighs tightly together.
"Oh. We can't have that now, can we?"
His fingers slide between your folds, already slick once more. He had already cleaned you up after your previous bouts of love-making quite nicely, though is appears it was for nought as you would soon be a mess again.
"I'm not sure I have such energy as you," he admitted as he slid a curled finger into you, thumb circling your nub. A moan broke past your lips as he moves much to slowly.
"Well... your fingers will have to suffice," you let out another broken moan as he gathers your wetness and slides in a second finger.
"Hmm, so wet. So warm," his lips are pressed against the side of your face, teeth grazing the flesh as he whispers his sweet praises into your ear.
His practiced movements speed up, your knees part wider. His cock is hardened somewhat against your back, though not nearly at full mast.
"I can't believe I have you, so perfect, so tight, right in my arms," he speaks, lips dragging across your jaw as you throw your head back against his shoulder.
His fingers curl further, rubbing along that soft spot inside of you which had your thighs twitching and your eyes rolling back as your nails dig into his flesh.
"Right there," you moan, breathless, "please."
"Please what? What do you want?"
"I want to cum. Please make me come," you let out a louder moan.
His movements speed up, "come for me, wife. Finish for me."
You reach your peak, your third that night, fingers curling into the flesh of his thighs, a high, broken keening sound passing your lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut and mouth forming an 'o'.
"So pretty," he strokes your thighs and swollen belly, "so perfect."
You don't hear what he says next as you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, howls of the wind distant to your ears as his warmth envelopes you whole and drags you down to the depths of rest.
comments are greatly appreciated, don’t be a stranger :)
you can find me on Wattpad and AO3 by danytherelentless
let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for any of my works (character specifications and smut or not)
#jon snow x reader#jon snow x you#jon snow smut#jon snow imagine#jon snow#asoiaf x reader#asoiaf smut#got x reader#got x you#got smut#smut#fluff
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ONLY YOU - JON SNOW
Summary: After being accused of wanting another woman instead of you, he makes it his mission to let you know that he wants you…and only you.
Warnings: This is all over the place but it makes sense in my head :D. Completely made up the last name for the sake of the fic. Now for real warnings - One (1) quickie, unprotected sex (be smart y’all), vaginal penetration, fingering, oral (female receiving), face-sitting., love-making ig, overstimulation, basically porn, very light touch of breeding, one (1) use of the word ‘whore’, marriage (yes that is a fucking warning but it’s not that complicated in this fic), feelings (ew), mild language, cheating accusations, mentions of not being able to conceive, one (1) very brief mention of Jon crying (yes this is also a warning)
A/N: Hello my darlings! My laptop is still being repaired so please bear with my shitty typing as well as possible typos. I just recently started watching GOT and I HAD to jump on the opportunity the second I laid my eyes on Jon…… considering that I’m only a few episodes in, I did not follow anything too canon considering that I don’t want the details to be too off.
Word count: 4.2k+ (this is the most I’ve written in forever LMAO)
not my gif!
Daenerys Targaryen. The most wanted woman of all in any of the kingdoms. She was undoubtedly envied by many, you included. You were a very close runner-up, but it didn’t help much considering your family’s constant comparisons between you and the younger girl.
You were nearing twenty-one and you had yet to be set for marriage, your parents frowning upon the idea that you wanted different things in life. Sure it might be nice to carry on your family’s legacy and become the heir, being their oldest of seven girls, but it wouldn’t be all that nice when you’d get threatened by others to give up your title as queen.
You’d met Jon when your parents had gone over to the Stark residence for a ceremonial dinner. He’d been out front, swording away at a dummy. You removed the flask from the garter that sat under your dress, sipping the bitter whiskey. You’d leaned yourself up against the wall, eyeing the dark-haired alpha as he blabbered away to his uncle Benjen.
He stole several glances, his tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek when he realized your gown parted more and more to allow some air under the fabric.
“I shall go with you when you leave, Uncle Benjen. My father will say yes - ask him!”
Trying your best to not eavesdrop much more, you began to wander off. His uncle couldn’t stop the perverse words that fell from his tongue. You glanced over your shoulder, shooting the older male a wink, careful as to not show too much of your face as he’d only seen your silhouette. He took off, heading into the castle to rejoice with his brother and several lords, leaving you in the presence of the young man.
“Tisn’t quite the scene for a lady. You should be inside with everyone else.”
“Nor is it the scene for the son of a lor-“
“Lady Stark requested that I didn’t join them for the dinner.”
“Oh, right. Jon Snow, is it? The bastard?”
You finally turned to face him, his eyes widening in their sockets.
“Honorable Y/N Burke. You shan’t be in the presence of an unwed man, young lady.”
“There are many things that I ‘shan’t’ do,” you mimicked air quotes. “But, you’ll find very soon, bastard, that I don’t care much about the things that I shan’t do.”
He eyed you for a moment longer, his sword firm at his side. You had yet to conceal your flask, offering him a sip before taking one of your own.
You watched as his eyes glanced over the way your lips encircled the opening, a drop of the liquid dribbling down the side of your mouth before your finger swiped at it, sucking the digit into your mouth.
Then he lost it.
He pounced on you in just a matter of seconds, groaning as your tongue mingled with his. The exchange of tastes - the whiskey warm with a mix of whatever sweetness you’d treated yourself to beforehand, and his bare whiskey. You could almost taste his musk but it must’ve only been the way his scent overstimulated each of your senses.
His hands, which had made themselves up to your face, dropped to your waist, pulling your lower halves together as he felt up on your body.
“Goodness- we can’t get caught, Snow.”
Your breath picked up into heavy pants, his fingers dipping into your undergarments as he swallowed all of your moans.
“Just be quiet, darling, and they won’t know a thing.”
He teased your clit with a grin plastered to his face. He yanked your underpants down, mimicking the move with his own clothing.
“Jon-“
“Sh, sweetheart-“
He hoisted you into his arms, not hesitating to plow himself into you. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to fight each moan from leaving your mouth. A high-pitched squeal sounded from your throat as his hand accompanied his rather vulgar pace.
“Fuck-“
“Remember what I told you, sweetheart,” he grunted into your ear.
His arm circled itself around your waist, stabilizing your squirming figure. His head tipped back, a groan sounding from his throat before his forehead met yours.
“Jon, fu-“
Before you could finish your statement, you felt the pulsating of his cock, his seed dribbling down your legs. He fucked you through his high, dropping his thumb to your cunt so you’d finally come around his cock. Your body shuddered as your climax hit you, your hands clutching onto him for dear life.
He pulled his garments back up once he’d placed you on the makeshift railing. You remained silent for just a bit longer until you broke said silence.
“Look, Jon- Lord…Snow, I’ve heard of your desire to leave this land and become a Night Watcher. I just….”
For once you had not much to say despite wanting to spew so much out.
“I know of your oath and the things you must accede to.”
“What are you getting at, Hon Burke?”
“If…if I am to carry your child, and I know the chances are slim because it’s only been once-“
“As you said, it’s only been one time. Don’t speak nonsense. This never happened. Are we clear?”
“But-“
He turned to you, helping you redress yourself with a sigh. He couldn’t miss the way your demeanor faltered just a tad, his own softening drastically.
“It’d be in both of our best interests to pretend that this never happened, sweetheart.”
And so you did as he said.
Despite wanting oh so badly to miss your menstrual cycle that month, it’d worked out for the best - you’d told yourself. You’d only known the lad for a few minutes tops but he remained on your mind for years following.
Upon his leave, you were devastated. Watching with teary eyes as the man you knew you wanted so much more with was leaving. Your mother watched as you quickly wiped a tear from under your eye, sniffling quietly.
Two years down the line, it was nearly impossible to avoid the fact that you’d have to step up and become queen rather soon.
“Mother, I am not stepping into that role until I get a proper proposal!”
“You’re too picky, Y/N! We’ve been waiting - for years, we’ve been waiting. You’ve gotten thirty proposals, all of which you’d turned down for the darndest reasons!”
“I’m not picky! I am awaiting someone that will settle for more than what the stupidity of this society offers. My king-“
“Has arrived.”
That voice. His voice.
Immediate tears were brought to your eyes as you found Jon standing in your doorway.
“J- Sir Jon Snow. Am I dreaming?”
“No, m’lady. ‘Tis truly I.”
You resisted every fiber in your body that urged you to jump into his arms and snog him right in front of your mother.
“Lady Burke,” he bowed.
Your mother offered a tight-lipped smile before leaving the pair of you to catch up.
“I didn’t think I’d see you for another ten years.”
Your smaller arms pulled his body into yours, embracing his warmth despite his cool armor.
“Jon,” you hummed, nuzzling yourself further into him.
“Y/N,” he copied your actions, smoothing his hand over your hair. “I couldn’t do without you for much longer.”
“Really? That’s hard to believe considering how quick you left after fucking me,” you quipped.
“I’m sorry, darling. I truly am.”
You met his lips in a soft kiss, your fists clenching around his coat.
“How’ve you been holding up?”
“I’ve just been dandy.”
Lies.
“Sort of glad I didn't have your child.”
Lies.
“Tried to get back out there after you left.”
Lies.
His arm tightened around you at the last of your statements.
“Tell me, Hon. Am I marrying a whore?”
“‘Marrying a whore’?” you were flabbergasted. “One - never call me a whore again. Two - who said we are to be wed?”
“Me.”
The simplicity of his statement baffled your mind.
“You? My father would never let me-“
“Marry a bastard. But, darling, as I remember, you’d told me something two years ago. You don’t care about the things you shan’t do and that shall include claiming me to be your king.”
“Well, why do you wait, my lord?”
He held you tight to his chest with his pupils blown.
“Tell me you’ll be mine, sweetheart. This is my proposal to you. We shall leave this land and rule our own kingdom together.”
“I do accept your proposal, my dearest, but I believe it isn’t that easy.”
“Nothing is easy, especially this. If your father is to deny our marriage and your leave, we shall go nonetheless.”
You grinned up at him, shaking your head as you laid your head on his chest.
“Then I shall marry you, my king.”
As expected, your parents didn’t have the merriest of a reaction when it came to notifying them of your leave with the man who’d notoriously been known to be a bastard. They were disappointed you wouldn’t be running their kingdom but they were relieved to see that you were finally off to be married. They hesitantly approved of the young man’s proposal, sending you off with him.
On your ride to your new castle, miles from your parents’ kingdom, you couldn’t help but question your husband-to-be.
“Why did you leave?”
He eyed you.
“The Night Watch. Why did you leave, Jon?”
“I know my status as a bastard would’ve done me well over there but I couldn’t take it. Being away from you, my family. It was eating at me day and night.”
“Then…why’d it take you two years to come back?”
“I didn’t know how to tell them I’d be leaving. It took me a long time to muster up the courage for that.”
You allowed yourself to remain silent until he placed a hand on top of yours.
“I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I regret ever setting myself up to be away for the rest of my life, but now I’ve got you and that’s all that I need.”
“You sure have a way with words, don’t you?”
His lip quirked into a gentle smile, his hand squeezing yours with tenderness.
In just a couple of weeks, you were settled into your new home with your husband. It was now time to host several dinners and welcome all to your land. You were beyond ecstatic but it wasn’t until the guests actually arrived that you became wary of those around you.
Daenerys had made quite the entrance into your home, every one entirely forgetting that you existed for a moment. The Khal trailed behind her, offering head nods to those that personally greeted him.
Your heart stammered in your chest beyond your control. You isolated yourself from the crowd, tears cascading down your cheeks as your breathing grew jagged.
Your husband seemed to be infatuated with the platinum blonde-haired girl. You couldn’t blame him but it was killing you. He hadn’t torn his eyes from her, nor did she. She seemed to eye Jon for a bit too long, keeping great eye contact with him as she bowed.
“No need for that,” he chuckled, greeting Drogo with a firm handshake.
He waited for you to greet the couple, not sparing a glance at your seat until he hadn’t heard your voice whatsoever.
“Y/N?”
Chatting and eating resumed, Jon’s leg bouncing anxiously. He watched like a hawk, eyes wandering about the crowd.
“Lord Snow, I don't think Lady Snow is feeling all that well.”
Upon hearing your name, you wiped the last of your tears, seating yourself at your husband's side yet again.
“Darling, what’s the matter?”
He held your face in his palm, eyebrows furrowing at your puffy and reddened eyes.
“Nothing, my lord.”
You spoke the words with such harshness that it pierced his heart.
“What-“
“Ah, Lord and Lady Snow! Why don’t you make a toast?”
“I don’t think-“
“Of course, Benjen. We shall give a toast!”
You stood with your goblet, Jon staring at you with confusion clear in his features before standing on his own two feet.
“Thank you all for coming tonight. Lord Snow and I are delighted to be sharing such a special moment with you all. We wouldn’t have wanted it to be spent any other way. Jon?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke.
“I’m sure I’m supposed to be thanking you lot but if it weren’t for my beautiful wife here, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you and for that, I thank her. I thank her for trying to understand me, for being the greatest human on earth, and for standing by my side regardless of what. I’ve known the shame of being a bastard for my whole life but she’s willing to bear the embarrassment of being wedded to me.”
His speech went on and on and on. It didn’t seem to end but your heart fluttered at his words. He grasped onto your hand when you turned away from him, your eyes catching Daenerys’. You shook those pestering thoughts from your mind, repeating ‘stop it, stop it, stop it’ over and over in your head.
That had only been the first of many instances, though.
You were distraught. It’d been months since you and Jon were lawfully wedded yet it seemed as if you couldn’t conceive. Your parents were applying pressure, sending ravens to your kingdom every day after, asking when you’d bear children.
After a dinner you’d put together at your castle, you lost it. Jon had spent nearly three hours lingering near the Khal and his Khaleesi. For only two minutes, he held you at his side while conversing with the couple. You’d shimmied yourself from his arms, entertaining the younger Stark children.
Robb had witnessed the way in which you embraced your inner child, chasing the kids around as they screamed their heads off. You shooed them away with a motion of your hand. With a hand on your hip, you watched them run off, your heart aching at the thought of never having children.
“Any luck yet, m’lady?”
Robb chuckled as you flinched in the slightest.
“My goodness, Robb. No, no luck yet. However, we already have names picked out, as well as runner-ups for godparents.”
“Oh really?”
You playfully rolled your eyes, spinning to face the brunette.
“If you’re so desperate to hear it, then yes, you are a candidate for our children’s godfather.”
He took your hand into his, landing a kiss on your knuckles as you giggled endlessly.
“I knew you always loved me,” he dramatically expressed.
You raised a brow, badgering him, “Say that with caution, Stark.”
“Or what? Lord Snow will behead me?”
“I might.”
The older boy wrapped his arm around his brother’s neck in a cub-like embrace.
“Goodness, Jon. Leave your brother be,” you scolded him, watching as his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.
The dinner was called to an end rather soon, but a few of your guests straggled about - Khaleesi Daenerys amongst the few. Your eyes were like daggers as you watched Jon converse with the younger girl. You were drawn from your thoughts the moment Robb placed his hand on your shoulder.
“Now, Y/N, I am well aware that you think my brother is mad over this woman - or at the least, having an affair with her. But I can assure you, nothing of that sort is happening at all. He’s only trying to make am-“
“I’d like to hear that from him, Robb. If he’s just trying to make amends with the Khal and everyone then that’s on me. But it doesn’t help that the Khaleesi is that fucking gorgeous. She has these big doe eyes that scream ‘help me’ or ‘fuck me’! I don’t know which one it is but I’m afraid that Jon will play the hero and be the one that fulfills any of her needs.”
You were seething in the corner with Robb at your hip. He tried assuring you repeatedly but you were quite a stubborn queen.
After everyone had left for good, you wasted no time in heading straight to bed. You wanted to avoid Jon to the best of your ability but you simply couldn’t outdo the king. Before you could step foot out of your bedroom with your things in hand, Jon stepped in front of you. He backed you into the room, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shut the door.
“What’s your problem?”
You tried to not break under his intense gaze, your eyes bouncing from his own to everywhere in the room.
“What is your issue, Y/N?”
His voice was too quiet for your comfort.
“Are you…having an affair with Daenerys, Jon?”
The words that left your mouth sent a genuine fit of laughter racking through his body.
“Are you being serious?”
“Answer the question.”
His laughter died down, his body gravitating towards yours.
“Of course, I’m not having an affair with Daenerys. What makes you ask this?”
“The way you look at her kills me, Jon. When she’s here, it feels like I don’t exist! Why do you think I disappear for hours on end- you know what - you don’t even realize that I’m gone because you’re too immersed in your interactions with her! It’s-“
His hands found themselves on either side of your face, forcing you to look at him, though gently.
“If I was having an affair with Daenerys or anyone else, do you think that I’d be in the same bed as you every single night? All of those things I said about you months ago were nothing but true. You were probably too busy being upset with me to hear most of it but I don’t want anyone else. I want you and only you.”
“Then why do you look at her the way that you do? There’s so much compassion and-“
“I look at her that way because I feel bad for her! She talks to me because she feels as if she can’t trust anyone else, not even her own brother. I’m sorry that I ever made you feel less important. You’re the most important person, the most important thing in this world. I care for Daenerys’ well-being but I don’t care about her the way I care about you. I love you and I know I don’t say it enough but I do!”
He panted as he read your face.
“So you’re not cheating on me?”
“No, and I never will! I only want you, Y/N Snow. Only you.”
His lips met yours, your shoulders falling as relief washed over you. You allowed your hands to get lost in his hair, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your lips moved in tandem.
“Tell me you love me.”
You hadn’t noticed the few tears that stained his cheeks until he spoke against your lips, your heart aching in your chest.
“Jon, my darling, I love you more than you will ever know.”
His arms tightened around you, lifting you from the ground as he pecked your skin.
“It seems as though I have to make up to you for the rest of my life,” he chuckled against your skin.
“Sweetheart, you loving me alone is enough of an apology.”
He laid you gently on the bed, undoing your bodice in an impressive amount of time. He held back no longer, suckling on the skin that was graciously presented to him.
“Jon,” you hummed.
He imitated your actions, putting a ministration to his movement once he’d reached your underpants. After kissing, biting, sucking on your skin, his lips were red and plump. They met yours again, the taste of whatever wine you’d been drinking just hours prior still lingering on your tongue.
He worked his hands into the sides of your underpants before pushing them down your legs. You whimpered against his tongue as his fingers stimulated your clit.
“Darling,” you gasped out, his fingers dipping in and out of your cunt.
He used a leg to pry yours apart, reveling in your angelic sounds. He propped himself up on his other arm, hand holding his head. With your hands tugging at his clothing, you pulled him in even closer.
His face disappeared into the nape of your neck. The way in which he breathed against your neck caused your skin to crawl.
His nose nudged at your jawline, a dumbstruck grin taking over his features once he felt your walls pulsating around his digits. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the next words that flew from his mouth.
“Lannister had told me he imagined you sitting on his face long before my proposal. I nearly slayed the son of a bitch until I realized you weren’t mine then. Why don’t you come on my face, sweetheart?”
“W-what?” You stammered out - half shocked at the proposition and half processing the fact that he was still fucking you with his fingers.
“My pretty girl doesn’t want to sit on my face?”
He jutted out his bottom lip, on which you pressed a kiss, uttering an ‘I do’. Your legs squirmed a bit more until you came. Your back arched off the mattress as you gasped and cried out. He slid his fingers into his mouth, his eyes locked on your blissful features.
“You taste heavenly,” he murmured, wiping his saliva-slicked fingers off on his bottoms.
His words made your cheeks heat up, using whatever strength you had to push yourself onto your knees.
“Are you sure about this, Jon?”
“A million times over - yes, I’m sure about this.”
He laid himself down, your legs trembling as your cunt hovered over his face. He brought you down in seconds, not being able to resist the temptation.
His tongue expertly worked your cunt as it’d done several times before. Sitting on his face, however, brought a new sense of pleasure to you - his nose bumping your clit every so often as the entirety of your cunt grew soaked. The mix of his saliva and your release sent you spiraling once more, the core in your lower half tightening before you could say anything.
His tongue softly fucked your desperate hole, a glass-shattering moan sounding from within. You couldn’t hold back any of it. You needed to let the whole damn castle know that your king was treating you right.
“Jon!”
One hand dropped to his hair, the other fondling your breast. Your eyes dropped to his, your body giving out at the sight of his disheveled hair and his eyes just begging for your come.
Your body shook gently as you came in his mouth, eyes screwing shut once your head had lolled back. You’d lifted yourself off to the side, your husband chuckling at your already fucked-out state.
“How was that?”
His fingers traced patterns on your skin as you came down from one of your many highs for the night.
“Fuckin’ amazing,” you breathed out, your arms reaching for him once he’d brought himself to his knees.
You watched as he undid his bottoms. The intense eye contact he held with you was a telltale sign that you needed to help him out of his clothes before he exploded.
“I won’t be rough tonight,” he whispered.
You bit your lip, feeling the burn of his gaze on your face as you undid the buttons of his shirt. Your insides grew fuzzy, becoming giddy at the fact that this was truly your husband. No one, nothing could ever take him away from you.
He stood nude before you, pressing his back to the headboard before patting his lap. You climbed onto him in a matter of seconds, your hands already stabilizing themselves on his shoulders. Your knees bent at either hip, legs akimbo to appease his girth. You pumped him a few times, running his tip up and down your fold before sinking onto him with a cry.
“Has it been long, my darling?”
You nodded, offering an airy chuckle as you struggled to take all of him.
“Gods, I’m beyond s-“
You hushed him with a kiss on the lips, your hips beginning to rock back and forth once you’d hit his base. His hands fell to your behind, your back arching as he hit that spongy spot inside of you. His name left your mouth like a mantra, chants of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ following right after. Your mouths found one another in a slobbery mess, a clash of teeth and tongue as the rutting of your hips became more desperate.
“Stop apologizing, my lord. I- holy shit, I love you,” you choked out.
“I love you, sweet girl.”
His forearms held onto your waist, using this as leverage to thrust himself further into you.
The pace of his hips, the words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces. Just outside your door, guards exchanged knowing glances, clearing their throats at the sounds that came from the both of you. They seemingly grew louder, Jon taking the opportunity to let the words flow from his mouth - “I shall put a baby in you tonight.”
And so the night proceeded. Jon didn’t let up until you physically couldn’t go for another round, making sure none of his seed left your womb.
It was a relief to know that your king, your lord, your love wanted you and only you.
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nobody ; jon snow.
track five of WASTELAND, BABY!
pairing ; jon snow x martell!gn!reader
synopsis ; a child of sand and a child of snow—destined never to last, but somehow, you made it work.
words ; 9.0k
themes ; angst, action, fluff, healer au
warnings / includes ; heavy violence/gore/injury, wars/fighting, trauma, ramsay bolton, implications of sex, multiple mentions of death, reader is a bastard to oberyn martell, reader loathes the cold, a couple game of thrones spoilers, mentions of other characters in the show, and finally, fuck season eight !!
main masterlist.
You were fifteen when you first met Jon Snow.
The air was saturated with the ambrosial scents of spiced mulled wine and the rumbling thunder of tipsy cackling. Alcohol dripped from full golden chalices, heaping baskets of steaming bread rolls were passed around the mess hall, and plates were piled high with peppered mutton chops and creamed potatoes. You were seated near the end of the long table, quietly sipping on your honeyed apple cider as you politely smiled and nodded at the young nobleman who sat across from you, detailing a rather elaborate story of how he had hunted down a bear with nothing but a single hatchet and a lick of courage.
You didn’t buy a single word of it, but the exaggerated story was mildly entertaining nonetheless. You’d rather listen to his tipsy rambling than watch King Baratheon stick his tongue down a random maiden’s throat.
Once the man finished, he smiled charmingly, before grabbing your chalice and downing the rest of your drink. His loud belch was drowned out by the rest of the crowded hall of Winterfell, busy feasting and celebrating. Your lips twisted into a frown out of instinct, but you quickly fell back into a stoic expression, gently excusing yourself from the table.
You mourned your half-eaten food left on your plate, but you didn’t think you could stomach another bite of Northern food—you longed for the sticky sweetness of Dorne’s dates.
Hurriedly, you wove through the hall, quickly ducking when a silver wine chalice sailed across the large room. You made for the exit, squeezing past a couple children playing by the entrance.
Once you were outside, Winterfell’s frosty wind instantly nipped at your exposed skin, whispering snowflakes into your ear and tousling your hair in a haphazard fashion. A shiver spidered down your spine as you pressed yourself against the castle’s walls, pulling your fur coat closer to you.
How you missed the kiss of Dorne’s sun on your cheeks.
Damn the North.
You wrinkled your nose in frustration.
A repetitive, faint thudding drew your attention away from the howling breeze, resonating from just around the castle’s corner. Curiosity piqued, you sleuthed across the icy grass, looking around the bend with wide eyes.
It was dark—far darker than it was inside. The only source of light came from the lit torches lining the walls and the dewy luminescence of the moon.
The thudding came from a man—no, a boy—hacking furiously at a hay-sewn dummy with a dull wooden practice sword. You blinked, watching with mild awe as he relentlessly struck the unmoving figure, moving with an exact precision that was uncommon to see in such youth.
You didn’t realize just how long you’d been staring when he suddenly stopped, muscles visibly tensing beneath his thick leather tunic. The wooden sword drooped downwards when he lowered his arm, but his grip never faltered.
“What are you looking at?” he grumbled at last, turning around to face you entirely.
At first, you found yourself at a loss for words. He was quite a beauty—a large mass of dark curls adorning his head, dancing with the snowy gale. His eyes, a tempestuous hue of stormy grey, narrowed and scrutinizing, were studying your every move, as if preparing himself for some sort of attack.
You shuffled backwards out of pure instinct, but steeled yourself before you had the nerve to turn tail and run.
“Nothing,” you replied hoarsely, averting your gaze to a particularly interesting pile of rubble. “I just… needed to get out of the mess hall for a bit. It’s loud in there.”
It was silent for a moment, before he placed the sword down, regarding you with a somewhat intrigued stare whilst stepping closer.
“I’m sorry if I’m being disrespectful,” he said, surprising you with his sudden change of demeanor, “but I don’t quite recognize you. How am I to address you?”
“My name would be just fine,” came your reply, eyebrows shifted upwards. “I’m Y/N. Y/N Martell. My father is Oberyn Martell, brother to the ruling prince of Dorne.”
It was the boy’s turn to be surprised, and an amused smile itched across your lips when he seemed to fumble for words, wondering if it was customary to bow or to shake hands with you.
After his initial stupor, he shook his head, small bits of frost flying away from his hair. “Well, what are you doing out here? It’s cold out.”
“I told you, I came out to get some space. It was awfully crowded,” you hummed. Then, you leaned forward towards him, lowering your voice to a leveled whisper, “Plus, the sight of King Baratheon fondling a woman on top of his venison doesn’t exactly whet my appetite.”
A flit of a grin momentarily crossed his features, but it disappeared back into his regular brooding nature nearly as soon as it came.
“You know my name.” You tilted your head in a questioning manner. “It’d be rude of me not to ask for yours.”
“Jon,” the boy with curls of ebony replied in an off-handish manner.
“Jon…?”
His lips twitched downwards, twisting into a glower. Reluctantly, he mumbled, “Snow. Jon Snow.”
“Oh,” you whispered, stepping closer with widened eyes. Jon risked a glance towards you, surprised that he could see his own reflection in the dark of your pupils, frost clinging to your eyelashes and knitted brows. “Snow is a name for Northern bastards, is it not?” Your tone was not one of disdain like Jon had expected, but rather one of tender excitement.
There was a twitch to his jaw. He remained silent.
“I’m a bastard, too.”
Your words made him tear his gaze away from the snowy ground to your searching eyes. “You? A bastard?” he asked, plain with surprise.
You bowed your head once with a mild smile painting your lips with warmth. “I suppose my proper name would be Y/N Sand—the name given to bastards of Dorne. But we don’t care much for bastardy as the other kingdoms do. My father thought it proper to call myself a Martell during my stay in King’s Landing.”
Snow scuffed around Jon’s boots as he dug the heel into the grass. “What were you doing in King’s Landing?”
“I’ve been staying there to study medicine. Been about… seven months now? I left home when I was fourteen,” you said, teeth worrying into your bottom lip in thought. The hazy memory of saying goodbye to your father and sisters made your heart lurch with a sudden jolt of nostalgia.
“Do you like it there?” Jon asked, intrigued. “In King’s Landing, I mean.”
You wrinkled your nose in response, shaking your head firmly. “I much prefer the golden sands of Dorne. The wispy shade of a palm tree. The wiry muscles of our horses—bred to run for fortnights on end. The cool sip of water on a hot day. The spitting bonfires at night—the stars seem to be so much brighter in Dorne, Jon Snow, you wouldn’t believe it.”
The both of you tilted your heads up to look at Winterfell’s dark sky. There wasn’t a single star in sight.
You sighed with stinging disappointment, tilting your chin back down to nuzzle your cold nose into your coat.
Jon couldn’t help how his lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “Sounds like a wonderful place.”
Humming your agreement, you uttered, “Enough about me.” You stepped closer so that you were nearly side-by-side with him. “What are you doing out here? Why aren’t you at the banquet?”
The smile on his lips melted away nearly instantaneously. “Lady Stark thought it improper to seat a bastard amongst the royal guests.”
“That’s stupid,” you said in a rather blunt fashion, which made Jon’s eyebrows inch closer to his curls. “Not to bash on your kingdom’s customs or anything—but I find the exclusion of bastards rather redundant. You’re still their family regardless.”
“It’s what I am,” the boy responded with half a shrug. “It’s all I ever will be.”
“It’s all you’ll be if that’s all you choose to be, Jon Snow.” You inhaled a lungful of frigid air.
The boy beside you seemed to mull over your words for a while, mouth twisted in thought. “I plan to join the Night’s Watch,” he said suddenly, looking almost surprised that he’d admitted that to you. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about the matter yet—it just happened to slip from his tongue without him giving it a second thought.
“That sounds fun,” you replied with a small smile, nudging your elbow into his shoulder. “At least, as much fun as you can have in this dreary place, anyway. No offense.”
For the first time, you heard the bastard of Ned Stark laugh. It was a quiet one, barely little more than an amused huff of his nostrils, but you heard it nonetheless. It made a queer sensation pool at the bottom of your stomach, one of warmth and selfish pride. You wanted him to laugh again.
“You’d look handsome in black,” you commented with a roguish leer, to which Jon shifted in an awkward manner, turning his gaze to the frosty ground. If you looked closer, you’d be able to catch a dusting of rouge over his pale cheekbones.
The silence warped around you two in a hazy cocoon, time slowing down to a slow drip, drip, drip of the sand grains in an hourglass.
Abruptly, you pivoted away from his side to face him, beckoning back to the mess hall with your head. “I’m sorry, in Dorne it’s rude to converse with someone who hasn’t had a meal when you’ve already eaten. You must be starving! Let me go fetch a plate for you.”
“Oh,” Jon started, already beginning to shake his head in panicked protest, “you really don’t have to—Lady Stark wouldn’t be very pleased—”
“Who said Lady Stark has to know? What if I just pretended I wanted a second helping?” You internally grimaced when you remembered that you hadn’t even finished your first helping.
Raven-hued curls shook haphazardly as he stepped forward to catch your wrist with his in a futile attempt to persuade you to stay. After all, he wasn’t all that hungry.
He could feel his stomach cinch painfully at the thought of roasted mutton chops and candied almonds, or honey cakes and creamed potatoes, or steaming rabbit stew and flaking raspberry pie. Alright, Jon supposed he was a little bit hungry.
“Sorry, can’t hear you!” you called out while waltzing away with a bright smile. “I’ll bring us two chalices of honeyed apple cider, too! Hope you like that!”
Despite all his efforts to stave away his mirrored excitement, Jon couldn’t help but watch you whisk away with a grin pulling at the side of his mouth.
“This is Ghost,” Jon said after swallowing down his bite of peppery chicken. You had been generous enough to add a bit of nearly every single dish available in the hall, walking out none-too-discreetly with a wobbling mountain of food stacked on the porcelain.
The white direwolf, still only a small pup, tittered towards Jon with a knowing glint in its eye, using its snout to nudge against his knee. Relenting, Jon ripped off a piece of mutton and tossed it onto the ground for the direwolf.
You were practically vibrating on your wooden seat beside him, grinning ecstatically. “I can’t believe you’ve got a direwolf!” you exclaimed in a hushed whisper, biting into a slice of spiced honey cake. “He’s gorgeous.”
Chuckling, Jon reached over to ruffle the creature between the ears. “He’s alright. Was the runt of the litter.”
That made your grin stretch wider.
The two of you conversed for what felt like hours—you found out that he was only a year older than you, that he hated blackberries, that he had nightmares about dragons sometimes. In turn, he learned that you had a pet snake at the ripe age of five, that you counted the stars outside your window when you couldn’t sleep, that you thought your father, Oberyn Martell, was going to kill the Mountain one day.
Jon found you fascinating—he couldn’t remember the last time he had listened so intently to someone.
Jon had wolfed down the food you brought, despite previously claiming he wasn’t all that hungry. Setting the empty dishes aside, you strolled alongside him, sipping on your cider and occasionally bumping into his side, which made both of you laugh as he kindly told you to mind your step.
When the guests inside the hall started to quiet down, small groups of people trickling out of the castle to retire to bed, you knew your limited time with Jon was coming to an end.
“We’ve only just met, but I’m gonna miss you,” you said, gazing towards him with disappointment etched plain as day across your features. Your hand lifted to brush away a bit of snow that had landed on his shoulder. “I certainly won’t miss the cold, though. I have no idea how you Northern folk live like this.”
“Our blood must be thicker than yours,” he commented in a humorous tone, which made you roll your eyes and stick your tongue out playfully at him. The smile that spread across Jon’s lips made your stomach twist with a queer sort of warmth. A tentative silence warped about the two of you, and you felt him step closer to you, his hands clenched into fists by his side, as if he was staving off some sort of urge.
You were young and foolish then—it was only expected that you acted on giddy impulsivity.
You leaned forward slowly, making sure he knew of your intent—and you kissed him. It was a dry, chaste kiss, awkward and hesitant in nature but endearing all the same. Jon was frozen for a long moment before his calloused hand was brought up to cradle your jaw, movements stiff with uncertainty, softly tilting your face so it slotted just right over his. His nose gently bumped into yours. His teeth caught against your lip. His dark curls tickled your forehead when they knocked together. The kiss tasted of apple cider and winter’s frost.
You pulled away with a flustered beam, pleased to see Jon had turned a furious shade of scarlet, his expression mirroring yours.
“Goodbye, Snow,” you said to him quietly, just as the both of you spotted his family coming out of the mess hall. Subconsciously, you shuffled away from him. The last thing you wanted was for Ned Stark to catch the both of you in the act, even though it was merely a harmless kiss. “You stay safe at the Night’s Watch, alright? Who knows, maybe I’ll get you to come visit Dorne one day. Get that thick, chunky Northern blood of yours to loosen up.”
“It would be an honor to come,” he replied with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a glint of sadness hidden within his dark irises—perhaps he believed that this would be the last time he’d ever see you. “Goodbye, Sand.”
With that, you watched him trudge away with a tight chest, his fur-coated figure growing smaller and smaller as he disappeared into the castle walls.
You were twenty the next time you saw Jon Snow.
Five long, long years.
You shivered on the horse, Sansa’s cold fingers holding onto your waist tightly. She sat just behind you, breaths spilling out pale mist over your shoulder. Podrick and Brienne were only an arm’s length away on their own horses, faces stony and filthy with grime. You were sure your own face was no better.
“Open the gates!” someone screamed.
The creak of metal. The whinny of a horse. The schlop of mud.
Your eye was heavy with exhaust.
Brienne led the way into Castle Black, dismounting her horse first. You followed suit, helping Sansa down and watched as Podrick ambled off of his. Castle Black was far colder than Winterfell had been. The cold didn’t seem to bother Sansa as much—after all, she was well accustomed to the weather since childhood. That, or she welcomed the numbing sensation of the frigid wind.
Despite being stuck in cold conditions for years, you were still a child of sand. You were made for the heat. The thought made you pull your thin coat closer to you, lips warbling into a glower.
And as you turned your head away from Sansa’s pale, sallow face, you could feel a dozen pairs of eyes burning into you. Tilting your gaze upward, you nearly burst into tears of relief upon seeing a familiar face.
Jon Snow.
He held the same features as he did five years ago—the heavy-set frown, the stormy, curious eyes, the ebony locks upon his head. He was taller, evidently so, and had a well-tamed beard blanketing the expanse of his jaw. He had grown into his features, face more chiseled and physique just a tad more defined.
The bastard laid his eyes on his sister first, an amalgamation of shock and confusion morphing across his features before it crossed over to the two strangers he’d never seen before. One tall and blonde, one stocky and dark-haired.
Then he looked to you. There was a slight shift to his expression. One of slight dubiety. Then, like a ray of sun on a stormy night, realization dawned upon him.
You looked so different. You wore your hair differently than when he last saw you, dyed a significantly lighter shade than it used to be. There was a new, jagged scar carved down your left cheek, a dirty leather eyepatch fixed over one of your eyes, and you were much taller than you had been at the ripe age of fifteen. Nonetheless, Jon recognized the small quirk to your lips, your Dornish facial features, the brightness of your one eye (though far dimmer than it used to be).
He rushed down the creaky wooden steps.
He embraced Sansa first. The red-head breathed out a sigh of exhaustion when he held her, tears rimming her eyes like snow on a wiry tree branch. Jon held her tightly—it’d been five long years since he’d seen his family.
A lump formed in your throat when he gently pulled away from her, and cast his gaze to you. You felt small under his scrutiny, partially afraid that he’d forgotten you after all these years.
Then, he whispered your name to the frost and you bit back a sob, launching yourself forward to wrap your arms around his midriff. There was so much you wanted to tell him—so much he needed to know.
But you couldn’t force the words out. So you remained silent, burying your nose into the warmth of Jon’s neck.
Your hair was still damp from the icy bath they’d drawn for you. The cold made your heart jump up your throat—it took you around ten minutes of dipping your toe into the water only to retract it with a scalding hiss until you forced yourself in with a grumble. You were now wrapped in about three layers of thick, furry blankets, a bowl of warm chicken soup cradled in your palms.
The crackling of the fire in front of you filled the silence momentarily. The clementine flames licked into the air greedily, spitting out small orange embers for you to watch turn into grey ash.
Jon was sitting close beside you, thigh pressed up against yours. You hadn’t the time to say anything to him before you were whisked away for a bath and food. Now that you had his full, undulated attention, you weren’t quite sure what to say.
“It’s good soup,” Sansa chimed from across the both of you. She was staring into the fire with a nostalgic grin fiddling with the corner of her raw-bitten lips. “Do you remember the kidney pies Old Nan used to make?”
Jon chuckled. “The ones with the peas and onions?”
The two hummed in thought, then fell back into silence. You shifted to slurp up more of your soup, offering your spoon to Jon with a tilt of your head. He shook his head softly, gesturing for you to have some more.
You had offered out of courtesy—Dornish traditions never died—but you were ever so grateful that he declined. You hadn’t realized just how starving you’d been.
Ramsay went out of his way to make sure you barely had a meal a week. He was cruel like that. Glancing to Jon, you caught him watching you unceremoniously gulp the soup down with a wide grin.
“Sorry,” you coughed out in a small voice after wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Do you… do you have any more of this?”
“We have plenty,” Jon said, not unkindly. “I’ll have one of the lads fetch another bowl for you.”
As he left, Sansa looked to you with an amused expression. “He likes you.”
“I barely know him. He barely knows me,” you replied, eyebrows canted upwards at her statement.
“And yet he likes you,” she persisted, bobbing her head down to sip on her soup.
You didn’t grace her with a response, instead opting to stare down at your empty bowl.
Jon came back not too late after, handing you another serving of the warm chicken soup. “Thank you,” you said sheepishly, before tucking in once more.
“We should have never left Winterfell,” Sansa spoke up. Both you and Jon looked at her, grunting noises of agreement. “Don’t you wish you could go back to the day you left? Tell yourself, ‘don’t go, you idiot’.”
A film of tears glossed over your eyes. “I wish I never left Dorne.”
Jon shook his head. “How could we have known? All the things that have happened to us… it wasn’t our fault.”
“I wish I could change everything,” Sansa admitted, shame threading heavily through her tone. “I was such an ass to you.”
“We were children,” he replied. “Though, you were occasionally awful.”
You snorted at that and Sansa rolled her eyes before turning to watch the fire.
“I’m sure I can’t have been better,” Jon replied modestly. “Always sulkin’ in the corner while the lot of you played.”
The three of you chuckled mirthfully at the thought of young Jon muttering curses under his breath in the shadows.
“Will you forgive me?” Sansa asked, quiet.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Jon countered firmly.
“Forgive me,” bit out Sansa, narrowing her eyes.
They both smiled.
“I forgive you.”
With a satisfied smile, Sansa drank the last of her soup and placed it on the table in front of her, rising with a certain kind of grace only she bore. She excused herself to go draw a long overdue bath.
Jon glanced at you once she left. “What have you been doing? After all this time?”
Hesitant, you fiddled with the spoon in your bowl.
“Well, five years ago, I followed your father and sisters to go back to King’s Landing. Continued my studies. Watched Ned Stark die in front of my eyes. My father came to King’s Landing for Joffrey’s wedding.” You paused for a moment, finding it hard to speak around your suddenly-thick throat. “I watched him die, as well, fighting for Tyrion Lannister. He was about to win. He was so close. But he wanted revenge for his sister—and his greed for revenge eventually became his demise. In a panic I… I ran away from King’s Landing. From everything.”
Tears of gold. Stolen bread from outdoor markets. Rats squeaking on cobblestone pathways at night.
“From then on, I bumped into Podric, Tyrion’s squire, and Brienne, a knight pledged to looking for the Stark girls. Pod recognized me from my time in King’s Landing—and knew all about my family, so that convinced Brienne enough to let me tag along. Besides, I knew more about medicine than half of King’s Landing combined, and that’s always useful when embarking on a journey.”
Bandaged wounds. Crackling fires. Clopping horseshoes.
“After a while, we ran into Arya and the Hound. I tried killing the Hound because his brother killed my father but I stopped upon realizing that he wanted his brother dead just as much as I did—if not more so. We lost sight of Arya. I’m sorry, Jon, I have no clue where she could be now.”
Blood. Sword. Blood.
“Pod, Brienne, and I kept moving forward and we eventually caught sight of Sansa at an inn with Petyr Baelish. Sansa remembered me from all those years ago at Winterfell—so I asked if I could accompany her. No, I didn’t ask. I begged. Tears and everything. I was foolish to leave Brienne and Pod. Baelish agreed to let me come when they were chased out.”
Panicked rambling. Desperate eyes. Hands and knees—begging.
“At Winterfell… it was a living nightmare. Ramsay Bolton tortured Sansa and I—he would lock me in rooms for weeks on end and forced me to run through the forest naked whilst shooting bolts at me. He fed me dog food and tied me to the bars of the hounds’ cage so he could watch them struggle against their ropes to rip me to shreds. He made me watch as he cut pieces of Theon away. He gave me these.” You pointed at the deep scar on your cheek, then to the eyepatch, voice warbling.
Hounds. Manic gaze. A scream of agony.
Jon’s hands found your face, slow and steady, his thumbs swiping at your cheeks. It took you a second to realize that he was brushing away tears, steadily falling from your eyes without you noticing. You nearly flinched away when his finger trailed down your steadily healing scar, but steeled yourself before you could retract away.
You trusted Jon Snow.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sand, I can’t imagine what that must be like,” he said softly. You cried harder.
“My family is dead. Poisoned with hatred for each other—for everybody else,” you choked out. “And it feels like you and Sansa are the only ones who can understand.”
The man in front of you nodded solemnly. “Aye. It was a pain like no other—hearing about each of their deaths through raven letters. And knowing that there was nothing I could do about it.”
Far too caught up to care about your boldness, you placed your bowl on the table and sidled up to Jon, your head resting on his shoulder and arm curled around his back. He didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact—he shifted so that his arm laid over the back of your neck. He smelled of a hearth’s smoke and a fresh, tree-like fragrance.
“Enough about me,” you whispered. Jon smiled, remembering that those had been the exact words you uttered to him five years ago. “What’ve you been doing all this time?”
“I was murdered, for starters,” he said with a hint of amusement when you abruptly twisted in his arms staring at him with parted lips.
“You were what?”
“A story for another time, I promise,” he mumbled, waving away your concern and gently nudging you back down against him, as your arm was digging into his stomach uncomfortably. “I’ve been fighting nonstop, come to think of it. I’ve killed people I hated, people I didn’t know… people I admired. I hung a boy younger than Bran. I’m tired of fighting, Sand. I’ve fought and I’ve lost. I’m done.”
You opened your mouth to say something comforting, reassuring, anything. But you had little to say, so you kept quiet, pressing your nose to the underside of his jaw in an effort to convey your sympathy.
Jon’s chest rumbled beneath your palm as he said, “There’s also dead in the North.”
“There’s what?!”
The bastard hummed gravely. He hummed as if that was just a normal sentence to toss out.
“And both of those things mean… we can’t stay here.”
You turned again, making sure your forearm wasn’t pressing against his abdomen, instead slanted off to the side. This made you lean even closer to Jon, nearly nose-to-nose with him.
Well, you certainly weren’t cold now.
“Where do we go?” you whispered in a low voice, brows furrowed. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Jon Snow. You’re the closest thing I have to a family now. I trust you.”
Jon studied you for a moment with an indiscernible expression, irises darting between your glistening eye and your front teeth digging into the flesh of your bottom lip. You spotted the way his gaze lingering on your mouth just a bit too long, but you pretended you hadn’t noticed. “Sansa wants to go back to Winterfell,” he replied slowly, bracing himself for your reaction.
The way you physically tensed against him didn’t go unnoticed.
Blood. Screaming. Trees. A bolt grazing your thigh. Blood. Barking hounds. Sansa’s wedding. Theon’s screams. Blood. Trees. Blood. Manic gaze. Ramsay’s sweat. Hounds. Blood. Blood. Blood.
“Why would we ever go back?” you spat out, withdrawing yourself with a snarl.
Jon sighed. It was a long, winded one, laced with exhaustion and uncertainty. “Because it belongs to us. To her, to Arya, to Bran, to Rickon.”
Your face softened. “To you, too.”
After a tentative pause, Jon rested his cheek onto your head, beard tickling the skin of your temple. “Aye. To me, too.”
“Will this be your last fight, Snow?”
Jon snorted at the thought. “I wish it was, Sand.” Already, it seemed you had forgotten about the dead in the North he had mentioned—which was all the better. He didn’t think you needed to worry at the moment. You deserved even just a brief moment of rest.
“I hope you kill that bastard. I hope I kill that bastard. I may be trained in the art of medicine, but I know how to fight. I grew up with the Sand Snakes, after all.”
Jon wisely chose to remain silent at that. He had no doubt that you were capable to take care of yourself.
“We should go to Dorne,” you murmured, words growing quieter as your eyelids drooped. Now that your belly was full and you were warm from the blankets and fire, it was growing harder and harder to resist the urge to doze for twelve hours straight.
“Alright,” Jon replied with a smile. Then, he asked in a joking manner, “How’s the weather been up here? I personally think it’s quite warm, actually. Must be my thick, chunky blood.”
“You’re a real pain, you know that?” you barked out while pinching his arm, your words lacking any real bite. “And don’t even get me started on the damn snow! Why the devil is it always snowing here? It’s ridiculous, actually!”
Jon was smiling down at you so wide that his cheeks ached as you drowsily gesticulated at how horrible Northern weather was.
When Sansa came back nearly an hour later, she wasn’t at all surprised to see you passed out in Jon’s arms, her older brother frantically motioning her to be quiet with his free arm. Much to his horror and her humor, all the jostling had made you rouse awake, blearily looking around with evident confusion etched plainly across your features. Jon gently coaxed you back down, telling you to go back to sleep with a soft tone—one that she’d never heard him use before.
Yes, she thought with a slightly amused shake of her head, he definitely likes you.
“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Jon said quietly, just loud enough for you and Sansa to hear. You shifted on your horse’s saddle uncomfortably. Of course you didn’t need to be here. But you weren’t kidding when you said you’d follow Jon Snow wherever he went.
Without sparing him a glance, Sansa replied with an even voice, “You know I do.”
Jon sighed. He looked towards you. If the situation wasn’t so serious, he’d laugh at how the fur coats you donned were nearly thrice your size. He briefly wondered if you were still cold under all that.
Ramsay Bolton certainly wasn’t a sight for sore eyes. He had a throng of men on horses riding behind him, the banner of a flayed man dancing with the wind, almost mocking in nature. His eyes were cold as ever, countenance serious yet still so very arrogant.
You could feel your muscles tensing so hard you were nearly stiff as a statue on your horse.
Blood. Trees. Theon’s screams. Barking hounds. Blood. Ramsay’s sweat. A knife flat against your cheek. Blood.
“My beloved wife. I’ve missed you terribly!” Ramsay preened with a sinister smile, scornfully bowing his head to Sansa. Then, he turned his horrid gaze to Jon, barely making note of you. “Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safely.”
Your blood boiled, an anger churning thunder within your stomach. You bit down on your tongue and steeled your emotions. Now was not the time for impulsivity.
“Dismount and kneel before me. Surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night’s Watch. I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house. Come, bastard. You don’t have the men, you don’t have the horses, and you certainly don’t have Winterfell. Why lead all these poor souls into slaughter? There’s no need for a battle. Get off your horse, and kneel.” Ramsay sat up straighter on his horse, gesturing to the cold, muddy grass in expectation. “I’m a man of mercy. I promise.”
Liar.
Fury clawed at your throat until you could feel the metallic taste of iron sting your tongue.
Of course, Jon Snow did no such thing.
“You’re right,” Jon admitted with a level tone. “There’s no need for a battle. Thousands of men don’t need to die. Only one of us. Let’s end this the old way. You against me.”
The slight change of your expression was minute, but it was there. Ramsay noticed the way your brows pulled together and a frown carved over your lips.
The devil of a man chuckled. You’ve heard that laugh a million times before—it plagued your nightmares every night. It was one of utter contempt, laughing at the sheer ludicrousy of the offer.
“I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you… you’re apparently the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good—maybe not. I don’t know if I’d beat you. But I do know my army would beat yours. I have over six thousand men. And you have, what? Half that? Not even?”
Jon nodded his agreement. “Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you when they know you wouldn’t fight for them?”
A cold fury washed over Ramsay’s features. His nostrils flared as he stared Jon down. “Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you’re too proud to surrender?”
For the first time since she left Winterfell, Sansa spoke to her husband. “How do we know you have him?”
A horrific leer flickered over his face. Those manic eyes came into play once more. He was enjoying this. Slowly, he gestured to one of his men. He was drawing this out.
Like a cat playing with a mouse before devouring it whole.
The man behind him pulled out a fluffy, black mass. It took you a moment to realize what it was. Horror settled itself, black as tar, in the pits of your gut.
It was the head of a direwolf.
You wanted to look away—but you couldn’t.
Ramsay studied your expression with glee. Whilst Sansa betrayed no hints of her inner turmoil, he could read you like an open book.
“Now, if you want to save your—”
Sansa interrupted him with a tone so sharp it would’ve cut straight through iron. “You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well.”
With that, she turned and rode away. You had half the mind to follow her.
Ramsay watched with shock clearly splayed over his countenance. He was quick to regain his composure, turning his head back to Jon. “She’s a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed.”
Your breath caught in your throat, clenching your jaw so hard that it was a wonder your teeth didn’t crack under the pressure.
“My dogs are desperate to have their favorite playtoy back,” Ramsay simpered. Your head snapped up, finding his eyes trained upon you. There was a sickly grin to his features, twisting his pale face in an abhorrent way. “I haven’t fed them for seven days—they’re absolutely ravished. I wonder which parts they’d go for first. Those bright eyes of yours? Oh, I’m sorry. Eye—forgot I did that to you. Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. In the morning, then, bastard.”
He sent one last smirk to you, bowed his head to Jon with a sneer on his face, before clicking his tongue and turning his horse around. The men followed closely behind.
The mutilated eye beneath your patch throbbed.
Bile rose in your throat.
You could feel Jon’s worried gaze on you, but you avoided his searching scan, mirroring both Sansa and Ramsay’s movements by pressing your heel into the horse’s side, and galloping away.
The amber glow of the candlelight did little to hide the morose expression folded over Jon’s features. His lashes cast long shadows down his cheeks, lowered with thought. You had come into the room just in time to hear his row with Sansa, their shouts echoing along the stone walls.
You waited for Sansa to leave, then a couple minutes more to allow Jon a second to mull over his thoughts.
Then, you stepped out of the darkness.
“Y/N,” Jon hoarsely said, immediately sitting up from his chair upon seeing you. “You weren’t at the war council.”
One of your shoulders lifted in a half shrug. “Didn’t think I’d be needed—I may be able to fight, but war strategy isn’t my forte.”
Jon regarded you for a second, before gesturing to the chair next to him.
“Still,” he murmured once you took a seat, drawing your knees up to your chest, “it would’ve been nice to have you there.”
“You want my advice?” you asked, mildly surprised.
Jon’s hand slowly reached out to sit heavy on your shoulder. “You know him better than anybody here—other than Sansa, of course.”
Chewing on your lip in thought, you shifted so that you were facing him. “He likes to play games. He wants to draw things out—prolong the inevitable as long as he can so he could squeeze every last drop of sick enjoyment out of it.” Your eye darted to the warbling candle’s flame, clearing your throat uncomfortably. “That’s what he did with me, at least. I’m sure that on the battlefield, he’ll play to his strengths first—dangle it in front of your face. Leading you on like you would a donkey with a carrot.”
“I’m sorry if this is… a hard question, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Jon started hesitantly. “But why you? What did he gain from hurting you?” There was a bitter sort of anger to his voice—but not the active kind. It was passive, almost wistfully so, and frustrated that he could do nothing about it because it was in the past.
“I’m a bastard, remember? I am what he hates in himself the most.” You sniffed disdainfully. “And I suspect he’s somewhat jealous. I’m a bastard just like him, yet I’m considered royalty back in Dorne. How come I get to have what he’s always wanted? He reminded me of Joffrey in a lot of ways. But far worse.”
Jon’s eyebrows raised at that. “You knew Joffrey?”
A smile flickered over your lips that didn’t quite reach your eye. “Not really. But the stories Sansa’s told me—they seem nearly one and the same.” After a brief pause, you turned your head back to Jon. “I’m coming with you tomorrow. Just so we’re clear. I want to see him dead.”
Grimly, Jon bowed his head. “There’s no shame in staying here, Y/N. Especially not after what you’ve been through.”
“I know,” you said. “But I can fight. Or who knows? Maybe—just maybe—my medical skills will come into play on a battlefield. Slim chance, though—men rarely ever get wounded in a war.”
The last sentence dripped with sarcasm, and it made Jon gruff out a short laugh.
There was a beat of amiable silence before Jon nudged you with his elbow. “Just don’t die on me, alright?”
“I think you’ve got more experience than me in that department,” you joked. “Which, by the way, you still haven’t told me about.”
Jon wrinkled his nose humorously. “Tell you what—if we both make it out alive, I’ll tell you about it.”
“Deal,” you agreed, swiftly sliding off the chair. He stood up with you, just inches away. “You should get some rest, Snow. Big day tomorrow.”
“Aye,” he whispered, bending forward to ring you into an embrace. He softly patted the back of your head just as you pressed your cold nose into the bushy fur of his coat. “Sleep well, Sand.”
When you pulled away to look at him and say goodbye, you found your throat running dry. You couldn’t find it in yourself to say the words.
Jon seemed to understand.
“This isn’t goodbye,” he whispered in a low, reassuring tone, rubbing his palms up and down your forearms. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, he tenderly kissed over your eyelid, then moved to kiss the eyepatch with an equal amount of affection. The raw compassion behind the action made tears sting the corner of your vision, but you blinked it away just as quickly as it came.
Determined not to start bawling in front of him, you nodded once, then stepped away, retracting from his warmth.
Damn Northerners and their thick, chunky blood.
A raised blade.
Rickon running.
Flying arrows.
Jon on a galloping horse.
Terror.
Ever so close.
A sick squelch.
Rickon Stark was dead.
Mud, everywhere.
Was that the barking of hounds you heard?
No, those were the dying whinnies of horses.
A rally of arrows.
The song of steel against steel.
A man screaming as you sliced his throat.
Gurgles.
You picked up a fallen shield.
Another rally of arrows.
Blood trickled out of your nose.
Copper in your mouth.
Piles of dead men.
Parrying strikes.
A grunt.
Your sword sticking out of another man’s abdomen.
Jon Snow a whisker away from death.
Your boot against his attacker’s jaw.
Jon Snow’s frantic hand gripping your arm—pulling you.
Where was he taking you?
Shields in a circle around you.
Trapped.
Trapped.
Trapped.
Mud.
Jon Snow yelling your name.
Trampled.
Clawing for air.
You, screaming for Jon.
Inhaling dirty water.
Coughing.
Choking.
Air.
Jon Snow’s wheezing, exhausted gasp as you hauled him up.
Sansa Stark, in the distance.
More men. Horses.
Ramsay Bolton riding away.
You spat out blood.
Coward.
There were three arrows embedded into the wooden flesh of the shield. Three.
Jon Snow managed to block Ramsay’s arrows thrice.
Before a fourth could be nocked, Jon drove the edge of the shield straight into Ramsay’s face, a bilious crack of his nose echoing across Winterfell.
Ramsay was on the ground, mud flying up between the two as Jon straddled him. His fist rained no mercy. With every brutal punch, a ferocious grunt rumbled from Jon’s chest. Each time he pulled away, his skin grew more and more damp with the Bolton’s blood—sticky scarlet mingling with the dark soot.
It sounded less and less as if Jon were striking something solid, and more like he was hitting a pool of liquid.
A snarl appeared on Snow’s face. Your Snow. There was a manic glint to his eyes.
You shuffled forwards, then back, uncertain of whether to stop him or to let him keep going. Fear reared its familiar, ugly head within you.
Ramsay smiled through the blood.
Jon paused for a second—a mere second—to glance up. He caught your eye. It looked like he was about to punch Ramsay again, kill him, even, but he hesitated.
You were afraid. Of Jon? Neither of you were quite sure.
Slowly, painfully slow, he slid off of Ramsay’s bloody figure, panting with both exertion and pent-up frustration.
It nearly shattered him when he approached you, and you took another step back, merely out of pure instinct.
“Jon,” you whispered, snapping out of your dazed reverie and reaching out to him. It was only Jon—you trusted him.
Jon Snow was nothing like Ramsay Bolton.
You wrapped your arms around him, uncaring of the dirt and blood on his clothes. Three seconds ticked by. Before the fourth could strike, Jon gingerly lifted his arms to tug you closer to him. He mumbled out a couple breathy words into your hairline, but you couldn’t quite hear what he said.
You supposed it didn’t matter—not when he remained silent for the rest of the time he held you. Barely, you registered the way his entire body trembled. He tucked his nose against the column of your throat.
And he cried.
That only had you holding him tighter.
You watched in the shadows of the hounds’ kennel.
Watched as Sansa set the hounds on a tied-up Ramsay.
Watched as they slobbered drool over his face.
Watched as he screamed agony when they tore into his limbs.
Sansa’s hand brushed your shoulder on her way out.
You stayed.
You stayed until the screams turned into gurgling.
You stayed until the gurgling died away—a flame using the last of its wick.
You stayed until you knew Ramsay Bolton was dead.
It happened in the dead of night. When the winds quietened to but a feathery whisper, when the moon shone silver and gold, when the fires in the hearths had waned to a soft orange glow.
Jon’s face, now freshly void of any grime, was cradled in your palms.
“We match, Snow,” you whispered, thumb trailing down the faded scar over his eye.
A smile flittered over his lips.
His own hands raised to faintly trace your new white patch on your eye, careful not to press too hard. “Yours is a lot worse than mine, Sand.” In a much less humorous tone, he said, “Thank you. You saved my life out there, while we were fighting. I owe you.”
You regarded him with a strange look, one so very tender and affectionate that it made Jon’s stomach squirm. “You owe me nothing, Jon Snow. You would’ve done the same for me.”
“You’re a good fighter,” he quipped, a dusting of pink on his cheekbones. “I was watching you more than I should have. You distract me.”
Instead of responding, you boldly leaned forward and enveloped his mouth with yours, nose slotted against his. It took no less than a second for Jon to reciprocate—as if he’d been waiting for this for a long time.
All the frustration of the fighting, of the battles, of the wars, came pouring out of the both of you. It was raw, needy, brutal with want.
Boots thudded to the ground. Fur coats were hastily shed. The back of your knees hit the bed, and you both fell onto the mattress with quiet oomfs. Your fingers tangled into his dark curls, tugging, yanking.
Jon made a guttural noise against you, eyes half-lidded.
Stars of Dorne colored behind your eyelid as Jon moved against you. Sweat beaded your body. Your chest pressed against his, rising and falling with each staggered breath. His skin was burning, near scalding to the touch. But you were a child of sand. You were made for the heat.
Caught up in the intense fervor of the moment, your blunt nails scratched down his abdomen, leaving raw red marks in its wake. You were about to apologize, but Jon seemed not to mind, kissing you even harder, all teeth and tongue. He smelled of cedar and honey cakes.
At one point during the heated session, you switched positions so that you sat on top. “Didn’t you say you’d tell me about how you died if we both made it out alive?” you questioned, stroking his stubbled jaw.
A brief frown crossed his expression. “You’re really bringing this up now, of all times?” he grumbled.
“Fine, fine.” You rolled your eyes and smoothly moved against him, like the push and pull of an ocean’s wave. A soft, desperate noise scratched at the back of Jon’s throat. “You’re telling me after, though.”
Abruptly, Jon hooked his leg over the crook of your knee and flipped you onto your back, hovering over you. An unattractive squawk of surprise wrangled out of your lungs. His long ink-hued locks tickled your forehead and you wrinkled your nose at him, flushed with desire.
“I’m hoping you’ll forget that by the time I’m done,” Jon gritted out, sounding unfairly confident in his abilities, kissing along your jaw, your clavicle, your chest—and further down he went. Waves of heat danced across your body and you bit down on your tongue in near torment.
He took his time with you, savoring every last second he had before facing the outside world once more. The grip on your hips grew impossibly tighter. Jon could smell the snow on your skin, paired with the faint aroma of smoke, most probably because you’d been hovering by the fire, complaining about the cold just before this. He smiled into your flushed skin. He just couldn’t get enough of you.
You were about to retort something scathing in response when his teeth sank into the flesh of your inner thigh. Immediately, your lips snapped back shut. You didn’t trust yourself to speak without dissolving into a fluster-fucked mess.
It was safe to say, the thought of Jon’s past-death was the absolute last thing on your mind for the rest of the night.
You were fourteen when you left Dorne.
You were twenty-two when you returned home.
“So…” you just about purred into Jon’s ear, draping an arm over his shoulder. “That thick, chunky Northern blood of yours loosen up, yet?”
He side-eyed you with faux-annoyance, before returning his gaze to the large expanse of Dorne’s gardens. His elbows were resting against the balcony’s marble railings, the sun’s rays kissing his skin with golden warmth.
“It’s beautiful,” he observed, bowing his head. “I still can’t believe all of this is yours now.”
“Well,” you shrugged your shoulders, kissing his cheek fondly, “I suppose that’s what happens when I’m the last Martell standing.”
Jon turned to face you, expression turning grave. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t—”
“Oh, hush.” You pressed a finger to his lips, other hand lifting to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. You made the mental note to ask if he wanted to get his hair trimmed—though, you rather liked the long hair on him. “It’s okay. What happened, happened. It’s over now. The battles have been fought—we defeated the Night King. Ramsay Bolton is dead. Cersei Lannister is dead. Daenerys Targaryen is dead. The war is won. We can rest.”
He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he nodded once solemnly, then cast his gaze back to the sunny view. Palm trees arched to the cloudless sky, lush greenery neatly arranged in the gardens. In the center was a large fountain, with four red scorpions as its centerpiece. Just past the gardens were the beginnings of a yellow desert, where the camels roamed and snakes thrived.
A servant came up to the both of you, offering two chalices of honeyed apple cider and a bowl of sticky date cakes.
“Thank you,” Jon told them graciously, nearly groaning with delight when he sipped the sweet drink. “I’ve missed this.”
You hummed your agreement, taking a generous bite of the cake. “I have something to ask you, Snow.”
An eyebrow arched in question, silently boding you to keep going.
You fiddled with the loose, ochre fabric of your shirt. “Will you stay with me? Here, in Dorne?” Uncertainty splayed over your features, and you were quick to backtrack. “I mean—I understand if you wouldn’t—you’ve got family in the North, and it’s where you’re from but… I wouldn’t want to rule without you by my side.”
The question was one Jon expected—one he already had an answer prepared for.
“I don’t know.” Jon scratched at his recently-shaven stubble. “It’s a bit… hot.”
After getting over your initial shock at his nonchalant response, your fist collided with his forearm, which made him burst out into peals of laughter. Much to your dismay, you felt a smile cracking through your annoyed glower.
“You’re a bastard, Snow.”
The raven-haired man turned to you fully, placing the chalice onto the flat of the railing and gathering you into his arms. His forehead leaned against yours as he stared into your single bright eye, glimmering with hope. How could he ever say no to you?
“Aye. That I am,” he said wistfully, before pecking you chastely. You tasted the apple on his lips. “And so are you, Sand.”
You nodded. “You’re right about that,” you whispered, sighing out a breath of relief.
“Of course I’ll stay, love. You said it yourself—we can rest now. I can think of no better place than with you.” Jon slotted two fingers beneath your chin so that you’d meet his sincere gaze.
There were tears pricking the corner of your eye, and you quickly blinked them away before yanking him closer by the collar of his tunic, and kissing him under the scorching sun of Dorne.
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𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓦𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼
Robb Stark x Reader x Jon Snow
Request: „I love ur writing and I wondering if you could write a robb stark x reader x jon snow where they’re fighting over a winter fella new maid or smth, tysm!‟
A/N: A request from anon. I won't lie, despite the little information I was very inspired by this idea.
I hope all of you will enjoy reading it.
Please remember that english is not my native language, mistakes may or will occur.
Additionally, work contains smut, minors do not interact.
They had never seen her before, and perhaps that was why their curiosity about her was so unbridled.
They couldn't explain it, but from the moment they laid their eyes on her they had to touch her, they had to feel her, they had to taste her.
-You feel so good around me - the man murmured directly into her ear, biting its lobe.
Woman only moaned quietly, resisting her forehead on a cold stone wall.
Her body trembled with the intense pleasure that flowed through her veins. Her legs almost gave up under her , if not for a strong hand that tightened on her hip, giving her goosebumps.
-Robb...no...we can't - she said, closing her eyes and parting her mouth when his member hit her insides mercilessly.
Man muttered in response before placing his free hand around her slender neck, squeezing gently to remind her of the wolf behind her devouring her piece by piece.
-Your soft lips say something different from your body - the brunette noticed after a while attacking her bare arms with wet kisses and rough bites - You want me like I want you. So let your big wolf devour you - he growled close to her ear, kissing her cervix harder with each word he spoke.
Y/n gave a silent scream.
Her eyes closed tightly, and her hands tightened into fists. She was so close, she felt it. Her release was like a wave at sea. The water went back, just to hit the coastal stones firmly, playing with her.
And Robb, Robb was the ruler of this sea.
-So close... please Robb! - she whimpered desperately, looking at him with eyes clouded with lust.
-I know, little lamb. I know - the young man murmured, abusing all the right places inside her with strong and aggressive movements that took her breath away with each successive stroke of his hips - Let go, let me feel you.
His words were the key that opened the golden gate leading straight to a sweet pleasure so good it was almost forbidden.
Her eyes closed, and a wave of pleasure passed through her, spreading everywhere in her body. From the top of her head to the tips of her fingers.
It felt as if time had stopped and the sound around them ceased to exist.
-Good little lamb - said Robb, lazily kissing her neck - Now let the wolf fill you up.
-Yes, yes - she whimpered, opening her mouth wide and frowning as she felt another orgasm coming toward her, so fast and unnoticed it almost hurt - Please, I want to be full!
Y/n moaned softly, feeling the sudden warmth that poured from her insides, right between her thighs.
With her hand, she sluggishly grabbed the brunette's neck, pulling him to herself, connecting their lips in a slow kiss.
Every next touch, every kiss, every sigh. Everything was more intimate, more sensual... more forbidden and dangerous.
The slightest sound from the end of the corridor startled her like a doe that was being hunted. Fleeing before a predator could spot her ,before Robb could've grab her in his claws again, feasting a little longer.
First she heard their voices, then felt their burning eyes on her skin. Yet her movements remained the same, composed, calm. While the two wolves watched her, no matter how far away she was from them.
-I see the way you're looking at her - Robb confessed in a hard controlled voice- You're my brother, but she's not yours...never will be.
Jon stopped staring at his beautiful Y/n, resembling a doe in her delicacy, reluctantly letting her immaculate, ruddy face escape his view.
-She's a free woman - bastard remarked, fixing his cold gaze on him - She can choose whoever she wants - he remarked, noticing in the corner of his eye how her gaze involuntarily wandered in their direction, watching them from a distance, trying so desperately to hear what they were talking about.
-And you believe she'll choose you? - Stark asked, unable to stop staring at the woman who had beguiled his senses and soul.
-If she would choose me - said the black-haired man, stopping for a moment - I would let her. I would let her do whatever she wanted because I couldn't tell her no. Never.
Robb clenched his hand into a fist, his face hardened into an indifferent expression.
He wanted to be controlled, understanding. But still the blood of the north flowed in his veins, the blood of the wolf. And his dark, primitive side knew, knew that the moment he laid his eyes on the woman, she became his, only his.
Before the eldest son of the Lord of Winterfell could speak, Y/n caught his attention again.
Just like the night before, she ran away suddenly, unexpectedly, as if something spooked her before she saw it.
He wanted to know what, but when he looked back, she was gone.
Just like Jon.
She thought she had run away.
She should be smarter.
Within seconds she was in the arms of Ned Stark's son, gasping as he pulled her closer, shielding her from the eyes of the outside world.
-Jon - she said almost breathlessly.
-Y/n - he replied, kissing her jaw gently - Why are you still running away? - he asked, holding her tightly in his arms.
-I'm not running away - she confessed, leaning against his torso - I just wanted to get rid of so many eyes on my skin - she added, tilting her head slightly to look into the man's dark irises - They seem to be following me wherever I go.
The man smiled slightly at her confession, his hand found its place on her cheek, stroking its smooth surface with his thumb.
-You are a white deer in the darkness - he stated, staring intensely into her eyes with growing desire - And the wolves are starving - he added before attacking her full, sweet lips.
Woman moaned softly, grabbing his hair as if her life depended on it, trying to pull him even closer.
Even though she shouldn't.
Grabbing her tiny body, Snow pinned her to a nearby tree. Attacking her slender neck, he reveled in the sound of her whimpers and sighs, his large hands roaming her body, lower and lower.
Y/n watched his actions with eyes clouded with desire.
She was afraid that someone would see them, she was afraid of punishment.
But they were alone among the trees in Godswood. The only witnesses were the old gods and themselves, no one else.
-Jon...we can't - she whispered weakly, not realizing how familiar this scenario was to her.
-All I want is to please you - he said tenderly, slowly rolling up the fabric of her dress, making her skin crawl with goosebumps - My sweet Y/n, let your wolf feast. I must feel you.
She fell helplessly onto the rough bark behind her.
She wanted to say and do so much, but her body seemed to rebel against her, telling her to take whatever the predator was giving her between her thighs.
He was so gentle and agonizingly slow, kissing and sucking on her firm skin, leaving marks on his prey as he got closer and closer to where he wanted to attack so much.
Y/n quickly became numb.
The amount of attention she was getting seemed to overwhelm her body, but even so, she didn't want the moment to ever end, not with Jon harassing her womanhood in such an addictive way.
She could compare him to a hungry wolf, by the fact with what fervor he devoured her femininity while choosing every single piece, not wanting to miss absolutely nothing.
She let the knot in her lower belly burst, spreading delicious and burning pleasure through her body, which constantly circulated through her veins through the tongue of a man who would not leave her, feasting on her even longer.
She felt her sanity trying desperately to break through the thick wall of pleasure and lust built by two dangerous predators that were using the little sheep inside it.
But she wanted them to be happy ,full.
Even as they fought for her like ravenous wolves, and she just couldn't choose. Letting them both devour her.
#jon snow x reader#robb stark x reader#robb stark#jon snow#game of thrones#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones fanfiction#robb strak x fem!reader#jon snow x fem!reader#jon snow smut#robb stark smut#jon snow x reader x robb stark
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Robb Stark and Jon Snow*Competition
Part two to Share (here) which is the rivalry before hand or you can read this as stand alone smut. Part three at bottom
Pairing: Jon x f!reader, Robb x f!reader
Summary: just smut
Warnings: dom robb, dom jon, p in v sex, fingering, oral m and f receiving, spanking, threesome 18+
Word count: 3551
Masterlist Here
“What exactly am I supposed to be choosing?” you asked.
“My lady we can explain,” Jon began to stammer, cheeks going their familiar cute shade of pink, “Robb and I well we- “
“We both have an affection for you,” Robb continued trying to sound confident, but his voice failed him, “And we have been uh debating,” Robb said causing you to laugh.
“Debating?” you questioned, “It sounded more like an argument,” this time it was Robbs turn to blush and turn his eyes away.
Jon continued for his brother, “We just were trying to figure out which one of us you liked. Assuming you do like one of us,” Both boys were struggling to meet your gaze at this point.
“I might,” you said with a slight smirk causing both boys heads to snap up, their eyes watching you intently as you smirked leaning against your chamber door.
“Well, which one of us is it?” Robb asked with eager eyes. He was internally praying to the gods to give him some luck or at least to have him swallowed up by the grounds if he was wrong about your affection. Jon was silently thinking the same.
You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Who said it was one of you?” you said with a slight smirk. Both boys looked confused at your words. You walked closer to the pair with each word, “Would it be so bad if I didn’t choose? Were you not taught how to share?”
Your hands moved to rest on Robbs chest, looking up at him with a smile toying on your lip. “What do you think Robbie? Are you good at sharing?”
Robbs eyes flickered to Jon who was watching all of your movements. You couldn’t possibly be suggesting what they thought you were. “My lady,” Robb said, eyes returning to you, “What are you suggesting?”
You laughed lightly, stepping back from the taller boy before turning to Jon, “I think Jon knows,” you hummed causing Jon to look to the floor, face flushed bright pink, “Don’t you Jon?” you teased.
“I think I do my lady,” Jon murmured.
You moved closer to Jon, lifting his head up by his chin. Jon gazed at you with desperate eyes. Slowly, your lips moved to close the gap, capturing his into a gentle soft kiss. Jons eyes fluttered closed at the soft skin of your lips on his. It was sweeter than any wine and his lips chased after yours when you pulled back.
Now you turned your attention to Robb who was silently stewing at his brother receiving all your attention, “Don’t pout,” you teased when you walked up to the taller man hands finding his strong shoulders again, “There’s enough of me to go around,”
Robbs strong hands suddenly grabbed your hips, pulling them into his harshly and causing you to gasp, “I don’t pout,” he almost growled before his lips dove down to capture yours. His kiss was hungry as his rough lips moved against your soft ones as you tried to keep up with his pace. Your lungs were screaming but air did not seem to matter anymore.
When the kiss broke Robb span you around by your hips, pressing your back into his chest, to face Jon. You could feel Robbs hard on pressing into your back. Jon’s face was darker than Robbs, with lust and anger spread across his skin. “What do you say?” Robb said, his hands still firmly placed on your hips to keep you in place, “Think you can handle a little competition?”
“It’s not a- “you started but Jon cut you off this time.
“Oh, but it is,” he said, walking closer to you, his chest a few inches from yours but eyes on Robbs, “Don’t throw a fit when im better at this than you,”
A dark chuckle fell from Robbs throat causing shivers to go down your spine, “You wish Snow,”
Jons eyes fell from Robbs to yours, his hands moving to gently take your face into his palms, “Maybe we should let you decide,” he said with a low voice, “You want us to share? Take turns fucking you?” his warm breath fanned your face and made shivers go down your skin. All you could do was nod. Jon took that as his que and his lips crashed onto yours, his hands moving to push Robb back and pull you by your waist into him. You craved the warmth of Robb against your skin again, but Jons lips were so sweet.
It felt like a perfect eternity however a rough hand suddenly pulled your shoulder, forcing the kiss to break. Robb stood in your place looking down at Jon, glaring into his eyes before turning to you, “Lay on the bed sweetheart,” he said with a softness to his voice, “Jon and I need to talk first,”
“Why don’t you strip while you wait,” Jon said before walking with Robb to the opposite side of the room to talk in hushed whispers.
You did as you were told, stripping down to your thin under shift which did little to cover your shape. Laying down on the bed of soft furs, you gazed at the two men across the room to admire their features when Robb suddenly looked, and your eyes snapped back to watch the ceiling as you waited.
You didn’t have to wait long as you heard footsteps crossing the room. Robb sat on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to stroke your jaw, “Are you sure about this?” he asked, all anger from before gone from his voice, “We can stop at any point,”
“I’m sure,” you said with a soft smile as you leaned into his soft touch, “I want you. I want both of you,” your eyes flickering to Jon who stood just behind Robb. You sat up slightly, your hand moving to rest on the back of Robbs neck, “Please,”
That was all it took for Robb to join his lips to yours, soft at first but a growing neediness began as he began to nip at your bottom lip. You gasped as his teeth sunk into your soft bottom lip, but it soon turned to a moan as his tongue slipped in and his hands moved to explore your body. First, they went down your shoulders, his touch gentle to start, before they moved to your breasts, squeezing them firmly making you moan.
Robb broke the kiss but only to strip off his outer clothes and tunic, leaving him in just trousers and his undershirt. You could see the hair on his chest peaking out and moved your hands to feel his hard chest under the thin fabric, “Like what you see?” Robb said with a cocky smile when he noticed your gaze.
Your blush didn’t matter as he pushed you down by your shoulder to crawl on top of you, his legs settling between yours. He began to grind down his hips into yours, his hard bulge pressing against your thinly clothed cunt. A hollow spot began to grow in your stomach as his bulge rubbed against your clothed clit, moving at just the right firm but slow pace.
Robb moved his lips from yours to leave harsh kisses to your jaw, down your neck, and to your collarbones. “Do you still have that red dress? The one that goes up to here?” he asked, tapping at the bottom of your throat. You nodded, “You’ll need to wear it tomorrow,” his voice was breathy, almost panting but you could not care when he began to suck dark marks along your collarbone.
Your hands moved to tangle in his curly hair, making him groan at your touch. His hands still squeezing your tits in his hands, “You care about this shift?” he asked and this time you shook your head. You gasped when you heard fabric ripping and the cold air hit your chest. Robbs lips licked over your nipple causing it to harden under his tongue. He continued his assaults on your breast, one with his hand, rolling and pinching your bud between his fingers, the other with his mouth. You could not contain your moans as his teeth grazed over your hardened bud. “Robb,” you moaned.
He let go of your nipple with a pop, making a whine leave your lips, “Yeah me. It’s me who’s making you feel so good?” he asked with a smirk as he continued to roll his hips into yours.
You whined again when his hips stopped but held your breath when one of his hands moved down your body to move between your thighs, “Do I make you feel good?” he asked, his breath fanning your face, his lips so close but so far from your own.
You could feel his finger trailing up your already wet slit. “Yes,” you stuttered, unable to take your eyes off of his.
As soon as you said it Robb pushed a finger into you, his lips finding your neck again. He slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, “Please,” you whined, and you felt his smirk against your skin.
Robb added another finger, a slight burn growing at the stretch but quickly disappearing as his fingers moved inside you at a slightly faster pace. You moaned as he began to lightly suck at your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him more space.
As you did your eyes fell on Jon who had moved to sit on a chair across the room, his eyes locked on you. your eyes scanned down his body and a smile on your lips when you could so clearly see the outline of his cock from his trousers. He had stripped down to his own trousers and undershirt, but it did little to hide his body which was more toned than you had expected.
Your attention was drawn back when Robb moved his thumb to rub against your clit as his fingers began to curl. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you moaned from his touch, a warm feeling spreading across your body. Moaning his name only made him speed up.
Jon watched the sight, his eyes dark with lust. The sight of him watching you, already hard only made you want this more. Then Robb curled his fingers in just the right way. Your body tensed up before all the pressure released liked water from a burst dam. Robb moved his hand to cover your mouth when a loud moan began as you came around his fingers. You gazed into Robbs eyes as you finished riding your orgasm on his fingers. “Not too loud darling,” Robb grinned as he placed a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t want someone interrupting out fun,”
“My turn,” Jon said as he stood from the chair.
Robb rolled his eyes, “Speaking of,” he looked down at you, pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling suddenly empty. “I’ll be right over there darling,” Robb said before getting off the bed.
You sat up as Jon walked over and stood at the edge of the bed. “Hey,” you said with a soft smile.
Jons hands moved to hold your face, guiding you over to sit on the edge of the bed looking up at him, “Hey,” he finally replied, his voice low, “You look so fucking good,” he said before his lips crashed onto yours.
You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, your neck craning up to meet his lips. You felt him slowly move down to sit on his knees, his face now eyelevel with your breasts. Jon moved his hands down to squeeze them gently before trailing them down your half-torn shift to rest on your hips. His fingers dug into the flesh. “I want you,” he said, breaking the kiss with ragged breath.
“I want you too Jon,” you said.
His eyes scanned over your body, “You’re so fucking perfect,” Jons hands gripped your hips tighter, “I wanna make you feel good. Lay down for me,” When you went to move back onto the middle of the bed he stopped you, “No love, just lay down here,” Jon pushed your shoulders gently to make you lay down, confusion written on your face as you did.
Jons hands pushed up the remaining fabric of your shift to reveal you to him. Your breath hitched when you felt his hot breath against your wet cunt. a shiver went through you when you felt his face sink lower. Jon placed soft kisses to your inner thighs. You moaned when he sucked the flesh, leaving small hickeys into the sensitive skin. Finally, Jon turned to the part of you that ached.
The hot breath on you was already making the hair stand up on your body. Jon moved your legs to rest over his shoulders, his fingers resting on your hips. When Jon leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your cunt you couldn’t help but whine. Your hand moved to gently rest on the back of his head as he licked a soft stripe up your slit. Then again and again till he was lapping up your juices like a starved man, his fingers digging into your hips. It was the only thing stopping you from bucking them as his tongue began to dive into you causing a knot to build in your stomach. “Jon please fuck,” your moans were breathier this time.
When Jons nose began to nuzzle into your clit you couldn’t help the loud whiney moan that fell from your lips. Jon pulled his lips off of your wet cunt for just a moment, “Can you do something Robb?” he said but the way his breath felt against your wet cunt was already making you whine again.
Robb crossed the room quickly to sit beside you on the bed. When Jons lips clashed back onto your cunt a moan fell from your lips only to be cut off by Robb crashing his into yours. He held you by your jaw as his lips danced with yours in a sloppy hungry dance. Robb couldn’t help himself when his hand moved to grab your tit, rolling your nipple in between his fingers.
Jon broke his downstairs kiss again much to your dismay “I don’t need help,” he said before diving back in.
“Its not for you,” Robb panted before capturing your lips again.
Nothing else seemed to matter as a hot knot began spiralling inside of you. especially not when Jon moved his fingers into your hole so he could free his mouth up to gently suck on your clit. If not for Robbs lips on yours the room would have been filled with your loud whines. It didn’t take long for the pressure to burst like a balloon inside of you especially when Jons teeth grazed your clit.
Robb had to hold you up as you rode out your orgasm on Jons face who didn’t stop until your body was twitching beneath him. Jon stood up from between your legs to look down at you, “Maybe we could share?” he said, eyes flickering to Robb.
“What were you thinking?” Robb said, eyes locked on you as you looked between the two men.
“I get her mouth,” Jon said, hand gripping your jaw.
“Good,” Robb grinned as he got off the bed and began to pull the rest of his clothes off, “I always wanted to be the one that fucked her,”
When Robb finally unlaced his trousers, you saw his cock spring free. It was hard, the tip was already red and leaking precum. You stared at it in a mix of amazement and fear when you realised its size. This was not helped by Jon pulling off his own trousers. Neither man was lacking in that department. Jons cock was thicker and slightly shorter but just as desperate as Robbs.
As Jon was pulling off his undershirt Robb moved to pull you across the bed, “Its not polite to stare,” he grinned as he moved you to kneel in front of him with your back against his chest.
“Sorry,” you stuttered as his hands moved to push the torn fabric off your shoulders before they moved to your breasts.
“Don’t need to be sorry love,” Jon said as he climbed on the bed to be kneeling in front of you, “Just need to let us take care of you,” he said caressing your face, “You wanna suck my cock while Robb fucks you silly?” All shyness had left Jons body by now as he stared down at you, hungry for your mouth on him.
The words were enough to make you shiver and you felt yourself grow wetter, “Yes please,” you murmured as Jons fingers traced your lips.
He pulled you in for one last brief kiss before moving back. Robb placed a gentle kiss to your neck before pushing you down to be on all fours in front of him, “If you wanna stop all you need to do is double tap my thighs,” Jon assured as you took your place, but you had no intention of stopping any of this.
“You look so fucking good right now,” Robb praised as he took his hard cock in hand, trailing its tip along your wet folds, “I’ve been waiting to fuck you for so long,” he said, his tip gently easing into your hole. His size caused a burn as he entered you slowly making you gasp. Jon held your face in his hand as Robb pushed himself slowly in, “You feel so good,” you heard him grunt.
Soon he was all the way inside of you, his length filling you complete. After a couple moments of easing to the pain you nodded up and Jon who did the same to Robb. Robbs hands found your hips, gripping the soft flesh gently as he began to pull out slightly before thrusting back in. you gasped as he began to thrust into you, moving slowly to begin with.
You looked up to see Jons cock staring back at you, its tip wet with precum. When you looked up at him through your eyelashes Jon almost came at the sight. “Please,” you whimpered as Robb continued his thrusts. “Please Jon,”
Jon did not need anymore instruction as he moved forward to put his cock into your open mouth. The feeling of your wet tongue under his cock and your soft lips wrapping around his shaft made him groan. You began to bob your head up and down his length, your mouth struggling to take him all in.
Meanwhile Robbs thrusts began to increase and which each thrust you found yourself taking more of Jons cock in your mouth. When Robb licked his fingers before moving them to rub sloppy circles onto your wet clit your moans vibrated up Jons cock. Jon couldn’t help his hips from bucking as he began to fuck your mouth back.
Their thrusts became synced and as Jon thrust into your mouth you were pushed deeper onto Robbs cock, his tip hitting new places. Jons hands moved to your hair, gripping it as he tried to steady himself so overwhelmed with pleasure.
Robbs hand went between gripping your hip to placing hard smacks on your ass to make it jiggle even more. The sight just made him want you more. His thrusts grew harder and faster.
You could feel Jons cock twitch in your mouth which made you moan once again on his cock. “I can’t- “Jon gasped when he suddenly spilled his seed into your throat. Robb did not stop his thrusts as you swallowed the seed, Jons face screwed up in pleasure before he pulled his cock out your mouth, leaving a trail of spit and cum behind.
When Jon moved back you couldn’t keep yourself up for much longer. Robb moved his hand to push your shoulders down into the mattress, your fingers curling up into the furs as Jon moved to lay beside where Robb continued to fuck you. however, this new position made Robbs cock hit new spots which caused a load moan to rip from your throat. Jon moved your head so that your moans were now muffled by the pillow Robb was fucking you into. You felt your last and most intense orgasm rush through you, your walls clenching around Robbs cock. Robb tried to ride out your orgasm but as your walls clenched around him, he felt his cock twitch before he spilled, eyes screwing shut as he gasped for air.
Robb knelt back onto his knees as he got his breath back. Meanwhile Jon had moved you to lay in his arms beside him as you were still panting from your last orgasm, unable to speak from all the pleasure.
“You did amazing,” Jon praised, leaving a soft kiss to your head.
Robb moved to fall beside you on the bed, rolling onto his side to face you, “Absolutely perfect darling,” he agreed, kissing your cheek. “We’ll have to do it again sometime,”
“Agreed,” you panted.
Jon nodded in agreement, “But next time I get to fuck her,”
“We’ll see,”
Part Three Here
Game of Thrones Taglist @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy
#robb stark angst#robb stark x reader#robb stark imagine#robb stark#robb stark smut#jon snow x reader#jon snow imagine#jon snow angst#jon snow#jon snow smut#game of thrones smut#game of thrones#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones x reader#richard madden smut#richard madden imagine#richard madden x reader#kit harrington smut#kit harrington imagine#kit harrington x reader
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Legacy of Fire (series masterlist)
Summery: Vaeloria Targaryen's life journey. How a girl who grew up as the only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell hidden away in Dorne, life change when she discovers she was in fact Vaeloria Targaryen all along after all.
Warnings: Cursing, death by sword, death by fire, death by hanging, war, humiliation, betrayal, violence, use of the word bastard, incest, angst, fluff, burning, threatening, future smut, P in V, fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, blowjob, handjob, anal sex, girl x girl, boy x girl, boy x boy, dragons
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#house of the dragon imagine#hotd imagine#game of thrones#game of thrones oc#game of thrones daenerys#game of thrones au#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones fic#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones smut#jon snow smut#jon snow x reader#jon snow fanfiction#jon snow series#jon snow fic#jon snow#jon snow imagine#jon snow x oc#jon x daenerys#daenerys fanfic
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𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰
Chapter two
Paring: Robb Stark x f!Reader
Summary: After avoiding Robb for a few days you decide taking a short ride through the woods wouldn't hurt, but you find yourself once again in an unexpected encounter with The King himself.
Warnings: Plot building lots of plot building
Word count: 1.7k
A/N: I forgot to mention this is kinda a slow burn (sort of not really) anyway find series master list here.
It had been days since the last time Robb even caught a glimpse of you, he found himself frequently thinking about the conversation you two shared any chance he got. He understood he had more important things to focus on besides a woman he barely knew, for gods sake he was fighting a war yet, you had his mind running in circles.
He was lost in thought when he was interrupted by Ser Brynden clearing his throat, Robb looked up from the map in front of him, staring at the knight waiting for him to speak, when he doesn't he turns to his mother who is watching him intently Catelyn motions her head down towards the table he quickly understands her look turning his focus back to the task at hand sliding a wooden figure across the map signifying where the Lannisters will strike next. The talk of battle plans and strategies rang throughout the large tent for hours before finally Ser Brynden excused himself biding both him and his mother goodnight.
Catelyn stayed her eyes fixed on her son. “You’re distracted.”
Robb quickly lifts his head looking at his mother. Was he truly that transparent?
“I'm not.” he states looking back down at the map faking his focus.
Catelyn moves to stand next to him “don’t lie.” Her tone shifted forcing Robb to look at her.
Her eyes were bearing into his in hope he’d reveal his troubles but he didn't. He just stared at her, slightly praying she wouldn’t ask anymore questions.
Catelyn tilts her head looking at her son “we can not afford distractions.” She says, reaching her hand up briefly placing it on his arm before pulling away. He nods, “No, we can not.” His voice was quiet, his hand fidgeting with the pommel of his sword.
His prayers were answered when she sighed “get some rest, gods know you'll need it” she says looking at him with a sympathetic smile as she left.
Robb watches his mother leave, before turning around running a hand over his face with a groan, he sits down in a chair next to the table looking up at the ceiling of the tent. He needed to get a grip.
You woke in the early morning, the sun not yet visible. The thin cloth walls of the tent doing very little to keep the cold at bay. You had been informed yesterday that you and your remaining men would be moving camps to one between Riverrun and Oldstones and that you were to begin preparing as soon as possible. You knew your men were in no condition to travel anyone with eyes could see that. Yet, an order is an order.
You don't move staying as you were for a while staring at the ceiling of your tent, till you hear the muffled voices of tired men as the rest of camp begins to wake, you groan managing to drag yourself out from under the warmth of fur blankets and throw on your clothes and some light armor you then secure your belt and pick up your sword and dagger sheathing them both before leaving the tent grabbing your cloak on the way out pulling it over yourself while walking.
The sun was finally beginning to rise as you make your way to a tree which you’d secured your horse to for safe keeping, a beautiful Friesian horse stands tall pawing at the ground with one hoof as you walk up to him extending your hand running it along the side of his face, you lean close resting your forehead on his cheek for a moment, deciding a small ride wouldn’t hurt seeing that it was still early and it would be hours before the men were ready to move.
You pull away grabbing the blanket and saddle that rested against the tree, gently draping the blanket across his back, then taking the saddle and hosting it on after. You secure the reins pulling yourself up on to him, giving him a pat on the side of his neck before bounding off into the woods.
The cold morning air rushed past your face, the trees all but a blur as you pass them. You ride for a while before slowing to a halt, looking up you stare at the huge canopy of trees watching the branches sway in the wind, their leaves beginning to change from the green of summer to vibrant shades of red and orange, leaving a sea of fire throughout the forest floor. You bring your horse to a slow walk admiring the world around you when the faint sound of rushing water fills your ears bringing a smile to your face, you drive the Friesian to a gallop heading in the direction of the noise, as you near closer a sharp breeze whisks through the air causing you to pull the hood of your cloak up and over your head sheltering your face from the cold.
It's not long before you find yourself face to face with a large river, the water rushing and hitting rocks in its path. Dismounting your horse, and securing him to a nearby tree you walk to the bank crouching down on one knee dipping a hand into the icy river you pull your hood down exposing your face. Staring at your reflection in the rippling water the bruise on your temple was beginning to fade from a violent purple to a brownish green, the cut itself self nothing more than a scab. Although it would scar. You take a deep breath, lowering both hands in the river cupping them, letting the water collect in your palms before splashing some on your face, hoping it would clear the lingering sleep.
“It can be quite dangerous for a lady out here all alone”
The voice made you jump almost falling head first into the water, luckily you catch yourself quickly standing and turning around to face the voice, you draw your sword half out of its sheath before you realize who it is, the one and only Robb Stark.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, letting your sword fall back into place, before looking at him.
He's seated atop a stocky brown horse, a heavy fur lined cloak wrapped around his broad shoulders, gloved hands resting on the reins in front of him with a grin plastered across his face.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you” He says, you could tell he was amused with your reaction based on the small laugh that fallowed the words causing you to look down as you feel a slight tinge of embarrassment you hoped to hide.
Robb leans back slightly before dismounting the horse holding the reins in his hand leading it to a nearby tree close to where you’d left yours.
“You’re up early” He says while securing the reins to the tree, turning his head to look over his shoulder flashing you a small smile.
“As are you.” You quip walking past him with your hands clasped behind your back glancing at him as you make your way to your horse. His eyes were glued on you as you passed.
“Seems we both prefer mornings.” You hum in response running your hand along the neck of your horse adjusting the reins before turning to face him. His eyes rake over you before settling on your face sending a rush of nerves flooding through you causing your hand to fidget with the hilt of a dagger attached at the front of your waist, that seemed to catch his attention his eyes fall from your face to your hands, he motions his head towards the dagger.
“May I?” He asks, taking a step closer leaves crunching underneath his boots.
You nod, removing the dagger from its sheath twirling it in your hand before passing it to him. The silver blade is not more than nine inches complete with a brown handle littered with intricate designs. He examines it closely tilting the knife watching as it catches glints of light, he softly runs his fingers along the blades edge careful not to cut himself.
“It’s a beautiful blade.” He pauses for a moment looking up from the dagger to meet your eyes “Valyrian steel?” You nod.
“It was a gift from my father.” Your voice was flat not a tinge of emotion present.
In fact it was the only gift you’d ever received from him. It was one of the rare nights when he wasn’t in a foul mood. He had sat you down drunk as ever rambling on about great houses and their Valyrian weapons, when suddenly he revealed the dagger quickly shoving it into your hands, motioning at it telling you “go on look at it.” Carefully you had unsheathed it, releasing the blade admiring its beauty just as Robb. That was one of the few seemingly "decent" memories you had with your father if you could call them that.
The shift in your voice didn't go unnoticed by Robb, and for a moment he thought to ask you about it, but ultimately decided not to. So instead he nodded looking the dagger over once more then handing it back to you hilt first, you take it sliding it back into its sheath.
He couldn't help but stare, the dim morning light reflecting off the side of your face making you seem unreal. He seemed to be caught in a trance.
You cleared your throat snapping him out of the daze.
"I-" He paused for a moment collecting himself "I'm sure you were informed of our plans."
"If you mean me and my mens departure, then yes I was" You look at the sky behind him, the sun now well above the horizon filling the forest with light. "And by the looks of it I should take my leave."
Robb had insisted you let him accompany you on the way back, so here you were, the morning sun beaming down as the two of you ride into camp you were aware of the eyes lingering on your backs but you pay no mind. You both slow your horses to a stepping pace leisurely making your way through the sea of rushing soldiers. When you arrive in front of Robb's tent he dismounts his horse letting a young squire take the reins, Robb tips his head as a ‘thank you’ while the boy leads him away.
He turns his attention back to you. “M’lady.” He says, giving you a half smile.
“Your grace.” You bid him farewell, bowing your head returning the smile before bringing your horse to a trot heading off to prepare your men for travel.
Robb watched you leave, shaking his head as he turned walking through the opening of the large tent.
#robb stark#robb stark x reader#robb stark x y/n#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones#ned stark#jon snow#house stark#jon snow x reader#fluff#robb stark smut#robb stark x you#jon snow smut#got#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#house of the dragon
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that silhouette | j. snow x fem!oc
summary: and then she was here and jon knew - he would be safe in her arms. always.
warnings: smut, p in v, woman on top, bottom jon snow
Silken drapes swayed softly from the canopy above him. The open balcony doors let in a cold breeze that chilled him to the bones. Rays of light from the crescent moon offered him a meagre look at his surroundings.
Jon didn't know whose bed he was lying in. Nor did he know whose room he was in.
The mattress dipped beside him, and before he knew it, she entered his view.
“Elle.”
Her braid fell over her shoulder, the brown almost black in the darkness. The blue of her eyes seemed to glow before him, making his heart beat faster. She smiled.
“Hush, my love.” She lowered her face towards his. “We do not want to wake the Others, do we?”
As his chest rose it touched hers. Only for a moment, and with layers of clothing between them, but still.
Her left hand came up to his face, her fingers lightly ghosting along his jaw, before laying down on his cheek.
Jon’s breath hitched, and then she closed the distance between their lips.
She was cold and soft and gentle, slow and controlling and wonderful. He would never let himself forget the taste of her lips, how they moved against his, the way she slowly coaxed his mouth open with her tongue. He obeyed, of course. She could do whatever she wanted with him, and he would let her.
Sometime during this, Elle had straddled his lap. He only realised after she had started grinding herself against him, burying both of her hands in his hair to get a better grip. She swallowed his moans, never once detaching herself from his lips.
Jon's hands clutched the blanket beneath him. He was getting hard, and uncomfortably quickly at that. His hips started bucking upwards, meeting Elle's halfway.
She moved her mouth away from his, allowing him to catch his breath, if only for a moment. Because soon afterwards, she started sucking on a spot right over his throat that made him let out a moan.
Elle smiled against his skin.
“You are allowed to touch me as well, my love. It would be a shame if you did not.”
His hands soon found their way underneath her shirt, gently running up and down her sides, making her shiver. And somehow, that reaction made him proud.
Her mouth left his skin as she quickly discarded her shirt and then helped him get out of his. Their pants followed.
She sat bare above him, and Jon could do little else but stare. Stare at her beautiful body, her small breasts, her strong legs.
He raised his hand and let it run down the underside of one of her breasts. Her breath hitched, and something in her smile changed. Not for the worse, thank the gods. No, it became a tad softer, more intimate - a smile shared between lovers.
As if in response, Elle moved her hips, and he wanted to pass out on the spot. Her centre rubbed over the underside of his cock, her wetness making it all the more pleasurable.
She lowered her mouth back on his, quieting his moans as he gripped her hips with both hands. He didn't even know what he wanted to do, stop her or encourage her to keep on moving, please keep on moving, never stop moving.
Her left hand travelled down his body, her nails raking over his stomach and drawing dangerously close to his dick. She smiled against his mouth at the increased movement of his hips.
“Please”, he begged quietly. “I need you.”
“Whatever you want, my love.”
Her hand encircled his dick, pumping once, twice before she raised her hips above it.
Jon held his breath.
The moment his tip was enveloped by her walls he almost came. She was so soft and warm and wrapped around him so perfectly. But he forced himself to hold back. He needed to enjoy this while it lasted.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she sank down on him, her mouth never once leaving his.
How did he come to be so lucky? Never once in his life had anyone ever spared him a second look and now he was in the arms of the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes upon, being treated like he was worth more than all the gold in the kingdom.
He finally bottomed out inside of her. Elle pressed their foreheads together, apparently needing to catch her breath as much as he did.
They fit together so perfectly. His dick sat snugly between her walls and her chest pressed against his so closely, he could feel her beating heart.
One of her hands found his, still gripping her hips tightly, and interlaced his fingers with hers. She pulled both of them upwards and laid them gently onto the pillow beside Jon's head. So gently, never letting go, as if it was the only anchor that kept her in this world.
Elle moved her face away from his and opened her eyes. He had never been able to fully nail down what shade they were, appearing intense like ice one night and deep like the ocean the next. But now, with the way they glowed through the darkness, neither seemed like an apt way to describe them.
Then, she started moving.
Jon breathed in deeply in surprise, his mouth dropping open. It took everything in him not to moan loud enough to wake the entire Keep.
Her hips moved around in circles, slowly at first, then gradually increasing their speed. Her walls clenched around his cock, making him whimper and buck his hips upwards. She smiled, and started moving properly, her hand never once letting go of his.
He didn't know when or how it happened, but Elle's hair had come loose from her braid. It now fell in gentle curls just below her shoulders.
A crown would suit her well, he thought. One made of the finest of golds, inlaid with rubies the colour of blood. And her hair would be decorated with blue flowers the shape of stars, like the ones he had seen in Winterfell's glass gardens.
She bounced faster and faster on top of his cock, the slapping resounding throughout the room. His moans had turned into soft whimpers long ago. And yet, throughout all this, her eyes had never left his.
Jon was close, so close. He could tell Elle was too, the way her breathing had quickened just like his, the way her walls started spasming around his dick.
He knew he would never leave her. They belonged together, like sun and moon, like wolf and lion, like ice and fire. As long as he was with her, nothing would happen to him.
Just a bit more, he was standing right at the edge. Everything inside of him felt so good. The sweat and tears would all be worth it. He only needed one last push, then he would come. And once he did he would make Elle his-
Jon awoke with a jolt.
A dream. It had all been a dream.
Thankfully, he tried telling himself. He had not broken his vows. Even if he, technically, hadn't taken them yet.
His clothing was drenched in sweat and his dick was so painfully hard. He wanted - needed - to relieve himself, but even thinking about that brought his mind back to his dream. Back to Elle and how she fit so wonderfully-
No! He would not think about her, especially not in that way. He was to be a brother of the Night's Watch, and she was his friend. Maybe. Hopefully.
Jon looked around the room, studying his friends’ faces, wondering if he had made any sounds in his sleep that would have disturbed them in their sleep. But no one seemed to be awake.
He took in a deep breath and fell backwards onto his pillow again.
(The bed in his dream had been softer.)
He turned around and pressed his hips into the mattress, pleading for his hard-on to go away quickly.
(Much like how his dick had gotten hard so quickly as soon as he had seen her in his dream.)
His uncle had told him he would regret joining the Watch at his age, before he had experienced any of what made a man. Jon had wanted to laugh at him back then. But he didn't want to laugh now.
Why did his life have to be so difficult?
note: if you are intrigued by this one-shot and elle, might i direct you to the story this is inspired by: meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight?
#jon snow x oc#jon snow smut#asoiaf#game of thrones#asoiaf fanfic#asoiaf smut#game of thrones smut#game of thrones fanfic#jon snow#fic: meet me in the dark kiss me in the moonlight#fic: gilded stars of silver grace
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Pretty hurts?
A/N: WOWWW JON SNOW COMEBACK?? I’ve been having some terrible writers block so I apologize if this is poorly done. I’m rewatching GOT with my dad and my hyper fixation on Jon Snow is quickly coming back so enjoy!
Pairing; Jon Snow x Fem! Reader
word count: 1,242
warnings: Unprotected sex!! (USE PROTECTION GUYS.), oral (female receiving),
I shuddered as the cool breeze of Winterfell hit the bare skin of my back. Stupidly enough, I continued to tell myself that beauty is pain this morning when I was picking the sheer and backless gown.
Very stupidly enough.
“Backless in the coldness of Winterfell m’lady?” One of the maids spoke.
“Pretty hurts?” I said playfully, making an excuse. “And please call me Y/N, no need for the titles,” I added on with a warm smile. The maid was about to reply, when her mouth closed and her eyes averted downwards. I was confused for a moment, I turned around and that’s when I saw Jon Snow approaching. Sword in hand, ready to practice.
He was very nice to look at. There were a couple of nights I came out here to also practice, when all of Winterfell was asleep, except of course him. He would be out too. We chatted quite a bit but never in front of our families. I kind of liked it that way. I can’t deny, there was some tension between us. At least to me. His shoulder hair length got me every time, no doubt about it.
“Lady Y/N.” He spoke as he was coming towards me with a polite nod.
“Lord Snow.” I copied his actions.
“Nice dress, but not very suitable for Winterfell, don’t you think?” He joked while stretching himself. His arm muscles, visible through his black long-sleeved shirt. I couldn’t help but stare. This man was absolutely godly. If he would just give me one chance. “Hm?” He broke me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see a smirk on his face. He totally saw me checking him out.
“I fully agree my lord, I know something that could maybe warm me up…” I said suggestively. He stopped all movements, slowly turning his head to look at me. A certain lust in his eyes.
Gotcha.
“And what is that m’lady?” He walked over to me. In no time he towered above me. I looked at him with a mischievous look, stepping, if even possible, closer to him. I ghosted my lips over his and put my hand on the handle of his sword, lightly grabbing it.
“Fighting.” I smiled. My movements were quick and fluid as I snatched the sword out of his holster and threw it towards the dummy, the blade piercing the fabric stuffed with hay right in the middle of the supposed-to-be face. I turned back to Jon, his head tilted with a lopsided grin in unbelief.
“In a dress and heels? Impressive.” He spoke, lightly clapping his hands together. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a cocky bow. When I arose though, he was close to me once again. I looked around, no one else was out here with us. The maid was long gone and everyone else was inside drinking and making obnoxious noises. I looked back at him, not even daring to break eye contact. We stood there for what seemed like forever. But then, I raised a finger, hooking it in the lace of his trousers pulling him even closer, and he finally broke.
Before I knew it, His lips crashed onto mine, it was a very passionate kiss. I didn’t even hesitate to kiss back. My hands wasted no time tangling in his hair, his own falling to my thighs, lifting me up. I squealed, holding onto him for dear life, praying the slippery ice wouldn’t make us fall. He carefully walked to his sleeping chambers, not once breaking the kiss. He slammed the door with his foot, walking us towards his bed and throwing me down.
He climbed on top of me, kissing my lips, his tongue slipping in. He then moved down to my neck, leaving marks wherever he could. Meanwhile, his hand slithered its way down, the bottom of my dress lifting as he slipped his hand underneath. My back arched as he rubbed against my core. Moans coming out left and right. I had no shame in being loud, if anything, I wanted people to hear. Although they probably wouldn’t with the party going on.
Jon untied the laces of my dress as I undid the laces of his trousers and worked on the layers of his shirt. In no time we laid bare before each other. He groaned at the sight of me. I smirked, raising up to kiss him very slowly. His bottom lip was captured between my teeth.
“I want you,” I whispered into his ear. Placing a kiss on the lobe.
“You have me, m’lady.” He whispered back to me as I laid back down. Kissed down on my body, taking his time with my breast and working his way down. I was growing impatient as he was teasing me. He kept eye contact with me, smirking while watching me beg for him with my eyes. He placed kisses all over my thighs, leaving his mark everywhere while he was at it.
I gasped, death gripping his hair and the silk pillow my head was placed on as he licked a strip right up the middle and then latched onto where I needed him most. “Jon!” I very loudly screamed in pleasure. His tongue stayed still as I grinded myself against him, that familiar pressure building up in my stomach. He wrapped his hands around my thighs and pulled me closer, absolutely devouring me.
I moaned as loudly as I could, letting the whole kingdom know how good their beloved bastard was making me feel. He groaned as I tugged on his hair, sucking my clit harshly and fucking into me with his tounge. Before I knew it my climax hit. I arched my back moaning a string of curses and his name. I heavily panted as I was coming down from my high, shuddering once again when he placed soft kisses onto my clit.
Jon crawled his way back up to me. Kissing me as he pumped himself a couple of times. I gasped into his lips when I felt his tip pushing into me. He inched himself into me, giving me a moment to adjust. I dug my fingers into his back, the most beautiful groan coming from his mouth. He started moving, starting with slow thrusts and gaining speed.
“Fuck, Jon!” I threw my head back as he fucked into me, his pelvis hitting my clit everytime. His thrust quickly became fast and hard. My hands tangled in his hair and my eyes going to the back of my head.
“Shit- just like that, fuck!”
The room filled with our moans, the lighting from the candles around his room making it ten times better. I clenched around him as my high quickly approached.
“Come on sweetheart, cum for me.” He encouraged, lifting my hips to angle then upward. I screamed his name along with a chant of curses. His movements became sloppy and then came to a halt when I felt his warm release spill into me.
We layed in silence catching our breaths. Jon’s face tucked the crook of my neck, my fingers combing through his hair. His hand was kneading my love handles.
“This party was a lot more fun than the one downstairs.” I broke the silence. I felt the vibration of his laugh as he raised his head up to rest in his hand and placed a soft kiss on my lips.
“Agreed.”
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Pls i need Jon Snow x reader smut with some soft dom vibes<333
You knock at the door in front of you, impatient but hesitant, afraid someone else might hear you. Just as you turn your head down the hall to ensure no one has seen you, the door bursts open and Jon pulls you inside.
He shuts the door carefully before turning to you, looking you up and down as he runs his hand through his dark, curly hair. “Gods, you look beautiful.” You look down at the floor, blushing, and notice him begin to remove his clothes out of the corner of your eye. When you look up, he’s staring right at you, pulling off his trousers with a smirk on his face. You try to keep his eye contact, but you can’t help but look down at the cock quickly hardening through his underwear.
“If you’d like to admire my cock so badly, why don’t you get on your knees darling? I’m sure the view is much better down there.”
You almost trip in your hurry to obey his command. He never gives them outright, more often he says them in the form of a question or a suggestion. But you know better than to disobey. From this position, on your knees before him, you can clearly see the outline of his thick cock through his long underwear. All you want to do is take his cock down your throat, it’s all you’ve been thinking about. As if reading your mind, he hums and reaches a hand out to caress your cheek, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes.
“Are you going to be a good girl and please your Lord Commander?”
“Yes, your Grace.”
As soon as the “yes” leaves your mouth, he’s pulling his underwear down and taking his cock in one hand, slapping it gently against your face.
“Open your mouth, darling. Good, just like that.” He pushes himself inside of you, groaning as he fills you up and feels the warmth of your mouth around his aching cock. He immediately begins to thrust his hips back and forth, rutting his cock forward as far as you can take it before pulling back. His grip in your hair tightens and you can’t help but moan around his thick cock. “What a sweet girl you are for me. Always so desperate to serve me, aren’t you darling?”
He thrusts his cock into your mouth a few more times before pulling out to give you the chance to answer, stroking his cock as he waits. “Yes, your Grace. Anything that I can do to serve the realm.”
At that, he smiles and pushes his cock back down your throat, fucking your mouth harder as he responds, “I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think you care one bit about serving the realm. I think you can’t help but drool over my cock because getting on your knees for me is your favorite thing in the world. Is that right darling? Is there anything you love more than taking my cock and giving me pleasure?” He tilts his head back, groaning as the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, drawing a pathetic, muffled whimper from you. “I bet if the realm began to burn from the inside out your only thoughts would be of my cock and how badly you’d like to feel me fill you up one last time.” With that, you moan around his cock again, and he holds your head still as he fucks your mouth roughly, using you as his own personal fucktoy. You feel his cock begin to pulse, and his cum coats the inside of your mouth. You swallow it all as he slows his thrusts, eventually pulling his hips back just enough so the tip of his cock is still inside your mouth. You suck on it hesitantly before letting it fall out of your mouth, giving it a kiss as you look up at your Lord Commander. He smiles at you, brushing your hair out of your face before leaning down to kiss you. You always please your Lord Commander. It’s what you were meant to do.
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