#KUWTT series

[welldonebeca]

Simple and Plain

Summary: “I don’t want to talk cause it makes me feel bad. But I understand you’ve come to shake my hand.” Daemon tries to talk with Rhaenyra about their past. She isn’t ready yet. (Also, Rhaenyra and Laenor doing bedtime with the boys). WC: 2.1k words Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Family fluff. Modern AU with the Targaryens. Singing.

Masterlist  

Rhaenyra breathed in deep, grateful for the silence in the dining room as she felt the eyes right on her back. This wasn't her house anymore, she couldn't stop people from walking around. But at least everyone was respecting her request for a silent hour, and she was grateful as she brushed Jace's hair back as her son drew a picture, sitting on her lap.

Daemon was watching them from the living room.

"That's a nice picture, Jacaerys," she heard by her side.

She raised her eyes, finding him sitting on the seat next to her on the table.

He'd been following her for nearly the whole day now, eyes so heavy she was surprised no one had come to ask them about it. It wasn't like anyone knew the truth, she had only told Laenor.

They had yet to talk alone. Not that Rhaenyra wanted to talk to him, no. She wasn't bitter, but she wasn't happy.

He had left her, and the past was in the past. Why bring it up?

What else was there to say?

"It's mama," Jace pointed at the stick figure with white blonde hair. "And this is daddy. And me. And Luke."

She smiled, kissing his temple.

It was their calm-down time. The boys went to bed early every night, so as soon as 7 pm rolled in, she and Laenor started a calming routine. No TV, not much music... just cuddling and doing slow things. She had already bathed her oldest, and Laenor was doing so to Luke then.

"Do you think I could keep it?" Daemon asked. "You know, your cousins always ask a lot about you two. They like you very much, I think they would love to have a picture of everyone."

Jace lit up, looking at him very excitedly. He loved Baela and Rhaena, all four of the kids were so close.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "Can I write my name on it too?"

Daemon nodded.

"I think you should," he told him. "Then we can know it was you who made this gorgeous picture."

He smiled, taking the orange crayon, slowly writing his name.

"Ja-cae-" he spoke slowly. "Rys. With an A and a E."

She smiled.

"Yes."

Jace looked at Daemon.

"Because Luke's name doesn't have an A," he explained to him. "Only mine does."

Her uncle nodded, either feigning interest or genuinely caring about it.

"I will remember that," he told him.

They fell into silence again as Jace added the Targaryen and Velaryon surnames after his name, breaking them when he ran out of her space in the paper.

Undashed. Two kids in, and Rhaenyra and Laenor were still discussing that bit.

"Where are the girls and Laena?" she asked.

Why wasn't he with them?

Daemon looked at her.

"Laena is bathing them. I told her I wanted a minute to talk to you. We haven't had a moment to ourselves since your wedding rehearsal."

Rhaenyra buried her nose in Jace's hair.

Yes, they hadn't talked since then.

She remembered the night very clearly, how he said he wouldn't run away with her. That he couldn't.

Rhaenyra remembered how he had kissed her and left, and Laenor was the one who found her, broken as she cried and sobbed like she hadn't since her mother's death.

Her mother was dead, her best friend was married to her father, and the only person she thought loved her had left!

Laenor was the only one she had. Her only friend, the only one she could count on. They were a team.

"We have nothing to talk about," she decided.

But Daemon didn't even move.

"No, I think we have a lot to talk about."

She glared at him, ready to correct him once more, but she could see Laenor emerging from the corridor.

"Alright, my loves," he looked at her. "It’s 8 pm."

Rhaenyra relaxed and Jace pouted on her lap.

"Eight already, daddy?" he asked, half-whining. "Are you sure?"

Laenor shrugged.

"Sorry, love. I don't control the time. But you can check for yourself. Do you happen to have a watch, Daemon?"

Her uncle turned to look at him, and showed off his wrist to Jace. It was digital, thankfully. Her boy couldn't quite read analytical clocks.

"He's right," he told him. "8h01."

Jace pouted, but sighed.

"Alright," he agreed, setting his crayons down. "Good night, Uncle Daemon."

Daemon smiled back at him.

"Good night, Jace."

Her son stood, and she stood along with him.

Laenor was the one who brushed their teeth at night, but she couldn't stay there with him.

"Rhaenyra," Daemon called.

"Good night, uncle," she looked at him. "I need to put my sons to bed."

He sighed behind her.

"Ñuha dāria," he spoke softly.

The nickname made her throat knot up, but she just continued walking after Laenor.

Her husband took her hand without even thinking about it, the two walking together up the stairs to the family wing.

"Are you alright?" Laenor asked softly. "Do you want me to put him back into his place?"

She chuckled.

Laenor putting Daemon into his place?

She couldn't quite see that. Her husband was too sweet for that.

"Thank you," she rubbed his arm. "But I'm alright. Don't worry."

Laenor simply nodded, walking to the bathroom, and she chuckled when she found Luke sat on the toiled, kicking his legs and humming a little song to himself.

"Daddy!" he looked at them, sounding very happy. "Mama!"

"Luke!" she giggled back.

He clapped.

"I'm done," he told them.

Laenor just raised his eyebrows at her and Rhaenyra chuckled.

Motherly duties.

Ten minutes later, the boys were cleaned, Jace had used the bathroom and everyone’s teeth - including Rhaenyra's and Laenor's - were brushed.

"Daddy," Jace called as Laenor was about to leave the room. "Can you be the one to snuggle me?"

He stopped for a moment. Rhaenyra was the one who usually put the kids to bed, her schedule meant that she would leave the house too early before they were awake, and Laenor took over it.

But they were both free the whole week, they could both do bedtime and wake-up time.

"Of course," he agreed. "Do you want me to lay in bed with you or sit on the floor?"

"On the bed, please."

At home, the boys each had their room. Luke would go to bed a little earlier, at seven-thirty, and Jace at eight-thirty, but this wasn't their home. The boys were put in a single bedroom together, and Luke would certainly wake up if they went through the sleep routine with Jace. So, they had to find a common ground. Luke would have an extra half an hour, Jace would get some extra snuggles… everyone could sleep in, too, if they wanted to.

Laenor lay down, and Rhaenyra couldn't resist Luke when he made some grabby hands at her, asking for cuddles.

"Mama, can I have a tiny bit of milk?" he asked, giving her big pleading eyes. "To sleep."

She sighed. No chance of weaning that one any time soon.

"Of course, honey. Do you want to lay on me a little?"

He nodded, and Laenor chuckled from his bed.

"I told you we would use the pump," he hummed, brushing Jace's hair softly.

He had packed it up, saying she would absolutely need it.

Luke had a strong preference for her right side. He always left the other one aching and full once he was fast asleep.

"Thank you," she pulled her top down, and her son threw himself on her.

The room fell a little into silence, and she could hear the distant sound of very soft steps.

Father's steps were heavy, Alicent's were careless, and Laena's were very relaxed.

This was Daemon.

She sighed. Gods, he wouldn't give up without a fight?

"Mama?" Jace called, getting her attention to him. "Can you sing now?"

She smiled a little.

"What do you want me to sing?" she asked him.

Her son shrugged, yawning.

"I like your sad songs," he spoke softly, putting his face in Laenor's neck.

She chuckled a little. Oh, she had many sad songs.

Rhaenyra always sang for them, since they were babies. It made them sleep very quickly.

"I don't wanna talk about things we've gone through," she moved her fingers to Luke's hair. "Though it's hurting me, now it's history."

Jace smiled into his father's chest, and Laenor rested his head on the pillow, curled around him in the small bed.

"I played all my cards, and that's what you've done too," she smiled at Luke, who still had his eyes wide open. "Nothing more to say, no more ace to play."

She was surprised when Laenor sang the chorus before she did.

"The winner takes it all, the loser standing small," he hummed. "Beside the victory, that's her destiny."

Rhaenyra breathed in deeply, seeing the slight shadow by the door, tall and stiff.

Daemon.

"I was in your arms thinking I belonged there," she looked at Jace, hidden in Laenor's chest. "I figured it made sense, building me a fence."

She brushed Luke's curls, breathing in his scent again, the lyrics just stinging her.

Gods, when father said she was to marry Laenor and she had no way out without being cut off, Rhaenyra was just lost. She thought she could run away, she thought she would run away.

Daemon had a life in Valyria, he had his own money and they were so close. He gave her everything, he told her all the right things and said he loved her.

He said he wanted to marry her, but when he had to choose between her and her father, Daemon chose him!

'Viserys is my brother,' he had said. 'I've been away from him for too long, our relationship just got back to what it was before. If we run away he won't ever want to see me again.'

"Building me a home, thinking I'd be strong there. But I was a fool, playing by the rules..." she sighed.

Alicent had chosen her father for the security marrying him brought her, or at least it was what she had told Rhaenyra.

And she expected her to be happy about it, that she had found a man she wanted to marry her and could give her the life she deserved.

As if he was just that, a man who she felt attracted to and could marry for his money and position, and not the father of her best friend!

When her mother had died, Rhaenyra had clung to her.

When Alicent then turned her away, she had clung to Daemon.

And then Daemon turned her away when she thought she had found safety and security.

"The gods may throw the dice, their minds are cold as ice, and someone way down here loses someone dear," Laenor sang and she closed her eyes, trying to bury the memories again. "The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall. It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain?"

They fell into silence, and she hoped the boys had fallen asleep, but Luke squeezed her shirt, and Jace moved from his father's chest to look at her. They were sleepy but very much awake.

"But tell me, does she kiss," she felt a single tear in the corner of her eye, sliding down her cheek. "Like I used to kiss you. Does it feel the same when she calls your name?"

She heard the little take in of breath, and the shadow moved the smallest bit.

Rhaenyra would never dare to put herself against Laena. She loved Laena so much.

Daemon knew that.

"Somewhere deep inside you must know I miss you," she squeezed Luke, smiling through it. "But what can I say? Rules must be obeyed."

"The judges will decide," Laenor took over. "Their likes of me abide. Spectators of the show always staying low. The game is on again, a lover of a friend. A big thing or a small, the winner takes it all."

Rhaenyra looked down, finding Luke's eyes closed and his mouth open.

Asleep, at last.

"I don't wanna talk," she looked at the door, the message as clear as she could give it. "Cause it makes me feel sad. But I understand you've come to shake my hand."

Silence.

They didn't continue the song.

Laenor pulled himself away slowly, covering Jace as she did the same to Luke, and she adjusted her clothes as her husband crossed the room, opening the door very slowly.

Their bedroom was right in front of this one. It used to be her bedroom, and the boys' room was her study room. Her father had asked her to redo it, so she could stay there with Laenor and have the boys near, but still a door away - as to not disturb romance or something. They were the only rooms Alicent couldn't touch at all.

Her husband walked into the room before she did, and Rhaenyra turned to her side to find Daemon far from the light, watching her, quiet.

She braced herself, waiting for him to come after her. It was still early, still another two hours until the hour she usually took to bed. Alicent and Laena could be drinking wine and eating cheese somewhere, but she had no energy for that now.

But Daemon didn't approach her, turning away and to the stairs, her message understood, at last.

Rhaenyra walked into the bedroom, at last, relaxing.

"Do you want to watch something?" Laenor offered. "You look like you could some cuddles, and I got Mamma Mia.”

She chuckled. Oh, how fitting.

He always knew what to do, didn’t he?

"I do," she agreed. "I could use some love and Meryl Streep."

He smiled, digging through their things and pulling the blue rays he'd packed for them, knowing too well they would be in this situation, and took her pump too.

She sighed, sitting on the bed, and watched him as he set the things up as the machine worked on what was left of her milk.

Laenor changed and took the bottle from her to put in the small fridge by the bed as she dressed up. They would use it to make Luke's breakfast, or Jace’s. Or Laenor's too; he didn't quite mind adding breastmilk into his diet once they had two kids under 18 months old in the house.

They were in their sleeping clothes when they went to bed, and she was grateful when his arms wrapped around her as the light of the TV lit up the room.

"Ready?" he asked softly, squeezing her tightly.

"Yeah," she rested on his shoulder. "You can start it."

[welldonebeca]

prayers and stitches

On the night their family turns upside down, Laenor has two very important conversations: one with Jacaerys, the other with Daemon. . . . "I love Rhaenyra." Laenor couldn’t hold himself back, his lips moved faster than his mind. “Like you loved my sister?”

“Dad?”

Laenor raised his head from his phone, Joffrey’s text an appearing and disappearing bubble as he seemed to be processing the whole incident.

He hadn’t even processed it fully yet.

Leave it to Daemon to come around and mess things up to the point the whole family shifted – again. It was like a curse, every time he stepped into Westeros, something happened to change the status quo forever; he could never leave things the way they always were.

"Yes?" Laenor set his phone down.

It was a big hotel suit, but the girls had chosen to share a bed, and his oldest boys were in the same room, but Luke was still in the hospital. In their last call, Daemon had said he was clinging to Rhaenyra the whole time during her own examination, which meant the doctors had to work on both at once, but he never said anything was irreversible.

Jace walked over, barefoot and looking utterly drained, as any child should never be. It had to be excruciatingly tough for him. They had informed Jace and Luke about the divorce just a day after they'd signed the papers, and merely a week later, Rhaenyra and Daemon had decided they would marry each other and live in Valyria. That had been just three days ago!

His oldest son came to a stop in front of him, and Laenor could see how red his face was from crying. Poor Jace – he didn't deserve this much stress.

"I..." Jace mumbled, fidgeting with his hands. "I didn't mean to hurt Aemond."

Laenor exhaled slowly.

He didn’t even know how that had all started.

Their family, their bloodline, was a mess.

“I know, son,” he assured him. “I don’t think anyone intended for tonight to go how it did.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon had initially planned just to inform Viserys that they were relocating to New Valyria and getting married. If it had been up to Laenor, he would have kept the kids on Dragonstone or Driftmark, but Rhaenyra was insistent on bringing them along. And now her arm was slashed, Luke's nose was broken, and Aemond had lost a fucking eye!

Jace moved to his lap and curled around him like a baby, and Laenor embraced him close. It was probably so scary for him to go through that.

He rubbed his back as he cuddled.

"Is Mum going to be alright?" Jace asked, his voice so small and soft that it was nearly muffled.

“Yes,” he told him, not even thinking about his answer. “Daemon called and said the doctors are taking good care of her. She just needs some stitches, she’ll be back soon.”

Alicent was mad, she had to be. To attack Rhaenyra like that, hurt her so carelessly…

People died from wrist injuries! And a broken sword?!

She could have severed an artery, cut a nerve or tendon!

This was aggravated assault, or potentially even worse!

If Daemon decided to share his side of the story, Laenor knew they could push for a charge of attempted murder.

“It’s my fault,” Jace spoke, sounding so sad it almost broke him.

Laenor looked at his son, searching for his face, but Jace remained still, trapped in his sorrow and hiding.

“I prayed to the gods that something happened so we wouldn’t have to move,” he sniffed. “And that mum wouldn’t date uncle Daemon any more.”

He exhaled slowly. Oh, dear, his sweet son.

“Jace...” he spoke slowly. “Sometimes...”

Laenor paused.

He believed in the Valyrian gods and had passed on those beliefs to his sons. That's why he had never married Rhaenyra in a traditional ceremony, just legally; they didn’t want it to be sealed by the gods, not when this marriage was just a legality.

Reader the rest of the story on AO3

[welldonebeca]

The TV Show (1)

Summary: When they finally find a moment together, Jon invites Sansa to watch a TV show. They just keep getting distracted. Aka: Netflix and chill. They fuck in front of a TV. WC: 1.7k words Warnings: A little bit of Meta. Teasing. Sansa rants about House of the Dragon's costume design. Seduction. Degrading kink. Possessive Jon.

Masterlist

Jon invited Sansa to watch a TV show with him.

Robb and Theon were out, sleeping somewhere else, they were home alone, and after the fingering... situation, they needed a moment.

To talk.

And more.

The thing was... they didn't really know how to talk with one another.

It wasn't like they were friends or knew much about each other.

"Do you want popcorn?" Jon offered as she sat on the couch. "Any snack?"

"Those sweets would be nice," she asked, instead.

She was doing her classic cold shoulder, not too obvious but in her ladylike way of ignoring someone, only answering questions.

But she was always in her frilly nightie, with silk shorts and no underwear.

Just to make things easy if they came to it.

He came back with a bag of marshmallows and a bag of sweets, along with a can of her favourite soda, sitting by her side with his own chips and beer, and Sansa eyed her from her spot on the couch.

Jon hadn't tried to talk to her after leaving her room, not more than usual.

He didn't expect her to embrace him like they were the best of friends, right?

She eyed him up and down, reaching her hand to get the sweets when he sat down, but Jon held her out of his grip.

"Jon!"

"Not my fault you're seating across the couch," he shrugged, setting them between his thigh and the couch.

She pouted.

What a teasing jerk!

Jon patted the space by his side and she scooted a little closer, but she still couldn't reach for the sweets and her soda.

She would have to literally throw herself over his lap to get her soda.

Sansa tried to reach for it, and Jon suddenly decided to be even more of a jerk and hold it at a distance away, and she smacked him on the side of his head.

"Fine," she decided, and seated back on her seat, crossing her arms. "I don't want it anymore."

He laughed.

"Gods, you're so easy to tease," he scoffed, picking up her soda and giving it to her, and then the sweets. "There, princess."

She scowled, but opened the bag, picking up a marshmallow and eating it as he picked the remote.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked.

She frowned a little.

"Well, you invited me," she reminded him.

He shook his head.

"You don't like the stuff I watch," Jon pointed out.

She gasped.

"Yes, I do! As long as it is not too crude or violent, I'm alright with it."

He shook his head, and she waited as he roamed through HBO Max.

"Well," he sighed. "There's this show..."

Sansa raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. What, did Jon think she wouldn't like a nice TV show?

"It's about the age of dragons," he told her. "And my family."

She perked up.

His family?!

Jon was a Targaryen, at least on his father's side. As far as she knew, he didn't have a lot of contact with him, but his family was loaded. Probably the oldest money in existence in Westeros and Essos.

They were kings and queens once, dominating the world before the other continents were discovered, and had dragons.

The coolest thing her family had ever had in the past were direwolves.

The Targaryens were loaded these days.

She was surprised a TV show about them was even allowed to exist.

"Did your family produce it?" she asked.

They had to, right? It was their history, after all.

Jon chuckled, looking a little unsure.

"I don't think I'm even allowed to talk about that TV show," he confessed.

Sansa looked at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed.

"Well, my uncle emailed me," he told her. "And we are not supposed to give out any statements about the show."

She stared for a moment.

The age of the dragons was half a thousand years ago. Who would even care to link it to the current Targaryens?

"Statements?" she asked, anyway.

"No tweeting, no live-streaming, no comments... no words, at all," he told her. "Not even to our friends."

Oh.

He scowled a little.

"Don't think about it. My dad's family is just... yeah, they are... yeah."

Yeah, she got it.

"But I heard the show is good," he said simply. "And no one said I couldn't watch it and pretend I do not descend from those weirdos."

Sansa giggled.

"Well, you could be a prince, technically," she pointed out. "I'm sure that's not bad."

He rolled his eyes a bit.

"I've only seen my father on television and in magazines, Sansa," he told her. "The only reason I even know he is my father is that they did a DNA test when I was a kid, right after my mother died. All he did was pay child support to my godfather and give me a college fund, and that was it. I doubt that is very princely."

She deflated.

Oh.

She knew Jon's mother - her aunt Lyanna - had died when he was young, and he didn't have contact with his father, but that was far harsher than what she thought their relationship was like.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I didn't know."

He was so negative, though. He was still his son, right? And the son of a prince or king was also a prince.

She imagined him as a prince, though. Wearing nice clothes, not his old black t-shirt - the one he always wore and said it was clean but never seemed to be. Maybe he would wear his curls back, and she would be able to see his face and not just his hair.

Jon pressed play, and she sat back, falling into a comfortable silence as a blond woman flew in her dragon.

Oh, it was a huge dragon.

She always imagined how big they would be. History books mentioned sizes but they were always so different, and never gave her a perspective.

"Cool," she whispered under her breath.

The girl really did look the young Rhaenyra she saw in the books - a painting of her when she was declared heir of the Iron Throne. Before shit went down.

A Dragon Princess, filled with elegance and beauty.

How she envied that vision.

... but what the fuck was the costume department doing?

"Is she wearing a bra?" she asked, unable to keep that to herself.

Jon turned to her, confused.

"Sorry, what?"

She moved over to him, taking the remote from his hand and rewinding.

"I mean, probably?" he asked, confused. "What are you doing?"

"Well, she is not supposed to," she glared at him.

Jon squinted.

"It's just a show, Sansa."

She moved closer to him.

"That's a show about the age of the dragons, Jon," she reminded him. "It's not just a show."

He looked so confused.

"Okay, so," she sat up straighter, pausing the show. "During the age of dragons, there were rules for clothes!"

Jon shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure it is not even supposed to be historically accurate!"

"Doesn't it bother you?" she exclaimed.

It was a show about his family! His ancestors!

"Sansa, please," he sighed, laughing.

She pouted, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, what is wrong, then?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I don't see anything wrong with her dress."

"The dress is alright," she argued. "It's her underwear a have a problem with."

Jon simply watched and she sighed, standing up.

"Look at me," she requested, moving and turning on the light.

He followed her with his eyes, and Sansa stood in front of him.

"You know corsets, right?" she asked. "The whole body thing."

Jon nodded.

"Well, the stays came before them," she explained. "They are made to cover the whole torso, like a vest. It keeps your posture straight, and it's like a rigid shirt."

She moved her hand over her torso, showing it to him.

"They don't squeeze, but they give you a shape," she told him. "And she-"

Sansa walked to the TV, and pointed at Rhaenyra.

"She doesn't have a shape."

Jon blinked a little, not looking at her face, and Sansa looked down.

Her nightie had slipped off. Her tit was hanging out.

Sansa’s face burned red and she fixed her clothes quickly.

"I-" she tried to speak.

"Well, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he joked. "And a much nicer view than my ancestors."

She flushed, and he crooked his finger, calling her closer.

Sansa stood between his legs, looking down at him, and Jon put his hand on her hips.

"You wrapped yourself all in silk for me," he caressed her skin under her clothes.

She adjusted herself, trying not to look affected.

"I like this nightie," she said simply.

He smirked.

"So it wasn't for me?" he tugged on her nightie, making it slide down again.

He raised a hand to her chest and pinched her nipple, and Sansa squirmed.

"Are you sure?" he insisted, nearly mocking her.

Her cheeks burned more and Sansa almost stepped back, but he held her in place.

"I like how you look when you are that passionate," he told her. "My little costume designer."

His?

Jon moved his hand down, caressing her thigh.

"Were you this passionate about learning to rub your pretty clit?" he pushed his fingers up her shorts, and Sansa couldn't even clench her thighs together before he was right on the edge of her apex.

She didn't quite want to, you know?

"About how to please your sweet cunt?" he moved his thumb to her mound, and stopped.

She wasn't wearing underwear, and now he knew it.

He pulled her to his lap quickly, kissing her lips hungrily as he pushed his fingers into her hair, tugging on it, making her head fall to the side as he moved his lips down her skin.

"Silly little girl," he mocked, pushing her shorts to the side.

Sansa gasped when she felt his caressing her folds.

She was already wet, for some reason.

"You're so easy to turn on," he chuckled. "Just a little teasing and that pussy is already leaking."

Sansa whimpered and tried to follow his fingers, but he pinched her clit.

No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

"Jon," she whined. "Wait."

He pulled back quickly, looking surprised but taking his hands away anyway.

"I learned something," she whispered, embarrassed.

Jon sat up straighter, and she pulled his hands back to her legs.

Sansa had been reading.

She liked reading, a lot.

And watching things.

Jon squinted.

"What did you learn?"

. . .

"The TV Show" was posted on my Patreon on March! To read it before anyone else - and the sequel "Screamer", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month.

. . .

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[welldonebeca]

The TV Show (3)

Summary: When they finally find a moment together, Jon invites Sansa to watch a TV show. They just keep getting distracted. Aka: Netflix and chill. They fuck in front of a TV. WC: 2.6k words Warnings: Virginity loss. Oral sex/Cunnilingus. Innocence kink. Dirty talking. D/s dynamic. Begging. "No thought just sex". Praising kink. Rough sex. Mean Jon (but Sansa loves it). Fingers in mouth. Aftercare.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Sansa giggled when he threw her onto the bed. He had that scowl on his face, but it was less threatening than he probably wanted it to me.

"Tease?" she asked, teasing him. "Me? I was just watching the show!"

He shook his head, taking off his shirt, and she licked her lips at his beautiful, strong torso.

Sansa rubbed her thighs together.

"Jon!" she gasped, surprised when he suddenly spread her legs and put himself between them.

"I'll show you," he tugged on her shorts, the only piece left of her silky nightly, and he threw it over his shoulder.

Jon spread her legs, holding her in place for a moment and staring down at her cunt for a moment.

"Jon?" she called. "What are you-"

But he interrupted her, shocking her as his tongue ran across her folds, from her entrance to her clit.

She had seen it on porn before, and Jon had sucked her clit when he made her cum that time, but it felt so different from what she thought!

"Jon!"

He raised his head from between her legs, his grey eyes dark with desire now.

But he didn't say anything, sticking out his tongue and doing it again.

Sansa threw her head back, moaning, and his big hands grabbed her highs, holding her open as she gasped and arched herself.

Gods, it felt so good.

He pushed two of his fingers inside, moving them slowly, fucking her carefully, stretching her to the brim.

His tongue moved on her, skilfully, and she couldn't do more than moan and take it.

"You're so tight," he hummed, kissing the sides of her thighs. "My little virgin."

Sansa covered her face with her hands.

"Jon!" she whined.

"Now one's ever touched you like this," he licked her clit again, looking right at her. "Never taste you. Only I can, right, sweet girl?"

She squirmed.

"Yes," Sansa moaned. "Just you, Jon, just-"

His finger curled inside her pussy, rubbing against her sweet spot.

"You're all mine," he growled.

His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking on it, and she cried out.

Fucks, she was going to cum. She was going to cum already.

"Please," she begged. "Jon!"

He pulled back, looking at her face, and his thumb replaced his lips.

"You're going to cum, my little virgin?" he crooned. "Are you going to cum for me?"

Sansa nodded, feeling her knot in her stomach tighter.

"I don't think so," he decided.

He pulled back, taking his fingers away, and she gasped in surprise.

"Jon!"

He smirked.

"What, silly girl?" he asked, mocking her. "You don't like it?"

She groaned, pouting.

"But Jon!" she protested.

Before she could sit up, though, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her even closer.

"You tease me the whole night," he accused. "And expect me to just make you cum just like that?"

He moved quickly, taking off his clothes under her eyes before moving closer to her again.

Oh, his cock looked even harder now, if that was even possible. It looked so pink, and it was glistening. Was it from her saliva?

He moved his hand down to it, taking it and slowly stroking himself.

"Do you want my cock in you, pretty girl?" he offered.

Sansa drooled in both ways.

"Yes," she pleaded. "Please, Jon."

His lips curled in a taunting smile.

"You sound like a porn star right now, did you know?" he teased her. "My little porn star, begging for cock.'

She squirmed, flushing hot on her face, and he leaned in more to her, raising her chin with his finger.

"Beg me a little more," he decided.

She tried to look away from him, embarrassed, but he held her face gently but firmly in place, staring right into her eyes.

"Please, Jon," she pleaded softly. "Can I have your cock? Wanna be fucked by you."

He touched her bottom lip with his thumb, caressing it tauntingly.

"You want to give me your virginity," he caressed. "My little, innocent girl. You won't be so innocent if you do."

Sansa put her hand over his, looking at him.

"Please, I want it to be you," she pleaded, and her tenderness seemed to surprise him. "You make me feel so good."

Jon exhaled and moved closer to her, laying her down and and kissing her deeply, staling her breath away, and Sansa kissed him back hungrily, pulling at his hair, pressing her body to his.

His cock was so warm and hard against her, so close to her pussy now.

"Please," she arched her hips. "Inside me."

She was so wet, she would welcome him so well.

"I have to go slow, sweet girl," he whispered against her lips. "I have to make sure you feel all the pleasure I want to give you."

She whined.

No, she didn't want it slow!

"Let me get a condom," he squeezed her hip. "And lube for you."

Sansa pouted. She wasn't stupid, she knew they should wear protection.

But the idea of Jon filling her up, making her all messy...

She didn't object as he walked away to the side of his bed, taking a box and the lube.

He pulled the condom out, and she spread her legs, taking a hand to her cunt, playing with herself, rubbing her clit as she looked at him.

She watched as he slid the condom onto his cock, his big hand making him look even more intimidating and making her drool.

He squirted some lube over himself and across his thick girth, and then looked at her, scowling when his eyes fell between her hand between her legs.

Sansa rubbed her clit a little more, moaning, teasing him.

"Little temptress," he growled, kneeling on the bed and taking her hand away, pining it on the side. "Be a good girl now."

She felt it rather than saw it when he placed the lube over her cunt, smearing it on her.

"So messy," he clicked his tongue, his tone so mocking. "You're always so prim and proper, so clean... if only all of your friends could see how stupid wet you get..."

She closed her eyes, embarrassed as her pussy fluttered.

Gods, the way he spoke to her!

"Awn, it made you drool so much!" he cooed. "Gonna tie you down one day, make you cum over and over again to see how messy that cunt can become."

She moaned, closing her eyes, and gasped when she felt his cock rubbing her up and down, up and down.

"Sloppy, messy girl," he hummed.

"Please," she whined. "Inside me, Jon!"

He looked at her face, looking merciless.

"Beg more, pretty girl," he commanded. "And maybe I'll give it to you."

His cock rubbed onto her clit, teasing her, and she whined more, growing desperate now.

He was right there, so close. Why wouldn't he take her?

He ground against her, up and down again, and she gasped when he pushed his cock in very, very slowly.

"Yes," she cried. "Jon."

But he pulled back out.

"I said beg," he reminded her. "I don't hear any begging."

Sansa tried to arch her hips, but he held her in place.

"Please, Jon," she moaned. "Want you. Only you, please, please."

He already had her ruined and spoiled for every other man.

Sansa would never ever be able to have sex without expecting it to be this good.

Jon licked his lips, and she could see right when he softened.

"Oh, my sweet girl," he spoke softly. "All mine, aren't you?"

She nodded, pouting a little.

"I'm all yours," she pleaded. "Please, Jon."

He leaned down and kissed her lips again, pressing his chest to her as he pushed his cock in, slowly, very carefully.

He was big, stretching her even more than his fingers had done.

"Jon," she moaned.

He bit her lower lip.

"Talk to me," he instructed, sounding like he was trying to keep himself calm. "Gotta be good, little princess. Don't want you to feel pain."

Pain?

Oh. She was supposed to feel a little bit of pain, no?

But... she didn't.

It didn't hurt. It was a little tight, yes, but it was good! A good tight, a good-

Jon pulled back, as if ready to take himself from inside her, and Sansa held him.

"No," she moaned. "Don't stop, please."

She pushed tugged onto his hair, moaning when he pushed into her again.

"Feel good," she moaned. "Feel very good, please. Don't stop, please, please-"

Jon pushed more into her, taking more space inside her, and she gasped.

Gods, had she known it was so good, she would have climbed onto his lap and fucked him bef-

"Ooh," she moaned.

His cock bottomed out, filling her completely, and his hipbone was pressed right to her clit.

"So pretty," he kissed her neck. "My pretty girl. No need to think. Just take me cock."

Sansa moaned, throwing her head back as he stayed in place.

"Please," she whimpered.

He just kissed her neck more and the space between her chest.

"Shh," he cooed. "Need to take it slow, sweet girl. Don't want to hurt you."

Sansa squirmed.

"No, please," she whined. "Don't want it slow."

Sansa could see it in his face, the way he looked at her.

"Sansa..." he sighed.

"Please," she pleaded. "I can take it, Jon."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Need you to fuck me," she squirmed under him. "Need you to fuck me the way you touched me."

He was so mean to her.

Why couldn't he be mean like that now too?

"Please," she pleaded, looking into his eyes. "Please."

Jon took his hand to her face, holding her chin for a moment and then pushing his fingers into her mouth.

"You want me to be mean to you? That's what you want?" he mocked, two fingers slowly fucking her. "Don't want me to be soft and sweet to you?"

She shook her head.

"Want me to use you?" Jon offered.

Her pussy fluttered with the idea, and Sansa nodded, trying to look her sweetest as she did.

"Want me to use your pussy, pretty girl?" he repeated, moving his hips to half-grind against her. "That's why that pussy's squeezing me that much? Drooling all over my cock?"

She moaned, nodding.

"Yesh," she tried to speak through his fingers.

Yes, it was what she wanted.

"P-ease."

Jon faux pouted, continuing to grind against her.

"I'm sorry, I can't undertand you," he pulled his fingers back and then pushed three of them in, moving to fuck her mouth as if it was her pussy, and Sansa whimpered. "Say it again?"

"P-se," she whined, growing a little desperate now.

"Gods, you really should work on speaking right, silly girl," he sighed. "Well... I guess I'll have to fuck you dumb enough that you'll forget how to talk at all."

She whimpered, already drooling so much it was wetting her cheek, and took in a deep breath when he pulled them away, though it was cut short when he grabbed her by her knees and pressed them to her chest.

"Well... you asked for it."

Jon pulled himself back, pulling his cock all the way out, and before Sansa could speak and protest, he slammed all the way into her again, filling her up all the way again, and she gasped loudly.

"Like this?" he growled. "This what you wanted?"

But he pulled back and slammed into her again, and all she could do was moan.

Jon's cock took each and every bit of space in her, filling her with no resistance from her cunt, so slippery already.

Her voice was so loud it was embarrassing. Thank the gods no one else was home.

Still, she could hear more than just her voice. The squelch from her cunt was also very loud.

"Fucking wet cunt," he moaned. "I didn't even need lube."

Jon took his hand between her legs, rubbing her clit suddenly, and she cried out in surprise.

"Bet you'd let me fuck your cunt bare if I wanted to," he taunted her. "Wouldn't ever protest to me filling this cunt to the brim with cum, silly needy girl."

She nodded. Yes, yes, she would let him fuck her full, she wanted him to.

"Yes," she cried, closing her eyes. "Yes, Jon, please-"

"But just for me, right?" on looked at her face. "This cunt only gets this wet for me, it only craves for my cum."

Gods, she wanted him to fill her so much. She deserved his cum!

"Yes," Sansa cried. "Yes, Jon, just you, 'm yours."

Her eyes were filling with tears for a bit, her mind just foggy as she felt the knot in her belly tight again.

Fuck, she was so close.

"Squeezing me so sweetly," he accused. "I think you're about to cum, pretty princess."

Sansa nodded.

"Yes, yes, please," she pleaded as he rubbed her clit more. "Jon!"

He rubbed her more, watching her expectantly.

"Will you, sweet Sansa?"  he taunted her. "Hm?"

She nodded, and his hips moved a bit faster now, fucking her, and Sansa's eyes nearly crossed.

"Yes."

Sansa could almost taste it when she felt him taking his fingers away.

"No, you won't," he decided.

But his hips didn't stop, his cock didn't stop, and her body didn't stop either.

Jon was away from her, there was no touch to her clit, no stimulation.

But it was enough.

She came with a loud cry and moan, sounding so wanton it would be embarrassing if she could think.

She was surprised when Jon followed right after her, throbbing inside her cunt as his moans grew darker and deeper and his grip harder, his fingers rubbing her clit as if to keep her in the height of her pleasure.

Sansa was feeling completely dazed when he pulled away from her, taking his cock from her cunt and leaving her empty.

Oh, how nice would it feel to have him dripping off her, warm and wet?

But Jon took off the full condom, walking to the bathroom in quick steps to throw it away.

She had her eyes closed when he took her side, embracing her, putting an arm over her torso, and she leaned into his touch quickly.

"Sweet girl," he kissed her cheek, sounding now much sweeter, not mockingly but actually meaning his words. "You did so well for me."

Sansa hid her face into his neck, embracing his affection.

"I did?"

He kissed the side of her face and her temple, every bit of skin he seemed to be able to find with his lips, rubbing her back.

"You did," Jon affirmed. "I'm so proud of you."

He chuckled.

"Of course," he rubbed her back.

She exhaled, feeling a different tension setting in her body.

"Jon?" she called softly. "This isn't like... a one time thing, right?"

Sansa liked him. Very much.

She wouldn't want to get up later and then find out he didn't want her for more than this.

He stiffened under her, and Sansa closed her eyes, expecting the worse.

His warm hand moved to her face, caressing it for a moment before grabbing her chin firmly, making her look at his face firmly.

"I said you were all mine, didn't I, sweet girl?" he asked softly.

Sansa nodded. Yes. And she had promised him she was all his too.

"I don't ever intend to let you go."

Her face grew hot in response and he laughed, kissing her lips sweetly and squeezing her close again.

"Rest, my sweet girl," Jon instructed. "You're tired."

She cuddled up to him, nuzzling into his neck again as he held her close.

In that he was very right, she was tired.

The nickname played in her mind as she dozed off.

His sweet girl. Not just ‘sweet girl’, but all his.

. . .

"The TV Show" was posted on my Patreon on March! To read it before anyone else - and the sequel "Screamer", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega Game of Thrones tags: @izbelross Jonsa Tags: @cosmic-darikano

[welldonebeca]

The TV Show (2)

Summary: When they finally find a moment together, Jon invites Sansa to watch a TV show. They just keep getting distracted. Aka: Netflix and chill. They fuck in front of a TV. WC: 1k words Warnings: Oral sex/Blowjob. Enthusiastic consent. Jon Snow has a big dick. A big of teasing. A little bit of praise. Accidental edging. D/s dynamic.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Sansa moved away from him, standing up and taking off her top, and Jon followed her with his eyes, and inhaled sharply when she knelt between his legs. She could feel the mood shift between them, the lead.

"There are a lot of videos about sucking cock online," she told him. "And articles too. Did you know that?"

He gulped.

"I... suspect?" Jon mumbled.

Sansa nodded a little, moving her hands over his thighs.

"Do you think I can test on yours?" she asked. "What I learned?"

Jon swallowed down sharply.

"Of course."

She tried to be very gracious when she opened his trousers and massaged his dick over his underwear like the guy in the video had done.

Jon felt very big under her fingers, very thick.

When she pulled him out, she was proven right.

Jon was big. Very big.

Well, he was bigger than the guy in the video, and when she tried to wrap her fingers around him, it was hard.

"Wow," she whispered.

Jon laughed.

"Impressed, sweet girl?"

Well, yes. A little.

"You can go slow," he assured her.

But Sansa shook her head.

"I can do it," she assured him.

She moved to wrap her lips around him, but Jon held her.

"Let's move," he told her. "So you can be a little more comfortable.”

Sansa frowned, but complied, and let him lay her on the low couch, kneeling by her side so she could reach him.

Jon pushed her shorts out of the way just as she wrapped her lips around his cock, and she had to focus very hard not to choke and not on his fingers when Jon pushed his finger between her folds, tapping onto her wetness.

He didn't slide his fingers in, just rubbing her inner folds and touching her clit with passing brushes, not focusing on it, the tease he was, but that was good. Sansa was trying to make him putty in her hands, to make him pay for what he'd done to her.

She was so focused on sucking him that she didn't quite realise when the TV went back on, becoming background noise for them.

She traced him with her tongue very carefully, caressing the veiny side with the tip of it and humming with the salty taste of his precum.

Sansa's focus was taken away, however, when Jon chuckled, and she pulled away.

"What?" she frowned.

He looked at her, looking unsure, and shook his head.

"Not you," he told her. "Just... the show."

She frowned.

They were speaking some other language, weren't they?

She looked down at little, seeing how she could get a glimpse of the TV from the reflex on the table between his legs, but gave up, sitting up.

Before Jon could complain, however, she moved her hand to his cock and started massaging it the way she had learned on the video.

Oh, the hot couple was talking.

"Like Dark Sister," Rhaenyra spoke.

Sansa eyed the necklace.

She was half sure she'd seen it in books too.

"Dark Sister?" she looked at him.

Jon blinked at her, looking completely confused for a moment.

"Hm... a sword," he told her, a little breathless. "It’s silly. It doesn’t matter."

She hummed along, jerking him slowly, and Jon inhaled sharply.

Sansa watched as the man put the necklace around Rhaenyra's neck, and waited for them to touch or tease one another, but nothing happened. Instead, Rhaenyra stepped away.

Boring.

Wait, wasn't that her uncle?

Weird.

She moved back to Jon again, kissing his head before taking him into her lips again.

Sansa relaxed her throat and her neck, pushing him as deep as she could go, and breathed in deep when she felt his thick cock against her throat, nearly gagging.

But she didn't. She took it like a champ.

She focused on breathing through her nose, relaxing her throat.

"That's it," Jon grunted. "Good girl."

Alright. All tongue, no teeth. Never teeth because it hurt!

She wouldn't want his teeth on her clit, why would she let her teeth hurt his cock.

"Fuck, Sansa," he hissed.

She moved back from him, the sound of the TV getting her attention again.

Was that another dress?

She sat up again, and stared in shock at the show.

Gods, Rhaenyra's dress was a mess.

"Oh no," she shook her head. "They didn't."

Jon moaned at her side.

"Hm?"

"Jon, she is not wearing any stays again," she complained. "I can see her bra!"

She raised her eyebrows, surprised by her uncle's armour.

"That can't be safe," she decided, pulling her hand away from Jon. "Jon, look at that!"

He inhaled sharply and breathed out slowly, and she frowned, looking at him.

His cheeks were so pink!

And when she looked at his cock, it was throbbing, bobbing up and down.

"Is that normal?" she asked, worried.

Was that supposed to happen?

Jon pressed his lips together.

"Aren't we in the middle of something?" he asked, instead.

"Oh," she looked at the screen and then at him. "Yeah, of course."

She moved back to his cock, licking him up, and hummed in a bit of surprise when she realised how much precum he was dripping with.

Did that mean he was about to cum?

Already?

She pushed him into her mouth until his cock was resting all the way through her tongue and used her hand to massage his balls gently, and Jon moaned darkly over her.

"Sansa," he covered her pussy with his hand, not even touching her further now.

She moved back, sucking just on the head and closing her eyes at the salty taste of him.

Jon's fingers tightened in her hair, and he moaned more.

"The Queen that never was," someone announced on the show.

Sansa pulled away, curious.

Was it Rhaenys?

She looked at the TV again, continuing to move her fingers on Jon's balls.

Oh, her hair was so interesting!

Very wrong, but very interesting.

"Fuck," Jon cursed.

She turned to him, confused, and Jon reached for the remote.

He turned the TV off and before she could even ask what he was doing, Jon picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

"No more TV for you," he panted, slapping her ass. "Fucking tease."

. . .

"The TV Show" was posted on my Patreon on March! To read it before anyone else - and the sequel "Screamer", subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month.

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega Game of Thrones tags: @izbelross Jonsa Tags: @cosmic-darikano