#welldonebeca's keeping up with the targaryens

[welldonebeca]

Rhaenyra's Choice(1)

Summary: Daemon kissed her, slow and sweeter than any kiss she had ever had, and held her close when she fell onto his shoulder, still crying as he held her close, rocking her slowly in comfort. He pressed his lips to her temple, rubbing her back. "I won't let you fall apart again," he promised her. "I'll take care of you, I promise." . . . When her life needs a change, Rhaenyra divorces Laenor days before Daemon finds his way back into her life - and this time he is determined to never leave it again. WC: 1.5k words Warnings: Canon divergence. Modern AU. Unhealthy eating. Angst. Tension. Children. Family fluff.

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

Rhaenyra sucked in her breath, trying to zip in her trousers.

Post-pregnancy was always her worse time.

She should pick up after herself at the gym.

"That's what I get from getting lazy," she sighed, taking it off and throwing a dress over herself.

The boys were at school now and Joffrey was napping, Laenor was only coming for dinner...

Damn it all, it wasn't like she had anything better to do.

She took them off, picked up her yoga pants and squeezed herself into a workout bra, running down to their gym.

Jacaerys and Lucerys weren't biologically Laenor's. It was obvious to anyone who had eyes. He was a good father, a great one. He knew the name of their doctors, didn't need her to be constantly telling him things about things, helped with homework, spent time with them...

Everything her own father had never been, nor his father, from his own tales.

But he wasn't a good husband. No, he was a terrible husband.

And she was a terrible wife.

They never judged each other for that. It was their agreement, he had his lover, and she would have the freedom to do what she wanted.

So she had Harwin, and he gave them three very healthy sons.

Their families knew him as 'the sperm donor'.

Tomato, tomato.

Her life sucked.

She shoved her earbuds into her ear just in time to hear the income call, and picked up her phone, her heart skipping a beat at the name on the screen.

Daemon.

Rhaenyra hopped on the treadmill, setting her phone in the little support box.

"Good afternoon," she half sang.

Daemon was...

Well, Daemon was Daemon.

Her uncle, yes, but...

Before she was forced to marry Laenor, when she was fucking engaged to him, Daemon was her little secret.

They were Targaryens, not strange to love their own blood.

And she loved him. And she liked to believe he loved her too.

But she was young and he was afraid.

So he left for Essos and had his own lover. His wife, who gave him children while Rhaenyra had to content herself with what she had. A husband for name and a security guard for warming her bed.

"Busy?" he called on the other side.

Rhaenyra increased the speed of the treadmill, trying to control her breathing.

"Trying to make myself busy," she said simply.

"Sounds like you," he joked. "I just dropped the girls at fencing and dance, I'm all yours for... 50 minutes."

She chuckled.

"How are they?" she panted a bit.

"Surprisingly well," he told her. "People stopped asking questions and they are getting back to their routines slowly. The therapist said they are adapting well."

Laena had died a few months before her baby was born. She was Laenor's younger sister, Rhaenyra's childhood best friend and a little more.

They were each other's first kiss. And a few other things.

She was also Daemon's wife, as of a bit after Rhaenyra herself had married her brother.

"I wish Laenor was the same," she lamented. "He's still struggling. The boys have picket up on it, it's... worrying."

Since the news, she'd had to handle all of the emotional weight around the house. It didn't help that Joffrey was born almost right after, things were exhausting.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she exhaled. "Jace keeps trying to coddle him, doesn't want to leave him alone... he tried to sleep in his bed when he heard him crying the other night."

Laenor didn't cry a lot, but he seemed so... empty.

"Losing family is hard," Daemon said as if quoting some book.

"I know..." she sighed. "Gods, I absolutely know."

And yet, nowadays, she couldn't relate to her younger self after her mother's death. No, she felt like her father would. Alone, with the weight of a family in her back and no one to count on to share it.

No wonder he had found a wife so quickly, she would love to find someone to share the pain with.

"Is he going to therapy?" he asked.

"Well, he goes inside the room," she agreed. "But he doesn't tell me about it, and if he talks to Joffrey, then they have an agreement to keep those things from me."

"Joffrey?" Daemon asked softly. "The same Joffrey?"

Oh. She hadn't spoken of him before, had she?

"Yes. Same old Joffrey."

His once secret boyfriend, since they were mere teenagers.

"Well, your husband really is loyal to a piece of ass," he chuckled.

Rhaenyra giggled.

"What a shame it is not the one he is married to," she quipped.

They laughed together.

"So..." he sighed. "You two. Now…"

She knew the question, even though he didn't have to ask it.

"He is good with the boys. And a good friend," she noted. "Besides, it's not like I have anywhere else to go."

He chuckled again.

"And yet you keep running as if you do," he noted. "How many hours do you spend on that treadmill every day?"

"Half the kids' school day, give it or take it," she lowered the speed, needing to take a breath. "Again... nowhere better to be when my shift is over."

She worked from home, five hours a day. The company barely needed her, it functioned on its own.

"So you like to spend the rest of the time shining with sweat," he hummed. "I wish that treadmill had a camera feature."

Her cheeks felt warm.

"Daemon!" she rolled her eyes. "Don't be gross!"

He didn't seem affected.

"I remember how pink your cheeks get," he reminded her. "And how hard you work, always trying to push yourself."

She tried not to blush.

"How are those cute abs?" he asked, sounding interested. “I remember you were very proud of them.”

"Non-existing," she shook her head. "Jace left them alone, but Luke had to take them with him. I lost hope by now."

Her poor belly, it would never be back to its flat state.

"Oh, so you have a cute little pouch now," he cooed. "How adorable."

She grimaced.

Cute? It was pudgy, loose, and full of stretch marks. She’d had a full month of treatments, and only managed to get rid of the redness, her skin was still just as dented.

"Well, I'm considering getting rid of it," she told him. "I know a good doctor who can-"

"Don't you dare," he interrupted her, sounding offended. "That's the story of your life that those doctors get rid of!"

Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows, surprised at his defensiveness. Alicent had gone to the same doctor, it wasn't like he was a bad one.

"Daemon, it's nothing special," she reminded him.

"It is," he corrected her. "It's your body, the body that has been with you your whole life, caring for you, nurturing you and your boys."

"I have enough pictures of what my belly looked like with both the boys inside it," she pointed out. “I don’t need a reminder of it in the mirror too.”

"Send them over, then," he joked. "It must be a beautiful image."

She scoffed.

"Daemon!"

"I'll cross the narrow sea and stop you before you can even step into a stupid doctor's office," he told her, his voice not leaving space for protest. "Don't challenge me."

Her cheeks burned in response.

Gods, he probably meant less than what she hoped he would, but still...

"Then do so," she challenged him. "I'm three weeks away from my appointment, where I'm free to do whatever I want with my body."

No answer.

Rhaenyra checked her phone for a moment - was there something wrong with the line? - but Daemon cleared his throat.

"You gave birth nine weeks ago," he changed the subject. "And you're already spending four hours a day in the gym?"

"And Joff sleeps through all of them," she gloated. "I've been doing my leg days with him wrapped around me. It helps relearn balance."

She still remembered the way Alicent had looked at her when she gained more weight than necessary with Jace. How her friends mocked her behind her back in their double baby shower.

Rhyaenyra didn't ever want to be looked at like that again.

"Why?" he asked. "What are you trying to achieve with that?"

She sighed.

"Well, Alicent always gets rid of her baby fat in a month," she pointed out. "I would go up to see my new brother or sister, and she was already fitting back into those stupid dresses of hers as if she hadn't carried a child for nearly a year inside her."

Rhaenyra scoffed to herself.

"Besides, just because I have a baby doesn't mean I should let go of myself, I have an image to uphold," she mocked her, though she was right. "And I'm already going to be pumping like a cow when I go back to the office, I don't need to look like one too."

She reached up, increasing the speed again, her little break over.

There was silence on the other side, and she thought for a moment they got disconnected, but Daemon spoke again.

"I have to go now," he told her, swift and soft. "Goodbye, Rhaenyra."

She exhaled. Back to her life, then.

"Goodbye, Daemon."

Rhaenyra didn't put on music, the tension of their conversation lingering, and abandoned the treadmill, moving to sit by one of the machines.

Joff was asleep, it was best that she used the time wisely.

[welldonebeca]

Rhaenyra's Choice (2)

Summary: Daemon kissed her, slow and sweeter than any kiss she had ever had, and held her close when she fell onto his shoulder, still crying as he held her close, rocking her slowly in comfort. He pressed his lips to her temple, rubbing her back. "I won't let you fall apart again," he promised her. "I'll take care of you, I promise." . . . When her life needs a change, Rhaenyra divorces Laenor days before Daemon finds his way back into her life - and this time he is determined to never leave it again. WC: 1.9k words Warnings: Canon divergence. Modern AU. Unhealthy eating. Angst. Tension. Children. Breastfeeding. Body image issues.

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

Just ten minutes after hanging up her phone, Rhaenyra heard steps, and Erryk walked into the room.

"Ma'am, Harwin is here," he told her.

Harwin.

Oh.

She had forgotten he was coming over.

"Send him in," she picked up a towel, drying her face and trying to fix her hair when he walked away.

But Harwin had seen her worse than this, hadn't he? A true mess.

She stood when she heard his steps on the stairs, suddenly too aware of her body, her pudgy, flabby and fat bits.

The last time he had seen her so uncovered, she looked much different.

He was going back North, she didn't know she was pregnant and... well. Life was different.

She put on a baggy shirt - Joffrey's, she supposed. He liked those printed shirts more than Laenor did - before he could see her, and waited stiffly.

Harwin was carrying a big bag of gifts, undoubtedly for the children. A huge white wolf plush, puppets, a fake sword... and things she couldn't even see too.

He stopped in front of her with the largest of smiles, looking just like Luke when he was excited about something.

"Hello," he greeted.

"Hello," she answered, trying not to look stiff.

Rhaenyra watched him, Harwin suddenly not looking like that man she wanted by her side the way she had wanted before.

Oh, how much she'd changed.

"I hope I'm not being inconvenient, not calling before showing up," he apologised, his smile turning into a grimace. "I... I can come back later if-"

"No," she shook her head. "I told you that you could come around anytime."

They were so strange, the things between them.

When he left, they left it open. If he was ever back, they could spend time together, they could...

"The boys are at school," she told him. "And Joff is asleep now, but he is probably going to wake up at any moment."

His face slowly changed, and he put the bags down.

"Well, I'm here to see you too," he reminded her.

And yet,

Rhaenyra didn't move.

It was like a flip was switched, a key had turned in her.

And Harwin wasn't enough.

Distraction wasn't enough.

"I don't think..." she spoke slowly. "We... I..."

She didn't need to say it, if the way his face slowly softened was enough.

"Did anything happen?" he asked, soft.

Rhaenyra smiled sadly.

"You didn't do anything wrong," she told him. "But I think... I think I need a different kind of relationship now."

She had three kids now, and she was nearly thirty.

Rhaenyra wanted a man who would be her husband, her lover and her children's father. Not just one or two of those things.

Harwin didn't protest or look angry at her.

"Did you..." he started, but stopped. "Did you and Laenor..."

She chuckled.

"No," she shook her head. "Laenor is perfectly fine with our arrangement. It's… me. I guess. I think I need more than what we have."

"I can be more committed," he offered, looking very sweet. "Find a way of being around more, and... we can try."

Rhaenyra shook her head.

"That's not who we are," she reminded him. "We've never done more than sex, Harwin. I don't think it fits us. Besides, you have your family. They need you."

He looked away from her, green eyes sad now. His words said back to him. She remembered how much they hurt her then.

"I'm sorry," he apologised.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she assured him. "Life changes."

He exhaled.

"It does."

They fell into silence, but it was interrupted by the sound of cries echoing through the house from the system connected to the baby monitor.

Joff.

She grimaced. She was hoping he would sleep a little more, so she could exercise.

But maybe it was just a dirty nappy?

The sound was cut, and a voice came out.

"Ma'am?" the nanny called.

She walked to the intercom.

"Yes?"

"He's hungry," she announced.

That wasn't going to help her.

"I'm on my way," she told her, anyway.

Rhaenyra turned to look at Harwin, and he was about to excuse himself when she sighed.

"If you want to meet Joffrey right now," she offered. "He's really nice when his belly is full."

Harwin smiled widely, looking elated.

"If I can," he told her. "Please."

She nodded, walking out with him, and moved her shoulders a bit, feeling her bra too tight.

Yes, her breasts were full now. Her mouth was so dry.

She moved to her bedroom first, though, groaning when she took the bra off and her breasts fell free, a bit heavy now.

"Gods," she sighed.

Rhaenyra put on a new shirt, one that would make feeding her son easier, and left the room to find Harwin still waiting for her.

When they walked to the nursery, it was comfortably cool, and the nanny shifted a whining Joffrey quickly to her arms.

"Oh, my sweet boy," she cooed to him. "I know, I'm sorry I took such a long time."

She slid her shirt aside, adjusting and placing her nipple into his lips, and Joffrey sucked on it eagerly.

"There we go," she sat down, relaxing onto the soft rocking chair.

"How old is he now?"

Rhaenyra frowned, looking at him, her head starting to hurt a bit. She had almost forgotten he was there.

"Hm?"

"How old?" he asked, walking a bit nearer to her.

What, did he think something was wrong with her son?

"Nine weeks," she looked at Joff. "And he is meeting all of his marks. The doctor says he is a very healthy baby."

Harwin didn't say anything, and when she looked at him, his eyes were looking at her body.

Great. Someone else to judge her.

"Rhaenyra," he called softly. "I... hm..."

She looked up and him and he stood straighter.

"Are you... have you seen a doctor?" he asked. "To help with your diet and routine?"

Rhaenyra sighed.

"I'm doing my best, Harwin," she glared at him. "Not everyone can bounce back after three children."

"What, no," he shook his head. "That's not what I mean. You look... hm..."

But he just stared at her, and didn't say anything.

Joffrey whined in her arms, and she looked back at him.

Had anything happened?

He sucked and sucked with a frown on his face.

Oh. She was dry.

Already?

Wait, had she had any water today?

Rhaenyra shifted him on her arms, changing his side and moving him to her opposite breast, helping him latch to her again before covering herself.

"You look like you..." Harwin trailed off. "Are you..."

She looked up at him.

"Use your words, Harwin," she instructed as if she was talking to one of her boys.

"Are you sick?" he asked, suddenly. "Did you catch something lately or..."

She frowned.

Sick?

What?

"No, I‘m not sick," she told him. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Have you been eating?" he asked. "You don't look like you have."

Rhaenyra stared at him, surprised by the question.

What in the actual seven hells?

"I'm breastfeeding a baby, Harwin," she reminded him. "I don't think it is possible to do that when I'm not eating."

But Joff let go of her chest, whining and squirming and crying.

She was dry. Already.

She raised him, patting her back, but her son kept sobbing, putting his mouth to her shoulder, sucking on nothing.

"Dammit," she grunted, frustrated.

Stupid Harwin, drying her up with his stress.

"Can you call the nanny?" she asked him. "Please."

He was scowling when he walked back, and soon the woman was back to her room.

"I need a bottle," she told her. "Please."

She nodded, walking out, and she was left to try and calm her son.

"Is this the first time it happens?" Harwin asked, turning to her. "You should talk to your doctor, you always had milk for the boys."

She scowled, impatient.

"Harwin, please," she paced back and forth.

Slowly, though, his face changed.

"You are doing that thing again," he told her as if realising something.,

That thing?

"You don't think I remember?" he asked. "You met your stepmother when Jace was... what, three months old? And she got into your head, you almost stop breastfeeding him. You were never the same after that, it was even worse than when you were prengnat. You barely ate out of your pregnancies, already. Are you getting worse, Nyra? Is that what is happening?"

Rhaenyra shook her head. Harwin overreacted so much, gods.

"I think you can see I've been breastfeeding him for the last nine weeks," she reminded him.

"And yet she found a way to get into your mind.”

She stared at him, glaring.

Before she could kick him out, the sounds of the kids' steps and voices got her attention.

She adjusted her clothing, and Harwin's attention was back to her as the nanny walked inside with a bottle, and Rhaenyra sat down.

"Go see them," she told Harwin. "I'll finish feeding him."

He lingered for a moment, but complied, leaving her alone and leaving her with Joffrey in the nursery.

"Crazy Harwin," she hummed, placing the bottle into Joff's mouth, and her son sucked happily. "Disturbing our time, my sweet boy."

He whined, uncomfortable, not wanting to take the bottle.

Joff liked her breast much more, he always hated being bottle-fed. Besides, feeding time was their time. Peaceful time.

Not even Laenor put himself in it.

"I'm sorry," she spoke softly. "I'll have more later, I promise. I’ll drink more water"

Slowly, he took it, his bright eyes very attentive to hers. Grey, still. Not a single dust of purple on his eyes yet.

Gods, hopefully his genes weren’t that strong. Purple took a bit to show up, sometimes.

Joff emptied his bottle, and when she pulled it away from his mouth, he looked calmer. Full.

She raised him again, burping him on her shoulder, and rested on her chair, a headache creeping its way to her.

Yes, she was dehydrated.

She used her moment alone to wrap Joff around her, her sweet boy adored being right there with her all the time, her little Velcro baby, and walked down to the kitchen, the boys barely noticing her presence while focused on Harwin. They liked him very much, he was the one who showed them what fencing was and turned it into their new interest.

Rhaenyra drank a full bottle of water, moving softly side to side with Joffrey in the big kitchen, looking at the beach on the edge of her state.

Dragonstone, the place where Aegon the Conqueror had landed when he first stepped into Westeros. Her father had given it to her mother, and she had inherited it at her death.

It wasn't the fortress it had once been. The stone wasn't even the same, it was rebuilt many times in the last two thousand years, and she was certain they didn't have another speckle of dragon glass around anymore. But it still had its beauty.

They also had Wi-Fi and Alexa and technology there, so the dead volcano wasn't missed.

The boys loved to swim on the beach, the most beautiful one in the whole land. She loved to lay on the sand and feel the soft sun of the late afternoon on her skin, not too strong to burn but still so warm.

And yet... it didn't quite feel like home anymore.

If felt... cold.

Had she outgrown Dragonstone, the place she once loved so much?

Or maybe her life was cold, and her home just reflected it.

Whichever it was, it didn't feel quite good.

[welldonebeca]

a private package

Summary: The arrival of a package prompts a parenting moment between Rhaenyra and Rhaena. Warnings: Fluff. Family Fluff. Talks of sexuality.

Welldonebeca's Keeping Up With the Targaryens Series (On AO3)

Rhaenyra set her work phone down, pressing send on her last email of the day before turning the sound off and setting it aside for the morning.

Daemon would probably be back with the boys from school soon, Baela and Luke would probably be back from fencing soon.

Rhaena was doing her homework and some meditation she did in the afternoon, Rhaenyra had the next hour just for herself.

She sat on the couch, relaxing a bit. Maybe she could ask Daemon for a back massage, sitting on that chair for so long couldn't be good for her.

Syrax jumped on her lap, snuggling to her, and Rhaenyra petted her behind her ear, but her cat jumped away when a buzz came from the intercom.

Security?

"Mrs Targaryen?" Erryn called. "A package just arrived. Should I drop it at the door?"

"Yes," she told him. "Please."

Rhaenyra stood up with a sigh. so much for time for herself. It was probably something from Daemon, and it was best to pick it up now before the kids got home.

But when she picked it up, she quickly recognised it wasn't some ordinary package. Sure, it looked like one, but the discreet name was very recognisable, and it was the sex shop she usually bought things from.

Had Daemon bought some new toy and wanted to surprise her? He hadn't said anything.

She was just taking it to their room when she checked the label, and it wasn't Daemon's name on it.

It was Rhaena's.

Rhaenyra stopped in the corridor, unsure for a moment if she should just drop it at Rhaena's room and pretend she didn't know anything about it, or wait and talk to her.

She didn't think her teens were sexless little angels without desire. They were teenagers! She remembered just being some very tall sack of hormones with needs by the time she was 14, she knew they weren't little kids anymore.

And yet...

Well, she wanted them to be safe!

Did Rhaena know how to use toys in a safe way? She could get hurt if she wasn't patient, get sick if she didn't clean them the right way... there were lots of things to worry about!

She shouldn't, but Rhaenyra shook the box, trying to figure out what was inside - and how big it could be - and gasped, startled, when Rhaena opened her door and looked right at her.

Her eyes darted from her face to the box, and she stopped shaking it, pressing her lips together in embarrassment.

"This just arrived for you," she told her, a bit nervous.

Her daughter swallowed down, twirling her rings, a bit nervous.

"Thanks?" she spoke slowly. "Are you... hm..."

"Familiar?" Rhaenyra asked. "With the... place."

Rhaena grimaced, closing her eyes.

"Oh, no," she exhaled, half-whining. "Muña..."

She tried not to sigh. Time to parent, it was.

"I think we should talk inside," she decided. "To make some things clear."

Rhaena whined more, grunting with herself but letting her into her room anyway. It was as tidy as a teenager with her attention spam could keep, but it was clean, so she just let it happen.

"Is this..." she spoke slowly, trying to find her words. "The first time you get this... kind of... product?"

Her daughter covered her face with her hands.

"Yes," she mumbled. "I swear, I didn't get something absurd! It's just-"

But Rhaenyra didn't let her finish.

"I don't have to know, honey," she told her. "You can have your privacy."

She knew a lot of things about the kids, and sometimes it was best that she didn't. Lots of mind scrubbing when your kids are too comfortable with you.

Rhaena uncovered her face a little, looking at her with a single eye open.

"Are you upset?" she asked.

That was a bit confusing for a moment.

"Why would I be?" Rhaenyra asked. "This is something for you. And your needs. That I'm not privy to because they are personal."

That earned her a nervous chuckle.

"Okay," she exhaled, half laughing. "What are we... you... hm?"

Rhaenyra cleared her throat. She could touch the awkwardness in the room if she wanted to, gods.

"I need to ask you," she spoke slowly. "Do you know how to clean the stuff you bought?"

She nodded quickly.

"I do," she told her. "I know that it's not something you're supposed to share, it's like a toothbrush, yours and yours only."

Rhaenyra confirmed, and Rhaena counted things on her fingers.

"I know I'm not supposed to use things made out of latex and jelly-rubber, or porous materials because of germs," she listed. "Just body-safe silicone. I have fragrance-free soap, and I know I'm supposed to let it in the water with soap for a few minutes, and then rinse with warm water, and dry it with a towel."

She listened to it, a bit surprised that she already knew so much about it.

"And I can't mix silicone with silicone, but water-based and oil-based are okay," she continued. "Is that enough?"

Rhaenyra nodded a little.

"And you know it's not supposed to be uncomfortable, right?" she asked her. "If you are uncomfortable-"

"You're doing something wrong," Rhaena finished her sentence. "Yes, muña, I know. Really. I did a shit-ton of research before buying it."

She exhaled, in relief. Well, she'd raised some very smart kids, hadn't she?

"Okay," she stood up. "I guess I should leave you to it. But you have to clean it first, don't forget."

"I know," Rhaena assured her. "Can I get my box now?"

She gave it to her, at last, glad she hadn't opened it.

Rhaenyra was about to leave when Rhaena stopped her.

"Muña?" she asked.

She turned to look at her.

"Thank you."

She smiled a bit, relaxing.

"You're welcome, honey."

[welldonebeca]

The Question Game (1)

Summary: After Joffrey finds them playing Truth or Dare with their friends, Luke, Baela and Rhaena use the opportunity to extract a very important piece of information from Daemon: who was his first wife? Warnings: Modern AU. Daemyra family life. Fluff.

It was fencing day, the one day in the week it matched Rhaena's cheer practice and Joff's sewing class.

Her little boy was so excited with his new activity. He was learning how to make patterns and properly cut them. Soon, any moment really, he could show up at home with a piece of clothing to present as his first project, ready to be worn – she still had many of Rhaena’s early projects, they were wonderful lounge dresses.

It was nice to see the craft in the hand of her child. Rhaenyra had grown up knowing her mother and grandmother loved sewing, and while she admired it, she never had the mind for it - she looked way better wearing the clothes than making them. It was good to know that the love for it would never be lost.

"Syrax?" she called, opening her door with just a little crack.

Work time was also their snuggle time. With her day-to-day life, Rhaenyra had to pay attention to her kids, and her cat could be forgotten.

Syrax walked inside quickly, climbing to the cat house to watch her, and she sat down to work again.

Her Valyrian cat leapt gracefully to her desk and strolled into her arms, and Rhaenyra scooped her right up. Her girl nuzzled to her like she did to her kitten.

"Hi, baby," she murmured, rubbing her nose over her soft fur, setting her down to see her computer.

Syrax adjusted herself, and Rhaenyra moved her focus to check the new email popping up on her screen.  The purpose of the meeting was for their team to meet with local residents from the new city they were building their new resort in. It was a beautiful place with hot springs at the foot of a dead volcano, and they wanted her to attend it.

She groaned, though, at the sight of the time it was scheduled for.

It was at such an ungodly hour, gods. At least it was remote.

Rhaenyra scratched Syrax behind her ears absentmindedly while she wrote her answer with a single hand, forwarding it to her assistant, so it would be added to her schedule.

It was imperative to reach an agreement with the locals quickly, to assure them that their project would have no adverse impact on the environment.

"What do you think, Syrax?" she hummed, thoughtfully. "Do you want to go soak up in the sun there next year, when it's done?"

Maybe she would be able to bring everyone to the inauguration, the kids would love it.

Syrax purred happily, and just as the clock on her screen stroke 5 PM, and not a minute later, a gentle knock resounded at her office door.

"Mama?" Joff asked, very soft. "Is work time finished?"

Rhaenyra smiled. The kids were always respectful of her work time.

"Yes, my sweet boy," she told him. "Do you want to come in?"

The door opened slowly as she closed the browser of her computer and set her work phone aside, and her son stepped into the room slowly, looking around with awe.

Her office was, of course, off-limits to the children, so the sight of it was rare to them.

Syrax gracefully hopped off Rhaenyra's lap and made her way toward Joffrey, affectionately rubbing against his leg before sauntering out of the room.

"What's wrong, sweet boy?" Rhaenyra asked.

Her son pouted.

"Baela and Rhaena and Luke won't let me play their game," he stomped, looking very upset. "I asked and asked, but they didn't even tell me what it was!"

Her frown deepened as she processed the situation. A game?

The oldest kids were usually nice to the little ones, she trusted their judgement with them. Because their extracurricular activities were all at school - except for Rhaena's dancing classes - the girls had even earned their trust enough to be the ones to drive home with Joffrey in their backseat.

She opened her arms for him, and her son walked to them, letting himself be picked up and put on her lap.

"What kind of game?" she asked, careful.

Joff thought for a bit, still frowning deeply and pouting.

"They were all sat in a circle with big kids, and they were spinning something and giggling and being fun!" he told her, sounding very disappointed. "But when I got there, they didn't tell me what they were doing and said I couldn't play it because it wasn't a game for little kids!"

She softened at his words. Oh, her sweet baby boy.

It was a situation they had sometimes, considering the kids were so far apart in age – practically a decade. Some things were just meant to be incompatible between them.

Rhaenyra kissed his cheek and rubbed his back, trying to comfort him.

"I am going to talk to yours siblings," she told him, careful as to not place blame at any side of the interaction. "And I'm going to understand what happened, and then we can all sit and talk, okay?"

They were probably spin the bottle or some variation of it, and it really wasn't a game for children. It also wasn’t a game for school.

He nodded.

"Okay, mama," he agreed.

Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around him, and snuggled to him.

"Do you want lots of kisses?" she offered. "Will that make you feel better?"

He nodded, and she helped him turn to face her, holding him and spreading kisses all over his face: his pink cheeks, his forehead, the temples of his forehead, his little nose and his closed eyelids, until Joff was smiling and giggling.

"That's enough, mama," he laughed.

She moved back, and he placed a kiss on her cheek before wiggling himself out of her lap.

"Go find daddy to check your homework," she told him. "I'll go talk to your siblings."

. . .

Read the rest of the chapter 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.

. . .

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[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.

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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