Kinktober '25 - {Day Nineteen}
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18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Kinktober '25}
{Jon Snow x F!Reader} Request {Anon}: Jon Snow eating his girl out for the first time and overstimulating her… bonus if she’s worried about suffocating him by sitting on his face + praise kink. Also hair pulling, but it’s her pulling Jon’s hair.
♡♡ JON DOES KNOW SOME THINGS ♡♡
3k words - Kinks: all kneel for the king of munching, first time, overstim, oral sexxxx, hair pulling, facesitting, praise, no piv...
It was one of those rare warm days at Winterfell where you could sit outside and actually not shiver. So naturally you were doing just that, taking a walk through a nearby field, enjoying the sun on your skin. It was a nice little change of pace from the castle that never seemed to warm up, even on the hottest days of summer.
You had stopped under a particularly large tree, and were just about to sit down when you heard a familiar voice call your name.
Jon.
You smiled as he approached you, happy to see him, even if his presence meant the end of your momentary solitude.
"I thought I might find you here," he said.
"Oh?"
"Arya told me she saw you heading this way," he clarified.
"Well I'm glad you found me," you said, "it's a beautiful day."
"That it is," Jon agreed, but he was looking at you when he said it. You tried to suppress a blush.
"Come, sit," you gestured towards the ground and sat yourself, patting the spot beside you.
The ground was a little damp from a recent thaw, but neither of you minded. Jon sat, closer than necessary. He put his hand on top of yours, lacing your fingers together. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.
"I spoke to my father... about… us," he said.
You sat up and turned to look at him, unsure how to react.
"What did he say?" You asked, searching his eyes for any hint of how the conversation went. But Jon's expression remained serious.
Your face fell, fearing the worst. "He said no," you sighed, turning away.
Jon gently guided your face back towards him with his free hand, a smile breaking out across his face.
"I told him there was no one else I'd rather be with," he said, and the tenderness in his eyes made your heart beat faster. "And that I would sooner cut off my own sword hand than not have you by my side."
"And what did he say to that?"
"He said he likes both of my hands attached," he said, making you laugh.
"So what does this mean?"
"It means we have his blessing," Jon said, his face suddenly serious. "I know I have nothing to offer you right now. No lands, no wealth..."
You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips to his. He was frozen for a second, surprised, before kissing you back. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, deepening the kiss.
When you broke apart, both of you were out of breath, cheeks flushed and hearts racing.
"And I have no family," you said, cupping his cheek. "The orphan and the bastard, two of a kind."
Jon gave you a small smile, and pressed his forehead to yours.
"So we're both poor, and both unwanted," he said, his smile growing. "Perfect for each other, I'd say."
"Aye, so it would seem," you laughed.
You kissed him again, softer this time. His hand caressed your back, the other tangling itself in your hair. A small shiver went through you, the air suddenly feeling colder than it had a moment ago.
"Should we go back to the castle?" Jon asked, noticing the goosebumps on your arms.
"I like it here," you said, leaning against him once more. "But maybe a fire would be nice."
"Maybe a few more layers would help too," he laughed, gesturing towards the lack of sleeves on your dress. "You do know we are in the north, don't you?"
"Don't tell me I'm not a true northerner," you teased.
"Of course you are, love," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll just have to warm you up myself."
"Is that so?"
"Aye," he nodded.
He helped you up, keeping an arm around you. You started walking back towards the castle, stopping a few times to steal another kiss or two along the way.
By the time you reached the door to your room, you were a giggling mess. The castle was mostly empty, people still out enjoying the last few hours of sunshine. Your room was behind the kitchens, tucked in a corner of the castle where the servants slept. The smell of fresh bread wafted towards you, but that was the last thing on your mind.
Jon had never been into your room before, his honor keeping him from such things. But now that you were to be married, the rules felt different.
He let you go ahead of him, standing in the threshold. You lit a few candles, giving the room a soft, romantic glow.
"It's not much," you said, looking at Jon nervously.
"It's lovely," he said, his eyes trained on you.
"You can come in, you know," you laughed, sitting on the edge of your bed.
Jon looked down the hall, nervous that someone might come and see him entering your room. "I... I should be getting back," he said.
You got up, moving to stand in front of him.
"Don't go," you said, giving him a soft, pleading look, your hands resting on his chest. "Stay with me. Please."
You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"You'll be the death of me," he murmured, the words low and soft.
"Let's hope not," you smiled, pulling him into your room and closing the door, locking it for good measure.
You stood there for a moment, the room suddenly seeming small. The air was thick with the promise of something, and you felt a little nervous, not knowing where to go from there.
Jon reached out a hand, offering to lead the way. You took it, letting him guide you over to your bed. He sat on the edge, pulling you into his lap, your legs straddling his.
"I love you," he said, and his gaze was intense.
"And I love you," you replied, resting your forehead against his.
His hands slid down your back and settled on your hips. "We shouldn't be alone like this…. Not until we are wed... we can't..."
"Let's just kiss for a while then," you whispered, your fingers playing with the laces on his shirt.
Your lips met in a soft kiss, gentle and loving, both of you trying your best not to take it further. Jon's hands roamed your body, exploring you as best he could through your clothes. Your fingers found their way into his dark hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.
His lips left yours and found the curve of your neck, kissing and nipping gently at your sensitive skin.
"Jon," you moaned, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through your body.
You could feel him grow hard beneath you, his hands gripping your hips. You instinctively rolled them forward, rubbing against him.
Jon let out a soft groan, halting your hips in their tracks.
"We can't," he breathed.
"I know," you replied, though you were desperate for him. "But..."
"But?" He raised his eyebrows.
"We can do... other things."
He considered it for a moment, and the silence made you nervous.
"It's alright if you don't want to," you said, suddenly feeling very foolish.
He suddenly pushed you backwards onto the bed, his body covering yours, a smile spreading across his face.
"Tell me what to do, love," he murmured, kissing you.
You pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up. Your hands roamed his back and sides, admiring the firm muscles there. The scars of battle were scattered across his skin, a map of his adventures, his victories.
"I... I like your hands," you admitted shyly.
Jon grinned and began slowly unlacing your dress, exposing your chest. He paused, his eyes widening.
"Seven hells," he said, staring.
"What?" You asked, suddenly very self conscious.
"I knew you were beautiful, but gods," he said, shaking his head, dipping down to kiss one breast, and then the other.
You laughed, feeling the nerves wash away. "You've never seen a woman's breasts before?"
"Only in the paintings," he admitted, and his ears turned red.
You giggled, running your hands through his hair. "Of course," you teased.
"Are they always this pretty?" He asked, taking one of your nipples between his lips.
You inhaled sharply, not expecting his sudden boldness. He licked and sucked, switching between your breasts, his beard tickling you and driving you wild.
He moved lower, pushing your dress up past your hips, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on your stomach.
"Jon... Where are you going?" You asked, not quite sure what he was planning.
He glanced up at you, his pupils blown wide, his lips pink and swollen.
"May I?" He asked, his fingers grazing the fabric of your smallclothes.
"Oh," you said, a wave of heat flooding through your core.
"I want to see you," he said, and the hunger in his eyes made you throb. "All of you."
"Yes," you whispered, barely able to speak.
He slowly peeled the undergarment away, tossing it aside, his eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs. You felt a sudden surge of embarrassment, no one had ever looked at you there before. You tried to close your legs, to cover yourself.
"No no, don't hide," Jon said, his hand stopping your knees from touching. "You're beautiful. Everything about you is perfect."
He kissed your knee, and then your inner thigh, moving up closer and closer to where you needed him.
"I... I'm not sure what to do," he admitted. "But I'd like to try."
"Whatever you do is bound to feel better than my own hand," you laughed, trying to ease the nerves.
"Show me," he said, his voice low and rough.
You reached down and ran a finger over the spot that drove you mad when you touched yourself. Jon watched, eyes full of lust and curiosity.
You guided his hand, showing him what to do, his fingers stroking the same spot, but with a level of roughness you weren’t used to, but certainly enjoyed.
"That's it," you encouraged, your hand leaving his and going to his hair.
He continued, a little too slow and a little too clumsy, but it still felt wonderful.
"More," you whispered, rolling your hips against his hand.
He pulled his hand away, replacing it with his tongue. He licked, the pressure just right, and you let out a moan, the pleasure coursing through you. This was nothing like your hand.
His tongue circled and flicked, his beard rough and coarse, but his touch was gentle. He alternated between slow, languid strokes, and fast, quick circles, the rhythm unpredictable, keeping you on the edge. Solving the puzzle that was your body.
He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure down your spine. You tightened your grip on his hair, tugging a little, and the noise he made sent a fresh flood of arousal through you.
"Just like that," you panted, unable to form a coherent thought.
He continued, licking and sucking, his hands holding your hips steady. The coil inside of you wound tighter and tighter. The feeling was new, never had you felt this way, not even when you did this alone.
"Jon...I... Oh-!"
Your release crashed through you, a tidal wave of pure pleasure. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt, your legs shaking, tugging so hard on his hair you feared tearing it out.
He didn't stop, not even as the sensation became too much. His fingers pressed into your thighs, his mouth relentless, and a second orgasm took you by surprise, stronger than the first.
"Jon, I can't-" you cried, the intensity making tears spill from your eyes.
Jon immediately pulled away, a look of panic on his face.
"Gods, are you alright?" He asked, wiping his mouth and beard on the back of his hand.
"Yes," you sighed, blissed out and a little breathless.
He laid next to you, pulling you close.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes full of concern. "Did I hurt you... I got carried away."
"Jon," you said, cupping his face. "That was wonderful. You were wonderful."
"I... Really?"
"Really."
"You were so... loud," he blushed, and you realized the sound must have carried. "And your legs... Nearly squeezed my head clean off."
"Sorry," you giggled, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
"Don't apologize," he said, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I quite liked it."
"So did I," you admitted, pressing a kiss to his nose.
His blush deepened, his ears turning a dark shade of red. "I think the whole castle knows I was in here."
"That's one way to announce our betrothal," you teased.
He leaned in and kissed you, soft and tender. You could taste yourself on his lips, and the thought sent a rush of heat through your core.
"Perhaps... I could try again?" He asked, looking at you with those dark, pleading eyes.
You blushed, and nodded. "If you'd like."
"Oh I'd like," he grinned.
Instead of moving back down, he shifted on the bed, laying on his back, pulling you to straddle him. His hands ran up and down your thighs, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
"You may not ever have a throne, my lady, but you will always have a place to sit," he teased, and you couldn't help but laugh.
"Here," he said, guiding your hips forward, "let me see you again."
You hovered over his face, a little uncertain, your skirts still pooled around your waist. Jon smiled and pushed the fabric up, his lips kissing the skin of your inner thighs.
"Come on, love, sit."
You lowered yourself, the coarse hairs of his beard brushing against your soft skin. Jon held you there, his breath ghosting over the most sensitive parts of you.
"I would gladly die with this view."
"Jon!" You admonished, blushing furiously.
He chuckled and gave a playful nip to your thigh, before finally, blessedly, diving back in.
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