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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

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Patience is the Virtue of a Lady

Summary: As Daemon's wife, you are left humiliated by your errant husband. As the product of an annulled marriage, you are seen as barren and tainted, left to befriend Queen Alicent, gaining the reputation of an unsalvageable woman over the years.

But, the heart wants what it wants, and you have had your eyes on unattainable Ser Criston for years.

Notes: anon’s mind is imploding with the amount of genius in it. thank you for requesting, i was on my knees for this idea

Warnings: smut, religious undertones, afab!reader, daemon is an ass, criston is an ass, reader is genuinely not having a great time (at first ahaha), religious/vow-related guilt, slight size kink?

Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @a-beaverhausen @ilikeitbetterangsty @levithestripper (adding you tentatively, jack, hmu to be added to any!)

based on this request | masterlist | requests are OPEN! (and i'm back to writing!!)

Daemon never cared to hide his straying looks, and you knew of his habits. Whoring, drinking, murdering – and yet, you were lucky for having married a Targaryen Prince. You kept your mouth shut, knowing that you would, otherwise, end like your predecessor, Rhea Royce.

Why Viserys had insisted Daemon marry against his will again, you’d never understand.

You kept your mouth shut, through whores, paramours and treason. You played your part, as everyone did in the court. And when your eyes strayed, they did so secretly and carefully. You chose to stare at someone you could not attain anyway.

A kingsguard was your safest bet at something that would never happen anyway. You seethed against the humiliation of your husband and sought your own distraction. Even when Daemon stared hungrily at Rhaenyra, a girl, you said naught.

Targaryen tradition – you did not know if you could argue with that. But Rhaenyra was barely fifteen. She was beautiful, yes, but even now, the fact that your husband would prefer a girl over you stung.

In the early days of your marriage, you had gone to the sept every day, beseeching the Mother to give you a child, even if your husband refused to touch you beyond a drunken wedding night, in which he had failed to even come close to producing a child. Now, you were glad for your childless state, even if the court whispered that you were barren.

So when Daemon left your shared chambers, which were an order of the king, you bade him goodnight and turned back to your reading. Still, you stared from your balcony out at the small spot outside the Red Keep he always appeared in after a while.

A secret entrance only Daemon knew how to use. You held your breath when a small figure appeared first, silver hair glinting in the moonlight.

Rhaenyra.

A few moments later, Daemon appeared, and they disappeared into the city.

The rumors in the days to come were enough for you to draw your own conclusions, but to your surprise, Ser Criston was soon included in them, which stung more than anything. You’d deemed him safe to keep as your own in secret, and yet, Rhaenyra had not only taken your husband from you, but also him.

It hurt more than the annulment of your marriage that Daemon brought forth. You only nodded through the process, letting the Septon say what he wanted, and Daemon tell as many lies as he needed.

And so, your name was yours again and all you were in court was the former wife of Prince Daemon. Your family seethed, ready to remove you from court until Queen Alicent asked you to become her lady-in-waiting, and you were once again stuck in a court of lies.

Ser Criston grew bitter over Rhaenyra, but instead of becoming your friend, he began to worship Queen Alicent. It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t love, but something queer in between.

In his own twisted way, he once again wanted anyone but you, and it stung when it shouldn’t have. Weren’t you supposed to be past this?

And yet, you tortured yourself, watching as he raised Alicent’s children as his own and continued to barely spare you a glance. The court grew disinterested in you, and you continued to lead a life as quiet as before, turning into a lonely spinster with the years.

Only now, you turned to the Father in the Sept, begging for purpose. For anything to happen in your life that might make it worth something.

And then, Lady Laena died. Beautiful, magical, mysterious Lady Laena, who you’d never known and yet loved for ridding you of your husband was dead.

You attended the funeral, even prayed for her, hoping that she would find peace – a thing you thought highly unlikely for a wife of Daemon. You watched as Daemon once again practically drooled over Rhaenyra, and watched as she did the same. Alicent saw it, too.

“It appears as if some things do not change.” Alicent commented dryly. It was treason, what she said, but her nerves had been frayed for the past few weeks, and she knew you would not speak ill of her to the king. You wouldn’t have made a difference to frail King Viserys anyway.

“No, my queen.” You sighed. “But it is not me he is humiliating this time.”

“That did not make you deserve it.” Alicent replied, ever gracious. She slipped her arm into yours, as if you were still the young, disappointed women you had once been and led you away from the balcony. Ser Criston followed dutifully, and for some reason, it felt as if his eyes were burning into your back.

Rhaenyra and Daemon disappeared together, and everyone in their presence trained their eyes to the ground, pretending not to see. Your hand curled into a fist instinctually, feeling old anger and disappointment bubble back up in you.

Perhaps, if you had been bolder, you could have reigned Daemon in. You could have been queen consort, and saved Alicent all her pain. They were silly thoughts, and yet, they made you leave the room, and make for your chambers.

You almost screamed when you saw a dark figure sitting in them, back turned to you, until you recognized dark curls and white armour.

“I almost thought Daemon had finally sent someone after me.” You mumbled, half to yourself. Criston turned, looking right through you.

“Ser Criston?” You asked carefully. He’d grown older, as all of you had, but his beauty remained to him. Criston stayed silent, still staring.

“Criston?” You tried again, calling him by his first name this time, and slowly, he seemed to see you standing across from him.

“She could have had me, and freedom. She chose this prison, you know?” Criston told you. For a moment, your felt confused, before you realised that he was speaking of Rhaenyra, still heartbroken. Of course.

“What are you doing in my chambers, ser?” You asked. Ser Criston laughed dryly.

“You never deserved what he did to you. Prince Daemon dishonored you.” Ser Criston continued, not answering your question. “A lady so beautiful any a man would have been grateful to have you as their wife, and yet, he threw you away for nothing at all.”

Nothing. He had called beautiful Laena, wild Rhaenyra nothing at all. What treason, and how your heart loved to hear it.

You swallowed down your bitterness, ignoring the fluttering feeling in your stomach as Ser Criston called you beautiful. Yet, you kept your guard up. This place was only an extension of King’s Landing, reeking of corruption just as much. For a moment, you considered whether, mayhaps, this was some kind of ploy.

Ser Criston stood so suddenly you took a step back instinctively. He passed you, and you thought that he was going to leave, tired of your company. Instead, he closed the door in front of him. The lock clicked into place, a cacophony of sound in the silence that hung over the room. You held your breath, praying to the gods that nothing would happen to you.

He began to close the distance between you, and you began to back up, until your knees hit the bed, and you fell backwards. Criston was still walking, still closing in on you like prey, and you felt yourself scramble backwards. The headboard stopped your attempt to flee, forcing you to look at Ser Criston.

He stood at the end of the bed, his hand on his sword. Could you make a run for it? Where was there to run?

His swordbelt unravelled, and the weapon hit the ground with a quiet thud. Criston only waited, staring at you expectantly. What did he want?

Slowly, you felt yourself freeze out of place, dragging yourself across the bed towards the end of it, where he stood solemnly. Carefully, you reached up, putting a hand on his shoulder. You heard him inhale shakily.

“Ser Criston, are you alright?” You asked. A pause, then, a shaky breath and a shrug that turned into a shake of his head. “Ser?”

“I’m sorry.” Criston said finally. Carefully, his hand took yours. You stared down, looking at the dark grey glove that covered his hand, starkly contrasting the white of the rest of his uniform. The leather felt soft against your hand, and it was that you tried to focus on, not the fact that you were holding the man’s hand in yours.

“What for?” You asked, smiling up at him nervously. You hated the position you were in, the vulnerability of it. Your neck was craned to look up at him, and you were practically kneeling on the bed. If anyone found you like this, they would accuse you of unthinkable things… Alicent would never forgive you.

“For not defending you. For what I am to do.” Criston said. “Both tarnish my knighthood, my white cloak… tarnishing you.”

You opened your mouth to speak. “What you are about to…”

As Ser Criston pulled off his gloves, cupping your face with his left hand, you trailed off. You could hear your heart beating in your chest. You wanted to pinch yourself. Surely, you were dreaming. This was not real.

Yet, even if it was, you did not care to move away from him. Instead, his lips found yours, soft and gentle in their own way. You felt yourself reciprocate, though you knew that you should not. You should not be doing this, betraying Alicent in this way and yet…

He sighed into the kiss, and the thought disappeared in the fuzz of your mind. You were unable to think, almost unable to breathe. Gods, how long you had waited for this moment. Weeks, months, years.

“Do not give in.” Criston begged. You paused, breaking the kiss to look at him, but no words left your mouth. He repeated his own once, before something shifted in his eyes. This time, he kissed you less softly, and more so like in the bawdy tales your sister had told you. And you found yourself reeling, your hands against his chestplate to steady yourself.

Even as his hands slip under your dress and travel up your thighs, he begged. “Please, stop me.” He whispered. You shook your head in saccharine betrayal and Criston rested his on your shoulder for a moment. His hands left your thighs, leaving the skin hot and burning, and snaked up your neck, cradling your head. They were big, encompassing your skull and somehow, that made your breath hitch.

Hands that were made to kill, and yet, he was holding you so gently, as if you were fragile. A sudden boldness made you speak.

“Do you want me?” you asked. He lifted his head, nodded almost frantically and you made your choice.

Had the distance between you two really been that dramatically large? It felt as if there was no world around you, only your lips on his, his hands touching, holding as your husband should have held you. As you should have held your children.

Oh how you had longed for years, had none of it, and watched as others had been destroyed, by husbands, by children… yet it still felt so deeply unfair that you could not bring yourself to feel guilty for this little thing. Just this once.

You let Criston kiss you, worship you with his hands as he took his time, carefully unlacing your dress, letting the fabric pool around you. Still, you sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. He loomed in his armor, dwarfed you from this perspective.

When you were finally in your shift, you could not help shivering. Criston looked at you with worry in his eyes, before he slipped away, stoking the fire in the furnace. The heat did not match the feeling his hands left on your skin.

He stood before the fireplace, his silhouette illuminated as he took off his armor. The chestplate, the padding, all those parts that shielded him when he did his duties were discarded carelessly on the floor, a stark contrast to his eyes, trained to the ground.

The shadows that flickered through the room, created by candles and fire illuminate the muscles of his back as his dressshirt joined his armor on the ground. You could feel yourself biting your lips to keep yourself from making unladylike sounds.

When Criston returned to the bed, you expected him to push you into the bed, to climb atop you and do what Daemon could not. Instead, he fell to his knees before you at the end of the bed. Confused, you stared down at him.

“What are you doing?” you asked him. He did not answer, his eyes dark as he stared up at you, filled with things you would never tell your septon about. His hands pushed up the seams of your shift until it bunched at your hips.

Suddenly, you felt exposed, and your legs crossed automatically. You sat up straight, as you had been taught, until Criston’s hand returned to your knee, patient, waiting. You understood. Slowly, you uncrossed your legs again.

You still felt exposed as Criston began to place kisses on your knee, even more so when his mouth wandered upwards, towards your thighs. He had kissed your mouth, had barely kissed your neck and now he looked like he wanted to devour your thighs.

Criston took his time sucking marks into the flesh of your thighs, marking it as his, you suddenly realized. And how you loved to be loved.

His mouth moved upwards with a pace that was so slow it almost became painful. You felt a moan escape you, covering your mouth immediately. Criston, looking up again, shook his head. You felt confused – wanton sounds, those were condemned by the church. They could not possibly be what he, such a devout man, would want to hear?

Only, Criston wasn’t that devout after all, was he?

And when his lips touched your cunt in devout prayer, you answered in such currency. Eagerly, his tongue licked a stripe up your cunt, flicking the nub at the top with impatient insistence until you felt your back weaken. You let yourself fall backwards onto the mattress with a girlish ease you had not felt in years, but suddenly it was there, and you were floating…

How had the septons dared to tell you all this was sin? How could that be true? How could it be when-

Criston never ceased his movements when you grew louder, trying to contain your sounds to the confines of your chambers. A knot was beginning to tie itself in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter until you were begging Criston for something – you didn’t know what it was, except that he knew, that he would give it to you.

And then, suddenly, the knot was gone, and something else took its place. You weren’t sure if this was something you had ever felt before because it was all-consuming, washing over you like a golden wave and pulling you under. The tension, the pressure, all of it was gone, replaced by white-hot pleasure and your eyes rolled backwards, your back arching off the bed towards Criston.

Coming down from you high, you felt Criston slowly removing your shift, continuing his worship on your stomach and your chest, sucking and biting skin until he felt you squirm beneath him. It was then that he looked at you, smirking, but you could see that his eyes were full of something no one had ever looked at you with.

Not desire, nor lust, for you had seen those in men who eyed you greedily during banquets. It was not the empty, sad stare King Viserys gave Alicent. No, it was the glances Ser Harwin had thrown at Rhaenyra before her death. The look of adoration Queen Aemma had held for King Viserys all those years ago…

You had no need to say the word, for you knew, and it made your head spin. Could it be?

His hands pulled your shift over your head, until you were bare for him. He was still wearing breeches, but you could see the strain beneath them. Filled with sudden confidence, you pulled him towards you, kissing Ser Criston and wrapping your legs around his waist in a desperation to have him close to you.

Your hands fumbled at the laces of his breeches clumsily, until he gently removed them, doing the work himself. You could see Criston’s cock, half-concealed by the shadows between you and the dark, and yet, you knew it was bigger than Daemon’s. The thought of it made you afraid and your face heat up at the same time.

His hand moved languidly while he leaned down to kiss you. When his hips bucked into his hand, you heard yourself beg him for it, and that seemed to change something in him. Suddenly, Criston seemed hungry.

You could feel him between your legs, and then, you weren’t all that confident anymore. But Ser Criston held you close, whispering reassurances and praise until you could feel him enter you. There was a small stretch, a small feeling of discomfort, and Ser Criston halted his movements for a bit.

When you nodded, he began to move, his body rocking into you. He seemed to know what he was doing when he rolled his hips, stimulating that spot inside of you you had no idea existed in the first place.

The first time he hit it, you felt the air knocked out of you from pleasure. And then, the feeling became a rapid addiction. Your hands dragged his chest to yours, your legs wrapping around his waist again in an attempt to urge him to move faster, harder, to make you feel good.

Ser Criston, the perfect white knight, obliged. He snapped his hips against yours, angling them upwards and giving you something that you had not thought would work that way, feel that way.

“Please, Criston.” You gasped.

“Please what? What do you need, my lady?” Criston replied, his words coming in short intervals. He was just as gone as you, you realized, and that only added to your own high.

“Oh Gods,” you began. “Criston, I don’t know, I- please, please,…”

He rested his head in the crook of your neck again, but this time, his teeth found your shoulder, biting down gently at first. The pain was good. It added an edge you had no idea you needed, brought you back down into a realm where you could form some coherent thought.

The knot you had felt before, the tension that had turned into a coil in your stomach returned with a sudden fervency. This time, the feeling was there more quickly, more intense and it was almost too much. At the same time, you felt as if you would die if it stopped.

Criston seemed to feel it, and only later would you realise that your cunt was clenching around him so tightly that he was having difficulty not to moan as loudly as you. But Criston continued, and he pushed you over the edge, leaving you reeling in pleasure as his hand clapped over your mouth to muffle a scream.

He followed soon after, only that he refused to spend his seed inside you, instead painting your stomach with it. You know why he did it, and yet, it somehow still hurt. Before you could ponder too much on the matter, Criston disappeared, returning with his breeches on and a rag in hand. He cleaned you while you lied on the bed, the soreness beginning to sneak in after your high.

Afterwards, Criston lied down next to you. He did not speak, but he did not pray either, and for that, you were glad. And still, he was the one who pulled you closer. You held onto him, basked in his warmth.

Finally, your patience and virtue had been rewarded. You did not waste a single thought on what would come in the future, only that this was right, and no septon nor Alicent would be able to convince you otherwise (not that you would tell them about this to begin with).

You could feel yourself dozing off in your white knight’s arms, until the alarm bells of High Tide suddenly began to rang. As the castle came alive under the signal, Criston shot up, and so did you. Shouts passed your door, and he scrambled to put on his armor.

Never a moment’s peace in this world.

#criston #criston x reader #ser criston #ser criston x reader #ser criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole #criston cole x reader #smut #criston cole smut #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd smut #criston cole imagine #minor #rhaenyra targaryen x daemon targaryen #request #criston cole angst

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blakeswritingimagines · 20 days

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Their First Thought About You

Aegon: Your personality is just as enchanting as your appearance - you are both kind and intelligent, always eager to learn and experience new things. Your courage and loyalty are unmatched, as well as your passion for helping those in need. Your strength and resilience would have made even the greatest warriors envious. In you, he finds a true partner – someone who balances his strengths and weaknesses with your own, someone who understands him in a way no one else ever could.

Aemond: Your skin is soft like silk but strong like Valyrian steel, and your every move is as elegant as the dances of a dragon. Whenever you speak, he could listen to your tales for all time, even the most poetic songs of Westeros could not measure up to your voice. He would lay his head on the softest of pillows if it meant he could spend just one single night with you.

Jacaerys: Like an intricate painting crafted by the gods themselves, every inch of you is perfect. Even the Gods would be envious of your divine beauty, and the stars in the night sky wish to dance upon your skin. Her gentle voice makes even the Seven Kingdoms fall silent in awe.

Lucerys: His first thought on you, is that you are a great beauty and a pleasure to be around. He admires your strength and grace, and he loves the way you look at him, with your beautiful eyes.

Rhaenyra: She loves your eyes that shine like gemstones in the sunlight. Your smile could light up even the darkest room, and your laugh is the most beautiful sound she has ever heard. She loves that you're intelligent and witty, with a sharp mind and a quick tongue. You are not just a pretty face, but a powerful force to be reckoned with. She is honored to know you and she would do anything to make you smile.

Daemon: He adores the way you turn away shyly when you share a glance, and your fierce competitiveness when sparring… he could go on and on for days about you. Your conversations are like music to his ears, he hangs on to every word you utter, every story you share- even though you're the most beautiful person in, possibly, the entire world.

Alicent: When you smiled at her, it was like time stood still and all she could see was you. Your eyes sparkled like the ocean on a sunny day, and your hair glowed like the moon on a cloudless night. Your voice was like a soothing melody, and your laugh was the most melodious sound she had ever heard. In your presence, she felt like nothing else in the world mattered.

Helena: Every moment she spends with you is a moment she will forever cherish. When you laugh, your joy is music to her ears. When you're upset, she wants to hold you tightly and whisper sweet words. You're intelligent beyond measure, and could easily rule over the Seven Kingdoms if you desired. She would go insane if you weren't there because you are her other half.

Harwin: That you have the most captivating eyes he's ever seen, they reflect the stars of the night sky. You have a fierce and strong demeanor, but a kind soul. He can't take his eyes off you whenever he stares at you, your beauty hypnotizes him. You're the first person he thinks of when he wakes up, and the last one he thinks of at night. You're everything he's ever hoped for and desired.

Cregan: When you speak, your voice is like a symphony of the purest silk and your scent is like an intoxicating fragrance that leaves him in a trance. Your every move is like a dance, and each breath you take is a melody that whispers secrets of the universe. Your every glance is like a bolt of lightning, setting his soul ablaze with an undying fire.

Criston: You had long captivated him from the very first time you'd spoken. With your flowing wave of soft hair and tantalizing eyes, he found himself utterly entranced by your beauty and charm. He often found himself lost in thought, wondering what secrets lie beneath your captivating facade.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #helena targaryen x reader #ser harwin strong x reader #cregan stark x reader #ser criston cole x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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justinalovee · 1 year

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𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Targaryen reader x multiple characters

Word Count: 2468

Warnings: Incest, oral, threesome, P in V, masturbating, fingering, lactation kink, spit kink, possessiveness

Summary: Rhaenyra and her lover have different sexual encounters with characters in the HOTD universe

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI. Alicent isn’t married to the king. Although there is incest, Nyra doesn’t have sex with her siblings

Aegon

Rhaenyra beckons her brother, who is sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed, with the index finger of her free hand, “Aegon, come closer.”

Aegon downs the rest of his cup, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Nervously, he kneels between your legs, leaning down to get a closer look at your glistening cunt.

“Do you see?” Rhaenyra asks, opening your folds with two fingers. “This is how wet she needs to be each time you lay together.”

Aegon looked lost in a haze. He had staggered into his bedchambers, hoping to sleep off his drunken state, but instead found you waiting on his bed with Rhaenyra by your side. Rhaenyra wasn’t happy when she heard of your betrothal to a green, but you assured her that Aegon had been led astray by his mother and grandsire.

You wanted him to fall in love with you.

It was the king's idea to have you marry his eldest son, despite his daughter and Queen Alicent’s protest. The king hoped that marriage and children might bring his son some happiness. In truth, you wanted that for Aegon as well. If he was happy with you, then he’d follow you to Dragonstone. Not only would it mean you would have another dragon and its rider on your side, but he might have a chance of a better life away from the poisonous vipers he currently lives with. You believed that you could live in harmony by each other's sides in Dragonstone once you reached his heart.

But the way to a man like Aegon Targaryen's heart was through his cock.

Having been your lover for some time, Rhaenyra offered to help you gain his interest the night before your wedding. A tiny part of her was jealous as well that she was no longer going to be the only one who touched you, but she could make peace with sharing you.

Aegon nodded. His shyness confused you, as he was known to have slept with many women before. Maybe the shock of seeing Rhaenyra show him how you like to be eaten out had him temporarily frozen.

Rhaenyra smirks. “She truly is divine. Do you want to taste her?”

The mere thought of Aegon and Rhaenyra taking turns licking and sucking at your most sensitive area sent a shiver down your spine.

Rhaenyra shuffles back in the bed until her knees are behind your head. She watches with wide eyes as Aegon grips your thighs with his hands, pushing your legs open further to accommodate him. Gently, he licks through your folds, causing you to let out a soft moan.

You glanced up at Rhaenyra and pouted; you wanted to repay the earlier favour of her giving you pleasure. While she’s distracted, your hands snake up to the front of her dress. You pinch her nipples through the material, pulling her down close enough so you can touch her with your mouth. Rhaenyra pecks at your lips and says, “Tell me, sweet girl, how does it feel?”

"So good; Aegon knows what he’s doing."

You tug at Aegon’s silver locks, holding him in place, when he rubs at your clit with his thumb. You gasp, looking down at the sight of him between your legs. "Gods, I’m so close... I’m going to cum in your mouth."

Aegon smirks before quickening his movements. You pull the grey fabric of Rhaenyra’s dress down at one side so her breasts are exposed. You latch your lips around her nipple, licking and sucking on her skin.

Feeling your inner walls start to flutter around your betrotheds tongue you pull his hair tighter, “fuck! I think we are going to be very happy together.”

Aegon gives you a devilish smile before pushing his tongue further inside you.

Aemond

Aemond drives his cock into you faster and harder. He was determined to make you cum multiple times after reading that a woman having an orgasm helps her become pregnant. He licks two of your fingers then rubs them against your clit, saying, “You're going to look like a goddess when you are swollen with my child.”

“Our gorgeous princess,” Rhaenyra adds.

A chesty growl erupts from Aemond, who continues to slam into you, his hands roughly pinning you down by your hips. His hatred for Rhaenyra seems to spur him on.

Usually you hate being caught in the middle of your husband and his elder sister's spats, but right now you are enjoying this.

Aemond had returned from dragon riding earlier than intended to find Rhaenyra between your legs in your shared bedchamber. He knew of your relationship with the heir to the throne but hardly mentioned it. He excused himself and was about to leave until Rhaenyra made a snide comment about being able to fuck you better. Minutes later, he had pulled you away from his sister and shoved his cock deep inside you.

You couldn’t see your husband, but you were sure he was glaring at Rhaenyra. She pinches your nipples and moans as you tease her slit with your finger. Watching you get fucked turned her on more than she thought possible. “Good girl,” she praises. “You're doing such a good job pleasing me while getting stuffed full.”

You nip at the side of her thigh before smacking a hand on her clothed cheek. Rhaenyra had wanted you to make her feel good but wouldn’t go bare in front of her brother, so to compromise, she removed her small cloth and held the bottom of her dress up high enough so she could place her thighs on either side of your head.

You found it erotic that your husband couldn’t see what you were doing to the other women, and likewise that you couldn’t see what he was doing to you.

“Qogralbar! harder, kostilus!” Fuck! Harder, please!

“Such a needy girl,” Rhaenyra remarks.

You flick your tongue over her clit while bringing both hands underneath her dress to feel her skin. You link your arms around her thighs to bring her down until she’s sitting on your face. You spread her cheeks, gathering wetness from her core. You use it to lubricate your finger, then slide it along her slit until you reach the hole. Slowly, you insert a finger into her ass while devouring her cunt with your mouth.

“You have a very dirty wife, brother; you must be very happy.”

“Very,” he snaps. “Just remember, she is mine! Mine to play with, mine to lay with every night, mine to fuck heirs into.”

Not taking the bait Rhaenyra just hums in agreement. “Her breasts will be so full and swollen when she’s pregnant.”

Aemond sends you over the edge when he flicks at your clit, causing you to moan loudly into Rhaenyra’s pussy. As she starts to rock her hips, she’s fucking herself against your finger and mouth. Feeling you squeeze around his cock, Aemond twitches inside you and then groans as he spills his seed.

You try to wrap your legs around his waist to keep him closer to you, but he leans back, collecting the cum that’s spilled out onto his fingers, then pushes it back inside you. “We are going to be here all night, wife,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “It appears you’ve forgotten who you belong to. So I need to remind you that you will not be leaving this bed until I’m sure you’re with a child.”

Ser Criston

After relentless teasing from you, Ser Criston finally snapped and let you push by him, making your way into your cousin's bedchamber, knowing you spent most nights in the princess room. Of course he followed you inside the room to scold you for acting like such a brat, but what he didn’t know was that Rhaenyra was already waiting for you both.

Now the knight stood palming his crotch, watching as two of your fingers disappeared inside of Rhaenyra. Her back was pressed against your chest, with her legs wide open, facing Criston, giving him a full view of all her glory.

You had never felt Rhaenyra so wet before; her slick left a wet patch below. You had made her cum twice already, once with your mouth and again with a cock made out of siltstone. She was quickly on her way to a third orgasm, but you didn’t want it happening around your fingers. You wanted to see her cum around the knight's dick.

Rhaenyra leans her head back against your chest and moans, “Care to join us, Ser Criston?”

The knight doesn’t reply with words but swiftly lowers his trousers enough to pull his hard cock out. You remove your fingers from Rhaenyra’s pussy and bring them to her lips for her to lick clean. You remove your fingers from her mouth with a pop, then move to the side so Rhaenyra can lay on her back. You gently take Criston’s cock in your mouth and bob back and forth, taking in as much of him as you can. You smirk as he grips your hair, holding it out of your face as he starts to thrust it into your mouth.

Rhaenyra whines as she grows impatient.

You remove your lips from Criston’s cock. You begin to massage his balls with your hand and turn your head to the princess, watching as she squeezes her own breast.

“I’m so dry,” she pouts.

Smirking, you open your mouth and let saliva fall onto her breasts. You stay like that for a few moments before turning your attention to her glimmering pussy and spitting on it, causing the knight to let out a grunt. You lick the tip of his penis, then spit on it, before guiding his cock into Rhaenyra. You feel slick running down your thighs, watching as he disappears inside her, both of them groaning loudly as he does.

Criston grips you by the jaw and pulls you in for a rough kiss. When your lips part, he pushes you back so you're lying beside Rhaenyra and thrusts his fingers into you. Your lips clash with Rhaenyra’s own, as she cups your face gently.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping together and moans. Rhaenyra comes first, and Ser Criston follows shortly after. He pulls out of her quickly, spilling his seed onto her stomach.

“Hey!” You protest when he suddenly withdraws his fingers from you, “I haven’t cum.”

He leans down and kisses your cheek. “I know, princess, it’s not nice to be teased, is it?”

Ser Harwin

You moaned pitifully, “Gods, that feels good.”

“You feel so tight, my love,” Rhaenyra says, smiling at you before taking your husband's cock back into her mouth while her fingers that are coated in your slick slide in and out of your pussy easily.

Harwin chuckles into your breast before continuing to suck on it. He loved nothing more than sucking, biting, and squeezing your breasts since the day you were married, but his infatuation grew when you became pregnant for the first time. He quickly discovered that fucking heirs into you and fucking you while swelling with his seed was the prettiest sight he'd ever seen.

Sensing he was getting close, Harwin withdraws his cock from Rhaenyra’s mouth and looks up at you, traces of milk still on his lips. “You taste amazing as always, my dear wife.”

Rhaenyra gets off the bed, goes to the other side of you, and crouches down, taking your other breast into her mouth. Having children herself, the princess knew the relief that came from breastfeeding, although she found it pleasing whenever she saw Harwin suckling from you.

After licking your breast for a moment, Rhaenyra places herself in a different position again, this time in front of you, and begins to worship your cunt with her mouth, careful not to hit her head against your large bump. You tilt your head to the side to get a better view of her bare body, watching as her own hand disappears between her legs.

You grip Harwin’s cock in your hand and begin to stroke him, enjoying the way he twitches in your hand.

Harwin pants, “Soon as I spill my seed, I’m going to spend the rest of the evening making you cum.” He kisses up your neck to the side of your face, “and watching you make Nyra come apart with your beautiful mouth while I fuck you full of my seed again, and again.”

He returns his attention back to your leaking breasts, and your body squirms in delight at the promise of what’s to come.

Alicent

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Rhaenyra coos in your ear before kissing the back of your neck.

You look down at Lady Alicent, who is beneath you. You brush her thick brown hair out of her face, admiring how shiny it is as she sucks on your clit.

The first time Alicent caught you and Rhaenyra in a compromising position together, she was horrified; her cheeks blushed red as her eyes came together in fury. She insisted the Targaryens had queer customs before storming off. A few days passed before you approached her in the gardens and explained. Ever the lady, she agreed not to speak of it again; however, curiosity got the better of her. The same evening she visited Rhaenyra’s chamber, and now Lady Alicent would become jealous if you and Rhaenyra explored each other's bodies without her present.

When Alicent moans, sending vibrations onto your cunt, you look over your shoulder to see Rhaenyra has pushed two fingers inside her. Your eyes briefly flash to the bedroom door, and you wonder if your cousin's sworn protector is oblivious to the noises he hears.

Alicent continues to flick her tongue over your clit, saying, “I’m close.”

Rhaenyra slows the pace of her fingers so Alicent can focus on you, making you cum first. You gripped the sheets beneath you, clenching them as your orgasm approached. Your hips sway slightly as you start to bounce against Alicent’s fingers when she slips them into you.

“Do you want me to cum in your mouth, Lady Alicent?” You ask.

She nods.

Your legs begin to tremble as the coil tightening in your lower stomach snaps, and you cum hard. Your slick is soaking Alicent’s fingers and face.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving off her to lay down beside her. You pepper kisses on Alicent's face, saying, “My pretty girl, you did such a good job. That was truly remarkable.” You look over at Rhaenyra, who is grinning at you. “I think our Lady should be shown the same treatment, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

I'm thinking of turning a couple of these into miniseries, but I'm not sure which ones😂

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bucknastysbabe · 1 month

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Rating: Explicit

Tags: Taken from this fic, pwp, secret romance, oral (both receiving), Criston’s delulu mindset, jealousy, Princess just loves knight Dick she can’t help it, he’s a slutty baby per usual

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @elaratyrell @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

Criston was complaining quite ardently again. “Just shut up, shut up,” she hissed, eyes casting back toward the shut door. The princess readjusted herself on a steel-plated chest. Her Valyrian eyes cast down at the Kingsguard. His eyes were wet and wide— perfectly pathetic.

The pair made a scene on the stone floor, shamelessly open in her shared chamber with Prince Aegon. The siblings were lawfully wedded but she just couldn’t quit her sweet Criston. He would never quit either, one would have to kill the man before he let go of his favorite princess. His hands bunched the thin material of the younger’s shift.

“I don’t like how he’s been sniffing around. Why does it matter who you bed? Aegon fucks about the entirety of the Street of Silk.”

She rolled her eyes and pet at Criston’s curls, “All you men are the same, jealous and egotistical, ruled by your cocks. You’re pissed that he’s pissed. Make it make sense. Are you going to eat my cunt or not?”

Criston’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking to the side a couple of times as he petulantly looked for an answer. His calloused hands dug into her hips as he mumbled, “Yes- get up here.” The knight absently wondered if he was being too needy, cheeks darkening in response.

Her pretty lips curled up as she readjusted her place, seating herself on gorgeous godsdamn lips. No, she thought, she couldn’t do without him. The young woman did love Criston Cole fiercely. She gathered her shift and took it off, exposing her tits and bare skin.

She could feel Criston groan, the shifting of his armor as he fucked up into nothing. Ser Cole gripped her ass and thighs as he began to lap and work himself between her legs. His tongue twisted and jabbed, Criston moaning in delight.

The princess grabbed his hair and gasped as she canted her hips. His perfect nose bumped against her clit as she rode Criston’s face. She whined at the sinful stimulation, both hands anchored in dark hair. The knight had his feet planted, eager to please.

Criston’s hands slid up her waist, thumbs caressing the bottom of her breasts, where the skin was silky soft. The blonde breathed as she rocked, “Criston, my s-sweet, so good.” Ever the slut for praise, the marcher helplessly whined into her cunt, suckling harder at her slick. His palms enveloped the Targaryen’s breasts.

She threw her head back as Criston groped and massaged the flesh— even playfully bouncing them. The princess smacked his flank and kept riding, dragging her aching bundle across his handsome face. He tweaked at a peaked nipple. Everything was perfect, even Criston’s stubble rubbing her sensitive skin raw.

The princess keened and tossed her head back.

Criston’s chest hitched, his armor clacking as he earnestly let his goddess do as she pleased. His cock was fit to burst under the layers. He wanted her mouth regardless of the time limit with Aegon’s recent tomfoolery. He slurped at her sweet cunt, fingers tugging at engorged nipples.

She clenched around Criston’s face, mouth hanging open, platinum locks shaking. The little princess trembled and rocked her hips in jolts of excitement. Aegon’s wife was growing overstimulated and hot. She was unable to stop whining and biting down on her lip to keep from howling in pleasure.

The marcher’s hand came down on her ass in quick succession, urging her to move faster. All she could do was cry “Please! Close! Beloved please!” Criston grinned and began to move her along himself, he had the strength for it. The heightening whimpers were music to his ears as she trembled and babbled.

One, two, three more rocks, and the princess yelled. She folded forward, hands deathly tight on Criston’s scalp. Criston lapped up her gush of juices, slurping and groaning like a damn animal at her lovely fucking pussy. He took his time licking her all up until she wheezed and pushed off.

Criston laid on his back, grinning at her mussed hair and red face, those gorgeous watery doe eyes. She murmured, “You’re…something else. Whole keep probably heard me.” The marcher scoffed even as she pressed a peck to his lips, lithe fingers crawling under his padded tunic.

Criston bit out between kisses, “Let…him..mmh…hear.”

He watched as she pulled away, just enough to tease, “Not the best idea love. Be quiet so I can suck your cock and send you off. You’re territorial and irritable with your balls full.” Criston rolled his eyes, head thudding on the expensive rug. She moved around to kneel between his legs.

The gambeson was half unbuttoned, exposing the tent in his pants. She playfully fisted at Criston’s prick, snickering at his hapless moan. He breathed in as her fingers plucked the strings open and pulled his throbbing heat out. He shivered, eyes blinking up at her. A fucking angel, goddess, something of old and ethereal.

The princess lapped at the pearly bead adorning the tip of his cock, her other hand snug around his sack. Criston gasped her name, groaning when plush lips enveloped the sensitive tip. She knew him well— had the extra skin pulled back so her devious tongue could flick at that tender spot on the underside.

“Ahhh- angel- angel,” the marcher uselessly praised.

Her spit rolled down the shaft as the princess lathered her attention on the tip, swirling her tongue around the bulbous head. Criston was whimpering softly, lips opening and closing repeatedly. He grew overwhelmed with personal attention like this— nearly always transforming into a wet mess.

He squirmed a bit, back arching into her mouth as she took him deeper, swallowing repeatedly. Criston slammed a hand over his mouth when she thumbed the seam of his sack and hummed around his thick cock. He had to keep from whining like a bitch in a moment like this. The knight preferred only his princess to see this side of him.

The thought of Aegon interfering could make his cock wilt. She was Criston’s, not the brat.

“Sweetheart, ahh- oh fuck- can I touch your hair?” He begged.

“Mhmmm,” was the reply, leaving the poor man whimpering again, the vibrations hitting everything. His lower belly twitched and tightened as he gently wound her blonde tresses in a hand. Criston looked down when she bobbed her head, growing ashamed yet hotter by the second.

He was arched and spread for her— reminiscent of some slut in a silver stag brothel. Criston covered his mouth again to hide the wanton moan, too loud for the room, too loud for much of anywhere.

Her bobbing quickened on top, one hand rolling his balls, the other jerking him off in sync with her mouth. He gasped and twitched again, feeling heat spread around his body. Criston’s balls throbbed as they tightened further and further.

He whined her name, neck straining as the orgasm climbed his body. The knight blinked down tears as he babbled, pulling ever-so-soft on the Princess’ hair. She hummed some more, flicking her tongue deep into his slit.

Criston was gone— his vision darkened as he arched painfully, gutturally groaning and whimpering as he spilled down his lover’s throat. She drank him down, eyes filled with adoration. It took a couple more spurts before he was wrung out and limp, panting.

The princess tucked him back in, buttoning and lacing quickly. She sat Criston up, pretty amethyst orbs gazing into his dark ones. He rasped while petting her flushed cheek, “I love you.” The princess, his damn woman, stole a deep kiss as she fixed his hair.

“There you go, I love you, come on now. The buffoon will be here sooner or later. Aemond told me about Aegon nosing.”

The pair helped themselves up, Criston deeply frowning. How he wanted to toss the Prince into a sewage line. He’d fish him out…but the thought was soothing. Another press of soft lips had Criston come to the present.

She looked up at him, promising, “I will see you around, go on love, I’ll be thinking of my knight.”

Criston would never admit but he was like a scolded puppy leaving the room, getting shooed until he exited, the door closing behind his white cloak. Only to make eye contact with the shithead himself.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x reader #colewives join me #criston cole imagine

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towriteloveontheirarms · 1 month

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The princess´ favour (Criston Cole x Targtower!Reader)

synopsis: Your love may never be accepted by the people around you, that doesn´t hold you back from expressing it in the privacy of your chambers.

warnings: age gap, kinda forbidden relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving), afab reader

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

As a girl you never understood what was so great about tourneys. Sitting beside your mother, flinching away from the raw violence of it all, while your brothers watched with a fascination you had rarely seen them have for anything. However, now as a woman grown, you began to see the appeal. Not for the fighting, but for something entirely else. Or rather someone entirely else. Sitting all the way in the front row of the stands with your brother Aemond, who was just under the age of being allowed to participate himself, watching on as knight after knight gets knocked off their horse. Analysing and talking on and on about what they could have done better, while your eyes solely rested on one knight, sitting on his horse waiting for his turn to most assuredly destroy his opponent. Your knight, as you called him in the secrecy of hidden places in the gardens, empty hallways around the keep and your chambers in the dead of night.

When it is Criston Cole's turn to compete against some knight from the Reach, whose name went in one ear and out the other almost immediately, he rides up to the stands. As his horse comes to a stand, his helmet finds its way under his arm and those dark eyes search for your own.

With a poorly concealed wide smile you lean over the railing. "Ser Criston."

His eyes light up with the way his name sounds falling from your lips and his own lips split into a smile, nodding to you in greeting.

“Your highness. I am sure to win this tourney. Would you do me the honour of doing so with your favour?” His voice carries over the background of excited chatter and knights barking commands at their squires.

Without hesitation you skip over to the small table to grab the ring braided from acacia blossoms to let it down the lance that is safely propped up against his side.

“Good luck, Ser.” You chirp, waiting for him to bow his head ever so lightly and then ride away to take his position. Only then you sit back down by Aemond´s side. The side eye he gives you easily goes ignored, as in the moment he opens his mouth, the horses start to race towards each other.

Of course, Criston ends up successfully knocking his opponent off his horse, having you jump up to applaud him enthusiastically. Along many other Ladies. Yet one look of his beautiful, dark eyes is enough to quell your doubts about his loyalty. It would be your chambers he would be sneaking into later.

“Have I told you how much I hate seeing you get hurt like this?” Your thumbs run over his cheeks to assess the extent of his wounds.

“You have, princess.” Criston smiles up at you, brown eyes watering as you run one of the digits over his busted lip, despite his victory he naturally had taken a few hits himself.

The heavy plates of his armour discarded and the clothes underneath unbuttoned to reveal his muscular chest.

“My apologies.” You mumble upon hearing him suck in a sharp breath.

Criston shifts ever so slightly before he lets you put the washcloth to his skin again, wandering down steadily. When you reach his chest, the backs of your noses brush against each other ever so slightly. Your breath catches in your throat and almost reflexively Criston's fingers twitch against your thigh.

"How are you feeling?" You mumble, still fully concentrated on cleaning his wounds.

"I feel quite alright, now that I have you all to myself." Criston looks at you, the glimpse of something sparkling in his eyes.

"My attention will always be on you only, my sweet knight. My affections will only ever belong to you." You put down the cloth you had used to clean him up and run your hands through his hair, before kissing his forehead.

After that you barely separate until your foreheads rest against each other, noses rubbing against each other playfully, before Criston´s lips find their way onto yours. They lap at each other in tender, languid motions while eager hands run over clothed bodies they had explored a multitude of times before. Still, even if you knew each other’s bodies like the back of your own hand, you would never grow tired of it. In all this time the butterflies never calmed.

In the blink of an eye Criston joins you on the bed, straddling your hips and pushing you onto your back. The world spins around the two of you from the abruptness of the motion, as the rough pad of a thumb traces your jaw line first, before running over your lower lip.

Instinctively your legs wrap around Criston´s hips. Before your lips can seal in another kiss though, you roll the two of you around, to comfortably kneel above the knight with a triumphant teasing smile.

“You have done enough already. Let me reward you for your win.” You whisper against his neck.

The tip of your tongue traces a line down the middle of his chest and abs to the hem of his pants.

On the bed Criston propped himself up on his elbows to look at you better, his breath hitching as you teased just under the material.

“As you wish, princess.” He breathed, hiding a half smile, by biting his lower lip.

You follow this up by pulling his pants and breeches down to his ankles to set the tan hardness free from its confines. The same action makes your mouth water at the thought of what was to follow alone already.

In a matter of moments, you gently take the base of his cock into one hand to lick up the length of the vein on its underside. When the wet muscle reaches the tip, your lips wrap around it eagerly, teasing the weeping slit. Underneath the hand resting on his strong thigh, the tired muscles begin to shake from the teasing actions.

“Princess…” Criston's shuddering voice sounds through the room.

His dark eyes, though half closed, are trained as you give his cock an experimental suck. Taking it in just a bit deeper. As an immediate reaction you can see from the corner of your eyes how the knight’s hands grip the sheets a bit tighter. With a happy sigh at the reaction, you set a comfortable pace. His hips meet your mouth, thrusting up with trembling legs.

After a while his thrusts become harsher, hitting the back of your throat now to elicit the most enticing moans mixed with quiet gagging sounds he had heard from you.

Amid trying to concentrate on breathing through your nose and the view of him vanishing under a veil of tears, the hand on his thigh wanders upwards. Immediately his body trembling turned into a full-on shaking. Your hand barely cups his stones, yet the touch pulls a groan from him, that has the juices from between your legs dripping down your own thighs. The sound is more rousing than anything you had ever heard before. You gently roll them in your palm and the knees on either side of your shoulders tighten abruptly and Criston´s hips push off the bed and into your mouth on their own volition.

“So good… I don´t think I am able to hold back much longer.” The cries of pleasure from his lips grow louder, uncaring of who outside the door might hear them.

The tip of the knight’s length slips past the back of your mouth and into your throat to make you gag. The wet sound fills the room for a moment followed by sputtering and panting, as you desperately gasp for air. At the same time, you never stopped pumping his hard cock.

The quick motions and have his body shaking uncontrollably, even more so when you put your lips to his big sack, placing gentle, wet kisses onto it and sucking it into your mouth. The two of you moan in unison. The vibrations again send shocks through Criston’s body, his eyes rolling back into his head and arms underneath going limp, unable to hold him up any longer.

“Please, princess.” The begging whimpers get repeated like a prayer.

You barely manage to separate long enough from laving affection onto his lower body to answer. “Please what, my sweet knight?”

“I'm so close." Is the desperate, needy whine you get to hear in turn. “Please, I want to finish.”

It's truly adorable how he still asks for permission to let his climax overcome him. Hips trying to hold back from trusting into your hand until you answered his pleads, swollen lips hanging open and a sheen of sweat coating his face.

“Go on then. Paint my face with your seed.” You encourage him, before going back to pay attention to his stones. Your tongue flicks out to play with them, while your hand tugs on the knight’s hardness just a bit faster. The other hand, which rubs circles into his inner thigh again, wanders up just far enough to let one finger put the lightest amount of pressure on the point right behind the sack. The reaction it earns in return is all the bigger.

Criston´s hands fist into the sheets and the groan that breaks free from tightly pressed together lips has you praying that no one would storm into the chambers while Criston does as you have told him. Painting your face with his seed, making you look like one of the women serving in the pillow houses in flea bottom. The ones Aegon would talk about, whenever he wished to upset either you or one of your siblings.

And in the moment, there exists no more beautiful sight in the entire world to your secret lover. You continue pumping his cock until he has nothing more to give and the whimpers from above have turned even more raw and high pitched. For a moment after that you sit back on your haunches to just revel in the glow that shines from Criston after his climax. One finger collects the seed on your face to get it into your mouth.

After that moment of respite, the washcloth is picked right back up and wet again. This time to wipe your face first and the knight's privates afterwards.

But the second you crawl onto the mattress the both of you know that there is not much time left to cuddle. Outside the sun started to set, colouring the sky in all kinds of beautiful shades of red and orange. Alerting you that you would be expected at a dinner in your mother's chambers and Criston needed to go back on post. Perhaps you had taken a bit too long to take care of his wounds, but when your knight’s lips graze yours, his chest still heaving underneath your hand, you can't find it in you to care about any of that. Not as long as he would be lying there with you.

“I do not know what I have done to deserve you, princess. You are too good to me.” He rasps against your lips, noses brushing against each other to make the moment more intimate, as your hands wander over the other´s sides and arms.

“You deserve only the best. I hope you know that.” You answer in a raw voice.

#ser criston #ser criston cole #criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x you #criston x reader #criston cole x reader #criston cole x you #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #hotd x reader #hotd x you #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic

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vermithorn · 3 months

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VERMITHORN’S 1K MILESTONE EVENT

CRISTON COLE + OVERSTIMULATION.

cw: nsfw, overstimulation (m!receiving).

note: first time writing for my man, i hope i get the chance to do it again <3 thank you for sending this! i want him fr. please participate on my event!

“Can you give me another?” You say sweetly, wiping the sweat of his forehead with the back of your hand. He looks up at you, breathing hard and his body twitching.

He thinks about it, his brown wide eyes on yours. He doesn’t want to, he’s tired and feel he’s gonna pass out in any minute, but he sees your sweet eyes looking down at him, hovering on his lap while he’s laying on the bed, he cannot say no to you.

“Yes, I can give you another.” He mutters, regretting his words instantly. You smile brightly at him, adjusting yourself on his thigh as your hand goes to his spent cock. His seed is all over his stomach, from coming all over himself over and over again.

Criston sighs, and violently shivers when your hand grabs the base of his cock, twitching slightly at your touch. “Show me your tits, I can get hard again.”

You roll your eyes, one hand on his cock and the other moving the strand of your dress down, your tits overflowing out, Criston gasps at the sight, gulping as you start stroking him.

He indeed gets hard again, fighting pleasure and pain, the skin of his cock raw and red. “Fuck, my lady.” He throws his head back into the pillows.

“You’re so good, this is exactly what I want from you, come on yourself again, for me?”

“Yes, my lady.”

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aelenavelaryon · 7 months

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Hey guys! This story will have three or four parts. Or at least I’m hoping it will. Also, please bear with me as I recently started posting here so things are still new to me. I’m not quite sure on how to use tumblr to post yet so it might take a while! Thank you! 🤍

Robert Baratheon x Reader

Summary: In which history repeats itself once again. Or does it?

Robert had known young Rhaenyra all his life and they were sort of friends and some would even say they were somewhat close. When he sat on the Iron Throne she was the only one brought out, Jon Arryn saw it fit for the eldest of the Targaryen's to be the one to confront Robert. There she stood, in the middle of the room. All the lords eyes were on her. She said nothing, what could she say? "Your brother is dead" was the first thing Robert said to her. "I killed him. I wish I could kill him again" Rhaenyra's eyes filled with tears but none fell out. She didn't want to cry. She wouldn't allow them that satisfaction.

"What will happen to us?" she asked. "To Viserys, to Jaehaerys" everyone turned to her as he said the other name. "Who is Jaehaerys?" Jon asked. "He is my son. My son with Brandon Stark" Brandon lived but he was now married to Catelyn. "He is married to Catelyn Tully now" Robert said and she nodded. "I know" she replied. "The boy is a bastard" Tywin said and she glared at the man. "Kill her now. Avoid another rebellion" Tywin Lannister said and everyone turned to look at him. "I know you would like that, my lord. Did you enjoy having Elia and her children murdered as well?" she asked. "Lannisters. They have always been traitors. That has not changed in the past two hundred years it seems" he took a step but Ned Stark stood near her.

"Princess Rhaenyra is not at fault for her brother's sins. She is innocent" he spoke for her. "She's a whore! She and that bastard son of hers will bring nothing but trouble to the realm just as her brother has!" Tywin said. Ser Arthur, pulled out his sword as did Ned. "Hold your tongue, Lannister" was all Ser Arthur said. "Mind your tongue, Lannister" Robert stood in front of her. Rhaenyra was known as the Realm's Angel. or the Realm's Desire. Some even called her the Realm's Delight, referring at the nickname the realm gave the black queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, her ancestor.

"I propose a marriage between King Robert Baratheon and princess Rhaenyra Targaryen" Jon said making both Robert and Rhaenyra to look at him. "She's a child" Arthur said. "A child who bore a healthy son" Tywin scoffed. "She's been sullied. She cannot marry a king" he stated. "Robert has bed at least half of Westeros. It will not matter. Let's remember that House Velaryon, House Tyrell, and House Martell still support house Targaryen. This will ensure the peace in the realm. Specially after the chaos that this rebellion imposed on the realm" Robert looked at Rhaenyra. She was a child. She was seven years younger than him. She nodded. She did not object. She hoped that as the queen she could keep her son and brother safe.

It wasn't long before she was married off. The princess did not complain, she did not fight, she obeyed. They got married on the Great Sept. Brandon arrived with his family. With his wife and their son. Their legitimate son. It was said that Brandon loved her, he married Catelyn Tully for duty. He married her so her father could be on their side when the war was just beginning. He loved Rhaenyra as some said she loved him. But, the world will never know if she loved him as much as he did her. That was another secret she would take to her grave.

She sat with her husband as he drank himself numb. Robert didn't love her, she was sure he never would but he cared for her. When she arrived to her new chambers she found a box, inside laid three eggs. One was a black with red. The other was red with gold, and the other one was a blue and white color. Robert arrived a while later. The two did her their duty as quick as possible, Robert tried to be gentle but Rhaenyra was a woman of passion and asked for more and he complied. Perhaps it would not be so bad.

Princess Rhaenyra gave birth nine moons later to a son. A son who she named Daemon Baratheon Targaryen. Daemon was all his mother but the eyes. He held Rhaegar Targaryen's eyes. A year after him came Orys Baratheon, now that one was a Baratheon through and through. There was no ounce of Rhaenyra on him. Prince Aemon came two years later along with Aemond who were the spitting image of his mother. Robert used to laugh when he spoke to Rhaenyra about their sons as the boys all resemble her but not him aside from Orys.

Robert loved Jaehaerys as his own son, he had taken him and Viserys as his wards. He began to teach them how to fight. When the princess decided to visit Dragonstone a tragedy struck her. She had miscarried. The Maester had told her she had been poisoned. To bury her child, she had pyre made for the cremation and her dragon eggs were set inside alongside the babe. Her child had died but she left her mother with the greatest gift she could ask for. Dragons. Three of them. The eldest she called Balerion as the dragon was the spitting image of the black dread. The other she named Caraxes as the dragon was the same color and it seemed he too would look like the first blood wyrm. The third she named Syrax as he had been just like queen Rhaenyra's dragon. When she returned she returned with three dragons on her shoulder. House Targaryen would prevail.

#aegon targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #ser criston cole x reader #harwin strong x reader #rhaegar targaryen #robert baratheon

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usetheeauthor · 2 years

Text

Run With Me

Ser Criston Cole x Targaryen!Virgin!Reader

Gif created by @jameswan

Smut (MDNI +18)

Summary: You are the eldest sister and daughter of the Targaryen family. Your father bypasses you as heir to the throne as the rules of realm proclaim you illegitimate to the line of succession. Because of this you feel ignored and develop a friendship with your knight Ser Criston Cole. One day before your wedding, he confesses his love for you.

A/N: I know people are hating on Criston right now. I hate him, too. But I still have a place for him in my heart because he’s a very nuanced character along with Alicent whom people also have their qualms with. Anyway, I wrote a happier version of the ‘run away with me’ sequence between him and Rhaenyra except it’s the reader of course. I hope ya’ll enjoy because I did.

Word Count: 4.9k+

Warnings: misogyny, feeling of depression and loneliness, attempted suicide, loss of virginity, p in v (unprotected), sub/dom dynamics, blood kink, choking, spit kink, spit as lube, creampie, doggystyle, breeding kink, oral (f receiving), spanking, cum eating, ambiguous happy ending

The bastard child. That was just one of the many names you’ve heard swirling around the streets of the Dragonstone when referring to you. It used to hurt a lot more but now you’ve owned up to the name.

You were not birthed by Aemma Arryn. Instead, you were a child born out of wedlock. Daughter of a whore and King Viserys I. As a young child, your father would visit every other fortnight, providing you with food and clothing while keeping you a secret from the public. Slowly, his visits would be few to none and your mother struggled to stay afloat for the two of you.

At age 17, your mother had passed away from illness. This was the point where you’d truly felt forsakened by the Gods. Your father left you and your mother to crawl through pits of hell, your mother’s gone, and now you were officially alone.

When you learned of the Queen’s death, however, you were saddened. In some way, you’d seen her as a mother to you indirectly. Although, she hated the idea that her husband had a secret love child, she still encouraged her husband to be apart of your life. So when she’d died the same day your mother passed, you were utterly shattered. Completely broken.

King Viserys I Targaryen, claimed you as his daughter not long after Aemma and Baelon’s funeral, as a promise to his wife that he’s stay apart of your life.

Just like that you were supposed to accept this new life. No longer on the streets, forced to wear pretty dresses, and learn the customs of the kingdom. Just like that and you were in the eye of the public sent to be torn to bits by rumors and societal norms that did not apply to you. And just like that…you were made to see the man who’s been in and out of your life for 17 years as your Father.

It’s numbing to say the least. Even after 4 years, at the age of 21, you couldn’t possibly see yourself as part of the family. Everyone knows this, too. Even if you shared blood with the King himself, you’ll never be a real Targaryen in there eyes.

The day that Rhaenyra was announced heir was evidence enough. Your father, although, kind and remorseful for his absence understood the rules of the realm already takes issue with a woman on the throne but an illegitimate child would cause a war of all wars.

Now as woman of the Targaryen line with no position for the throne, your next bet was to be married off to some high lord. Your father had plans to marry you off to Lord Jason Lannister. Little protest could be made, your duty was to marry to this man you hardly knew. A man filled with plenty pride but lacked intelligence.

It was as if no one could hear your pleas for help. No one. Not even your half sister could understand this pain.

You belonged nowhere.

————

It was the day of the royal hunt for Price Aegon’s 2nd nameday. Your father ordered you to spend at least a few moments of your time with Lord Jason much to your chagrin.

“Expect that in our marriage, Lady Targaryen, we bore 6 children. All healthy, strong boys that will become future great men leading within the walls of King’s Landing.”

“Although, that sounds…enticing. I just don’t think I’d like that many children. At least…I’m not sure of it so soon. I am young.”

“You are far above the age of marital age for women. Very well a spinster. Should you really have any standards for which you’d be willing to proceed?”

You seethed, clenching your teeth in order to keep yourself from saying anything rude. “Will you please excuse me, Lord Jason.”

You curtsied then walked briskly away. You were sure that your father had his eyes on you. You didn’t care. You wished to be as far away from this place as you could. Your knight Ser Criston Cole follows closely behind you.

You wanted to be alone. Hiking up your dress, you kicked off your shoes and made a run for it through the woods. Ser Criston following close after you.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your heavy garments weighed down on you, your feet hurt with each contact of the unsteady ground but you ran. You ran as if you were searching for the end of the earth.

Every now and then, you’d look back. He was gaining on you. You grew tired but with the last bit of adrenaline you had you continued forward. You abruptly stopped in your tracks when you realize you’d nearly ran over the edge of a cliff. You looked below you. The ragged large rocks and forestry had never looked so peaceful.

“Princess!” Ser Criston calls from behind you. You turned to face him, tears running down your face. Your inches away from the ledge, the tiny rock under your feet shift and roll off with each move you make.

“Don’t call me that,” You shook your head. “I’m no princess. I’m no Targaryen. I’m the daughter of a whore. I’ve lived most of my years scavenging through streets only a few miles away from where my father rules. Now I walk above those same streets but still…it’s only a few miles away. I will always be reminded of my past. I’m not wanted. Instead of my father willing to understand me, he marries me off to a prideful fool. It isn’t fair. I wish to live no more.”

You attempt to lift your feet up to hang over the ledge. Your white knight makes calls out your name halting you from further movement.

“Understand,” He says in a shaky voice, his hands put out in front of him. Gradually, he inches further up to you. “I know what it is like to come from nothing. To have no one. I’ve lost so much in my life that this life I know now is all I know and all I can remember. I would give anything to remember my life before all this that way I’d appreciate who I am now and know the legacy I carry. Your past is who you are. We cannot erase those parts of ourselves whether wish to or not. You have that privilege to know where you come from and use it to your advantage. You belong here.”

“I don’t. My father only came to find me after all these years because his wife requested it on her deathbed. She showed me more compassion final moments than he’s ever shown me in my entire life.”

“And he regrets this everyday. You don’t need to forgive him. It is your choice what you choose. But he only had the best intentions for you now. Even with marrying you off. You’d have a better life. You’d be comfortable and happy.”

“Happy? I’m not marrying who I want. I’m only a pawn for political power. I understand you come from suffering as well, Criston. But you do not carry these burdens that I do. I’m mocked constantly by my own people. I’m all alone.”

“Your not. If there’s anyone that could understand just a morsel of troubles, it’s your sister. She’s a woman announced as heir to the throne. You understand the kind of torment she’s facing because of this. If you’d talk with her maybe it won’t be so lonely,” He standing right behind you. “But please…don’t take your life. There’s more to look forward to. You’re not done seeing life yet.”

You breathing quickens, heavy. You breakdown crying. Ser Criston wrapping his arms around you and you melt in his touch. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to hold you against his chest. The embrace lasting for about 3 minutes before you part.

“Would you like to go back?” He questions.

“No. Not yet.” With that, you walked back through the woods and he follows you through.

The night arrived and you both set camp somewhere. A fire started in the middle you as your only source of light. You both exchange stories of your lives. Ser Criston not remembering much of his life because of the trauma he’s experienced but the parts he remembered fondly opened him up. His smile was quite dashing. It was enough to make you wish that you could always make him laugh.

He’d only every smiled around Rhaenyra most times. You could tell he was fond of her. She was beautiful so it was not hard to see why. She was also very daring. It was unheard for women to speak up so boldly. It was something you’ve always aspired to be. You always envied that you couldn’t speak up for yourself the way you wanted to. Sometimes you just wanted the chance to do as you please with no consequences.

“Have you ever though about what life beyond here is like?” You asked Ser Criston.

“Yes. I think about it all the time. What it’d be like to live life aside from my vows. It’s tempting dream but it’s just not in my future.” He shrugs.

“In my dreams, there’s a place called Sunfair. It’s beautiful because there…nobody knows who I am so they can’t judge me. I’m only a woman. I can do as I please. It’s peaceful. Every time, I close my eyes and dream, I hope to be there again only the next time I wish it to be real.”

“It sounds like a lovely place. I wouldn’t mind joining that nation.” He jokes.

“I think you’d be more than welcome, Ser Criston. A place like that needs a man like you. You’re kind, understanding. If I ever see it again, I’ll dream you’re there, too.”

The knight smiles. “I’d appreciate it, Princess.”

You smiled back. Comfortable silence falling between you with the only other sound being the crackling of the fire.

When the morning arose, you found Ser Criston had thrown his cloak over you while you rested on the soft moss. The walk back to the camp area was silent. At some point, the two of you spotted the white stag for the hunt. Instead of killing it, you approached it, looking in its eyes before setting it free. Your father immediately chastised you upon arrival but relief washed over him knowing you returned safe.

You took the time to approach you sister for a conversation to settle any tension between you two.

“Rhaenyra, I would like to apologize. I was cold. Distant. I made no effort whatsoever to form a relationship with you. I understand if you do not wish to speak with me. But I do want you to know that I would be honored if you were my queen. Your leadership would be much appreciated in this kingdom and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”

Rhaenyra laughs. “Thank you, sister. I should apologize, too. I wasn’t so easy to get along with either.”

“Well, both our mothers did pass away within each other, it was only natural that we’d have a hard time getting along,” You excused. “I would like for us to confide in one another for now on. I think we could really support one another especially during times like these.”

“I-I’d like that, sister.” Rhaenyra says, smilingly brightly.

The rest of the day, the two of you bonded over the struggles you both faced as women and the fight for your own autonomy. It was nice to know that you weren’t exactly alone.

You notice Ser Criston across the camp shooting a small smile. You smile back, silently thanking him for listening to you and for patching your relationship with your sister.

On the Sail back home, You and Ser Criston continued telling stories to each other to amuse you. He told you of the battles he’s been in and, although violent, it was captivating. He was warrior to say the least. Sometimes, you question if he forced himself to forget certain things to protect his own peace of mind.

When you arrived home, your white knight took his place standing in front of your bedroom door. You knew you had to go to bed soon but you wanted to talk just a little more.

“I want to thank you, Ser Criston, you’ve helped me out of my shell these past few days. It’s not been easy to say the least. I still struggle with the idea that I’m to be wed to a man with the arrogance the size of horse but I appreciate being able to make amends with my family. “

“If I could, I’d do all I could to make you happy so that you’d never feel the need hide yourself again.”

“Criston…” You whispered.

His hand rests on your cheek, lightly caressing it with his thumb. He’s looking down at you with so much love that it makes your heart full. His lips lower onto yours and he kisses you. His lips are pressed softly on yours like they’re barely there.

He pulls away, apologizing profusely. “I don’t know what came over me, Princess. Forgive me for my misconduct. I shall find myself punished for—”

You cut him off, placing your lips back onto his. This time adding pressure into the kiss. He places his hands over your arms, pushing you away.

“We shouldn’t.” He whispers.

“I don’t care. I just want you,” Your hands run through his hair. “Let me take care of you. In exchange, you’ll take care of me, too.”

“My vows…”

“Forget them in this moment. Let us go to that place in my dreams. The one where you are just a man and i, a woman.”

“It’s wrong.”

“Is it because you love my sister? I see the way you look at her. If that is who you wish to be with, I will not stop you. But I want you to know that I care for you. I have always cared since the first day we met four years ago and you noticed me in the far corner of the room when everyone else ignored. I just hope we can still be friends.”

“Princess!” He growls his hands, cupping your face. “How could you think I wouldn’t want you? I’m not in love with your sister. I love you. I’ve love you since then, too. I’ve just kept my distance because of moments like these. These moments were I’d want you all to myself.”

“You have me,” You turn the knob to your bedroom door. “Stay with me with night. Make me yours. I don’t want to spend another night without you.”

“Then, you have me as well.” He kisses you once more the two of you, stumbling into your room. He shuts the door behind him and he looks at you, eyes dark with pure lust.

You helped him out of his heavy armor, slowly removing them as a sensual way of teasing him. You found that you were only torturing yourself in the process. You needed him badly.

He helps you out of your dress and corset, kissing down your neck and back with each new part of exposed skin.

You turn to face him again, eager to feel his lips on yours again. Your back pressed up against the wall and his strong hand around your throat. You gasped against his lips at his sudden dominance.

“Take me, Criston. Don’t make me wait.”

Taking you by your neck, he peels you away from the wall, walking you back towards your bed. He show you back and you fall onto your mattress. You sit up on your elbows, watching him remove his pants in anticipation.

The moment he’s released from his confinements, you gasp. Your eyes followed v-line of his abdomen leading to something so beautiful. He’s large and erect. You’ve never seen a penis before but the mere size of him was intimidating. The view from where you sat made him look like a King before you. Tan skin glowing with contrast of the orange flames lit around your room. His chest chiseled to that of a Greek God, the hairs sprouting from his pecs adding to his manly presence.

Pulling your legs so that your ass hung just a little over the edge of the bed, he brings them to your chest, widening you for him. He’s on his knees before you. Your glistening virgin cunt presenting before him. He can practically see your heart beating staring down at.

Ser Criston’s eyes never leave yours. Sticking out his long, thick tongue; he licks a long stripe in between your folds collecting the juices that have accumulated. You mewled at this new sensation. Who would have thought the feeling of a wet tongue between your legs could feel this good?

He gives you a few teasing kitten lick before moving his mouth entirely from your core, sucking and biting your inner thighs instead. He wanted to torture you, is that it?

You couldn’t bare it. You needed him now. If he wished for you to beg him, you wouldn’t hesitate.

“Criston…please. I need you. I need your mouth on me. Please drink me.”

“Does my princess wish to have her first orgasm from a mouth willing to please?”

“Yes, yes. I want it.” You cried, hips rolling.

“Your wish is my command.” He chuckles, finding your desperation amusing. Then, his mouth latches onto your swollen clitoris and you go mad.

You moaning as if the walls were thin and yet neither of you cared. He’s shaking his head side to side, mouth fully dived into your pussy to drink from it’s fountain. He loved the way you even tasted so pure against his tongue.

Needing to know just how tight you are, he sinks a finger into you. You tremble at this new sensation. You’ve fingered yourself before but it’s never touched this level inside you. He laps at your clit while fucking his finger into you and another gush of your juices shoot up.

“Fuck, this cunt’s weeping for me.” He groans.

“All for you, Ser.”

He groans at this. He never thought hearing his title said during sex could sound so good. It made him go feral. Forcing another finger into you, he spreads them inside you in order to stretch you out. You were unbelievably tight and Criston worried that even with his fingers it wasn’t enough to properly prepare you for his large cock.

He’s devouring you and the mixing of his fingers pumping into you, massaging your sweet spot, was enough to have you hyperventilating. You’re eyes rolled into the back of your head. You were going to come and it would be with an intensity you weren’t sure you can handle. Yet, you rock against his fingers to reach for it anyway.

He smiles up at you. “That’s it, princess. Ride them the way you would my cock.”

He spanks your clitoris and your officially through. The brightness of a thousand suns blind your vision and your body stiffens as your orgasm slams through you. Then, you begin to convulse feeling his fingers continue to hit against the pressure so that it builds and builds.Tears flowed from your eyes and you wrapped a hand around his wrists to keep him from pumping anymore or you’d lose consciousness.

Showing mercy, he slows his pace until he finally stops pumping watching the way you writhed and whimpered at the sensation he’s given you. When he felt like all shocks had dissipated, he slowly slid his fingers from your soaking pussy. His fingers slick with your honey, he brings them to his lips for a taste. He brings them to your lips as well smearing it around. You instinctively licked your lips, tasting the ambrosia.

“I need to be inside you.” He says.

You move up on the bed, getting on your hands and knees. You press you face down into the mattress. “Take me this way.”

“But…it’ll be too much for your first time. It’ll hurt.”

“I want this, Criston. I mean it. I want to be fill by you. Every inch.”

He bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a desperate whine. You were going to be the death of him.

Positioning himself behind you, he spits in his hand and strokes himself a few times. He didn’t need to do so. You were already so wet but he figured anything could help you to adjust to him. He’s pressed against your entrance, your folds parting to make way for his intrusion. The pressure is heavy but he makes no attempts to move further. Impatiently, you rock back against him in an attempt to sink down on him. He holds your hips from further movement. You whine.

His hand collides with your plump ass and in the same swift motion, his cock splits you open. You clenched the sheets, gasping at the feeling of being torn apart. He moans above you. He understood that you were in pain but the sensation of your velvety walls swallowing him in was so blissful that all he could do is voice his pleasure.

Ser Criston stills. Only a quarter of his length is inside you. He pulls out, only the tip inside. Then, he plunges in again. This time half of him inside you. You let out a choked cry. He rubs your ass and your back as he continues to feed more of himself into your cunt with each thrust.

He snaps his hips forward, rough against you. This last thrust causing you to scream out. He’s fully inside you. Yanking you by your hair, he tangles a fist around it. With your face risen, he uses his other hand to clamp over your mouth, knowing that once he begins moving you’ll be screaming for bloody mercy.

He snaps his hips into you over and over again until he’s picked up a rough pace. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on that pressure of being filled to the brim over and over again. You sobbed into his hand. He’s growling above you like a mad man. An animal. This was how you were meant to be taken. Raw and pounded in with reckless abandon.

The grip of your hands bunching the sheets beneath you matching his grip around your hair. Your tears running down his fingers yet his grip over your mouth never falters. The clapping sounds of his hips clashing with your ass only made you clench around him harder.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so incredibly tight.” He groans.

He removes his hands from your hair and over your mouth, sending you falling forward against his harsh strokes. He pulls out of you and your disoriented and scared that he’ll leave you with no more of him.

“Please put it back in!” You could cry again.

He flips you onto your back, smirking. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He plunges into you again, a sign of his devotion to please you. You were going to cum on his cock tonight. He was going to make sure of it.

He’s strokes long and deep into you, dark eyes boring into your own. His cock sloshes around in your pooling heat. You lay a hand against his chest curling your fingers into the chest hair, feeling his heart beat.

His lips find your and your tongues fight for dominance. Your body are entangled in a hot and sweaty embrace and you wished you could stay like this forever. He allows himself the moment to remove his eyes from your blissed out face, staring down between your bodies. Your pussy eagerly draws in his cock begging for its presence even when he pulls out. The mix of blood and your creaminess coats his cock and he could feel pride consume him, knowing that he’s the one to take your precious flower. If he could, he’s keep the bloody sheets as a reminder of how well he’s fucked throughly into you.

Then, he witnesses your hands snaking between your body to rub yourself. He goes into a frenzy at this sight, thrusting so fast into you that you can hardly keep up your grinding. You accept his punishing pace, letting him fuck you into the mattress. Your orgasm was fast approaching.

“I’m gonna come.” You chant over and over.

“Me too, princess. Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you clench around my cock.”

“Cum with me. I want you to cum inside me. Make me yours.”

“You mean this?”

“Yes, I want to carry your children,” You cradle your face in your hands, pecking his lips. “Let go for me, love. Fill me with everything you’ve got.”

“Ughh.” He fills you clenched around him like a vice and he comes hard. His white essence painting your walls. He’s gasping and whines with each spurt.

You follow after him, your orgasm hitting harder at the feeling of him filling you. This was exactly you’ve craved from him for so long. You’d desperate wanted to have his children and this moment was an act of you love for him.

When you both came to, you smiled at one another. The wet, sticky mess between you was evidence of your desires for one another. He pulls out of of you slowly. You both groan from the lost. But once he lays beside you and rests you against his chest, you felt no need to mourn the loss of him inside you. You were whole again.

“I marry tomorrow.” You whispered.

“I know.” He sighs.

“I don’t regret any of this. I love you always.”

“I love you.” He says, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I will never be apart from you, even when you’re married. My life and my heart belongs to you.”

You held onto each other for dear life. The inevitable will soon arrive. So all you could do now is stall time and wish for it to freeze entirely that way you could forever be with the one you truly loved.

—————

In the morning, your handmaidens had prepared your wardrobe and hair for the wedding. You were noticeably disheartened but neither of them commented, understanding you didn’t wish to be married of to a Lannister. They pitied you but, nonetheless less, your duties are to be fulfilled.

The guests board the ships for the wedding venue and you felt sick at the thought that you were soon approaching a life of an unloving political arrangement.

Criston approaches you, watching as you looked out into the sea. “Princess.” He greets.

You turned to look at him, giving a small smile before looking out into the ocean once again.

“I must tell you. I won’t be serving here very long. I’ve decided I’ll be resigning my position. I’ve broken my vows and I’m sure if I continue my duties here knowing what I’ve done.”

You look at him, eyes widened. “No. You can’t.”

“I must.”

“If you leave, you’ll kill me dead. I’ll be all alone again. I can’t bare it if you’re not in my life.”

“Then, run with me.” He says, slowly closing in on you. “I know of a place. A place with beautiful green pastures. Oranges and cinnamon in abundance. We could go there. It could be our Sunfair.”

“But my duties—”

“You said you’d like to marry for love. We love each other, do we not? If you don’t wish to marry, we could flee. Rhaenyra will be queen. You won’t miss out on the crown or the throne. Come live with me and we could live happily. They’ll never find us.”

You were panting, this spontaneous decision taking you by surprise. This meant leaving your life behind for good. Your father and sister never to be seen again.

“Family…”

“We could start a family of our own,” He places a hand on your stomach. “We can have as many as you’d like. They’d never have to suffer for long as I’m here. But I do not wish to see them torn apart for the fight of royalty and legitimacy.”

“I want this. And I want you.”

“Then be my wife—Run. With. Me.” He stares you in the eye, pleading for your to say something.

“Yes,” You smiled, tears falling down your face. “I’ll be your wife. I’ll run with you. I’ll be the mother to your children.”

He beams with joy, cupping your face. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Take my hand.” He says, holding it out.

You hesitate, looking around before taking it. Reaching the peak of the boat, you step up along with him. People began to scream and yell at the sight, guards making their way to you. You looked at your father one last time a look of horror on his face but then your face lands on Rhaenyra and she’s smiling, nodding her approval.

You focus your eyes on Criston one last time and then you both jump ship. Regardless of whether you’d live or not, you did it. In the end, you’d get to be with him through the end.

Meanwhile, the people screamed for you from above. Below, you and Criston swirled around each other underwater, smiling then leaned for a kiss sealing your love for a lifetime.

1K notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 18 days

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝

The king's queen and hand

Paring: Aegon ii Targaryen × reader × Criston Cole

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Leaning back on the golden plush pillows that were neatly set up on the top of your king-sized bed, noises of pleasure leave you as Cristion starts kissing your neck. Rolling your head to the side, you smile at your husband, who was sitting on a chair beside the bed, his eyes wide with lust as he palms at his cock over his trousers.

A squeal when Criston nips at your nipple,“Oh.”

His lips trace against your rib cage and your stomach. He reaches the sensitive spot just above your navel and sucks a bruise onto your fresh. Criston often left those marks on the inside of your thighs, it was his way of trying to claim a part of you. Criston had become infatuated with you, or ‘cunt drunk’ as your husband put it. As per your husband's orders, the kings hand took his duty of satisfying the queen seriously. He took advantage of any opportunity he got and fill you with his tongue and fingers, but no matter how much you wanted it he never put his cock in, unless Aegon told him to.

“Stop.” Aegon suddenly gets to his feet just as Criston reaches your hip bone. “Lay on your back, Cole.”

You pout, unimpressed. Aegon kneels on the edge of the bed, firmly grips your jaw with his hand, and plants a feverish kiss against your lips. He pulls back and pecks the corner of your mouth. “Sit on his face.”

You straddle the knight's face, entwining your fingers in his thick, dark hair.

As you straddle the knight's face, your fingers entwine in his hair, and you lean forward, engaging in the intimate act. The knight's tongue delves deeper into your core, eliciting a moan of pleasure from you. He explores every inch of your cunt, tasting the wetness that has already gathered between your legs. His tongue delves deeper, while his nose brushes against your clit.

Argon’s traces a finger down the curve of your spine while fitting as much of your breast into his mouth, sucking roughly.

Being touched in so many places sends a thrilling yet overwhelming sensation through your body, and before long, you feel an orgasm building within you, and it doesn't take long for you to cum over the knight's face. Aegon lays down beside the knight and taps at his meaty thigh, signaling for you to climb onto his lap.

You hook a leg on either side of his hips, and you moan, feeling Aegon’s hardness between your folds. Once his cock is coated in your wetness, you sink down on him, and moans of pleasure escape your mouth. Aegon slowly thrusts into you while wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down so your ass is sticking up and your head is leaning against his chest. “You’ve been aching for cock all day, haven’t you?”

“Hmm, yes! I’ve wanted to feel you inside me all day.”

“Oh, my little queen loves nothing more than her cunny being stuffed.”

Criston moves so he’s kneeling behind you and begins groping your asses, watching as your husband's cock disappears inside you. Aegon’s thrusts quicken, then without warning he pulls out of you. You whine at the feeling of being empty, but Criston pushes his cock into your cunny. He thrusts inside you for a short time, then pulls out, and Aegon slides back inside you. They continue to take turns pounding into your sensitive cunny until Criston spills his seed inside you. As soon as the knight pulls out, Aegon thrusts back into you.

“You’re so spoiled, not only getting your husband's cock but your knights as well.”

"Fuck! Next time, I want you to take me at the same time."

It doesn’t take him long to cum as well; his head collapses back onto the pillow. You rest against his soft body while catching your breath.

Criston kisses your cheek, then whispers in your ear, “My queen, you are the forbidden fruit I cannot stop tasting.”

Aegon playfully pinches your bottom, “We’re going to need to get sheets changed. You’ve drenched them.”

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #ser criston cole smut #Aegon ii Targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen/reader #aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon smut #criston cole fanfic #ser criston cole x you #criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole x reader #criston cole x you

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sublimitymp3 · 11 months

Note

for yandere aemond, aegon, daemon and criston, maybe how do they deal with their love having a lover they are not willing to give up even after marriage? Thank you very much for time you are amazing👀❤

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Aemond fell in love with you instantly when you two met. He never particularly liked the idea of being wedded to someone he did not know, but once he saw your sweet face, his worries drifted away. However, he had noticed your reluctance and apprehension to be around him. He thought nothing of it, chalking it up to you having the same opinions of arranged marriages as he once did. Aemond was sure that by the time you two were wed, you'd warm up to him

He was extremely wrong.

You were never cruel or particularly cold to him, you just never gave him any affection or attention as he would. You would dodge his kisses, wipe the ones he did leave on your cheek off, and you treated him more like an acquaintance rather than a husband. He had noticed you would receive letters from time to time, keeping them close to you and being overtly protective of them, and how flustered you'd look after reading them. This only served to make him even more curious about their apparent special contents. One night, Aemond would find the little box where you had stashed the letters. Curiosity got the better of him, and he began reading the various pieces of parchment. A silent rage began to fill him as he discovered they were love letters, exchanged with someone from the Riverlands, your birthplace. He would burn each letter that night, hatching plans to separate you from this secret lover. He'd intercept each and every letter your lover would send to you, reading them with annoyance before burning them in the fireplace. He could see the emotional toll it was taking on you. Your lover had abruptly ceased their communications with you, with no explanation. You wondered if they had grown tired of you, or if they were incapacitated. You were growing sad, and Aemond was always there, though you tried your best to brush him off in hopes another letter would come for you. Eventually, when three months had passed and no new letter was sent, you'd come crying to Aemond, and he'd welcome you with open arms.

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Aegon adored you. You were everything he was not, dutiful, kind, and cheerful. He admired you, and he genuinely felt so much love for you, despite you not knowing each other for long. While you were always friendly towards your new husband, you never were quite affectionate with him. He would try to win you over, stealing kisses from you and spoiling you with lavish gifts. He tried for months it seems to charm you, but to no avail. It was clear you had no romantic interest in Aegon, and he found himself slipping into old habits.

It was a brisk night, the cold breeze causing most people to wear heavy cloaks made of wool. Aegon was drunk in some alehouse, drowning his sorrows in his cups. In his peripheral vision, he could've sworn he saw you, huddled in the corner with a large cloak draped over you, and with some man. But he brushed it off as his drunken mind playing tricks on him. He focused back on his cups, but he couldn't shake how similar that woman looked to you. He fully turned around, squinting his eyes in an attempt to clear his blurry vision. Once his eyes were focused and clear, he saw that it was indeed you, with another man. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw you sharing kisses and loving touches with this stranger. It finally started to make sense to him why you insisted on keeping your relationship with Aegon strictly platonic.

Aegon would go classic Yandere at this point. He'd confine you to your chambers so you wouldn't be able to meet this man anymore. He would probably have his more...sketchy acquaintances deal with the man, eliminating him completely. You would cry and plead with Aegon to just let you go, to allow you to continue to see your lover, but your attempts to sway him were futile. He'd kiss you, whether you liked it or not, and he'd breed you until he was certain you were pregnant, simply another way to keep you anchored to him. Aegon was never much of a patient man, but he'd gladly wait until you accepted him as your one and only love.

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Daemon was no stranger to marriage, having been wedded twice already, to Lady Rhea Royce and Lady Laena Velaryon. He was quite sad over the manner in which his second wife had died, and he had truly loved her. Though, he didn't show his sadness, preferring to keep up his appearance of indifference. But then, he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on you at her funeral. You were the daughter of a wealthy merchant who resided at Spicetown, and he was quickly smitten with you.

You were wedded to Daemon not long after, as your father was ecstatic when Daemon asked for your hand. Your father had considered it a great honor and blessing that a Targaryen prince had asked to wed you, and he didn't care to take your feelings into consideration when he accepted the offer. Daemon had observed you were rather closed off and reluctant toward him, but figured your apprehension was either due to how your father wedded you off like it was nothing, or maybe even his reputation as the "rogue prince." When you came to Daemon one day asking to visit Spicetown so you may see your father, he agreed. He wasn't going to keep you from the only family you had, and he somewhat enjoyed the seaside town and its simplicity. Once there, your behavior changed. You were acting a bit shifty, and you weren't even spending much time with your father, instead staying out and about, always disappearing off. Daemon decided to follow you one day, not caring if you discovered him and got angry at him for doing so. he watched you go to a pier, and talk with some fisherman. Maybe he was an old friend or a friend of your father's? But jealousy began to hinder his judgment, and even more so when he saw you kissing the man.

Daemon clearly thinks little of the consequences of his actions, and so he'd stride over, cutting the man down with Dark Sister. He'd drag you roughly by your wrist back to your father and have you say goodbye. Once back home, do not think your actions would go unpunished. Like Aegon, he'd lock you in your chambers, slowly taking away freedoms and making you dependent on him. He didn't care if you hated him, in time he'd make you understand his actions.

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Ser Criston had quickly taken notice of you, a new serving girl. You were always timid around him whenever he tried to make idle conversation, something he found adorable. As the queen's sworn shield there were not many times he could speak to you, but at night when he was posted outside her door, you would walk by, holding various cleaning supplies. Then he would stop you to make friendly conversation. Slowly but surely, he was falling in love with you.

One night, Ser Criston would stop you once more. You had assumed he would make more conversation with you, but you were surprised when he dragged you off. He would sneak you both out of the Red Keep and into the city, finding some drunken Septon and forcing him to wed you two. You were so in shock, that you barely protested, and you were now his wife.

Ser Criston was so fond of you, and how timid you continued to be around him. He had forsaken his vows just to be with you, and he would not so subtly remind you of this, in some way to guilt you into keeping quiet about your marriage. And you did feel guilty for having a lover when Ser Criston had risked his integrity and honor to be with you, but you didn't ask to wed him, and that was his own doing and of no fault of yours. One day, while Ser Criston was making his way to his own quarters for rest, he saw you stealing kisses with some lowly stable boy. After all he had risked to be with you, this is how you repaid him? No, Ser Criston wouldn't stand for it.

The next night, when you were approaching the hall where the queen's chambers resided, and where your dear husband was stationed, you noticed how...angry he looked. You would slow your footsteps down, dreading approaching him, but it was inevitable. He would roughly grab you when you finally were near, making you drop your cleaning supplies to the ground. He'd hold your face tightly with one hand, threatening your position as a serving girl, your only source of income. He would make you swear that you'd never see the stable boy again, lest something terrible should happen to him. All you could do was helplessly nod your head in agreement, and hope Ser Criston would spare you both.

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 9 months

Text

Waters

summary: Your existence is an insult to the woman you serve, Alicent Hightower. As Viserys Targaryen's bastard, you should not be serving his lawfully wedded wife - and Ser Criston knows this. Still, he can't seem to stay away...

notes: criston cole x targ!bastard!reader (reader is the daughter of viserys, but not one of his wives bc I am a viserys hater at each turn and opportunity) ALSO criston is extremely mean in this for no reason lmao

tagged: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @levithestripper @cookielovesbook-akie @a-beaverhousen @hightowhxre @dahlias-and-marigolds (msg me to be added/removed)

masterlist | based on this request

In all truth, Ser Criston scared you. Queen Alicent, whom you served as a handmaid, may have cherished her protector, but to you, he was a terrifying shadow, one that judged you for your birth whenever your eyes met.

You were putting away the queen’s jewellery when he practically appeared behind you.

“Are you stealing, Waters?” the kingsguard snapped. You jumped, dropping the Queen’s favorite ring. Quickly, you picked it up, placing it back to its rightful place.

“No, ser. I was only… I only needed to clean this for the morrow.” You stuttered. Criston scoffed behind you, a firm hand gripping onto your shoulder.

“You are a disgrace to the Queen’s household.” He snarled, his voice right at your ear. You shuddered, only ever nodding. You knew that you were a thorn in her eye, a servant that also served as a reminder of her husband’s infidelity. But you’d never chosen where you were. If you could, you would have left King’s Landing with your half-brother, Daeron.

“Apologies, ser.” You finally said. “I shall take my leave.”

For a moment, you were stupid enough to believe that Ser Criston would let you leave. It was only when he blocked the door that your stomach dropped. He smirked down at you, white armor and Dornish beauty making him a sight to behold.

You hated that it made you blush, your head fuzzy,

“Bastard.” He spat. You tried to shift around him, but he never let you, instead pinning you to the wall next to the door. “Did you steal something?”

You shook your head quickly, feeling tears prick at your eyes.

“I shall not ask again.” Criston said, his next words punctuated. “Did you steal something, Waters?”

“No.” you replied. “I swear it.”

The pressure on you relieved itself a little bit, and you took a small breath of relief.

“Perhaps next time, I shall search you.” Criston mumbled idly. You said naught in return, ignoring the thought of I don’t know if I’d mind that all that much.

Your eyes flickered to his lips, and lower, almost automatically. Quickly, you looked back up at his face, before giving a small curtsy. You prayed he hadn’t noticed.

“And what would you be looking at now?” Criston asked. You didn’t answer, didn’t dare, until Criston tipped your face upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“Speak, girl.” He spat. There was so much rage in his eyes, so much anger that you felt yourself crumble, your throat dry as you answered.

“I was looking at your lips, ser.”

Criston laughed cruelly, his hand tightening around your jaw almost painfully.

“Would the little bastard girl like to kiss me?” he asked. You never answered. It had been beaten into you by septas. If you’d lied, you were just like all other bastards. Your silence was enough, and Ser Criston smiled at you so coldly that you wished you could disappear.

It surprised you when he kissed you, but not that his kiss was methodical, devoid of love or affection. And yet, you craved it so much that you leaned into it, allowing his hand to ruck up your skirts and grab your thighs as he pleased.

As his hand travelled up your smallclothes, you were suddenly reminded of the fact that Alicent, your Queen, the woman your father had humiliated, the most powerful woman of the Seven Kingdoms was asleep in the room next to you.

“Please, Queen Alicent is-“ you began, but Criston shushed you.

“You’ll have to shut your mouth.” He said simply. As he dropped to his knees, you closed your eyes, knowing that he wasn’t doing this to pleasure, but to humiliate, to degrade you. As his kisses, this was cold too, but Gods was it good.

Your hand flew to your mouth, covering it in hopes of stopping any sounds from escaping. When a whimper left you, Criston paused, his fingers sinking into you as he looked up at you from his spot on the ground.

“Shut your mouth, you slut.” He insulted, and despite the feeling of humiliation in your gut, you nodded, closing your eyes shut and pressing your hand to your mouth, praying to the Gods that it would be enough.

Criston’s tongue lapped at you, and if you didn’t know better, you would have said that he felt like a starving man trying to sustain himself from just you. Gods, he was good, too good for a bloody kingsguard, and he was doing it all to humiliate you.

Ser Criston was out to get you, to leave you alone in the dark, and the both of you knew it. His hand returned to your thigh, squeezing it tightly, running down your skin and making you feel cherished while the dark look in his eyes did the exact opposite.

Your free hand slowly, cautiously, touched his hair. Carefully, you let your fingers twist into his dark curls, pushing him down to where you needed to be. Had he sprung up and murdered you in that moment, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

He would have done exactly what you expected of him.

Instead, Criston only laughed at your desperation, the hum of his voice making you squirm under his grip. Criston took that as a sign, pushing you further onto your queen’s vanity, skirts rucked up to your waist and cunt exposed to him.

If anyone, guards or the queen walked in in this moment, you were absolutely, royally fucked. Not even your father would attempt to save you then, not that he had ever cared about you all that much to begin with.

Your orgasm washed over you with a cruel intensity. It built itself too quickly, Criston’s movements harsh and unforgiving, and when he pushed you over the edge, it made you feel as if you were truly falling. Your hand still over your mouth, you could feel yourself beginning to truly bite down on it as he kept on going.

Stars exploded behind your eyes, but instead of focusing on how you felt, your only thought was that you could not let the queen hear, could not alert the guards, make any sound at all. Perhaps, if your brain had not turned to mush the second Ser Criston had pushed you up against the wall, you would have told him to stop now.

Of course, there was no guaranteeing that he actually would have stopped. Somewhere in the back of your mind, that thought thrilled you, too.

And when you fell over the edge, Criston kept going, spurring your pleasure on until it became to much and you tried to scramble away from him on the small vanity space that the Queen usually occupied. Your heart dropped as one of her rings fell to the ground, the sound of it making it seem like the loudest thing in the entire world.

Your heart thumped, waiting for the worst to happen. Instead, Criston paused his assault, sneering at you.

“Dumb whore, watch what you’re doing.” He said, and you looked down, ashamed. The folds of your rumpled skirt only served as a reminder as to what exactly you were doing.

“What, don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Criston asked. Your silence seemed to enrage him just as much as when you spoke, and he stood in front of you. Traces of you glistened on his face in the dark, your thighs already aching from his grip, but it seemed that this was not enough for him.

“Get on the floor.” He commanded. You could have left now, made a run for it for somewhere where guards would think that you hadn’t done anything yet, that it was the kingsguard who was dishonouring you, and not you yourself.

Of course, they still probably would have let it happen, but at least, you only would have been sent away from court with rumours following you.

Yes, you could have left. Yet, your feet planted themselves to the ground, frozen there, and you remained, staring at Criston with the smallest bit of defiance. It crumbled under his cold gaze, and you felt yourself dropping to the ground for him.

He didn’t even have to ask you to open your mouth for him, and so, it was your own mind that taunted you for it. His hand threaded through your hair almost gently, slowly guiding you before he picked up a quicker pace. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged around it, but he seemed to relish that feeling, too.

It appeared as if he got bored with you like this, though. Perhaps he was used to seeing you in such positions of servitutde, kneeling for your queen to straighten out her dress, doing anything and everything to please the people around you like the loyal bitch you were. Just like now.

Criston’s hands wrapped around your hips, holding you in place as he bent you over. Your own hands scraped against the wooden floor, trying to find some sort of stability as you tried to find something to anchor you between the ache in your knees that came with kneeling, your pleasure and the absolute humiliation that only served to make your pussy drip even more.

He entered you without warning, and though you had felt his size in your throat just moments before, it still punched the air out of you as he sheathed himself in your cunt. There was a stretch, though you were ready, and though you thought you’d been prepared, but the sting of it still made you bit your lip in an attempt to stay quiet.

One hadn remained on your hip while the other, his swordhand, the one he used to kill, wrapped around the back of your neck Calmly, Criston pushed your head down to the floor, and there was no need to humiliate you verbally, his actions were enough entirely.

Slowly, he began to move, the hand around your hips moving down to your clit, an arm keeping you locked in place. There was nowhere to run, and, even if Alcient herself had walked into the room in this instant, you knew that he wouldn’t have stopped.

A part of your humiliation was soothed by the fact that the perfect, pious Ser Criston could not resist you, a plain bastard. That part of you was drunk on power, quickly beginning to overtake the parts that had been afraid, and you felt brave enough to let a small sound slip. Only a quiet one, one that was sure to be swallowed by thick walls and myrish tapestries.

Ser Criston’s face curdled into a snarl, and his movements picked up, his pace so burtal that you could ee your skirts rocking across the floor. Still the feeling of it was better than most things you had experienced as Ser Criston’s hand feverishly circled your clit. You could feel your second peak approaching, a wave building within you that had one of your hands leaving the floor and going back to your mouth.

You bit down on the back of your hand as you came, walls helplessly clenching down on Ser Criston’s movements. He did not relent, hips jerking into you almost uncontrollably.

There was no warning when he had his release, moaning quietly as his seed covered your walls. With a few more thrusts, Criston pulled out, leaving you panting. Your hair stuck to your forehead with sweat, wrists and knees aching from holding up your weight, but none of it compared to the soreness of your thighs and cunt.

You knew you would not be able to walk the next day.

A small part of you hoped that Ser Criston would show you some affection, perhaps kiss you gently or take your hand, but none of that ever came. Instead, he stood after a few moments, pulling his breeches back on and walking out of the door.

You sat slowly, trying to straighten out your skirts. Still on your knees, you put Queen Alicent’s fallen jewellery back onto her vanity, before you tried to stand on shaking legs. As his seed dripped down your thighs, you had the sinking realisation of what he had just done to you.

If you did naught, there was a good chance you’d soon be carrying his child…

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bucknastysbabe · 2 months

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//age gap, grooming, manipulation, no one is properly nice, Criston being crazy, Targtower!reader, canon era, anxiety and panic attacks, sibling strife, Alicent is tired, isolation, angst, sad ending, innocence/corruption kink, slight religious kink, v!fingering, oral, frottage, pnv!sex, lots of tears, I was emo okay and no I did not rush the ending no I did not-

WC: 9.5k (idk what happened oops)

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell

Being Alicent’s second daughter, the third of Viserys, your political pawn status was minimal in youth. You minded your own and listened, a constant shadow behind your mother. The queen was your idol— she was strong, devout, and loved deeply. It was your siblings who were willful, dragon blood coursing through their veins that made her fraught.

Somehow it felt you didn’t get any dragon blood. Your egg had refused to hatch, your eyes an ugly dark purple. The worst was that you had red hair. The hair of the Hightowers. You'd been born too late and too plain it seemed. The feeling of being strange led to shyness plaguing you. Hence why you’d clung to your mother’s skirts, she made you feel safe and beloved. Any closeness with your siblings dissolved as time wore on. Alicent apparently didn't mind, even if her child was manufacturing her own isolation.

Aemond devoted himself to scholarly learning, training in the yard, and flying on Vhagar. Helaena seemed to rather keep to herself, stitching beautiful works and catching her lovely insects. Aegon— he embraced hedonism and you’d leave it at that. You had been close with Daeron when he was a babe, loving on your little brother. Then Alicent sent him to Oldtown.

Ser Criston and your mother seemed to be the only presence you were around most of your childhood. You loved the white knight dearly, he’d bring you little gifts and swing you around as Alicent prattled on about something. He was so handsome and chivalrous, always a kind word upon his lips. Just the thought of the oath-sworn knight made you grow flushed and giddy.

You’d hide behind Ser Criston's white cloak when your father occasionally took interest. Viserys seemed annoyed at your shy demeanor, asking Criston to bring you to him. It was dreadful, he was decaying and his rotten smile was frightful. You would weep and shake, turning toward your mother or Criston. Looking for an escape.

The king would frown. He sniffed, “Here Cole, take the girl, Hightower as they come hm?”

Criston’s jaw clenched before he sighed, “Come on princess, we have appointments to keep.” You had grabbed his hand and left— ignoring Viserys' muttering. It brought a feeling of uselessness to your young heart. At least Daeron was bettering himself in Oldtown. The Kingsguard scoffed, “I wouldn’t appreciate sitting in his lap either. He will always have eyes for your half-sister, do remember that. Your mother has your interests in mind.”

“I understand, Ser Criston."

When Alicent was sleeping or tending to the matters of the realm, you oft sat with Ser Criston as he guarded the queen. He would tell you about his youth in the Dornish Marches, harrowing tales of battle and blood. One time as a child you grew so frightened you hopped in his arms. He laughed and petted your hair, “You’re alright, no vulture kings shall get you. Not with me here.” His smile was bright, and his brown eyes lit with humor.

You hid a picture you’d drawn of you all grown up, a beautiful maiden holding hands with Ser Criston. A dragon would be there too. Fantasies plagued your innocent mind, courtly love between a princess and her loyal white knight. Nothing like the isolation and tension that brought strife to your family. Everything was perfect and happy. Everyone loved each other. Stupid, stupid, silly you.

As you matured into the early stages of womanhood, your shyness and frayed nerves did not abate. In fact, fits of crying and shaking began to afflict you. Tourneys, balls, and weddings made your stomach turn and hands grow clammy. The Maester had given a tincture for fits and fears such as these, citing a ‘hysterical disposition.' The tincture was diluted milk of the poppy.

You were half-dazed and daft but no longer weeping through an entire feast. Small victories.

At three-and-ten you visited Dragonstone, bonding with the gorgeous Silverwing. As you flew around the island, tears streamed down your face. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. When you landed, your white knight and mother clapped, proud of their favorite princess. Even Aemond gave a word of applause. Rhaenyra watched with a strange look, further back. You refused to acknowledge her, you had heard all you needed to know about your elder sister.

Later, Aegon had japed with a sloshing goblet, “Ah, I was beginning to think you were a bastard dear sister. Maybe a lord will take an interest now.” Ser Criston had cuffed the lad on the ear at that, Aegon squeaking an apology.

The knight consoled you afterward, gloved hand tilting your chin up. His dark orbs bore into your own, his thumb swiping your tears. He stated intently, “Never, never for a second think you are not true-born. My princess, you are just beginning to blossom, you’re Targaryen as they come. I will defend that claim until my death.”

Your heart skipped a beat, tears welling up as you hugged the older man, thanking Ser Criston for his kindness. He was stiff at first, then gloved hands came to rest at your shoulders. He called you blossom after that, the pet name never failed to make your cheeks flush. Alicent took great pleasure that you had kept to their sides instead of wandering off to find whatever to abate the stress of being Royal. She would sniff occasionally, "Do remember what white signals, virtue."

Ser Criston named you the Queen of Love and Beauty at six and ten, a tourney Otto and Alicent schemed for you to get a suitor. Although the suitors were cracked in the helm and knocked on their ass. Criston was rather vicious this tourney, winning the melee and joust. You chose not to dwell on the blood splattered on his shiny armor, for it caused wicked thoughts. He grinned with red lips, offering the crown.

Aegon rolled his eyes, quipping something foul as he guzzled his wine. Viserys had apparently glared at the knight, mouth twisting. You smiled and blushed, feeling like a silly child again. The handsome marcher was consuming you more and more. Eyes that saw you wholly, his little blossom.

Later in the evening, many lords or heirs were at the feast for your sake. They did not seem interested, casting wary looks. You decided it was partly your nerves and shy nature, the glaring knight at arm's length was no benefit. You made one connection that night with a son of the Arbor, a sweet-faced Redwyne lad. His name was Meryn, that was the extent you knew. Grandsire seemed to be pleased with your choice. Criston's dark eyes lingered in your mind. Meryn had dark green eyes and straw-blonde hair. He would be alright if you had to, Meryn was courteous. You swallowed down bile at the thought of living so far away.

You’d become so struck with Cole you had begun to lie awake at night, purposely ignoring the desire that coursed through blue veins. He had said that a true, chaste maiden did not give in to carnal pleasures. Your mother said that self-pleasure was sinful and wicked. You'd read the Seven-Pointed Star, the Stranger would fondly take fornicators down to the seven hells.

You agreed, feeling sinful if your womanhood ever throbbed. Innocence remained a quality of yours, Viserys liked to call you his Septa daughter to Daemon. You’d rather be a Septa than a whore. Aegon had doomed himself already. You hated when he spoke so vulgar at the table, you had to look away in disgust.

Aegon crushed your entire world, in fact. The pair of you had ridden to the Dragonpit to ride Sunfyre and Silverwing. You rode in silence, Ser Arryk and Erryk behind on guard. The stilted awkward air between Aegon and you seemed to thicken as the Dragonpit loomed closer. Your elder brother blurted “Are you still infatuated with that preening peacock Cole?”

You stiffened and stared, aghast, mouth agape.

Aegon’s full lips smirked. He laughed “Oh, you still are. I forget you follow him and mother around the keep like a shadow. You’re six and ten, you don’t want to fuck a lordling? Or are you saving it for Ser Cole?”

“Stop it, he’s kind and a good knight. You should respect our Kingsguard, he keeps mother safe.”

Hot tears began springing at your eyes as Aegon laughed harder, that horrid shrieking giggle. One of the Cargyll’s snorted. Aegon always made you feel so silly and childish. You sniffed angrily “What are you getting at Aegon?”

“Sorry sister, sorry, it’s just- hah! It’s just your white knight’s cloak has been likely been dirtied since I was born. You do know the rumor don’t you?”

Your heart began to patter uncomfortably against your chest. Ser Erryk always carried your medicine— you did not wish to take it as you were trying to fly. Aegon leered with a grin. He spoke in a low murmur, “He hates our dear half-sister so, we know that. Rumor has it Cole sullied his oath as he took her maidenhead. She spurned him later. Then your ‘white knight’ beat Laenor’s fop lover’s face in wrath at her wedding.”

Your legs and hands began to grow numb from sheer panic. You cried, “No, you are lying! Why would you say such dreadful things?” Shakes began, as tears leaked down your red cheeks. The prince noticed your state and sighed, “No one knows if he truly did. 'Tis not strange he became mother’s sworn sword after one night hm?”

Your vision swam. No, no, no— you couldn’t believe that. Ser Erryk rode up next to you, beckoning you to open your mouth. He yanked you onto his horse, chiding Aegon, “Shut your mouth about that, you know how she gets. I have to return all the way to the keep!”

The prince shrugged, offering a weak apology, face a rude smirk.

Ser Erryk sighed, “He’s a prick. Talk to your mother about Ser Criston. Back to the keep we go, just relax.” You felt like your chest had compressed into a tiny box, shaking and panting. It couldn’t be true. You would speak to your mother immediately. The tincture began to soften your muscles, eyes lolling as you slumped onto the Cargyll twin. Erryk murmured, “Can’t wait for this shite show with the marcher.”

You were still in a hazy lull, the movement of the horse and Ser Erryk’s familiar lilt leaving you in a poppy-laden stupor. He’d ridden into the courtyard, carrying your limp frame into the castle, barking at a squire to take his horse. You mumbled, “Mother, need her.”

“I know, princess.”

Ser Criston’s voice made your poppy laden eyes flick upwards. The knight demanded, “What the hell is this? Did you dose her with the entire phial? Where’s Prince Aegon? Give her to me.”

Ser Erryk bit back, “She asked for the Queen, Ser Criston. Not you.”

You nodded softly, Ser Criston’s brows pinching together, his lips thinning in anger. He snapped, “I’ll take her to the Queen, give me the princess. Seems you can’t follow the maester’s directions, Ser Erryk.”

“No. Trust me when I say this Cole, Aegon brought this on. He was telling your ‘blossom’ all about,” the man whispered something to the marcher. Criston’s face paled, a stricken look over his features.

The door opened without further protest, Ser Erryk laying you upon the plush settee, curtly nodding. He exchanged words with the Queen. Criston remained outside the door, dark gaze peering from afar. Your mother’s wide eyes and familiar green dress hovered in your vision. She stroked your hair and sighed, “Dear girl, what did Aegon say?”

Your sluggish hand gripped her own, glazed eyes meeting brown. You whimpered “Tell me he was lying. Just tell me Aegon was lying about him.”

Alicent’s lips pursed, turning to gaze at the lingering Cole. She ordered, “Ser Criston, please shut the door.” Even through the medicinal haze, the man looked downright fearful. The door shut with a soft click. Your mother’s attention was back on you, kissing your forehead.

“About who? Take your time.”

You moaned in anguish, “Ser Criston. He broke his oath to be with her?,” you sobbed, “He lies, he can’t, mother please!”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the door once more. She bundled your frame into her arms, lifting your limp body up. Her soothing voice murmured, “Ser Criston is a good man. He loves us dearly. He is sworn and would die for us, my dear.”

You wept, “Tell me the truth.”

“He had a moment of weakness. Ser Criston was merely a few years older than I and Rhaenyra. She manipulated his good heart and bewitched him. That is all. He did not break his oath.”

You stared at your mother, unsure if she was lying while the pristine image of Criston darkened. Was it hurt? Jealousy? Childish affection gone wrong? There was nothing to do but softly weep in your mother’s arms before sleep took you. Supper was provided when you awoke, only Alicent caring for you.

She never lied to you before. Your mother cherished you too much to lie.

Right?

You faced Ser Criston again. The ache in your chest throbbed— but you would give him grace. He was devoted and good to you. His worried look made the apprehension die down. The knight grabbed your shoulders, eyes piercing as he frantically spoke, “Blossom, my princess, please. I have been distraught for days. What can I do?”

You stared at him, mind conjuring a response, feeling like a bratty child overreacting. His leather gloves squeezed again to draw your attention. It took everything in your weak heart not to babble and weep. This man was sworn to chastity and the Faith, yet you craved him like nothing else.

“Aegon just shocked me. This is a lot to process. I-I didn’t know anything about that, oh, ordeal.”

He seemed to sag, guilt wracking his handsome features. Ser Criston pulled your small form inward, chin atop your head. He murmured, “It is a stain that shall never be washed. Your mother saved me. I grew stronger from the failure. It pains me more now that you have learned the truth after so long. I should have let you know.”

You nodded against the steel plate of his chest, resigned.

You let him hold you— unsure of your intense feelings. The Red Keep was a web spun of lies. Even Ser Criston was caught in the horrid trap. You would remain to trust him, his affair with Rhaenyra was before you were even a thought. Still, your gut churned with uncertainty.

Criston murmured, "I shall never fail you again, sweet blossom."

You had distanced yourself from Ser Cole, protecting your own heart selfishly. He was upset and had been striving to gain your once devoted affection. It wasn’t hard to avoid him as war came in on Dragonback. They plotted and planned, too busy for Helaena to mourn. Aegon was raging at all times. You remained in your rooms, nervously awaiting Syrax or Caraxes to show on the horizon. Dracarys. Dracarys, the voices sang in your head.

They were always in the Council Chambers.

You’d been in your room, feeling madness creep at the edges of your mind. Shadows in the corners, fire on the horizon. A knight stood guard outside day and night, sometimes your mother would come sup with you. All she could do was tiredly ramble and apologize. You held her softly one night as she cried, how alone and useless she felt. You could empathize with that. At least in your room, you were safe from those fits. Sometimes.

Then your grandfather left. Criston was now Lord Commander and Hand of the King. A small ceremony was held in the throne room, Aegon strutting around like a peacock. You knew he was as scared as the rest of the Keep. Alicent sighed to you, “My darling, stay strong, you must.”

The man you had grown up with, the fancy of your girlhood, looked frightening with his chain of gold hands, lips curled up in pleasure. His eyes flicked toward you, entrancing. The newly appointed hand smiled with pride. You looked down and away, shaking hands clasped together. There was no reason for tears about this. Yet, the titles muddled and twisted your preferred concept of the loyal white knight.

War had truly begun with armies on the move around the realm. Criston, Aegon, and Aemond set off to Lord Staunton at Rook's Rest.

After the incident at Rook’s Rest, Criston returned colder, Aemond with the crown, and Aegon charred half to death. The now powerful marcher was paired with his protege, they could conquer and perhaps win this war. You were frightfully alone again, Alicent moved into Aegon’s chambers. Nothing new you supposed, yet your heart hurt.

About a week after the return, you were summoned to the Hand’s Tower. Criston sat at the desk, war plans drawn up. His hair was shorn, a beard grown in. The soft part of you ached at his bruised and nicked face. You awkwardly curtsied and murmured, “Lord Hand.”

“Don’t call me that, Ser Criston is fine,” he said, a hint of aggravation to his hoarse voice.

“Sorry, Ser Criston,” you apologized. He seemed like a different person sitting where your grandsire once sat. He beckoned you over, closer and closer until you were at the edge of the desk. He looked tired, sad, and beleaguered by his position. You murmured, “You requested me Ser?”

He sighed, leaning back in the supple leather chair. Criston’s eyes were achingly wet as he stated, “Do you still despise me so? All I think about is you, your safety, and how I can keep my blossom alive and well. After Rook's Rest, I began to remember my priorities."

You whimpered softly, the months of being alone and overlooked had taken their toll. You missed him dearly. Taking a few sighs, mouth quivering, you whispered. Whispered only so you may not sob. Your dress was bunched up by your distraught hands. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for being weak.

"I have been so…isolated. I don’t leave my room and all I can do is stare at the window and...and and hope I don’t!”

You clamped your jaw shut as your voice grew higher with emotions. Hot tears ran down your cheeks now— brought on by the outburst. Criston made a soft noise, pleading, “Blossom, come here. To me. You know how I hate to see your tears.”

It embarrassed you how fast you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shiny armor. The man cooed, cradling your frame and nuzzling your hair. His hands gripped into your curled legs— you didn’t care. It felt so good to be with him.

“There we are, poor princess, why are you crying blossom?”

His dark brows were pinched in concern, gaze quizzical in nature. You refrained from staring at his lips. One of his warm hands pressed into your back, rubbing up and down. You focused on that, tucking your face against the warm crook of his neck.

“Take your time princess, I’ve got you. Too sweet for this dreadful world.”

Ser Criston’s soothing words and hands, his gentle tone could almost lull you to sleep. It felt like an hour had passed, soaking in the moment. You blinked a bit, feeling syrupy sweet in his arms. He asked “Blossom, are you feeling better?” A soft little jerk of your head was the response before you pulled back to look at him.

“I feel better, thank you Ser Criston. I grow fearful,” you frowned at your words, “More fearful than usual.”

He cocked his head, seeming to mull over the words. The man sighed, “I haven’t done a good job of prioritizing your protection. These are arduous times.” Criston thumbed your cheek, sliding down to tilt your chin up. He murmured, “Tell me the truth. I feel a piece of me has returned. You cannot spurn me again, I need you my blossom, more than anything to keep going.”

His agonized eyes and the tiniest little warble at the end of his sentence melted your fears. This was Ser Criston— he’d done right by you, only second to your mother. Even then, he knew you in a way others didn’t. Something behind the mad little princess who cried at feasts. Criston saw qualities none seemed to perceive.

Making eye contact you admitted, “I missed you too. I- I had a hard time coming to terms. I was sickened with envy, picturing that…my sister, having Ser Cole’s heart,” you placed a hand over the white cloak on his shoulder, “I know it was a mistake now. I grew up thinking you were, Gods, the knight out of tales. Gallant and true. It was swept out from under me and I behaved as a child. You're only human.”

Criston’s jaw gritted, frustration crossing his features. He hissed, “If I could take my honor back from that viper I would. But I chose to be fooled, a young idiot. I know what it feels like to be truly loved now. Unconditionally.”

He licked his lips, “Knowing that I hurt you, hurt me. I prayed and prayed. I don’t know if I can be that knight for you, my dear blossom. But I can be the knight that gives his life for you, his heart and soul. You were merely hurt, I can understand why. But the Seven answered my prayers," he beamed, "You’re still here, with me. As it should be.”

Unconditional. He wasn’t wrong. You’d love Criston even if his cloak was stained black. He loved you. Only you. Prayed for you. Your heart swelled, pumping with excitement. At least that's what it seemed he said.

“Oh, Ser Criston, I, I love you.”

His face morphed into a pleasant look, eyes alight with happiness. You moved to straddle him, pressing yourself closer, your cheek pressed to Criston’s dark stubbled one. The knight rumbled, “I love you, innocent love for my little bud, now a blossoming young woman. You’re mine, to cherish and to love. Understand that. Just us.”

He squeezed your waist as you sighed, “Yes, yes Ser Cole, I am yours.”

“My perfect little Princess, the Gods are smiling upon us.”

You nodded along, smiling helplessly, more tears welling as your lips pecked his cheek. Criston turned his head to gently capture your lips, a chaste little peck. You shivered in his embrace, smiling as your noses nuzzled. He was chivalrous was he not?

Soon after you had spoken your feelings for Ser Criston, he wanted you moved into the Hand’s quarters. Said it was safer and you wouldn’t have to stare at the dreaded horizon that brought many a nightmare and fumbling for your tinctures.

It was done quickly, your garments and belongings now intertwined into the man’s quarters. He had the Lord Commander’s room too and pledged to sleep there for your comfort and honor. The knight was sweet and kind, letting you sit upon his lap as he wrote letters, amended decrees, and even kept you there when Aemond arrived to discuss battle.

Your brother looked shocked at your presence, a thin brow arching. He huffed, “Sister, I believe it would be best if you left us to the battle plans.” You nodded, the ingrained behaviors to follow orders hadn’t dissipated. Criston held you tight on his lap, remarking “She’s family. You think your sister to be a turn cloak?”

Aemond grimaced and sat down, his hair swinging as he glared. The crown of the Conqueror laid upon his brow. The crown that belonged to ailing Aegon. Criston poured some wine and handed it to the stiffened Prince Regent, opening the discussion.

You merely sat back and listened, your knight occasionally asking for your opinion. “I don’t know why you would not seek the high ground there,” you offered while pointing to the Westermen’s location. Jason Lannister would be slaughtered. You read up on historical battles now and then.

Aemond’s scoff and Criston’s noise of contemplation shut you up. You knew you were here to please your knight. Make him feel comfortable and less alone. You padded off toward the bed as they talked into the night, ignoring Aemond’s sharp questioning.

A kiss on your lips awoke you, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. The marcher seemed irritated and sleepy, now clad in a white shirt and thin breeches. He sat upon the downy bed to pet your hair, muttering, “Ignore your brother. He thinks he is the king right now, is all. But the hand pulls the strings.”

You shrugged, “He sees me as a distraction I suppose.”

Criston nodded, dark eyes rolling as he gruffed, “You are my motivation, blossom. He will learn to embrace your presence. Now, I have had a long day. I wish to hold you,” his face grew soft, “Is that okay with you dearest? Say no and I shall leave.”

Scooting over you pulled back the warm blankets, Criston crawling in with a sigh. You cuddled into his frame, the marcher flipping you around so he could press the length of his body to your own. He sighed in your ear, “Much better. Soft and sweet. Thank you for trusting me." He placed his chin on your shoulder, humming in contentment, tanned arm wrapped around your stomach.

The voices of the past screamed at you. So be it.

Criston now laid by your side every night, gentle and kind. He'd awaken you with a kiss and that saccharine smile. You fell deeper and deeper in love. His touches grew more frequent, keeping you by his side around the keep. Any snide comment was met with an equally acrid reply.

You'd been invited to sit in at council meets. Your mother seemed surprised, rushing to you, hands clamping down on your arms. She whispered, "What are you doing here? You should not listen to this, it shall give you a fit." You indicated the satchel at your hip and replied, "Ser Criston said I could come along, since I am able of mind and body I should have a say. He has stuck up for a Princess when everyone else has discarded me."

You did not mean to come off as harsh. Ser Criston's affections had bolstered you as of late. The dowager queen's eyebrows raised as her lips turned into a pursed frown. Alicent bit out, "Are you his kept woman now? I raised you better than this." Your mother drew closer to hiss, “Ser Cole loves you. Ser Cole is overstepping his boundaries as the Lord Commander. Lord Hand Criston sees you as his pretty little pet. Do take heed, princess.”

You frowned, chest tight with hurt, childishly scoffing, “Ser Criston cares for me. You’d rather sit and plot than visit your daughter? I’d like to visit Helaena with you, mayhaps Aegon. Don’t lecture me, your grace.”

Aemond called the council, breaking up the heated moment between you and the green queen. You took a seat to the side, watching and listening raptly. Alicent’s eyes flickered between you and Ser Criston, displeasure upon her pursed lips. He eyed her back, furrowing his brows. They had known each other so long the pair could speak without saying a word. Aemond and Lord Lannister prattled on. Worry began to pool in your belly, a shaky hand shifting to the pouch on your waist for comfort.

You could glean the wracked state of the Realm from the terse meeting. Daemon was at Harrenhal and men were gathering. The Hightower host led by a relative and Daeron approached from the south. Cregan Stark’s winter wolves were coming with a cold vengeance and desire to die in glory, grizzled grey beards that they were. You swallowed, mind a bit scattered pulling the pieces together. A crazed Greyjoy was on the loose and the Triarch had been called in. All-out war.

The meeting was adjourned. Aemond would leave soon for Harrenhal. Criston would join him later, much to your fear. Your white knight immediately came to your side, holding your elbow tenderly, “I must have…some words…with her grace. I’ll see you back in the tower?” You nodded, eyes panning toward Aemond getting an earful from your mother. Nerves began to prick— you kissed Ser Cole’s cheek and nodded. He smiled softly, gloved hand caressing your cheek as he murmured, “Sweet girl, relax, it will be fine.”

You may have dropped some of the diluted milk into your wine, hands shaky. You were going mad waiting, waiting, waiting. Mind-spinning rationalizations appeared to ease the rising panic. Your mother had no say anymore, it was Aemond and Criston in charge. If Aegon wasn’t bedridden he likely would not care. Ser Criston would not leave you, he loved you, yes.

The door swung open, clattering against some furniture, startling you upon the settee. Criston was pissed, anyone could see as much as the vetted knight masked his emotions. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched and his teeth audibly ground. He stopped in his tracks, running a hand through shorn hair. You warbled “Criston?”

His furrowed brow and wide eyes turned to you, sighing and stalking forward. The knight dropped to his knees, hands cradling your cheeks. Criston fumed, urgency to his tone, "You’re mine. You shall do as you please. I shall do as I please. I have the right, I'll leave my position as Kingsguard if the oaths are displeasing, you understand sweet girl? I need you to understand you’re my Princess.”

You held his gauntlets to nod, eyes wide upon his visage.

“Say it for me. Say it so I know it to be true. Now.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears. He was in quite the mood. Criston's dark eyes were wet, and desperation laced his roughed voice. Your hands curled around that cold chain of hands, lips frantically moving, “I am yours. Your princess. Nothing shall change that. I swear it on the Seven. I swear it on my heart.”

“I godsdamn love you blossom,” he growled, taking your lips roughly. Criston pressed himself into you, dominating the kiss. His hands moved down to your rear, jerking your hips flush to his own. You cried out, the dark-haired man swallowing the noise, tongue lapping against yours. His lips were insistent, and needy, leaving you breathless. You'd never felt Ser Criston so rough with you, it was intoxicating.

Shivering at his gruff words, you could not help from sliding your arms around his plated neck to moan. Criston pulled back, murmuring, “No one shall keep you from me, I’ll fucking kill them. I may do as I please now.” His lips trailed down your cheek, jaw, to your neck. All you could do was whine as he sucked and nipped little marks, big hands massaging the flesh of your ass. He nosed further down to your décolletage; greedy hands pausing at the neckline.

Lust-blown eyes met your own. You nodded, panting, “Please. Please. Take me as you wish.” His eyes scrunched shut, mouth swollen and wet as those covetous hands of his jerked your dress down, carelessly tearing the silky fabric. You yelped, never having been exposed like this, nerves sparking like wildfire. Criston’s lashes fluttered as he groaned throatily.

“Oh- fucking seven hells, precious girl,” he almost whined, nuzzling into your breasts. You seized up, unused to the carnal touches. Criston yanked off his black gloves to grab handfuls of the tender flesh, still on his knees for you. That seemed to abate the ever-looming presence of your neuroticism. He was submitting, lavishing lush kisses on your fiery skin.

You tightened your legs around his armored waist and cried out when calloused thumbs began to tenderly circle around your budded nipples. He watched your face, lips curled and eyes ever hungry. Criston murmured, “Sweetling, so responsive. Never had your pretty teats touched. Good, good, only me.”

You nodded in haphazard jerks, Criston pulling at one nipple and playing around with your other breast, big hand massaging. His kissing grew closer to the darker skin, lips closing around the bud. You mewled and squirmed, head thrown back to moan. He hummed around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the peak. Criston grew rougher, nipping before pulling off with a lurid pop.

The knight growled, moving onto your other breast. A shiver wracked your frame, your swollen peaks exposed to the chilly air felt like a white-hot line of arousal bolting down between your legs— throbbing and uncomfortably slick. You babbled, “Ser, Criston, Criston, wha-what?”

He chucked darkly, suckling a mark on your sternum. Criston hummed “You like that? Little princess needy for her knight?”

“Love, oh, love it, thank you,” you simpered.

He rasped, nose nuzzling into yours, “Of course…I take care of my blossom don’t I? Sweeter than sin.” His hands placed themselves atop your smaller ones, brown eyes begging. Criston breathed "Blossom- wanna feel you, help me out of this dreadful cage?" Once again mute- you began to unbuckle straps and buttons, exposing more and more skin.

"So good to me. Divine, ah, don't know how I was blessed with an angel."

You helped him out of the chest plate, leaving Criston to undo his white and gray gambeson. You were carefully putting the pieces on his armor stand, the man humming your name. Looking back, Criston smiled softly, his scarred and tanned torso exposed. He beckoned you over, cocking his head in surprise when you dropped to your knees.

“What are you doing, your grace?” Criston's lips curled up in amusement, dark orbs searching your serious expression.

Holding those inky eyes, you helped his boots and thick socks off. Criston threw his padded tunic to the side, cheeks growing flushed. He softly murmured, “Answer me, a Princess should not be on her knees like this.” His hand cupped your cheek, a smirk mirroring your own. You quipped, “Is it bad to be on my knees for you? I am merely serving an important man to the realm.”

You watched his face darken, eyes catching a glint to them. He swallowed, hand on your face tightening. Criston rasped “Is that it? Just merely service? Dirtying your knees like a woman of the night. Does my blossom want to be bad? Behave wanton and licentious so? Forget your maiden's day vow, hm?"

His words made your face grow warm. It was as if he was speaking your fantasies aloud. For once to not be the strange princess— nervous, wrong shade of hair, and overtly pious. No, you wanted to let go. No more being held back by others and your own swirling fears. Ser Cole soothed those aches. You wanted the keep to whisper more about how the littlest one was openly Ser Cole’s pretty blossom, driven from her mother’s teat at last.

“I- I want to make you feel good,” you murmured with blotchy cheeks. It was not necessarily a lie, but if you began to ramble about the lustful feelings you feared you may not stop or disgust the man. That simply couldn’t happen. Not after how far you have come with him.

“You lie to me blossom,” he teased, “I know exactly what you want. What you crave. To think the old king thought you to be a Septa. C’mere then, no more games”

You watched him unlace his light breeches, exposing his dark curls and full prick. A moan slipped from your lips at the sight, lust pounding your body in waves. The knight's cock was heavy and flush, the dark tip weeping. You squeezed your thighs in excitement, licking your lips. Criston’s tan hand jerked at the taught flesh, rumbling, “Needy little blossom.” It was almost funny how he stated it like a simple fact, yet you were on the edge of combustion.

“Y-yes! Please, want it so, want to be your bad girl, the bad princess…please,” you grew shy again after blurting out, “I- in m-my mouth Ser.”

Criston’s expression changed from playful to predatory, dark eyes narrowing a bit. He rasped, “Mhm, filthy little thing. I shouldn’t encourage this behavior. Especially as your protector.” As you shuffled forward to grab the thick flesh he stopped your hand, his amusement facing heady desire. You sulked, “Wanna learn so I can please you Ser.”

Ser Cole seemed content, enough to lean back on one arm, eyes roving to your tits and wide eyes. His other hand stroked himself one more time before shoving two fingers to your lips. You opened dutifully for the intrusion, eyes rolling back in bliss.

Criston’s princess was a dream, a godsdamn dream. He pressed the pads of his fingers down on her tongue, watching her shiver and whine. He soothed, “Settle now, I’ll teach you how. But I need my sweet girl to settle down. Focus on my fingers. Nothing else.” She nodded, wet lashes upon her cheeks now. Her hands were neatly placed in her lap.

He took the still moment to reflect, idly rubbing his cock. She was well trained. Helaena was the same in her mannerisms unless she grew distracted. Before Criston even remotely began to have romantic feelings, his blossom had always held him ensnared. She was horribly timid and clutched to Alicent’s skirts, then began to seek him for comfort. The white knight earned her trust with a trinket he bought in town. A small Yitish jade dragon— to place upon her bedside table. She still had it there, pristine and well-kept.

Criston was not sure when his protective nature slid into desire. It began with jealousy, perhaps around her name-day celebration and resulting tourney. Alicent and Otto were looking for a mate. Something twisted deep within his chest. Criston did not want the sweet thing to leave the castle. Get wedded and bedded by some callous lord or idiot heir.

Her smile after he routed the competition brought great happiness to his heart. That twisted thing in his chest swelled with a possessive pride that soared past his normal feelings for Alicent's children. He hated the feast. The princess was shyly speaking to a young Redwyne lad. The Arbor was too far away for his liking. Yet nothing panned out. He couldn't beat a boy for being kind.

Criston strapped his back bloody and raw for a fortnight as penitance. He could not imagine being a snake slithering around waiting for her. He already knew she held affection for him. Thus prayer would work, and he would be a good, pious protector. Alicent made a small comment and he withdrew from being too close. Those woes seemed to be gone by the time she turned eight and ten— leading to now.

The sweet, blossomed woman was dozing around his fingers now. Criston purred, "Such a good princess, just likes to be bad. That's okay, you deserve it, so kind for helping me out." She softly whimpered and drooled as he pressed upon her tongue.

"Gorgeous, being good for me."

She whined in response, pretty lashes fluttering. Criston almost lost her affection once. That dreadful day with Aegon and Ser Arryk telling him to stand down. He could have wrung his neck. But fear overcame the anger. The knight knew she mustn't gain access to that horrid secret. Criston prayed and prayed and prayed, mutilated, and prayed that Alicent would keep the truth hidden. Something in the uncomfortable hairshirt worked, his blossom forgave him, and the Gods had granted him a boon. Certainly, she was meant to be his then?

Criston blinked out of his reverie, asking gently "Blossom, are you with me?"

She looked like she was under her poppy tinctures. He smiled a bit, the princess blissed out from Criston alone. Eventually, she nodded, trying to speak around his digits. He sighed, "I think I've changed my mind, why don't you come sit in my lap? Must be chilly down there."

The blossom whined when Criston pulled his fingers out, mumbling, "Yes Ser, yes, whatever you need." She clambered onto foal-like legs, Criston guiding her to the plush leather chair. The man easily pulled her frame atop him. He hissed lowly as her ass pressed against his aching cock. Fighting the feeling, he nuzzled into reddish waves, lips quirked up. The knight whispered "You've always been such a pious one. Did you ever touch yourself?"

She shook her head slowly, body melting into Criston's. Her hands wrapped around his bigger wrists. The princess whimpered, "No, never, I would not dare. It is sinful," she paused for a long time, "Right?" Cole chuckled, one hand of his rubbing soothing circles onto her side. He teased "We're together now, I prayed for it, the Seven smile upon us. How can it be sinful if you're touching yourself for me? The Seven-Pointed Star says you may indulge with a paired soul."

He grabbed her chin to emphasize his point, her innocent eyes making his cock hurt "I would say we are paired souls. Do you agree?"

"You know it to be true, you always have," she stated.

"Good. I'll touch you instead, so you may remember this and feel better when I am away."

He bunched her woolen dress, exposing her plush thighs and untainted maidenhead. Criston inhaled sharply, fingers digging into the wrinkled cloth. He could see her slick and aroused, flesh darkened with need. The man gritted his jaw in restraint, he would treat the sweet girl like the delicate blossom she was. Her eyes were still upon him, dark and wet, skin flushed. Ser Cole could feel the tacky way his cock was plastering itself to her ass with his prick leaking the way it was.

"Does it please you?" came her tiny warble.

Criston groaned, "Yes, yes, more than anything yes...Hold your dress up now. I...need to take care of you sweet blossom. My needs can wait." She sniffled and clung to her raised layers of dress, head shyly tucked away as she panted. The Hand gripped the giving flesh of her thigh, coaxing her to open wider with a gentle coo. The redhead shivered in response, breasts bouncing as her breath hitched.

"Have you been this wet for me before?"

"Mhmmm," she whined, hiding her embarrassed look.

"Need you to watch blossom, or you won't know how," he stated. He could feel her gaze watch as Criston's spit-slick fingers cautiously slid across her opening. She mewled in response, gasping, "Ser!" He hushed and laid tiny lush kisses, easing her heightening fears. "Slow and gentle, breathe for your knight," came his rasp.

"Ser, Cris- oh heavens, oh what is that? S-so good!"

He laughed, "A special place the mother gave you, the maiden bestowed for naughty princesses like you to rut on and make a mess. You're making quite a mess, all wet and needy." She moved back against his swollen prick, Criston's eyes fluttering. His princess babbled, "'S for you, m'not, not, naugh-ty." He assured her she wasn't, now narrating his way down to her entrance.

"Your sweet pearl is fun to play with, but most green boys don't know how to work a woman's body. I'll let you take your own pleasure too."

The tips of his fingers slid into her wet warmth, tight and silky smooth. They both gasped into the room's silence, Criston groaning in contentment. He slid further in, minding her reactions. Maiden above she was tight. She planted her feet on the leather chair, her dress falling back. Criston was taken aback as she breathed, "Want to touch you, not this silly dress."

"Seven Hells, you'll send me to an early grave..."

Her hands held onto his forearms as Criston began to delve into her cunt, easing her in with rhythmic slides. She was growing restless, cute tits bouncing with every heave of breath. He would surprise her with the sweet spot. The marcher curled his fingers upwards, dragging against the soft ridged area.

He smirked as her chest hitched once more, a small confused noise leaving petal lips. Criston playfully crooked his fingers back and forth as watched her whine and squirm raptly. The man whispered against her ear, “Feel the heel of my palm? Go on, use your hips.”

Criston’s smirk broke into a smile as she rode his hand and fingers, shyly at first. The princess’ hips twitched tentatively, her slick cunt moving against Criston with ease. He nuzzled her neck, pressing more little kisses as she sped up, fingers digging into his arms. The knight found himself mumbling between kisses, “Good…so good..thassit’.”

His blossom was rutting hard now, huffing between her broken noises. Cole could feel her tighten around him, even one of her pretty tits under his hand was budded and tight. His dark gaze noticed her thighs were quivering as she grew frantic with pleasure, crying Criston’s name. It made his heart swell. Yet the deep-seated craving wasn't met by the hand of the king.

“Mine. Say you're mine. Before you come. Now.”

Her hips stuttered and ground down hard, the princess throwing her head back onto Criston's shoulder as she cried, "I am yours, only yours, forever yours Ser Cole! Hnghhh- oh my gods! Please!" She looked up toward him, begging softly, riding his hand, her ass rubbing Criston's prick to near completion. He demanded her release, gasping as the innocent m thing squealed and gushed all over his hand, grabbing onto him for dear life.

She sobbed in pleasure, sending a gut punch to Criston's own throbbing balls. He gripped down on her with his free hands, squeezing her soft hips as he rutted with heavy grunts, blinking and gasping for breath as he emptied all over her clothed backside. Criston moaned her name, pressing his sweating forehead to her shoulder, inhaling their mixed scent. He rasped, "Lovely blossom, just lovely, I'm so proud of you my love."

She stared with swollen eyes, the prettiest smile upon her lips as she said, "I love you Criston."

He would take that memory to battle with him. Else the man feared he'd pick her up and abscond. He was too deep, had too many scores to settle, dying with a name worth living for. Yet. Yet, she was always there, waiting for him. Ser Criston shut his ever-spinning mind down for the evening.

Criston was leaving for the Riverlands in the morn. He'd kept you by his side for the last week or so. It did not matter where— the throne room, the barracks, his tower, even the council again. People stared and remained silent. Alicent had refused to speak to either of you and Aemond looked at you like a common whore. It did not matter when you had your love.

Ser Cole was insatiable in the bedroom since he brought you to a peak with his fingers. He'd taught you how to suck him, rub him, how to get off on his thighs or tight stomach. Every night you'd lain in a mess of sweat, tears, and come. Nothing was finer than taking a sensual bath afterward, soaping each other up between slow kisses. You were in love, truly, but at such an awful time. You prayed the gods would give him back to you. You feared what would come of you when he left. The thought of death was too much.

Your white knight was in a forlorn mood tonight, holding you tightly. You rubbed his thigh and consoled Criston, "I have a dragon you know. I shall be fine." He grimaced and rolled over to face you, handsome face twisted with emotions. The marcher asked, "I hope you think me to be good and kind even after this all. Don't let me die in vain."

"Don't talk like that," you chastised, frowning.

He grumbled further, sinking into his foul mindset, barbs upon his tongue. A tense argument broke out between you two. Criston ended it by shoving himself atop you and bursting into tears. He gritted, "I am, fucking hell, reconsidering everything now. I must go on. I must face my reality, we both should. But it...hurts! It fucking hurts! You have to grow up now! I've left you in your pretty gilded cage for too long!"

You blinked in shock, his tears hitting your face. Criston seemed to deflate, apologizing and weeping, "M'just scared, I can't leave you alone, I can't. You're all I need. Oh gods forgive me." This was the side of the marcher you knew few had seen. Vulnerable, real, human. Criston huffed into your neck, his hands digging into your waist.

“You’re not wrong-“

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Whether you did or not, ‘tis true Criston. We must face our fates whether that be now or later. I must prepare my own dragon to defend the city. You must go lead our troops. I can’t sit and weep the rest of my life.”

He gazed with wet eyes, red rimmed and dark lashes clumped. You caressed your knight’s cheek, murmuring, “I want you to have me before you leave. The gods never promise anything.”

A soft noise fell from his swollen lips, Criston readjusting himself between your lax thighs. You thought idly about giving him your tincture with the way the man was shaking. He rasped, “They don’t, not the Stranger. I want to make this…good.” Criston’s lips trembled as he pressed them tenderly to your own, balancing himself on an elbow. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, opening up.

The kiss spoke of the utter fear in the air. Long drags of tongue and sucking of lips, no urgency in the sacred moment. You arched into him, suckling gently on the tip of Criston’s hot tongue. He groaned, hips twitching against yours as he tilted his face some, lips dancing yet insistent. You grabbed some of his dark hair, crying out when he nipped your lip. The man ate up your noises, hands greedily roving your body.

“I love you,” he spoke, voice wobbly.

His lips moved down your jaw and neck, sucking at that sensitive place below your ear.

Criston’s cock had grown flush and heavy between your legs, twitching with need. Your own desire began to drip with slick and pounded with blood flow. You rocked against him with a whine, Criston’s eyes flicked to you with a sly smile as he ground back. You threw your head back in pleasure as he massaged and lapped at your tits, sucking at your tits with desperate noises.

Once again you yanked at his hair and Criston moaned, pausing to take your lips again. He murmured, urgency to his voice, “I’m going to stretch you out blossom, as best as I can, wan’ you to feel good. Feel so good.” The urge to cry bubbled up but you nodded along anyways, spreading your legs like the good princess. His good princess.

Criston hitched one of your thighs up around his waist, the other he held out. The man inhaled at your tender mound, eyes black as the coal on his sigil. You shivered involuntarily at the feeling of those sculpted lips sealing around your pearl, sucking ever so softly. One of your hands slapped down on the bed as you whimpered, thighs tightening. His calloused fingers swiped at your slick cunt, diving in two off the get.

It wasn’t painful— you’d gotten quite used to two fingers from your lover. But he pumped a couple of times before stretching his fingers outwards. That was a new feeling, a bothered whine elicited from the sensation. Criston flicked his tongue a couple of times and that was forgotten as hot licks of pleasure bundled up in your belly.

His ring finger slid in, a new feeling, a bit of a pinch. Criston rambled, “Breathe love, breathe, doing so good for me. The most obedient princess, wanton for her night. I wish you could see how much of a mess you’re already making.” He smiled at your keen of arousal and embarrassment, three fingers stretching your tight walls. He dove back down to flick, suck, lick at your pearl— relentlessly so.

Your hand not trying to rip the bed gripped his short hair, thighs clamping down now. He was abusing your other gifted place, curling his fingers as if to bring your release forward. Wet noises of his hungry mouth and ravenous fingers filled the room. He grunted, hips jerking to a standstill when you whimpered, “So close, closeclose, I love you, oh stars Criston.”

He didn’t cease his movements as you felt goosebumps arise across your hot skin, sweat beginning to bead up as pleasure rose and rose. Your lower stomach was a tight cord, ready to come undone, winding tighter and tighter. All you could do was mewl and squirm, enslaved to his ministrations. You gaped, breath going staccato, whining through your nose.

The coil snapped.

You fell apart in a flurry of shaking limbs, mouth wide open yet not a peep coming out. It was intense and fiery, the flames of carnal delights searing you. Criston moaned softly, “Ah- gorgeous blossom, made a mess all over.” He licked his swollen lips and wet chin, cock beaded and bobbing between trim thighs. You watched in a haze, feelings the subtle burn from his beard brushing your delicate skin. It felt delightful to you— the dull throb.

“Want you, please, want your,” you paused, “Want us to be truly together.”

Criston nodded, hand on his prick, precariously sliding atop your limp form. He slicked up the head of his already weeping member with your own essence, eyes rolling back at the sensation. Criston nuzzled against your face, promising to make you feel good. He seemed to grow more emotional, taking his time with sliding the blunt head around your entrance.

Carefully holding wide shoulders you tried to relax your nervous body, going limp when his cock breached your tight cunt. Criston shivered, pushing forward a bit more, gasping out. “Princess, are you okay? Hm?” Worried brown eyes flitted around as he met your eyes. You nodded in a slow jerk, it was uncomfortable but more foreign than anything. The man pushed in further, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.

There it was, a pinch inside. Your chest went a little tight, nails digging into his shoulders. Criston’s mouth opened but you surged forward to kiss him, thighs and heels urging the man on. You’d never wanted anything else but this, right now. He moaned deep and long, holding himself from going too far. Inch by inch he settled, the pair of you panting into eachother’s mouth. A pregnant pause settled over your connected forms, his eyes upon yours. Brown and plum.

You didn’t have to say it again— it was felt.

Criston gingerly pulled out on a soft whine, pushing himself back into your cunt. Then again. Over and over until he built up a pace, mouth hanging open as he groaned helplessly. The friction was delicious, the pain blending away to fall into deep pleasure. Your nails clawed at his back some, keening your lovers name as he began to fuck you in earnest.

You felt so fucking full and satisfied, Criston’s gorgeous moans urging you to fuck back onto his fat prick. Useless babbles left your lips, “Full, oh, oh you feel s’good.” Criston whined wetly against your neck, feverishly kissing and sucking as he grabbed your hips to get a better angle. His beard rubbed your neck and collarbones raw— another reminder of his love. The marcher’s chest heaved as his hips and balls hit your skin, leaving nothing back as he gave in.

“Godsdammit, hah, sweet blossom, taking your knight so well. Made for me, swear- swear it.”

“All for you.”

He bit down on your neck, thrusting at a breakneck pace. The dark haired knight couldn’t quit from rambling or moaning, eyes scrunched shut as your tight pussy milked him. You squirmed under his heavier body, Criston’s chest hair rubbing against the delicate skin of your breasts, your nipples aching from the friction. Your nails drew deeper scores into his back. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Once again you were at the precipice.

Why did this feel like the last?

Criston whined as his hips stuttered, cock twitching deep inside. His tactful thrusts were mismatched and sloppy, the firmness of his voice chipped away to quavering emotional whimpering. You tightened further, your cunt spasming in waves as you felt the familiar throes burn deep inside. So good it hurt. The pair of you came undone together, sounding like a pair of young lovers squealing and crying. Thick ropes of his cum painted your insides, another shiver crossing your frame.

Would it be so bad if his seed took?

Criston fell down to his side, cock slipping out in a mess of spend and blood. He grabbed onto you tightly, tears slipping down your cheek. Your own tears mingled with his, you absently petting dark hair. He laughed blithely, “I shall bear your wounds proudly, hmph.” You pointed out your neck, agreeing to do the same in case you were needed.

“I’ll pray for you my love.”

“And I you.”

Many winters and summers later, barflies would say you could catch glimpses of a ragged white knight asking where his blossom was, down on some road south of the Gods Eye. The ghost would never know she perished in dragonflame, best that he didn’t, if anyone even knew what the apparition was talking about.

#ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #kingmaker era #heed the tags #targaryen!reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction

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towriteloveontheirarms · 25 days

Text

Smoke session (modern!Criston Cole x Reader)

synopsis: When Criston arrives at your place for a smoke session the two of you don´t know what is about to happen, but one thing is for sure, Neither of you is going to complain about it.

warnings: drug use (smoking weed), smut, pwp basically, mutual masturbation, 69, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v, afab reader

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“My knight in shining armour!” You greet Criston the moment he steps out of his car to walk up the driveway.

On bare feet you tap over the warm stones to wrap your arms around him for a moment before taking the plastic back out of his large hands. Then you pull him into a quick hug, earning a chuckle as he hugs you back.

“Have I ever told you that you are the best?” You giggle as the two of you go back inside.

“You might have mentioned something like that once or twice.” He chuckles, letting his dark eyes rest on you.

“Well, it can't hurt to be told again. Can it? Now come on in. I got everything ready. The only things missing are you and the snacks.” You urge him forward, settling on the couch and spreading out the bags and tubs next to drinks and spoons. Meanwhile Criston lights up the pre rolled goods and starts up the movie. Smoking and watching the TV is interrupted with little bouts of comfortable chatter here and there. While fleeting eyes caught as many glimpses as they could.

The way his lips looked wrapped so securely around the tip and how they formed around the smoke looks too tempting.

When the bud becomes too warm for you, you turn to him.

“You wanna shotgun the rest?” You hold up the bud that has two drags left.

“Sure.” Comes Criston's answer and to your surprise he plugs it from your fingers.

You shift so you can face him on the sofa and watch Criston's chest expand as he takes a deep drag from the joint. Shivering under his touch pulling you closer. Until your lips sealed for you to suck the smoke out of his lungs.

The action makes your face burn just as much as the harsh cough from the burning smoke of the weed in your lungs.

“Shit.” You curse out loud in a hoarse voice, bowing forward and away from him.

The warm palm of a hand rubs soothing circles into your back all the while. Gratefully you accept the bottle of water that you are being handed.

“Are you good?” The dark-haired man asks with a lingering smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I´m fine. Just burns a bit.” You rasp through the unpleasant sensation in your throat.

You are still coughing lightly when you take the next drag from the joint. The two of you had been so close and the feeling of his lips on yours was out of this world. Yet your friendship had never alluded to ever potentially going in that direction. Ever.

You try to concentrate on the movie, but the little plot in it makes it all the harder.

Taking a deep breath, you let your hands slide off your body, to allow them to rest against your sides comfortably, unknowingly touching his thighs as well. Your attention is dead set on the movie that is playing on the tv and Criston´s even breathing beside you. Though it is hard to hear and understand what was going on in the movie. The two of you are quietly enjoying the buzz and the total relaxation it brought along. The silence between you is only broken when your fingers twitch instinctively. As a reaction to the movement against his thigh, Criston lets out a breathy whimper.

For the first time today, you allow yourself to really look at him, committing every last inch of him to your memory. The way the pristine white tank top puts his dark chest hair on display, the way his head is laid back to rest on the sofa as a new joint hangs from his lips. The picture your influenced mind paints is a very different one however. One that has you rubbing your thighs together in search for stimulation unconsciously.

Behind your eyelids there is a picture of Criston in the same position, but his eyes flutter and his whole body trembles. Chest heaving from overwhelming stimulation. Unbeknownst to you his thoughts drift off in a similar direction. The shorts he wears are growing tighter by the minute as his hardening cock twitches in its confines. Even more so when One of your tentative hands creeps up to lay high on his thigh, your thumb rubbing circles into it. One look towards you and he sees you sitting beside him still, eyes on the TV in a blissed-out gaze. Another shuddering breath as your thumb subconsciously pressed down a little. Instead of saying something though, one of his hands reciprocates your touch in kind. Running the length of your thigh and letting the tips of his fingers brush against where you wanted him most at the moment. There is no need for any words, you move your hips closer to his every touch and soon his hand finds its way to the zipper of your shorts, dipping below them into your lace panties easily. Slipping a finger into your wet hole.

You sigh and arch your back as he almost immediately adds a second finger and curls them inside the fluttering cunt. The sensation has his cock stirring in his pants once more, this time against your palm which had found its way up to his crotch. Freeing the hardness from the pants just enough to tease Criston back.

Swiftly you lick your palm and run it along his length. Tugging at it and teasing the sensitive tip with your thumb, earning a deep groan. Criston´s thumb toys with your delicate pearl and you completely let go.

“Oh fuck. Feels so good.” You rasp as your thighs around his hand.

It leaves more space for his thick digits to slip in deeper, reaching deeper. A pleasurable hum is the answer.

“Don't stop.” He groans. “Just like that.”

Criston passes the joint to you and steps up the pace at which he pumps his fingers into you. Just as you tug on his length faster. Neither of you can hold back the heavy breathing and escaping whines and whimpers. This had never happened before, yet there was not a single piece of mind going to that fact.

“I'm close, please…” You whimper.

The joint long forgotten in an ashtray to the side and both of your bodies trembling under the other's hand. Only for it all to suddenly stop and Criston's hand to remove itself from your core.

“I want to taste you first. Please.” Is the needy reaction you get.

Clothes carelessly fly everywhere and before you can even think of getting in any position, Criston lays down on the couch and gently pulls you by the hips until you hover over his face. Hands propped up on his bare thighs, gasping for air as his tongue takes the first taste and his beard tickles your inner thighs for the first time. He laps at your cunt like a starved man, little whines and moans sending small shocks up your spine whenever his lips connect to your dripping centre. A particularly angled swipe of his tongue has you falling to your elbows with a squeak at the intensity of it. So, to ground yourself you begin to place kitten licks to the tip of his weeping cock. Watching it twitch at receiving your attention. Licking your lips, to take it as deep into your throat as possible.

Your throat contracts around the girthy length, struggling to adjust to it. When you get accustomed to the feeling, you begin to bob your head in a pace that loosely matches the pattern of his treatment of your core, using hand to tug at the skin left untouched by your lips and hollowing your cheeks every so often.

“You taste so sweet...” Criston whimpers.

The words make your heart beat faster and your inner walls clench around his tongue as you moan around his thick length. You hollow your cheeks once more and then let him go with a wet pop.

“I need to feel you inside of me. Want you to fill me up.” You finally give in to your desires, letting them lead you.

Your legs tremble and close around his body from the overwhelming pleasure. In the blink of a moment, after you get off Criston and immediately his strong hands grab your hips to lay you on your side in front of him, his chest pressed to your back and one arm sneaking between your legs to hold them open. His heavy cock teases your folds once, twice, thrice before slowly burying himself deep inside your velvety walls. You look over your shoulder and the sight of Criston biting his lip is heavenly, but when the moan he tries to hold back comes out as a deep, animalistic groan you are ready to come then and there. One of your arms comes up for you to tangle your fingers in his dark hair. When Criston pulls out to thrust back into your wetness, it clamps around him, pulling a whine from his lungs as his head comes to lay against your shoulder blades. Open mouthed, wet kisses and hot, heavy breaths hit the skin there, leaving behind goosebumps. Every thrust is angled perfectly to hit all the right spots as Criston ruts into you. Your free hand claws at the cushions and anywhere else on the sofa to process the pleasure that burns through your bodies incredibly high, the flames stoked by the weed you had previously consumed. Now you are consumed by every nerve ending burning, craving his touch, always craving more.

“You feel so good.” Criston groans behind you. “So perfect for me.”

The sounds from him grow louder and more desperate over time and the harmony they make with your own moans drives you closer to the edge.

“Fuck me harder. Please, I want more.” The words fall from your lips without thinking about it.

Your mind is too busy to grab a coherent thought even if you tried anyway. It´s entirely occupied by Criston and the way he makes you feel so incredibly good. It’s something you had dreamed about for a long time and even if neither of you admitted to it, so did he.

Immediately Criston complies with your plea and thrusts into you not only harder but also faster, however when the hand that holds you at the hollow of your knee to keep your legs apart comes down to play with your clit, your back arches away from his chest until it can´t go further. If your legs wouldn´t have still be held open by Criston´s arm, they would surely fall close from how heavily they were trembling. Your orgasm is fast approaching, and he is right behind you, nibbling on the skin right underneath your ear. Giving you barely enough time to breathe between the whimpers he pulls from you. The mindless pleas and praises from Criston have long stopped to register in your brain. Only his voice still goes through, and you want it to never stop. The sweet, lust broken tones of the usually smooth timbre are overwhelming.

His thrusts begin to falter as your walls flutter around him the closer you come to the edge of pleasure; the circles he rubs into your aching clit tighter than before with more pressure. You can´t even warn him of how close you are before you feel yourself begin to fall.

Your body shakes and your cunt contracts around Criston´s cock to pull the most desperate whine from his lungs yet as his thrusts grow even sloppier. His teeth sink ever so slightly into your shoulder and with your hand pulling on his hair, he buries himself into you one last time, filling you up until his cum flows back out of your centre.

“I can´t believe this hasn´t happened earlier.” You giggle when you find your words again. “You are so good.”

“You wanted to do this before?” Criston asks with a raspy voice.

There is no surprise in his question. It is more of a recognition of his own similar desires.

“Hm, I did. Watching you smoke just kind of does it for me I guess.” It was an inexplicable attraction that had pulled you to him during your recent smoke sessions, but for sure one that you are more than just happy to have explored.

His hand rests on your cheek when he turns your face towards him. Inside of you his dick stirs, twitching and rising to life again.

“So, does that mean you are ready for another round?” He asks with a mischievous smirk, already beginning to ease his sensitive cock in and out of you.

“Oh, fuck. Yes.”

#ser criston #ser criston cole #criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston cole x you #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x you #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd modern au #modern house of the dragon au #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic

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