#criston cole imagine

[axelsagewrites]

Can I request Criston Cole x f!reader x Aegon? Where Aegon is just a voyeur and Criston is there to teach him to be patient and not put himself first (when having sex) with Aegon's lady wife (tough love! it was probably an idea Otto or Alicent had to just taunt Aegon some more). And Aegon just sits there looking - ofc - and yapping about Criston not having enough experience to know while reader clearly is enjoying everything that is happening ?

Criston Cole*Test My Devotion

Pairing: Criston x f!reader, Aegon x arranged wife!reader

Word count: 2515

Warnings: technically cheating but not cause Aegon said it was okay, cuck Aegon, f! receiving oral, praise, mentions of religion, possibly a tad blasphemous to the seven, p in v sex, breeding, smut 18+

Masterlist here

The marriage was not a happy one and the whole court knew. Anyone who saw you or Aegon knew it. you both knew it and Criston Cole; well, he certainly knew. While teaching Aegon to spar, which was often just the prince pretending to try swing his sword, he would complain about his wife. Specifically, the events of your marital chambers.

“She just lays there,” Aegon said, his swords tip scrapping the dirt as Criston tried to convince him to at least try this lesson, “Hardly an appealing sight for a husband,”

Criston sighed, tempted to just fling his sword in the river, “Well have you made it appealing for her?”

“What’s not appealing about sex?” Aegon said, dumb founded at the disgruntled knight, “It’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing,”

“Yes, but are you just having sex,” Criston said, lowering his voice even though no one was around, “or are you making love? There is a big difference my prince,”

Aegon snorted making Criston contemplate swinging his sword at his head, “You sound like a village girl. Besides what do you know about any of it?” Aegon said, finally picking up his sword again, “The only girls you please are the seven,”

It was bad enough being mocked by an uptight prince but having to hear in even more detail about the prince’s lack of a sex life from his mother no less just made matters worse. “I just don’t understand,” Alicent said as she paced her chambers, hands on hips, “She’s a woman, he’s a man. It’s not hard to make a child. Even the king could do it,” she muttered, pausing her pacing.

Criston stood even straighter when the queen turned to him, “I’m sure it will happen in time your grace,”

“We don’t have time,” Alicent said as she returned to her pacing, likely wearing down the floorboards, “No boy wants his mother in his bed chambers, but his wife must be. Perhaps if you talk to him, he’d listen to you- “

“Your grace,” he said, an awkward smile playing his face to try hide his sheer embarrassment, “I don’t think I am qualified to help- “

“Hush,” Alicent said, holding her hand out to shush him as he cleared his throat in embarrassment, “He needs guidance,” she said, continuing her pacing, “but he won’t take it from me. Perhaps if you were to talk to him, to show him how it’s done,”

“I think he knows how to do it,” Criston said, clearing his throat yet again like he’d swallowed thick tar, “I think they lack an emotional connection,”

“That was never my strong suit,” Alicent admitted, her pacing finally stopping as she sighed, “Please ser Cole,” she said, turning to him with desperate eyes, “Perhaps if you spoke to them, on their level, you’re about their age. They’ll listen to you. just try, for the sake of the realm,” Alicent plead, “I-We need an heir,”

Criston Cole soon found himself as security at each and every one of the couples’ awkward dinners. On the rare times you allowed Aegon to visit your chambers he was forced to be there two. However, he could see the way you grew bored from Aegon’s touches and how little he wished to be there.

This also however gave him plenty of time to see you, however. Rarely did you speak to him, but he noticed the way your lips curved when you called on him. He noticed the new dresses Aegon did not and the different ways you styled your hair. He may be a man of honour, a knight, a sworn protector of the realm but also you, but even he noticed your looks. How Aegon grew bored of you he could not understand.

One night after dinner Criston escorted the prince and you to your chambers in silence. The door shut and wordlessly you began to unlace your dress while Aegon pulled off his tunic. “Stop,” Criston found himself saying without thought making you both turn to look at him.

Aegon’s eyes were bored but yours were filled of a curious wonder Criston deeply wanted to explore. He approached the prince, lowering his voice but he knew you could hear, “Perhaps my prince you may try a different approach tonight,”

“I know how to have sex with my wife,” a tipsy Aegon protested, “but if you are so sure you can do better, you have my blessing ser,” Aegon said, drunkenly patting his shoulder before sauntering over to a chair to drop into, “I insist. Please dear wife, show this knight what a good time you are,” he said, sarcasm dripping off his voice.

Criston turned to you in time to see the hurt tinging your glazed eyes, but you hide it as quick as it appeared. “I cannot, my prince, it would be a dishonour,”

“More of a dishonour to deny your prince?” Aegon said, his head cocking to the side, “If you and my mother wish to poke around my bed chambers you may as well show me how it is done ser Criston. Show me how a knight does it,” he said.

He knew he shouldn’t let his taunting bother him. After all, Aegon was just a spoiled prince, and he was a knight. He knew better. But the look on your face when he glanced at you made him wonder, “Is this an order my prince?” he finally asked taking even you by slight surprise.

Aegon lent forward in his chair, gesturing for him to continue, “She’s all yours for tonight my good knight. Teach me how to make an heir,” he said as he slumped back to his seat.

Criston cleared his throat before awkwardly looking to you. he glanced at his prince before stepping closer to you. “My princess,” he said, his voice low, “I do not wish to dishonour you. I only wish to help,” he said, his cheeks tinging pink.

This time it was you who cleared your throat, stepping closer so your chest brushed against his making his blush deepen, “Perhaps my husband could do with some lessons,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as your eyes slowly trailed up to meet his.

“May I kiss you?” he asked softly, waiting for your nod of approval before slowly leaning down, his lips softly colliding with yours. his lips were soft and slow and tender unlike Aegon’s chapped careless ones.

You leaned into his touch when his hand moved to rest on your hips, holding you gently in place as if he was afraid you would disappear. Your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping his strong shoulders over his tunic.

Aegon who had looked bored up till now almost perked up in his chair when he saw the way Criston’s hands slipped to the small of your back, pressing your body into his firm chest. “You are a gift from the gods themselves,” Criston mumbled against your lips, staring at you have drunk from the kiss.

“Such comparisons are surely blasphemous my dear knight,” you said, your hand moving to brush against his cheek.

He instinctively leaned into your touch, “No, no, my princess,” he said, turning his head so he could kiss your palm gently, “For I think they sent you to me. As a test,”

“And what kind of test would that be?” you enquired, and Criston studied the way confusion mapped your face.

Slowly he stepped forward, leading you towards the marital bed you usually dreaded but now not so much. “To test my devotion,” he said as the backs of your legs hit the bed frame softly, “and so I can prove my worship for them,”

“Perhaps its not a test at all,” you said quietly, leaning up to kiss his jaw. Creston’s breath caught in his throat at your sudden forwardness, his fingers slowly slipping up to the ties of your dress, “Perhaps they sent me as a reward,”

“No,” he said, clearing his throat as his fingers played with the ties of your dress, desperate to unlace it or tear away the fabric, “I have done nothing to deserve such a grand reward. I must earn it princess. We should not take what we do not deserve,” his words made you smile lightly. Aegon had never earned your affection, but Criston was determined to prove himself.

“Then earn it dear knight,” you whispered, kissing his lips softly, “Show the gods how much I mean to you,”

Your words sent his honour over the edge and soon your dress had pooled around your ankles. Your hands went to reach for the straps of his armour, but his hands covered yours, stopping your movements as he kissed you gently. “Lay down princess,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your face and making you flush.

You did as you were told, not even sparing a glance to where Aegon sat watching mesmerised by the whole scene. Criston made quick work of his armour, discarding the steel at the side of the bed. Once he was down to an undershirt and under trousers he kneeled at the foot of the bed, his eyes scanning your bodies hungrily.

“You can tell me to stop,” Criston said, his hands trailing slowly up your legs as he moved closer to your body, “It won’t offend me princess,”

“I want this,” you whispered, your eyes glued to his movements while his were glued to your body. “I want you my knight,”

My knight. The words made his eyes snap up, looking into yours making your breathing pause for a moment while your heart fluttered. You were too distracted to even notice him moving to kiss your inner thigh.

You gasped lightly, not expecting his soft trails of kisses up your inner thigh, “What are you doing?” you asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion but not wanting him to stop.

“Has your husband never done this for you?” he asked, his hot breath fanning over your wet cunt making you almost moan already. When you shook your head no Criston tutted, “No wonder he’s had no success. He has failed his husbandly duties. Let me show you princess, how an honourable man treats a wife,”

Your eyes glanced to your husband before back to the man you really wanted, “Yes,” you whispered, your body already on fire with anticipation, “Show me,”

Criston started by placing a soft kiss to your clit making you whine lightly. “You can grip my hair,” he said, glancing up at you, “if it helps,” he added and for a moment you considered saying no until he placed another soft kiss to your nerves and suddenly you were tugging his soft dark hair.

Slowly he began to increase his speed, his tongue being added to the mix as he massaged your clit with his mouth. You couldn’t help the moans as your legs were placed over his shoulders and his arms gripped your legs to keep you in place.

Not once had this tightening feeling happened when Aegon had bedded you but suddenly it was like your body was alight. You gasped loudly when you felt his tongue dive into your hole, curling in all the right places. He moved his head till his nose began to nuzzle your clit and your grip of his hair tightened. “Don’t stop,” you begged, over and over in an almost whisper like a prayer.

He had no intentions too especially when your grip tightened. He could feel his own member harden but it was too soon for that. This was more important. Spurred on by the moans and pretty whines Criston replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them in and out as he thrust. Meanwhile his mouth moved up, his lips wrapping around your sensitive clit making your whole-body twitch.

It didn’t take long for a new feeling to wash over your body as your legs twitched around his head. Criston’s movements slowed but they did not stop until he felt your body grow limp. When he came up for air he saw you, eyes dazed as you panted like you’d seen the gods. You lazily looked down at him, offering him a hand as if you could pull him up.

Criston took your hand, kissing the back of it as he moved to lay over your body. He brushed the hair out of your face, kissing the top of your head, “Princess, are you okay?”

“I am better than okay sweet knight,” you said, already breathless but your legs were instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Please do not leave me yet,” you said, pulling his waist down till his hard on was pressing into your cunt.

Criston closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to steady himself, “Are you sure princess?” he finally asked, opening his eyes to gaze into yours, “For I fear, as honourable as I try, I won’t be able to stop if this is just to test me,”

“This is not a test,” you said, your hands moving to cup his face, “I need you, my knight. I need to feel you,”

He couldn’t wait anymore but he tried to be patient as he lined up his painfully hard cock with your hole. Slowly he began to push the tip in, and he almost came just from the way you gasped as he pushed in.

You whined as he sunk in further, desperate for more but already feeling stretched out. When he’d sunk fully in you brought his lips to yours, kissing them desperately as your hips bucked for friction. He was glad to grant it.

His thrusts were slow and deep at first but as your nails sunk into his back, your mouth agape and your eyes screwed shut, they began to speed up. He slipped his hand between your body, rubbing sloppy fast circles onto your clit as his pace increased.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper as the headboard began to slam against the wall. Your head twisted to the side, your eyes opening to see a silent Aegon sat on his seat, his hand down his own trousers. Your attention was brought back to your knight when you heard curses mumbled from his soft lips.

“I can’t,” he gasped, his thrusts becoming messy, “I’m going to- “he stammered but your grip around him tightened. He groaned when he felt the way your cunt clenched around him.

“Please,” you gasped, feeling another peak close by and threatening to spill, “don’t stop Criston, please,” you moaned, before your own orgasm washed over you as your nails raked down his back leaving red scratches.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his body tensing as he finally let himself go. With only a couple more thrusts you felt Criston finish inside you, his forehead pressed against yours as he tried to recover from the earth-shattering experience.

Once he finally caught his breath he sat up, glancing to where Aegon sat just two feet away, “That my prince, is how you fuck your wife,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Exhibitionism, infidelity, Aegon’s a dick in this one but it’s bc he’s Insecure, voyeur-ish, oral f!receiving, Criston Lives To Serve Women, one-sided feelings, doggy-style, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms, it Appears Mr. Cole is being Used but nah she wants to crawl inside his armor, BI AEGON RIGHTS!!!!

A/N: This was alternately labeled ‘Mr. Criston dicks down’

Criston dragged Aegon’s limp form into the bed, carelessly throwing the stinking wretch into the fine bedding. Once again picked up from a night out, the knight had received a tip from a gold cloak that your idiot husband was getting fucked with the curtains opened, the blonde’s loud moans and pink prick on display for all to see on the Street of Silk.

Aegon mumbled and rolled on his side, covering his face with a pillow, snoring within seconds. You could still see the slick stains on the seat of his ass and frowned. He’d take cocks before he drank enough to take you. You held your arms around your robed waist and murmured, “Thank you Ser.” You couldn’t bear laying back down beside him. Misery wafted off you in waves.

Criston remained silent, presence looming, warm leather sliding along the bared crook of your neck. The brunette thumbed at the rigid muscles at the base of your skull— always drawn tight. You feebly moaned, falling back into his intimate embrace. His other hand possessively splayed across your waist to your stomach, fingertips tightening just-so.

The knight murmured, “He’s so much easier like this. I can feel you relaxing already.”

Your shoulders were unbearably tense. Criston moved his other hand to clamp down on your tender muscles. It was a pleasant feeling, warm pressure aided by softened leather. His familiar scent engulfed you, the man nosing at your hair and inhaling.

Lulled from your lover’s warm hands and presence you whispered, “He dishonors me. My entire family.” Criston dug the heels of his palms into your muscles, earning another helpless moan. The knight growled, “I know sweetling. I know”, his grip tightened, “I thought about leaving the sot and taking you in this bed all night. He’s like a poison vine, crawling atop everything, leaving it’s mark.”

You turned up to look at Criston’s thinned lips, thick brows furrowed and dark eyes boring into Aegon. You reached up to caress a stubbled cheek, soften his raging frustrations. He let out a deep breath, the leather vice on your body loosening.

Cautiously you turned further, now facing your dear knight. He looked upset still, swearing, “He has no shame. No cares. Fucking fool, as much as I cared and loved for the boy.” Now your smaller hands held his tanned face, catching those dark orbs, immediately softening upon your gaze.

“Do not fret Criston, you’ve eased the burn, burdened what you did not have to. I’m blessed to have you in my arms.

The brunette swallowed thickly, emotions welling. He croaked, “I’d never not stand against who dishonors the future queen. All of those limping lordlings can attest to that. I’m blessed further to have you, Princess. I’ll take your burdens until I leave this world.”

He leant down to take your lips, gentle and kind. Your palms snuck up into his pretty curls, lightly tugging and scratching his scalp. Criston sighed against your breath, tongues dancing in an experienced form. His big hands made slow circles from your waist, hips, to ass. The white knight kneaded at the softer flesh, groaning your name.

Only the sound of Aegon’s drunken snoring intertwined with your heightening breath and soft sighs of pleasure. You asked against his moist lips, eyes fervent, “Take me, I need you love.” Dark brown sought your own, Criston’s eyes moving to and fro. He eyed the defiled Aegon and nodded briskly.

“If he awakes, this could go very wrong my princess,” he murmured with a worried gaze.

“If he awakes I hope he feels dishonored as I have been. He’d probably think it was a dream.”

The blonde actually had no clue. He was too self-absorbed, laughed off the japes about the white knight over his wife, under the bed. Aegon would laugh, “I think the sot still burns over my cunt sister, how tragic. The bastards might’ve been his.” He’d eye you, lips pouting, body stiff, “Afraid you and the ‘Realms Delight’ have little in common. I think he likes a little fire.”

Criston physically flipped you out of the horrid memory. Your upper body was pinned to the bed, eyes gazing up at those bite-swollen lips and messy white hair. You wanted him to hurt, just as you and your lover had. Turning your head to face the Dornishman you undid the robe and lay bare to his gaze now, always undone by the look of reverence.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful, let me have a taste first? Please princess?,” he begged, eyes shiny and wide, desperation pitching his voice. You nodded assent, mouth falling open as his perfect lips kissed your rapidly swelling cunt. He moaned into you, gloves carelessly tossed by now, calloused fingers brushing your soft skin.

He gripped at your thighs while lapping up to that precious bundle, stubble scraping against delicate skin. You writhed backwards, crying out softly and grabbing a handful of thick curls. “C-Criston, oh, ha!”

He’d slipped two big fingers inside a now-weeping cunt, wet mouth suckling at your button. The man had to hold a hip to keep you down, shaking apart at the seams. You were whimpering and yanking at his hair, cunny shivering and twitching around Criston’s crooked fingers— lazily beckoning your orgasm to make its way down.

He shoved a third finger in and flicked the hood of your bud, once, twice, then in rapid succession with an expert tongue. Now you didn’t even hold back the wail, finishing messily on your lover’s face. He groaned and lapped, purring little praises, big hands still kneading trembling flesh. You wanted more, now, let your dear Criston consume you.

He huffed a laugh when you slowly hiked a leg up, then another, exposing your puffy core to him. Criston breathed against your skin, a lilt to his tone, “Are you needy sweetling? Need my cock while your fool husband is sleeping in the same bed?” He snickered while getting up to loosen his breeches and some outer armor.

“I wonder if he’s even moved? I had a better view than you, my princess.”

You sneered over your shoulder, “Lucky you, hm?”

Criston grinned as he eased one knee onto the bed, hand guiding his heavy cock forward. You whined again, the blunt tip practically a tease. Reaching backwards with a grunt you pulled his hips flush to your ass. There was a dull slap, your cry of ecstasy, Criston’s winded ‘fuck!’

He smacked your ass and growled, “Not needy, ravenous,” he pressed his warm body to your back, “absolutely ravenous.” You nodded in jerks, skin erupting into a sweat, goosebumps up and down your bared skin. Criston’s sculpted lips kissed and mouthed against your nape, winding your hair around his left hand.

You stuttered weakly, “C-come on my l-love, s’full.”

He grinned against your skin, shoving his lean hips forward. The knight murmured in a teasing lilt, “Mhm dove? Feel how much I desire you? How you drive me insane? I’ll ruin you for any other— including that one.”

He punctuated the end of the sentence with a pointed thrust, jerking your head upwards to stare at Aegon’s puffy face. He was still out, twitching a bit. You mewled, “You already have, take me- take me!” Keeping tanned skin plastered to your own, he fucked you rough and quick.

You had no time to adjust— grunts and cries forced out by his ever-moving cock. The brunette’s right hand held your waist, crooking your back for a better angle. He still had your head facing Aegon, gloating in the debauchery in front of your husband’s face.

You bucked back onto the familiar girth, whining your white knight’s name. He didn’t let up, abusing your already sensitive cunt. Although still were a bit tender from earlier, the burn was exquisite. Your hands wrenched in the bedspread were ordered by your lover to grope at your tits, play around with an overused clit.

He panted into your ear, “Such a good sweetling, s-sucking me in, keep it up.”

You turned to meet his lips, sloppily mashing your mouth against his. Criston whined deep in in his chest, opening up to drag his tongue across yours. It was a messy affair, the pair of you too busy chanting litanies of sweet names between swears. His hips began to drag into disjointed little grinds, Criston’s pretty eyes scrunching tight.

He begged against your drooling lips, “C’mon- haaah- c’mon.” He helplessly gasped and jerked into your tightening cunt. You nodded, eyes lidded and hazy, promising, “I’m right there, oh my love, my sweetheart.” Reaching up to caress his stubbled cheek you looked forward. Criston was whining softly against your face with his eyes closed and mouth agape, so lovely, the picture of erotic pleasure.

Aegon’s violet eyes were a different story. They were open in shock, staring dead on. His plush lips opened, closed, opened— gaping like a fish. At that moment Criston struck gold and you seized with a high cry, wailing your lover’s name. The orgasm that hit you was extra sweet layered with self-satisfaction.

Criston stuttered, “O-oh gods, gods, fuckyesyesyes, I’m coming for you, yes!” He shoved his face into the crook of your neck, pretty nose mashed into your skin as he moaned long and whorish. You gasped, grinning, cooing, “That’s it my love, fill me up, yes, good boy.”

Aegon’s plush lips wobbled, his face blotchy with something. Did he really expect you to cry and wait for his attention all this time? The knight beside and inside you came to, lashes fluttering. He laughed, “You’re dreaming princeling, go back to sleep.”

The blonde croaked, “But she’s mine.” He was dumbfounded, still drunk out of his mind. Tears gathered in those Valyrian eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle at Criston’s ploy. Purring with satisfaction you added, “Roll over fool, you’ll wake up with a pounding head and a wife that doesn’t fuck your Kingsguard. Although she dreams of it.”

Aegon looked lost and sad but did so, rolling over and away from you two. Criston laid a possessive peck on your cheekbone, snickering, “Didn’t think he’d get all weepy about it.” You shrugged and replied, “Good. If he wasn’t such a brat I wouldn’t play this off. Need you too much.”

The brunette grinned easily, nosing against you. He rasped, “True. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up dove.” He slid out with a hiss and the pair of you got quickly dressed— lest Aegon awaken again. You sent off the sweet knight with one more kiss, him escorting you to your separate chambers for the night. You wouldn’t sleep next to the drunk sot.

“Would you fuck Cole if you had the chance?,” Aegon asked abruptly during breakfast. It was just the two of you, the prince requesting a private audience. You raised a brow while nibbling on cheese, humming, “Why would you ask that? I’m sworn to you.”

He frowned, sagging into his chair, eyes rimmed and red. He muttered, “Had a strange dream, you were fucking Cole in our bed last night.” You laughed, a sudden burst. The prince hissed, “It wasn’t a joke, nor very pleasant. He’s a dumb dog, loyal to whoever throws a bone.”

You replied, “He’s merely chivalrous. Pretty face. Shame he’s common-born.” Aegon scoffed, biting into his meal.

“You’ll have no one but me,” he stated.

“Of course, husband dearest. You do love to remind me of that,” you said absently.

Aegon leveled you with a look, an attempt to intimidate. All you saw was fear. The prince’s crippling fear of being alone. Oh. It felt so good. You hoped next time he doesn’t fully wake up.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

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.

[ladystarksneedle]

Headcanon for the day

Helaena decides to gift Criston a small handkerchief for his upcoming nameday after finding out he doesn't really like to celebrate. She embroiders a little ladybird on it, signifying his house surrounded by five green leaves, four for her and her brothers with the largest for her mother, Alicent.

[frost-queen]

The fall of a knight (Reader!Targaryen x Sir Criston Cole)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve  , @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly   @denkisclown, @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23  , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampthing07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat   , @rosecentury  ,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn  , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Summary: Reader dislikes Criston from how he acts towards your sister Rhaenyra. Constantly fighting with him and being sassy, till it starts attracting him. Years pass as Criston's attraction for you only grows. You still act the same towards him, not much changed over the years. When another starts flirting with you, it brings a bad jealousy over to Criston, taking you as his even though he can't have you. [R! has purple eyes just like in the books]

It was way too late when you got a sudden idea. The scenery taunting your dreams as it woke you up. Your thirst for knowledge needing to be lessened. Throwing the covers off you, you got out of bed, putting on your slippers. Your heritage of the Targaryen bloodline interesting you so much. Surely since you were the only Targaryen with lavender eyes. You had always wondered how it came.

Slightly opening the door to your chamber, you stuck your head out and peeked around. Seeing if there was anyone in the corridor.  Not being able to wait till morning, you just needed to get to the family library that withheld all of the Targaryen history. Perhaps there you might find answers to your questions. Perhaps there had been another with lavender eyes? Taking your chance, you ran out of your room, running through the corridors.

Sir Criston Cole was standing guard before your sister’s room. Making sure no one would disturb her sleep or come and harm her. Sir Criston furrowed his brows hearing rushed footsteps. Turning his head he saw you ran around the corner fast, making him tilt his head. It took him a few seconds before placing his hand on the top of his sword, coming to run after you. – “Princess!” – he said in a hushed tone to not alarm any others.

Clenching his jaw, he quickened up his pace. Sir Criston caught up with you, grabbing you to a stop. – “What are you doing out of bed?” – he questioned with a scolding voice. You were panting a bit, catching your breath. – “I need…I need to go to the library.” – you told him seeing his face change to anger. – “It’s the middle of the night!” – he shout-whispered to you.

“It can’t wait.” – you replied brushing his hand off you. Sir Criston took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. You crossed your arms, quirking your eyebrow up. – “Shouldn’t you be protecting my sister?” – you asked him. – “You need to be in bed!” – he countered crossing his arms as well.

 “Have you left her unattended?” – quirking your brow even more, just to taunt him. – “No.” – he groaned out. – “I don’t need saving. I’ll be quick.” – you said already turning round to head to the library as Sir Criston kept you in place by holding your wrist. Turning you back to him. – “Bed is where you are heading!” – he made clear, pulling you along with him.

You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but it was no use. Sir Criston led you back to your room, shoving you inside. – “Don’t get any funny idea’s princess!” – he scolded closing the door before him. You groaned annoyed. You hated that he had seen you. The thirst for knowledge still vivid. Unlike your sister, who was rather carefree, you were not.

You found her ignorant of her surroundings. She couldn’t even name any battle formations right. Rather spend her time with Alicent than prepare herself properly for her future on the iron throne. Kneeling down, you tried to look through the keyhole. You couldn’t see clearly, so you hoped Sir Criston Cole had left to guard your sister’s door once more. Taking the handle in your hand, you slowly opened the door, still crouched down. – “Going somewhere?” – Sir Criston commented, looking over his shoulder down to you.

A smirk on his lips. – “I hate you.” – you breathed out. Sir Criston positioned himself better in your view taking a dramatic bow at you. – “I’ll be here all night.” – he mocked just to taunt you more. Annoyed you shut the door again. He surely wasn’t going to let you pass now with him guarding your door. Pacing around, you hoped perhaps he’d fall asleep. Which was unlikely. The hours past as you felt yourself get exhausted. Eventually falling asleep sitting down, with your head down on the table.

The next day, your sister, Alicent and you were at the white tree. Rhaenyra and Alicent sitting down and gossiping. You sitting at the other end, as far away from them. You lifted your head up from your book, feeling a presence come from behind you. – “Had a good night rest?” – looking up, you saw Sir Criston Cole standing behind you. Making you roll your eyes at him. – “Should you not be watching my sister.” – you let out, focusing on your book once more. – “I am.” – he answered, still looking back at your sister.

“That the book you so desperately needed to read in the middle of the night?” – he teased with a smirk. His comment made you shut your book tight. – “Mockery, how elegant.” – you responded with a sneer while getting up. Giving him a sarcastic smile. Sir Criston Cole gave you a sarcastic smile back. – “Sir Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. He lifted his head up to her, seeing her wave him over. Sir Criston jogged over to your sister to answer her plead. – “Jaos” dog you mumbled under your breath.

Sitting annoyed down, you watched how Rhaenyra wrapped him around her finger. Him doing all her bidding. Having enough, you got up, taking your leave. There was no room for you anyways. The three of them so caught up with each other, they hardly noticed you taking your leave. You made your way around the castle, ending up at the fighting court.

Soldiers practising as you stopped and stared. Observed their movement. Watched it with the upmost attention. Taking notice of their footwork. The way their muscles worked whilst handling the sword. It made you move your own foot to match their stand. Trying to get the right distance between your feet for a steady stand. Sir Criston found his way on the fighting court, seeing you watch the soldiers practise.

He got in motion heading over to you. Pausing briefly he noticed you swiping your feet over the ground setting it in a position. Making him furrow his brows. He then eyed the soldiers, making a link with what you were doing. Sir Criston made his way across towards you.

 “Found you!” – he said coming to be at your side. – “I didn’t need finding.” – you replied stoking some folds off your skirt. – “You left unattended.” – he answered making it clear to you. It made you scoff loud. – “You must’ve gotten an honour for observance.” – you mocked turning your head away from you. Criston grabbed you by your elbow a bit rudely. Turning you back to him.

“You do not leave unattended!” – he made clear, raising his voice a bit. – “Scared I’ll run?” – you replied with a teasing smile. – “Did I make myself clear?” – Criston called out pulling at your arm once more. You stared right back at him with your intriguing lavender eyes.

“Sir Criston, am I royalty?” – you asked him. – “Of course.” – he answered mesmerized by your gaze. – “Then stop bossing me around.” – you made clear giving him a little shove. Walking off, Criston kept staring at you. As you slowly started to attract him. Making him curl up a shy smile.

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Sir Criston Cole entered the room, having searched everywhere for you. With a sigh of relief, he was glad to finally have found you. Asleep that was. With your head down on the table, a book underneath it. He approached you, nudging your shoulder to wake you. – “Princess.” – he said. – “Princess… Y/n wake up.” – he started to nudge you harder. – “Wake up Y/n.” – he said a bit louder.

You shot awake, hand shooting out as it him right in his nose. Criston groaned in pain, stumbling back. You got up apologizing. – “Oh sorry I thought you were someone else.” – you said until you could clearly see it was Criston. – “Oh it’s you, well that’s alright than.” – you continued with sass. Criston glared at you for the perhaps deliberate punch to the nose. Stretching out, you got up.

You saw him still cover up his nose, recovering from your little stomp. – “Oh please.” – you called out with a roll of your eyes. – “You hit me in the nose!” – Criston answered loudly. – “You’re a knight.” – you mocked that he should be used to it. Criston glared your way, as your attitude hadn’t changed over the years. – “The tournament, Y/n.” – Criston said changing the subject.

“Right.” – you answered with a sigh. Criston came by your side, walking out with you. – “Aren’t you participating this year Criston?” – you asked not with the intention to be curious. – “Yes.” – he answered. – “Then you’ll get used being hit in the nose.” – you teased with a laugh. Criston laughed mockingly loud to make clear your joke wasn’t even funny.

Getting outside, you let Criston guide you to the box. Rhaenyra already sitting down. – “Criston!” – she called out, waving her handkerchief around. She threw it at him as it fell down in the dirt at his feet. He bend down to pick it up as you left his side, coming to sit by your sister.

When Criston looked back up, he was surprised to see you gone. Looking up at the seats, he saw you sit by your sister. Criston took his leave to prepare. Rhaenyra and you were chatting a bit till the tournament began. You watched several men joist. Not nearly as amusing as you liked it to be.

Then came the one on one combat. There were two men fighting as Sir Criston and another were up next. – “Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. Criston neared the box you sat, looking up as his gaze fixated on you. The other contender joined his side, looking over at you as well. – “Y/n Targaryen!” – he called out making Criston look at him. – “May I receive your blessings? A kiss from you will still my beating heart and give me strength enough to win this tournament for you.” – he said moving his hand out to you.

Rhaenyra tapped your knee enthusiastically at the attention you were getting. Criston clenched his jaw with tension. Clenching his hand into a fist. – “Fairest Targaryen, may I drown in your lavender eyes and hold your tender hands in his. This battle shall be in devotion to you.” – he continued as you stared in shock at him. – “Go on give him a kiss.” – Rhaenyra teased, pushing you to do so.

She practically shoved you out of your seat. Sighing loud, you knew she wouldn’t stop pestering you about it. You got up, making your way down to the edge of the box. Sir Criston staring hard at you, eyes widening at what you were about to do.

You tapped your finger against your cheek to let the knight know what to do. The knight turned his cheek towards you. You grabbed a hold of the frame in front of you, leaning closer to give the knight a kiss on the cheek. Sir Criston staring at it with disgust and jealousy. Rhaenyra cheered loudly from her seat, getting up to clap. You felt a bit foolish as the knight pressed his hand against his cheek.

Your gaze fell upon Criston, seeing how angered he was. Clearly fighting off demons inside of him. A battle you weren’t sure which side would win. A horn got blown as it announced the start of the next battle. You returned to your seat watching the next round. Sir Criston and the other knight you had given a kiss on the cheek.

Sir Criston sniffed loud, looking up to the seating where you sat. Smiling a bit that you dared to taunt him so much with this. With showing affection to anyone. The knight readied himself as Criston drew his sword. He called it out, running up to the man to let out all his anger and jealousy out. He was brutal and hard. Hardly leaving the knight room to breathe.

Rhaenyra stared in shock at him. Criston kept slashing his sword down on the knight’s shield. He lost balance, falling down as Criston got on him. Punching him a few times, making sure to hit the cheek you kissed. Wanting to wipe your sweet lips off him. Criston was a savage, rampaging. He wasn’t going to stop till there was death. – “Criston!” – you shouted loud, seeing that the knight below was barely giving any reaction.

“Enough!” – you made clear wanting him to stop. Criston stopped, his knuckles full with blood as it hovered over the knight’s face. The knight sputtered out some blood as Criston got off him. Claiming his victory. Having enough of this manly show-off, you got up, leaving the seats. Criston cleaned his hand, noticing you take your leave.

Without another thought, he went after you, going away from the tournament. – “Y/n!” – he called out catching up with you. He grabbed you by your shoulder, turning you to him to push you up against a tree. When your back hit the bark, you let out a gasp.

“Don’t do this to me Y/n.” – he spoke keeping his hands on your waist. – “Do what.” – you teased him making him smirk. – “Kiss another man in front of me.” – he replied grabbing you forcefully by your chin. Tilting your head a bit back as he stared firm at your eyes. It made you weak on your knees by the way he was staring hungrily at you. Criston took a step closer to you, nearing you more.

He let his thumb go down your lip, parting your lips by pressing on your under lip. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest as your cheeks flushed with heat. – “Criston…” – you whispered as he tilted your chin aside, kissing your jawline. His touch send a warmth over you like a tidal wave. He went down, kissing you in your neck. 

It made you wrap your arms around him, scratching faintly his back. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted anyways. He wanted you to be his. So he simply claimed you as his even though he wasn’t allowed. Criston’s gaze met up with yours, staring fiercely back at you.

Then he smacked his lips on yours. Kissing you roughly. He immediately felt you kiss him back, diving with him into the intimacy. Criston started kissing you harder, quicker. Panting with each grasp for breath between kisses. For you were his, and his alone.

--------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[thesithdiaries]

One-Sided Love (part 2) (Criston Cole imagine)

One-Sided Love (part 2) (Criston Cole imagine)

Pairing: Criston Cole x female!reader

Requested: no

Warnings: this is yandere behavior im sorry, pregnancy cause being in westeros means you had to pop out those babies quickly, angst, delusions, spoilers for episode 6, criston being a complete creep, like joe from you creep

Part 1

-

The past ten years were eventful in the Red Keep. The King now had three children with Alicent Hightower and Princess Rhaenyra and Lord Laenor Velaryon also had three children, of suspicious paternity.

After the wedding feast, Criston became Queen Alicent’s sworn shield and a close companion. That was also the last day he ever heard of Y/N.

She did not return to King’s Landing. The only thing he is aware of is that she often visits Driftmark and Dragonstone, but nothing else. Nobody around him speaks about her, and if they do, they wait until he is not present. King Viserys and Rhaenyra often write to her but he also never read those letters. 

His love and fixation for her never faded, it only grew more potent thanks to so much longing on his part. He truly missed her presence and companionship. He always wished that he had done more, and fought for the women he desired the most even after all of those years apart. He spent his nights wondering if the thought of him ever crossed her mind if she had missed him as well.

Criston was guarding the door of Alicent’s bedchamber during the night when he heard noises. His hand immediately reached for his sword.

As the sounds grew closer, it was easier to identify. Children laughing and the soft pitter-patter of their feet. He was more confused, the only young child in the castle at the moment was Rhaenyra’s third son. The following sight almost made him faint.

Three children, all boys. Their hair was dark and all of them had a small streak of silver hair, sort of like a birthmark. They kept smiling while looking down the corridor.

Her. Criston’s blood ran cold at the sight of Y/N. She was still as beautiful as the last day he saw her. 

“Mother, hurry. We want to see our cousins,” the older boy rushed causing her to laugh. 

Mother? Oh. Oh, gods. Those are her children. Criston could not stop staring. That was when he noticed she was pregnant. Another child?

The smallest one pulls her skirt softly to get her attention. She immediately placed him on her hip. The little boy looked tired as he rubbed his eyes but it was clear he did not want to miss the excitement. The other two walked side by side with their mother.

Criston felt chills through his body as they made their way toward him. My beautiful wife and my boys. It was such a dull day without them but none of that mattered now. Y/N looked precious, the way the boys talked to her made his heart beat faster. All of them looked just as beautiful as her, they shared all of her features. He smiled thinking about the next babe, hoping it looked like him with dark hair and similar “dornish features”. His body started making its way towards her, not being able to contain the happiness he fel-

“Y/N! Wait for me, love!” A man’s voice made him snap out of his fantasy. As he refocused, he saw Jon Arryn, the man he hated the most. “You were right next to me. How did you get here so quickly?”

“Your sons would not stop rushing me,” she tattled while giggling.

“That is not true, father,” the middle child said with a laugh. “We would never.”

They all walked down the corridor, turning in front of Ser Criston to go somewhere else. He wanted to greet Y/N, but his voice failed him. His hopes were slightly crushed. She did not even look at him as she walked by.

That night, the hours moved slowly. The only way Criston spent that time was dreaming about Y/N and the children. If only he had taken her with him to Braavos, those could be his kids. He could've gotten them a beautiful home. Y/N would have stayed with the children while he worked because he wanted to provide for his family and make sure they were taken care of. 

-

Criston was walking towards the small council room when he saw Y/N, this time speaking with a maid. He hid behind a pillar to listen to their conversation.

“Lady Y/N, how wonderful it is to see you again.” The maid gushed excitedly. “I saw your children, they look just like you.”

“Thank you for that,” Y/N laughed softly. “Jon never lets me forget it.”

“What are their names?” Yes, tell her the names.

“Rhaen is the oldest, his tenth nameday is coming soon. Next is Silas, who is six and the little one is Aemmet, who is four.”

“And the babe? Is it nearly time?”

“I believe so. Our maester said I had until the next full moon but I believe it will be before that. The babe is moving too much.”

Criston left after hearing this information. He wanted to scream in frustration. The oldest is almost ten. That means… that means she let Jon put a baby in her right after she left for the Vale all those years ago. She gave him all these kids and now she was waiting for another one.

-

Criston had been charged with training all the princes. Of course, it was sort of an annoying task but it was better than doing nothing.

Harwin Strong was always there supervising and getting too invested in it. He was painfully obvious, not even bothering to hide the affection for his bastards. 

It was not a normal day. Y/N’s sons decided to join. They had a close bond with Harwin, Jace, and Luke and wanted to be with them. They were courteous toward Aegon and Aemond but did not bother to include them in their play or conversations.

Criston was nervous and decided to let the boys do what they wanted. He did not know how to treat Y/N’s sons. He feared that if he pushed them around or trained them too harshly, she would be mad.

Since Aemmet was the smallest, he could not participate. From what Criston heard, he was offered to stay with his parents but refused, saying he wanted to spend time with his cousins. 

“Momma!” The little boy exclaimed, running towards her, Harwin following close behind.

Oh, gods. She looks beautiful.

“Hello, my love,” she greeted him. The boy hugged her legs as she ruffled his hair. “I hope this one is behaving,” she told Harwin.

“He's a good lad, no trouble at all,” Harwin promised her. 

Criston felt jealousy as he watched them talking quietly amongst themselves. That should be him talking to her, not some brute with no manners. The hate he had for Harwin grew bigger by the second. 

The time seemed like it was not moving for him. The children were having a nice time, although Aegon and Aemond were not with the others. A whimper was heard throughout the yard, making everyone stop.

Y/N eyes were squeezed shut as she held onto Harwin for support. Her other hand pressed tightly on a side of her stomach. Criston wanted to sprint towards her, to ask her what was wrong and how he could help. Unfortunately, he could not do that.

“Mother, are you alright? Should I go find father? Is it time?” Rhaen asked her as fear crossed his face.

Y/N let out a breath, shaking her head. “No, there's no need to call him.” She motioned them to come closer, “the babe is moving.”

“Really?” Silas gasped, almost running toward his mother. Y/N placed his small hand on her stomach and smiled at his expression. “It is true!” 

Rhaen felt glad that it was just a scare. He remembered being very attentive to her during the other pregnancies. Aemmet shyly lifted his hand to touch as well, he giggled at the strange feeling. Aegon and Aemond stared in curiosity from afar. “Come here, boys. You can feel as well,” she encouraged them. Harwin looked at her in awe, remembering when he felt his own sons kicking.

Our babe is moving. Y/N is so wonderful. She is carrying the product of our love. I cannot wait to mee-

Criston shook his head at those thoughts. All the boys were talking amongst themselves, sharing stories about their own mothers when they were with child. Harwin escorted Y/N back inside the castle, probably to her bedchamber. The children follow close behind, leaving Criston by himself.

-

Cristin wanted to speak with her. They had not crossed paths alone and he was dying to explain why he did what he did during the wedding feast.

After finishing his duties with the queen, Harwin went to his assigned chambers and removed his armor. He needed to be quiet as he did not want to draw attract any unnecessary attention to himself.

Y/N was staying in her old bedchamber, the same one she had ten years ago. In reality, nobody slept there during that time. Criston was glad for that, he did not need anything disturbing it.

The feeling of sadness and emptiness was still asphyxiating him almost six months later. Criston sat in her bed when he was not on duty, letting his mind wander to a fantasy world he had created. The bedding had been washed, and the smell of her was gone. He often laid on the bed, imagining she was next to him after being apart all day.

Criston walked down the corridor, clearly on a mission. The castle was empty as it was so late in the night. He heard voices not so far from him as he approached the bedchamber, making him stop in his tracks.

“Come on, boys. Time for bed,” Jon Arryn called, making the children groan.

“It is still early,” Silas begged. “We are not even tired.”

“Your little brother fell asleep at the dinner table,” Y/N reminded him as she carried Aemmet.

The family entered a bedchamber at the end of the corridor. Criston hid in the shadows, waiting. It took some time for Jon and Y/N to walk out again, holding hands. They had smiles on their faces, happiness oozing through their veins.

Criston waited more since he was in no rush. Good things happened to those who wait. 

When he felt it was appropriate, he approached the door to their bedchambers. His hand was on the handle but a noise made him freeze. It sounded like… a moan.

He did not know what to do or how to feel. Listening to the woman he loved while she felt pleasure was one thing, but another man, not him, was pleasuring her. Criston had imagined the noises she made and he was not disappointed. However, the anger and jealousy at that moment were greater than any fantasy.

He stood there, motionless, waiting for them to stop. When there were no more noises, he quietly opened the door.

They were sleeping.

The chamber was quiet and peaceful. Y/N and Jon lay on their bed. He was shirtless but she had put on her shift, which did not cover much of her skin. As Criston got closer, he could see the outline of her breasts through it. He took a deep breath to stay focused.

He stood there, at the foot of the bed, staring. The dagger he had on his hip was burning him. Criston could end this now, kill Jon Arryn in his sleep and take Y/N away to the Free Cities. Nobody would go and try to find them.

Y/N had betrayed him so long ago, by choosing Jon Arryn over him. As if that was not enough, Rhaenyra betrayed him as well. He was alone, the only people he spoke to were the queen and her children. Since he sided with her, nobody cared about him. He knew Y/N felt the same, he knew she supported the princess above all else, and seeing him with the opposing side hurt.

Criston heard the sound of the door opening. He quickly moved to hide behind a wall, peeking around to see that Aemmet was the one that walked in. He was dragging a small quilt and had a frown on his face. He rushed to the bed but stopped, looking right at where Criston was hiding. He stared for a few seconds but saw nothing. 

The little boy move to his father's side and tapped his arm softly. Jon Arryn stirred and slowly tried to open his eyes. “Aemmet? Are you alright?” He whispered. 

“Scared,” Aemmet confessed. Jon pulled him up on the bed. The boy settled between his parents, Y/N had slightly woken up at the movement. Subconsciously, her body reached for her son’s, placing her arm around him. She quickly fell asleep again. “Father?” He quietly called for him. “I saw a shadow…”

Jon hummed. “It was probably your imagination playing tricks. We are safe here.” He reassured him. Aemmet was not entirely convinced but decided to not push it, especially at this late hour. 

Criston stood there watching them sleep, plotting his plan. Y/N was his and he would have to do whatever it takes for her to be with him. 

//

Part 3

//

taglist:

@my-dark-prince / @Daemonloversblog / @littlemoonash / @mypatrochilles / @beefbaby25 / @sweetybuzz2 / @Fin-never / @asexualaromosafezone / @nerdy4itall / @yelchinweasleylothbrok / @Juless_world / @thatgaytevinter / @kaitieskidmore1 / @chevelledahuman / @rozendiors / @claudiajacobs / @savagemickey03 / @multifandom-loser / @direluvr / @dandycandy75 / @bitchyglitterfox / @rumandtearsflowerisevil // @camschansenpai / @ilovoysters / @Larslaen / @m1tzifa1ry

[house-strong]

— THE SHIELD and his princess ʾ ⋆

summary ; criston cole is many things – but a teacher he is not. after learning his duties as a sworn kingsguard, who is he to disobey an order from his princess?

pairing ; targaryen!reader x pre-green!criston cole

notes ; written at 2 am after i saw a sad criston/rhaenyra edit so here’s this,, also the beginning of me writing hotd imagines if this goes well?? 😏😏😏🤝

the festivities that were thrown in king’s landing was beyond ser criston. with pleasant music, girls batting their eyes and giddily running around, mixed with the loud roar of the crowd was enough for a man of his low stature to get drunk on. the feeling of adrenaline coursing in his veins as an opponent swings their sword, as metal clashes with metal and the song that rings from each weapon – it is a calling that criston knows is his.

dismounting the targaryen prince and earning the princess rhaenyra’s favor was a blessing he thought he was dreaming of. but, being summoned to court on the account of being chosen as a kingsguard – gods, that was the highest he had ever felt.

much to his delight, permanently residing in the castle of king’s landing was something he favored over the endless and scorching sands of wasteland he once called home. though the city did have a foul stench that burned his nose hairs from time to time, he had grown used to the taste of sea salt on his tongue and the terrifying roars of dragons that filled his ears.

he had also grown fond of the silvery wisps of hair of a certain targaryen princess.

ser criston was still young, merely in his twenties, when he had sworn the oath of a kingsguard. no land and no titles was an easy thing to get behind as he was a lowborn knight with little to his name, but an oath of chastity? to father no children, or feel the love of a wife? who was to say that a fleeting feeling of hope was treason?

“ser criston?” your voice breaks the young knights trance. he blinks rapidly, fingers drumming the helm of his kingsguard armor that rested at his side as he tries to remember what you were saying – did you ask him a question? was it about the upcoming celebration of princess rhaenyra’s marriage to laenor velaryon? or, perhaps if it was about taking a stroll through the red keep?

he clears his throat and looks down at his feet, clearly ashamed, “forgive me princess, it seems that my mind carried me away.” ser criston peeks up from behind a stray wisp of brown hair, only to see a bright smile directed at him. he can’t help but swallow the queasy feeling in his stomach and smile right back.

“i’m rather curious about swordplay,” you reiterate, glancing down at the massive book that rested upon the table in front of you. you take a moment to uncross your legs and recross them, getting comfortable into the seat. your hand tenderly touches the parchment, “it says here that it’s a bit like.. dancing.”

a look of confusion sweeps across ser criston’s face as he takes in your words, “now that you say that, yes, it is quite a bit like dancing.”

you hang for a moment, deciding your words carefully. being a princess had its downsides, and right now, being unable to attain swordplay as a hobby wasn’t gratifying. even at your command, the other kingsguard would have asked permission from your father.

“would you show me?”

ser criston opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. to refuse an order given by a member of the royal family could have consequences, but to injure a princess would possibly be even a worse fate to imagine. he winces at the thought. he exhales slowly as he weighs his words carefully, “i’m sure you would find actual dancing more attractive than swordplay.”

you unfold your legs and rise from your seat. your black gown falls back into place around your legs and moves with grace as you approach the knight. dark fabric peaks up at the sides of your shoulders and gathers near your collarbones, highlighting the bone underneath. he sucks in a breath. your hands clasp behind your back and heels click against the smooth stone of the floor. ser criston is still as you approach, but watches you carefully with black, beady eyes.

“if i wanted dancing, i would have asked for dancing.” you say, voice clear and almost commanding. almost. his knees feel weak when you stop merely a length away – he can smell your perfume wafting in the air and filling his scent glands with pure delicacy. he almost sighs at the scent. after a moment of silence, “do i need to command you, ser criston?”

the kingsguard feels a blush creep up his neck and crawl into his cheeks as he comes to a realization, “no, you do not, princess.”

you beam triumphantly and rock side to side in place, “it’s settled then.” you turn on your heels and return to the abandoned book on the table. at the same moment you settle back in the chair, a handmaiden walks in. “i shall see you tonight, ser criston.”

ser criston watches the servant carefully before returning his attention to you. he bows slowly at the hip, maintaining eye contact as he rises. he mutters the word princess as he does and turns heel to exit your personal quarters.

between being summoned to escort princess rhaenyra and attending a kingsguard meeting, along with guarding the door to the kings private quarters, ser criston is constantly thinking about what the night will ensure. so much so that the day passes rather quickly and night had befallen the capital.

with a full, warm belly and aching limbs that are screaming for more rest, ser criston returns faithfully to your quarters with two wooden swords in his grasp. he is not surprised to see ser arryk guarding your door.

“ser arryk,” he greets, giving a momentary dip of his head as a sign of respect. the other follows suit but with a curious gaze casted towards the mock weapons, mumbling ser cristons own name on the brink of a yawn. “be at ease, i’ll be with the princess tonight.”

with another head dip, the former kingsguard wordlessly departs from your door and strolls down the hallway. ser criston watches him leave before entering into your quarters.

he enters and smiles at the silhouette of your figure against the castle walls. he shuts the door behind him and approaches, his boots offering a soft thud in the silence. he rounds the corner and finds you in front of a mirror that is angled away from him.

“ser arryk, i thought i said i wished to not be disturbed,” you say without turning around, running a comb through the locks of your silver hair.

“i’m offended that you mistake me for ser arryk,” ser criston says, enjoying the way that your face lights up with happiness once you turn around and eye the two wooden swords he had brought. “although, i’m not quite sure how we’re going to dance in your room.”

your hands quickly twist your hair into a plait, binding the end with a leather bind before rising from your seat. it’s then that ser criston notices that you’re wearing your dragon-riding attire. he smiles to himself and follows you into the main chamber of your room.

“i have a place in mind, follow me,” you say, tidying up your perfumes and oils before leading the way out of your door. you exit the royal apartment courtyard, smiling at any servant or lord or lady that passed your path. you lead ser criston to the castle wall that bordered the harbor. waves crash against the rock and sends salt flying into the air, giving the air a less-than-pleasant taste.

“this isn’t secluded, princess,” ser criston says with uncertainty. you, however, shrug carelessly and smile at the obvious nervousness that radiated off the young knight. you move forward and gently take one of the wooden swords from his hand. it feels odd in your grasp and the handle is surprisingly rough against your palm, but the balance is easy to manage. you give it a small twirl, trying your best to show control.

“never mind that, ser criston. where do we begin?” you stand straight, wooden sword hanging limply by your side. you watch him with curiosity as he sucks in a breath. ser criston should have prepared himself for this night of teaching.

“let’s see your stance.” at his words, you try your best to shuffle into a mock fighting stance. however, your legs are bent awkwardly and your position is open. ser criston almost lets out a small guffaw. you glare as he stifles his laughter. “here, allow me.”

ser criston moves closer and adjusts your position. he fixes your legs and squares your shoulders, putting your hands in the right spot on the handle of your sword. he pauses for a moment and meets your eye, and it’s then when it’s noticeable how cool it is outside and how much warmth radiates off your bodies.

he clears his throat and shuffles away, “how does that feel?”

“a bit better,” you admit, relaxing into the stance. you twirl the sword once more, careful to not hit the kingsguard, and notice how it actually feels a lot more smooth in your hand.

“let’s try basic maneuvers,” ser criston says. he begins showing you some movements and remarks what each movement is. a forward slash, a parry, a sidestep, and a block. watching him move is enrapturing and the book you read earlier was exactly right – it was a dance and ser criston made it look flawless. he had light steps and quick movements, magnificent enough to draw you into a trance. he concludes his tutorial with, “my princess.”

“you make it look easy, ser criston,” your voice is on a borderline whine, but you ready yourself and mimic his movements the best you can. your movements are wobbly and unrefined, years of practice not as obvious as it was with ser criston’s movements.

“i’ve had years to learn, my princess, and i’ve fought in more incursions than i want to count.” his voice is almost reminiscent as he confesses towards his experience in swordplay. “you will learn, in time.”

“you will teach me?” you ask, your brows raising in surprise at his words. he stays silent for a moment, but then nods after some wordless contemplation.

“if that is what my princess wishes, then yes, i will.”

warm, brown eyes meet yours as you two share a look for what feels like a century. ser criston debates whether or not that was appropriate to say, whilst you fight the tears that well in your eyes. years after begging someone, anyone, to enlighten you about sword fighting and being turned down, all of a sudden has changed within the night. you drop your sword and rush forward, wrapping your arms around the light armor that ser criston wore. you feel him tense, but he soon relaxes into your hold and returns the hug with a hand on your back.

“thank you, ser criston.” you say earnestly. though it’s supposed to be serious, ser criston enjoys the way that his name rolls off your tongue in this moment and finds himself blushing. he thanks whatever gods there are for the dim, warm lighting of the torches lined on the walls.

he clears his throat and readjusts his grip on the handle of his practice sword, “pick up your sword and we’ll start from the beginning.”

[rufflesandbows]

How They React: to you patching them up

You notice someone close to you has been injured. Perhaps without their knowledge, or they tried to hide it from you, knowing you would worry. Whether they fight your assistance or welcome your care, you pull them aside and right their wounds.

Characters: -Daemon, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Harwin, Rhaenyra, Baela- -Aemond, Aegon, Criston Cole, Larys, Alicent, Helaena-

Blacks

Daemon He’d fuss at you to leave him alone, at first. It’s a small cut, comparatively to what he’s had before. So he’s leaking blood all over the floor. So it’s soaked through the (not well applied) bandage. Daemon simmers down when you grip him and force his hand on your lap, your touch abruptly softening as you begin to clean him up, chiding him all the while. But he’s not quite listening; he’s watching you. When it’s done, he starts teasing you mercilessly. What, do you care about him or something?

Jacaerys Genuinely didn’t notice he was wounded. You point it out and he gives a “Oh, would you look at that!” You drag him off and he seems almost bewildered before you start patching up the cut. The air gets quiet, and the light blush in his face grows a shade darker the more you touch him. When you glance at him, he gives you a shy smile and his fingers curl to touch you back. He’s having a hard time facing you directly. You just look so beautiful under the sun. 

Lucerys He tried to hide it but he’s the worst liar you’ve ever met. You demand he show you and bashfully, he pulls his hand from behind his back, looking at you like a guilty pup. It amuses you, not teasing him though it would be easy to. Instead you lead him aside and patch him up. Listening to him, huffy but proud as he defends himself on why he shouldn’t have gotten wounded at all. You listen intently, smiling and nodding as you work. When it’s done, he knows how ridiculous he sounded, politely thanking you.

Harwin Teases you endlessly. You’re a flustered mess trying to patch him up. He’s not fighting you or making it physically difficult, but he’s calling you out that you care about him and, well, yeah. But he doesn’t have to make it sound like you’re stumbling over your own feet in his presence (which you sometimes are). You are a professional. You can patch up a small cut, even though your hands are shaking you're so damn flustered.

Rhaenyra She tries to laugh it off. You can tell just by the look on her face she wants to tease you for insisting on cleaning it up. However that want fades quickly. She admires your focus, as well as the feel of your hands gently but firmly holding her and inspecting the area. She watches you, you know she is but you try to remain on task before she throws a cheeky remark your way. Chuckling at your clearly flustered response.   Baela Much like her father, she’s annoyed you’re worrying so much, until she locks eyes with you. It’s so clear that it matters to you that she’s hurt. It makes her cheeks hot, all her annoyance simmering down quick as she nods and allows you to lead her. She’s insistent that it’s nothing to worry about, though now a bit more shy in her approach. She appreciates how gentle you are with her, admiring your skill as well. By the end she can’t stop smiling and doesn’t know why.

Greens

Aemond Is never going to tell you he’s been wounded in any way. You’ll have to spot it for yourself and even then, he’ll try to shrug it off and claim it doesn’t hurt. But on your insistence, he’ll cave and follow where you lead, impatiently allowing you to fix him up. Overtime, he gets comfortable with the idea. Looks forward to it even. He’ll ask you for little things. Rubbing sore muscles or ointments in over the bruises and burns he gets from training and riding Vhagar. Checking in with you becomes apart of his everyday, even when he doesn’t need anything.

Aegon He is always getting into brawls in Flea Bottom. Often coming home with cuts and bruises and scrapes. It’s become routine that the start of your day is cleaning up these wounds because he won’t do it himself. Yet the entire time, he appears like he’s being endlessly pampered on. Smiling and obedient as you gently clean the area and bandage him. You since gave up chiding him, now you simply ask what happened. Sometimes he has a wild tale, sometimes he can’t remember, but most of the time is spent with him quietly savoring your touch.

Criston Cole Tells you not to worry about it, but the moment your hand touches him, he freezes. He can’t say a thing and leaves you to lead him. He doesn’t resist, but you’re gentle because you can feel the tension in him. His eyes scan around for others as you clean and patch up the cut. Neither of you say anything, and you smile at him when you’re finished. You can practically feel his heart racing in the look he give you. Before it’s shuffled away and he quickly leaves your presence, forgetting to thank you until later. 

Larys He was keen to keep it to himself. He was used to keeping quiet when it came to pain. But you caught him and asked about it, worried about the light swelling around the cut. He smiles and tell you it’s nothing. However you do have everything nearby, so you offer to clean and patch it up for him. He opens his mouth to refuse, but stops, before quietly nodding. Larys is almost mystified by your work, making your face heat with his focused attention. Mistaking it for discomfort, he strikes up conversation, it lasting long after you’ve finished.

Alicent It isn’t often the Queen finds herself physically wounded, but shes always so distracted that she never notices. It shocks you to see a cut on her, rushing to her aid. She’s just as surprised, assuring you it must have been an accident from earlier. You want to fix it immediately, but you have to ask first. She looks at you with confusion, it’s not even bleeding anymore, before softly agreeing. She’s almost too shy to look at you as you work, but she can’t stop stealing glances, feeling a heat in her at your gentle and careful touch.

Helaena Blood quickly drips down her finger and she can’t take her eyes from it, until you wrap her hand in a cloth. A big wave of relief washes over her and she sits with your lead. You handle everything and Helaena continues her conversation without pause, trying to expel the nervous energy. She blushes and apologizes for rambling, but you smile and assure her you enjoy hearing all the things she knows. Every time she looks at the cut now, she thinks of you, long after it's healed, and a smile graces her lips.

[itsmeimtheproblemitsme]

Rain of Fire Series Masterlist

Prologue Jacaerys Velaryon (Targaryen)

Chapter 1

Criston Cole

Chapter 1

Daemon Targaryen

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 1

[targaryenxreaders]

Imagine:

Being the only one Rhaenyra tells about her night with Ser Criston.

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter reader (platonic)

Reader can either be read as the child of Laenor, Daemon, Criston Harwin or other

-As her only daughter you are especially cherished. The moment they place you on her chest she instantly, unconditionally loves you. While she does not have favorites, you are cherished.

It was with one last agonizing push that Rhaenyras only daughter came screaming into the world. "A daughter, your Grace!" With trembling arms Rhaenyra took her daughter from the midwife. Y/n Velarion's e/c eyes opened and Rhaenyra instantly fell in love. Secretly, she had always harbored hopes of having a girl. She knew the realm prayed for a son, but deep inside Rhaenyra yearned for a girl. A daughter to love and cherish and protect her from all that she herself had suffered.

-You are absolutely doted on my your mother. She makes sure you have the best of everything. She loves to order sweets brought from all over and give them to you in elaborately decorated boxes. She has you all decked out in red and black clothing. Rhaenyra likes to do your hair and make elaborate hairdos. Whether for a special occasion or any normal day she takes great pleasure in showing off how pretty you are!

Y/n squealed in delight as Rhaenyra pulled out a box. Knowing that it held some kind of delight behind its wooden covering you wasted no time in hastily opening it. Tiny hands seized the sugar covered fruits from Dorne. The mother giggled as with great enthusiasm Y/n chomped away at them. "Remember to share them with your brothers!" Rhaenyra called out to her daughters. "Gods I love her." Rhaenyra thought.

-Because of the political situation you are heavily guarded. Your friends/ladies in waiting are carefully picked amongst Rhaenyra's closest allies. From the time you are old enough to walk she hires a personal guard to follow wherever you go. This is especially true if Otto, Alicent or Criston Cole are near. Unlike with her sons I don't see Rhaenyra letting you near your uncles. Partly because it would be seen as inappropriate but also for safety sakes.

-Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, eldest child of Viserys and heir to the throne, ran in great haste down the hall. She payed no heed to the sudden stairs of people. Most of the time she would care, but not now. Not when she noticed her brother Aemond speaking with her baby girl under the Weirwood tree. She did not know his intentions and frankly, did not care. None of Otto Hightowers grandchildren would be in any position to harm her daughter. "Y/n." Rhaenyra hurried down the path to see two children quite peacefully reading a book. Aemond was the first to look up and scowled. Rhaenyra didn't like it. Even something as innocent as this could insight trouble. Gods know Otto might even consider marrying the two if he could get away with it. A perfect way to tether the Princess of Westeros to himself forever. She would never let that happen.

-Obviously you will have a dragon from day one, if there isn't an egg already placed in the cradle. She will likely want you to have a new one rather than an older one. This is mainly because she worries an older one might be too aggressive and large for tiny you to manage. Of course she will take you for flight on Syrax, high in the sky. She uses these times to bond, even going on short daytrips for fun.

If she gives you an egg:

Rhaenyra cradles the large opaque egg in her hands. It was a good size, this dragon would be healthy. It was placed right beside the infant who was roused to the waking world. Her large e/c eyes focused on the egg with such intensity that Rhaenyra could hardly believe it. Her fingers brushed against the thin hairs that had just started to sprout up. Her little Targaryen.

If you claim your own dragon:

She would have preferred Dreamfyre. That dragon was so gentle and lovely, a perfect fir for her gentle daughter. Not fucking Tessarion. Anxiously Rhaenyra waited as Y/n advanced forward. The dragon keepers were on standby. But if Tessarion became volatile then......... The great dragon moved its head. The Valyrian coming out of Y/n's trembling mouth would barely be heard over the beasts rumbling. Horrified, Rhaenyra moved to intercede. But suddenly the dragon lowered its head and Y/n's hand placed itself on its snout. "Look mom! I'm a dragonrider!"

Riding a dragon with her daughter:

At five years old Y/n mounted a dragon for the first of many times. Rhaenyra had been hesitant. Normally Targaryen's took their children on a flight during babyhood. But in her anxiety Rhaenyra waited until her daughter was slightly older. She had a small harness made for the baby and herself. Part of Rhaenyra didn't want to stay on the ground, but Y/n was a Targaryen, a Valyrian ancestry going back thousands of years. The dragons wings expanded and in a great bounding leap Syrax was in the air. Y/n's small form was shaking and Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around her. They stabilized once above the clouds. Y/n finally had calmed down. Soon, she was giggling and enjoying the height. Rhaenyra smiled.

-When it comes to betrothals Rhaenyra will wait until you are grown before any of that comes to fruition. Like her father she will let you chose. That is, up until the events of episode 7 where Vaemond makes his bid for Driftmark. Even though she will not be aggressive about it, your attention will be directed to Cregan Stark. Of course you will get the talk, and what to expect during pregnancy/childbirth. Your also likely to get a new wardrobe. This is even more expected if where your moving to (think Winterfell and Dorne) has a drastic change in weather compared to Kingslanding/Driftmark. If you do end up married then she will make frequent visits to where you live.

Everyone bellow was mingling during the Red Keeps most recent party. Everyone except for Rhaenyra and Y/n. Mother and daughter observed the happenings bellow, talking in low voices. "Have you met anyone who appeals from you?" Rhaenyra closely watched her daughters expression. Y/n's eyes skimmed the handful of eligible bachelors that a Princess of the realm could take. "Hmmmm. Uncle Aemond is looking rather appealing these days." Y/n jested. Rhaenyra snorted. None of Otto's grandchildren would ever taken her daughter to wife. Only last week Alicent had requested a possible betrothal between their two children. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, that would only happen over her dead body. "Who is that?" Rhaenyra's eyes lit up. Now this was a much better match. "That is Cregan Stark."

Extra

What is your fathers relationship with you (excluding non cannon father)

Harwin Strong:

Like with his sons he is very close with you. Your his only daughter and so he is very protective. He will hold you as a baby and try to be there for everything. First words, steps and your progression into adulthood. He likes to carry you on his back during his time off. Even though you are a girl you will likely be taught to fight if you so chose. Although that will be in secret. I think that as the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin you will feel like you all are a great big family.

Leanor Velarion:

Your his only biological child. Because of this the family dynamic will change, with Laenor being far more involved with his family.1* Rhaenyra and Rhaenys will push hard for him to be a good father, the best he can be. Its a rocky start. But he gets better and does his best. Your time together is usually one on one with Laenor. Stuff like taking you on dragonrides and going to Driftmark.

Criston Cole:

This one is a doozy because he can't be sure until you are older that your his (given that Rhaenyra's likely got involved with Harwin shortly after marriage). But once he finds out....wow. Because as much as he loathes Rhaenyra he can't bring himself to hate the daughter. He will, very subtly, try to ingratiate himself to you. This will be sneaky and behind Rhaenyra's back. Of course Alicent will get wind of this making Otto aware. He will absolutely try to use this to his advantage. This of course puts Criston in a very difficult position.

Daemon Targaryen:

This pregnancy takes place shortly before the marriage to Laenor, meaning Rhaenyra was pregnant although very early on. I have a feeling Daemon might not even know the baby is his, thinking it is Harwin Strong's. So he as nothing to do with you until the funeral of his second wife. It was there that Rhaenyra reveals he has another daughter. The reason he was not informed earlier is because she was worried someone might get ahold of the note and Daemon was in Pentos all this time. This revelation will be surprised. When your parents marry he will take an interest in your education. You are expected to be an example of pure Valyrian, perfecting Valyrian and being a dragon writer. The two of you will sometimes read together and he likes to tell stories of his adventures.

Note: I'm gonna make one for Alicent and maybe Aemond. If you guys want me to make any more of these then please feel free to requested☺

[bucknastysbabe]

now, catholic school priest criston and aemonds twin. Criston is from a catholic family, wanted to be a priest since he was a little boy, going to the sunday mass with his mothet was like the highlight of his week, went into the seminary very young, never had a girlfriend, he is a good man alright. then aemonds twin, whos not catholic, not even christian, her dad doesnt even go to church but alicent is very catholic and she wanted her kids to go to catholic school. but shes a menace, a straight up gremlin, like aegon but a girl and not a loser (srry aegon ily). And criston is sure the devil sent her to tempt him and shes like but what if it was god the one who sent me for you??? And specially for you??? Like, as a treat?! 🤗

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k of filth and catholic guilt

Tags: 90’s catholic school setting, Criston had the Crisis, mutual masturbation, confession booth shenanigans, age difference, manipulation, teacher/student relationship, sexual tension, Targtower reader, Criston’s woe is me internal monologue, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, pnv!sex, Jesus saw that Crispy, DESPERATION, priest kink, #imahorridcatholic

A/N: I made that priest edit and I’m proud also listened to talk by hozier for the entire last part. I’m a gremlin and made her her daeron’s twin.

Taglist: @fairysluna @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @bambitas

Criston knew his purpose since the day he could recall. Nothing pleased him more than sitting in mass with his mother, going through Sunday school, getting ready to become an official Catholic. Confirmation was the one of the happiest days of his life.

Vocation became the forefront of Criston’s mind in school. He probably annoyed the hell out of Father Dondarrion, pestering the priest with questions upon questions about seminary. In the mean time, he was the best altar boy a Cole could be. A-team altar boy! Strong fumbled the bells every time, it repulsed Criston.

He did other school things such as tennis, won a state championship in that, got some offers for a spot on a college team. Then in the other season he played second base for the baseball team, won a state championship in that and received multiple offers to college teams. No, Criston had his mind made up. He could lead others to victory— through Christ’s love of course. He had to admit his father was quite pissed about the baseball team but he’d be okay. Criston had a little brother, he was athletic.

The young man had even tried dating, just to see if God called for Criston to instead populate the world and lead a family. Not tend to the flock of sheep. There was a plethora of girls but he fell for a devil.

Her name was Rhaenyra Targaryen and she left him in a puddle of tears. The rich girl couldn’t respect staying chaste until marriage. He was ready to give her a ring. The priest sniffed recalling her harsh words, “You, like, won’t even dry hump me? What’s the point?” At the time the young man was miffed, broken, distraught. Criston held a hand over his heart as he whispered tearily, “You want me to be your whore?”

Mind you, he was a foolish 17 year old. The man was tested with her, but he learned from the experience. Criston was obviously meant to be a priest. He prayed and prayed for God to reveal his path. The answer came in Father Dondarrion giving Criston a letter from the Archbishop himself, inviting the young man to join seminary.

Criston took his first vows at the tender age of 18. He spent the next seven years learning and perfecting his bond with God, ready to guide his brothers and sisters in Christ. He’d smile and wave off comments at his home parish, often elder women asking why such a handsome young man would devote his life to chastity.

He rarely thought much of it. Jerking off was a boring thing, simply a biological process Cole needed to take care of. He took no shame nor pleasure in it, not truly thinking of anything at all. It would lessen as he aged but currently Criston was twenty-five and a ‘hot blooded’ young man.

He got his first job as a teacher in a Catholic school. At the beginning, Father Criston Cole found a passion for teaching while on a mission trip. He was ecstatic for the job. A year later he was significantly less overzealous. Add some years later Criston found himself, well, bored. Agitated. Discontent if you will.

Lord knows he had to calm himself for these wayward children. After a long day the man would pour some scotch and wonder why the rich ones were the worst behaved. Especially the damn Targaryens— he thought he could escape from that name.

Rhaenyra’s father had remarried and they had five children. Rhaenyra had five herself, different fathers came the whispers. The two youngest apparently looked like her. Criston smirked into his glass, God was watching and protecting him even as a foolish kid. She left the church anyways, but the children were polite and well-behaved in class.

Alicent Hightower-Targaryen’s children were a handful. Aegon made Criston sick to his stomach, the idiot either drunk or high in class, flipping up skirts of poor girls. If the priest thought about the eldest too long he’d grow a headache. He chose not to dwell on the fact that the family generously paid for Aegon to graduate— like a twisted version of simony.

Then along came sweet Helaena, she made good marks but often had to be drawn back to attention, and he tried to stifle the bullying drawn to her strange nature. Aemond was another headache, in a good way. He seemed to fit the vocational lifestyle and bonded with Criston over it. Criston truly enjoyed discussing hot topics in the church with the smart lad.

Aemond just needed to let his anger go and let God in, Criston had to do the same, his temper could be stormy. Then Aemond graduated and went off to study the sciences. Criston frankly thought he was done. He forgot. The twins were seniors and signed into his year-long Papal History elective.

He was now 32, and God really had sent him a test this time. In the form of good-natured Daeron’s wily sister. He had to send her to the Headmaster’s office the first day! The pale-haired girl was wearing an…indecent…skirt. One to catch long shapely legs.

He huffed and downed the rest of his scotch. He knelt before his icon of Christ and prayed. ‘Please my loving lord, I am afraid you shall test me, but give me the strength to pass through this.’ He felt strange. This girl was trouble. Criston wiped his face and grabbed his scotch again, one more would do for the night. He hissed, “FuckingfuckfucksticksFUCK!” Eyes widening he apologized to the empty room, “Forgive me my lord, that was uncouth.”

It was November 1997. Father Cole thought about making a request to a parish to be their full-time priest. He suited up for the lovely worship of Mass, mood sour. Deacon Erryk was next to him, almost out of his seminary studies. Erryk hummed, “How’s the class this year?”

“A pain in my side. I have another Aegon Targaryen in the form of his youngest sister. She seeks to make me miserable.”

The man stifled a laugh and prodded, “Damn. Aegon was bad, he was in my class with you. My condolences Criston, pray that Mary will bless the girl with some sense.”

Criston grumbled, “Indeed.” He felt old. Erryk was about to be a priest now.

Mass went off good as gold, the younger altar boys falling into place easily. He could always see the believers and non-believers based on their actions. Some wouldn’t even stand when he entered the room, the cross bearer ignored too. If Criston could start throwing Holy Water he would, ingrates.

In the front row, Daeron and his sister sat. Criston tried not to grimace as he sat down in his chair. They’d have mass every Friday at the school. Confession on Tuesdays. Criston would teach a RCIA class next semester for those outside of the school at night.

She was staring at him, wearing another little dress with her button-up underneath the skinny straps. He could see her smokey eyeshadow and glossed lips, moving around a piece of gum. Daeron held himself in reverence, hands clasped. Criston turned away, he would not give the evil little blonde any satisfaction!

He shivered when she knelt and took the body of Christ, tongue lapping against his fingers with a licentious look. The priest almost yelped, moving onto the next. He was shaken for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe he should call for advice— no, no, they would think Cole some sort of deviant pedophile. That was a problem enough and she was merely being a temptress. ‘Son of a fucking BIIIIIIITCH’, he thought angrily. Then did the sign of the cross.

The beleaguered priest sat at his desk during his planning period, grading papers. The headphones on his head played some songs— his only vice. He loved ‘radical’ music. So Criston kept that little secret to himself. He liked to belt rock ballads. Only by himself in the rectory.

How embarrassing. A grown man of the cloth.

The door opening had Criston jerking his head up, hand flicking off his walkman. He raised a brow when it was the little Targaryen and her mother, livid by her expression and wild red hair. She shoved the girl in a seat and crossed her arms.

Criston stood up and greeted the frankly scary woman, “Miss Hightowergaryen, oh, Hightower-Targaryen yes!” He peeked at teary red eyes, deadpanning, “And you.” The senior scoffed, “Good to see you too Father.” He ignored her quip and cautiously asked, “What seems to be the problem?” Alicent raved, “She’s going off the wrong path, just like Aegon. Guess where Aegon is, tell Father Cole please!” She gave her daughter a sharp look.

The girl mumbled something before getting a pinch to her arm. She croaked, “He’s in rehab! Rehab! Alright there mom!” The younger curled in and hid under her blonde hair, streaked with some sort of red dye.

He frowned but couldn’t say he was quite surprised. Criston offered, “My apologies, may he find the light of His way soon. Occasionally some rejoin the church or convert after getting clean and sober. Is there an issue with my student Miss?”

Alicent sighed, calming a bit and taking a deep breath. She looked up, doe eyes wide and pleading. The mother asked, “Can we go into your private office for a second Father?” She stopped and hissed, “Don’t you move an inch!”

A roll of violet eyes was the answer, pouting lips turning further downward.

Criston perched on his desk and tried to soothe the woman, “Alicent, relax my old friend, what can I do for you?” He offered a look of sympathy, watching her pace and run a hand wildly through her hair. The woman stopped in place and whimpered, “She’s so lost, I can’t screw up another one of my babies. I need you to keep an eye on her, pray and guide, something…Something so I know I tried.”

She looked very tired, taking a sharp breath in to chew at her nails. Alicent rambled, “She was so good, her and Daeron were so good. Then she turned sixteen and something happened, I don’t know what, and it’s gotten worse. She hates Sunday mass, like Aegon and Rhaenyra. I don’t want to lose her forever to whatever this is, straying off the path.”

He nodded contemplatively, hand on his chin, thinking. Alicent was in a state of chronic stress, even back when they were all in school. She married Rhaenyra’s father so young, nineteen to be exact. He felt a need to protect the woman of God, just trying her best to lead her children to heaven since Viserys did not seem to be in the picture.

He swore, “I’ll do my best, you have my word Alicent. God bless you, let me bless you.” He prayed over her and the tenseness seemed to leave her shoulders. Alicent smiled softly and thanked Criston, the pair of them exiting the office.

Her daughter remained seated, looking more miserable by the second. She gazed up with curious eyes, mouth still set in a pout. Alicent beamed, “Father Criston will be keeping an eye on you and reporting to me, okay? You will behave and try to learn that the path of the righteous is never easy.”

She raised a brow, “So I’m going to have my priest follow me around? That’s uncool.”

Alicent stiffened and remarked, “No. You’ll come to him when in trouble. You’ll be spending lunch with him too so you don’t go off and smoke like a vagrant. We will go sign it in with the headmaster now. Get up.”

Criston had to hold his jaw closed. He definitely did not know what he was signing up for. Hail Mary, full of grace rambled off in his head. This would be a tumultuous year for sure— inked and sealed onto paper. God bless him.

“I guess we’ll be the best of friends now,” she snarled tearily.

Criston placed a hand on her shoulder and hummed, “God works in mysterious ways Targaryen.” Internally he was climbing a mountain and shouting at the heavens like some Bible prophet. He was feeling very Job-like at the moment.

First of all, he truly didn’t expect the girl to sit in his classroom during lunch. Criston raised a brow when she entered, slammed down her lunch and plopped down. She cocked her head and smiled, “Afternoon father.”

“Afternoon,” he replied, turning his gaze back upon the scripture he was annotating. Cole wanted to comment on her sudden chopping of that beautiful white-blonde hair, or the fact she smelled of minty cigarettes. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

It remained quiet until she blurted, “Do you smoke?”

Yes, in fact he did. But she didn’t need to know that. Criston murmured, “No I do not.” To which she lobbed back, “Is it not a sin to lie? I saw you in the parking lot! Also you smell like marlboros sometimes.” Her face turned bright red— like she had no control over her yapping.

Criston peeled off his glasses and sat back in his chair to level the girl with a stern look. He flatly stated, “Yes, good point, it was a sin for me to lie. Although as your teacher and priest I would not have you pick up bad habits,” he took a moment before asking, “How do I smell of cigarettes in class? Are you sniffing me?”

She stammered, “N-no! No! It’s just when you pass by, I don’t know, stop!”

Criston shook his head in concern, “Please do not sniff me in class, that’s, that’s strange.”

“I don’t sniff you! Quit saying that! Okay, enough of smoke talk! Hi how are you doing Father Cole?,” she animatedly gestured, eyes wild and cheeks pink.

He couldn’t help but snicker at her mad gestures. Snickers turned into genuine laughter, Criston slapping his desk a bit. A different hand slapping down on his desk made the man look up, donning a grin at her grumpy face. The littlest dragon hissed, “Ha-ha very funny. I asked you a question. Small talk, since I’m stuck here with you for lunch.”

Criston shrugged and replied, “Ask a better question, I don’t know how I’m doing half of the time. Especially having to babysit a legal adult.”

Her pout was endearing, the girl biting into her sandwich in an aggressive manner. She chewed and swallowed before blurting, “Is it true my half-sister dumped you in highschool?” Criston squawked in surprise, heaven on earth, how would she even get the knowledge? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he sighed.

“Yes, she dumped me. Didn’t want to stay chaste until marriage. That was a little personal don’t you think Miss Targaryen?”

She seemed to contemplate his words, sounding out her thoughts, “Now you’re a priest and she has like 2 baby daddies and a gay hubby. Cool. Love my family.” Her laugh was a sharp giggle, almost sarcastic in nature. Nothing like the torture of Aegon’s nonsensical shrieks.

Criston smiled a bit at the information, leaning back in his chair. He sucked on his teeth and asked her, “Why’d you cut off all your hair?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I was wondering if you would make a comment, quote some scripture that shorter hair is for lesbians and therefore I’m going to hell.” The older man gaped and stared, almost choking at her blunt words.

“No- what? You’ve got some sort of an imagination!,” he sipped on a water bottle, offended she would assume he was that mean, “I think it fits you nicely, glad whatever dye you put in was lost in the chop.” He shook his head, muttering about lesbian scripture. She giggled again, content with flustering the priest.

Criston tried to hold off a headache as she yapped about school. He snorted a bit when she marked some of the students on the dot. Soon the bell rang and she packed up her lunch, swinging her backpack on. Stopping at the door she asked, “So what’s your poison of choice? I like the fancy camel ones.”

He stared blankly before deadpanning, “Marlboro reds, now begone Targaryen.”

Her endearing giggle echoed as she left, the door swinging shut. Criston sat back in his chair and sighed— she had spunk. He quite appreciated it. Maybe she was a gift to spice up his growing distaste of where his life was at.

His dark eyes widened. He’s got to be too young for a midlife crisis? Now he really wanted a cigarette.

Father Criston Cole was indeed having a mid-life crisis. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, fitting his clerical collar on. Peering closer he inspected his face. He was still relatively young looking, hair not showing any grays. Practicing a smile he immediately dropped the grin. Crows feet. Great.

The priest shivered at the slight wrinkles. Why did he care? He didn’t have anyone to impress. A cheeky smile and icy eyeshadow, choppy blonde hair flitted through his mind. Goodness gracious he was her teacher, her priest, went to school with the girl’s parent. A spiritual guide!

This was bad. The damn girl had him wrapped around her ringed pinky. Bringing her little gifts, letting the blonde stay after school to chit chat. One time he let her cry on his shoulder, upset about rumors swirling. Criston heard a lot in the classroom.

Slut, whore, burnout, bitch.

He didn’t want to know what the little dragon got up to in her spare time but his knuckles did whiten at the thought of her not treating her body as a temple. Letting stupid boys have their way. Not like he could help. He was a priest and the farthest he’d ever gotten was smooching Rhaenyra and grabbing her tit before freaking out.

He needed to pray. Pray away these sinful thoughts. Guilt wracked his chest. He couldn’t turn the girl away either— he made a promise to Alicent. On a better note, her grades and attendance had improved. Ali called him once to thank the priest for helping her daughter. Although the girl still was apprehensive about faith. He didn’t push the subject; she didn’t bring it up. Maybe sometime soon.

Brushing back his curls, Criston sprayed cologne on his dark garb. He bought it on a self-indulgent whim. Maybe to cover the cigarette smoke, truly to entice a certain favorite student. Instead he was pestered by other girls bringing treats and batting their eyes at him. The man of the cloth could care less about the others. He was hopelessly haunted by his agnostic, rebellious student.

The man prayed some, did a Hail Mary before smoking a cigarette or five with his coffee. He was jittery at school now, worried that somehow a teacher or the elder nun would run and declare him a sinful wretch. Locking himself in the office until class time seemed like a good option.

He tried to grade some papers, mind drifting off to the increasingly heavy burden on his shoulders. Something needed to give— he was afraid what that might be. Deacon Arryk gave the homily that morning mass since Criston was out of sorts. Trying to not stare when she knelt and took the body of Christ. Playfully flicking his fingers with that tongue and saying ‘amen’.

Thank the Trinity and the saints he was covered head to toe in thick vestments. Hiding his cock just brought to mind Criston’s change in habit. Jerking off wasn’t a mindless activity anymore. He imagined plump lips and her raspy voice, teasing him, so delightfully mean. Then he’d flip her around and- he usually came with a pathetic noise by that point in the fantasy.

He pressed his fingers into his temples, groaning aloud. Doomed. Eternal hell. Purgatory sentence maximum if he got lucky. The second bell of the day woke the man from his racing mind. Criston straightened up and popped some gum in. Mary take pity on his soul. Satan himself was testing Criston. Although he couldn’t help but think she was anything but demonic.

The next day the tired priest had to attend confession for two hours. Usually it wasn’t a laborious affair; most of the kids who attended were the devout sort and only had some venial sins. Daeron Targaryen was a regular attendee, his twin was not.

He thought he was done for the day, sighing in relief. The two hours were up. Until the curtain swished and someone entered. The brunette thought to groan and hit his head on the wood. Fuck him— sorry, forgiveness please Lord for the profanity.

Criston’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. That lilting, teasing, raspy voice that was the specter of the nightmares and fantasies. He could faintly see the outline of her, that damn silvery blonde hair.

“Uhhh, bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been, uh, one year since my last confession?” She made the sign of the cross, bracelets jingling. Criston could snort— blondie was obviously reading off a note card. She remained quiet afterward.

He prodded, “Go on child.”

She huffed, “I’ve lied, slandered, gossiped about others. I’m inattentive in mass. I don’t respect my parents. I’ve been ungrateful, taking the lords body out of a state of grace. Obviously I’m egotistical, depraved of thoughts, I’m selfish.”

Father Cole swallowed.

She laughed blithely, “I could probably keep going except for mortal sins? I steal, sneak, deceive, suffer from jealousy and envy. Bad bad envy. Always want what I can’t have, y’know?”

He wanted to ask her to clarify…but had a feeling.

The twin’s voice lowered to a purr, “I think you’re waiting for the grand finale. I’m lustful, wanton, perform unnatural acts of sex. Inordinate affection, especially for men who are sworn to another. I defile myself to the thought of him.”

Criston gripped his black slacks roughly, cock swelling so fast he was pretty sure his vision had spots in it. He discreetly tried to readjust himself, swallowing back a whine. The man was no better than a horny boy— denying the pleasures of the flesh for so long.

“I’m a fornicator. Not lately. I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of him.”

The priest hadn’t stopped rubbing himself, biting on his bottom lip to shut up as she rambled on. Oh, it felt so goddamn good he was panting. Meanwhile from the other side he could hear her shifting, voice growing breathier as she talked.

“I think about him touching me, kissing me, those pretty lips and dark eyes only for me. I fucking hate when other girls talk to him— I slashed one’s t-tires.”

“No swearing,” Criston grunted.

“Sorry, where was I? I came so hard the other day wondering what his cock would feel like inside of me. I don’t know if y- he would last long but I’d keep riding, oh mmh!,” her breath hitched and he could hear slick noises from beyond the screen. She was touching herself in the booth. Touching herself. In the booth.

He leaned back, head thumping against the wood, practically humping his hand. Criston whined through his nose, mouth hanging open. The man was a goddamn mess, pleading, “You’d ride him huh? Until he got ready again?”

“Mhmmm, yeah, I’d put his pretty cock in my mouth until I felt him get hard. Hah, what do you think he would do to me?”

Oh holy spirits, he had no clue? Everything? He’d do anything? He drew on his fantasies and the dirty mag a boy brought to class once. Criston went home and asked forgiveness for seeing the woman…doing that.

His voice was much more desperate than he expected, tan cheeks turning a shade of darker red. Criston rambled, “I, oh heavens, he would do whatever she asked, maybe, maybe, put his mouth on her.”

He must have said the right thing, her breath quickened and he could see the outline of her arm moving faster. Emboldened, Cole practically whined, “He’d lick and suck at her until she was crying and grabbing his hair, ohfuckinghellfires!” Criston’s cock throbbed and twitched as he cursed and shoved a hand down his slacks.

“Yeah? Yeah? He’d eat me out? Suck on my clit, slip some f-fingers inside? I’d want it so bad,” she whimpered shakily. The priest panted and popped the button so he could fist himself easier, moaning shamelessly, scrunching his eyes closed.

The blonde’s voice was muffled, “Mmm- I’d take such good care of him, he could e-eat me out but I’d ride his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore, F-father please!” Criston could hear her squeal and his dark hair fell into his face as he curled inward. He babbled uselessly, rubbing himself as spurt after spurt of seed wetted his briefs.

There was a heavy feeling in the confession booth. The pair panted, sitting in silence. Shame poured over Criston like a bucket of ice. He quickly rearranged himself to not look like someone who just had the most intense orgasm of his life. The priest wanted to talk, truly, but he had no words.

So he bolted, ignoring her calls of his name. Criston kept moving, heading toward the rectory, he’d have to call out. Everything was spinning and he needed to just, just, he didn’t know. The stickiness in his pants was worsening the horrid feeling of being a pervert, he should’ve just sent her away. He will end this immediately tomorrow, for both of their souls if he hasn’t doomed them.

She didn’t appear for lunch. Did appear for class, eyes blazing into Criston’s head. Daeron even coughed and shoved her. She was glaring, not writing a damn thing as he lectured about the battle of Lepanto. The priest’s palms began to sweat. He wished the clock would go quicker.

“I’ll get a ride home, don’t worry about me Dare,” she said after the bell rung, students packing up their bags. Daeron raised an eyebrow but shrugged, moving on. One girl attempted to approach Criston with some papers in hand.

The dragon hissed something and shoulder checked the girl— Criston reluctantly scolding the blonde. Like it mattered, the other girl hightailed it out of his classroom. Pale eyes landed upon his own dark orbs, a strange look on her face.

“Office,” she said. Cole wasn’t in the position to deny. He tossed and turned all night, fighting whether to say fuck it and hang up the cassock or dismiss her and never speak of it again. When she was in his presence it leaned toward the former.

Criston walked in first, closing the blinds while she followed him. The man’s head jerked up when he heard the sound of the door locking. Little Miss Targaryen was wearing a particularly form fitting version of the school uniform, tits pushed up under the white button-down. Suddenly Criston was swallowing drool.

She snapped, “Sit down.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook the senior a bit, leaning down to growl, “Do you even know what the hell you’re getting into? This could ruin us both! You aren’t going to order me around, I’m the damn adult here, I swore to your mother!” He sounded desperate, weary.

She sneered up at him, unphased, “Sit down or I’ll leave and pretend this never occurred. I know you want it, you want me,” she yanked at his white collar, “Mommy doesn’t have to know, Father.”

Why Criston was like a dog at a damn eighteen year old’s commands? He wasn’t quite sure. His tongue was glued down anyways, only huffing as he perched on the chair. She padded closer, smelling of vanilla and some other perfume. He bit off a whine when she sat on his desk, thighs spreading, giving the priest a view of her lacy skimp of underwear.

“Fucking hell baby,” he pled, hands aching to touch.

“What? You sure were enjoying yourself yesterday.”

He moaned, “We shouldn’t— this could cost us our souls. The deceiver is manipulating us, a test. I lost my wits yesterday.” Criston’s fingertips dug into his leaner thighs, eyes flicking between her pretty smirk and the peak of baby pink panties. The girl hummed sadly, faux pout setting his heart to aching something fierce.

“What if it isn’t the devil? What if I’m just a gift, for you, just for you Father,” she leaned in to his face, “Think outside your little imposed box. Don’t you feel this?” She snatched one of his hands, pressing it upon her beating heart, her soft breast.

He looked guiltily to the side. Criston whispered, “If you were a gift then why is are my feelings so wanton and lustful?”

Purple eyes rolled. She hiked the skirt up, exposing pale thighs and her cute underwear. Criston whimpered under his breath, hand still on her breast, squeezing. The girl moaned, “Chaste love, no, I think he sent me just for you, maybe you had the wrong calling?” Criston threw caution to the wind— the festering in his head grew, rotting away his senses.

He’d already fucked up. Her points were making more sense by the second. Why not enjoy life before he spent the afterlife in torment? He peered at his favorite and rasped, “Show me what to do, putting my mouth on you. Can I touch you?” The brunette internally cringed at his whiny tone. She smiled victoriously, breath delightfully hitching, manicured hands unbuttoning her top.

Criston grabbed ahold of those pretty thighs, marveling at how smooth they were as he pulled them forward until her ass was the only thing perched on his desk. She squeaked and grabbed onto his dark hair, cheeks going blotchy with pink spots. The priest figured he’d have a little instinct, something long denied festering along with his sinful thoughts.

Right now he was face to face with her cunt and Criston had lost his bravado, brown eyes peering up at her. She smirked knowing she had the upper hand again. The Targaryen laughed, “Alright, panties off first Father. Do you even know female anatomy?”

He blushed darkly, ignoring the comment and yanking down those pretty panties. They matched her bra, her breasts spilling out of the push-up with heavy breath. He stuffed the lace underwear selfishly in his pocket. Criston gritted his jaw, cock pressing painfully hard against the fly of his pants. She was glistening, swollen, something he could only conjure up and still get it wrong.

“The clit is the nub at the top,” she breathed.

Criston searched her eyes with his own, abashed at the lack of knowledge before delving his face between silky thighs. He moaned pitifully, embracing the natural scent, her hand in his curls. The man lapped at her sopping hole, excitedly delving his tongue inside, already obsessed with the sweet nectar.

“Fffuck,” she whined, thighs tensing around his neck. Criston’s nose bumped against her clitoris, reminding him of the ‘magic spot’ he’d heard girls giggle about between class changes. He licked his way upward, moaning, ignoring his own need. Pink lips sealed around her button, tentatively suckling.

The blonde jerked and mewled, “Criston, Criston, yes Father!”

He flicked his tongue against the button, big hands keeping those strong thighs from closing. She was trying to scoot away from his onslaught on her, whining and shivering. Criston pulled back to rumble, “All that talk and you’re running from my tongue now little girl?”

“M’gonna fucking cum,” she half-sobbed.

The priest wasn’t going to give up. He kept his attentions on that bundle, even slipping two fingers inside her pussy, exploring until she keened again. More and more slick covered his chin and fingers, utterly lost in this divine feeling. The blonde’s legs were shaking now, breath coming in short sobs. She babbled something, one hand white knuckling the desk, the other knotted into Criston’s hair.

He wished he could have saved her shrill cry of his name as Criston pushed the younger woman over that edge. She gushed and spasmed, finally pushing him away to settle down. Her makeup was smudged, hair a fucking mess. Cole thought she never looked prettier.

He was goddamn insane over her and he knew it. The devil long had his claws gripped into the priest. The man just lied and ignored until he couldn’t. Criston grabbed her and placed her on his thighs, cock pulsing, him reaching down to relieve pressure.

The blonde wrapped her arms round his neck, pretty pink nipples exposed now, the push-up doing nothing to help. She plastered herself to his body, lips mouthing across his neck, murmuring, “You learn quick, s’good.” Criston rubbed at her back, slipping a hand down to her a handful of her cute ass.

She pulled back, pale eyes roving Criston’s face. He stared in a daze as she spoke in a sultry, raspy tone, “You’re so hard, wanna fuck you, lemme fuck you Father.” He couldn’t help but moan long and low at her desperate plea. His cock was fit to burst, straining his briefs now.

“I want it, I want it,” he gasped.

In a flurry of movement he yanked off the collar, it would sicken him to have it on. She pulled at the buttons, pausing to unhook her bra, Criston shoving down his pants and underwear. She moaned, placing hands on his chest and sliding down trim stomach until a little hand grabbed his ruddy cock.

He made a strangled noise, eyes rolling up in his head. No wonder people did this— sin was utterly sweet. Criston panted her name, about to guide her hips onto him. He paused, brows furrowing. The deceiver himself spoke through her voice, “I’m on birth control, doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he needed to hear, roughly lifting her to guide his cock into that slick pussy. Criston made a gutted noise as she slipped onto him. Warm, wet, so goddamn snug and gently ridged. He whined, straight up whined, “Don’t move, don’t move, baby baby oh— haaah!”

She purred and pressed soft tits against Criston, their shallow breathing intermingling. The female whispered softly, petting his shoulders and arms, “S’okay, breathe, relax.”

Criston shook from head to toe, exhaling sharply, pitiful noises escaping a raw throat. He pressed his swollen lips to her forehead, forcing rapid breathing to a calmer state. Still, still, the brunettes balls throbbed and twitched.

He was gonna fuck her dammit. He’d gotten this damn far, his darkest desire to fuck and fill her up after more than two pumps would kill Cole. She teased, hands back on his chest, playing with his medals, “You can do it Father, you’re not so twitchy.”

He shook his head silently, focusing on the task at hand. Father Criston Cole could never deny his sweet little dragon. She’d started squirming and whining on his lap, slick soaking his loins. He took a tentative thrust upwards, lashes fluttering.

The dam broke loose.

Criston fucked and groped, lips messily smacking against her pretty plump pout. She rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust. The chair squeaked, they moaned, grunted, cried out, a feral quality to the sacred act. He was soaking in the slaps of skin, her hitches of breath, chanting his name like a damn litany.

Criston grabbed onto her hips, planting his feet on the floor, biting his lip and scrunching eyes tight. He was moaning and moaning, drool slipping out between searing kisses. His balls were drawing tight— pounding with the need of his release.

He shoved her upwards onto the desk, thrusting brutally as she cried in ecstasy. Criston pled, “M’gonna cum, c-can’t stop, oh fuck.” She cried, “Yesyesyes don’t you dare stop, m’close!” The older man felt his balls slapping against her ass, eyes rolling up again.

His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, Cole mouthing at perky tits, moaning as his release soaked her pussy. It was like he was floating. She bit down on her hand to muffle a wail, arching into him, cunt convulsing and wetting him further.

But Criston couldn’t stop. He kept fucking through the oversensitive pain, sounding like he was in agony as he pounded into her. Their mixed releases made everything slide easier, his turgid cock not softening. He babbled, “Not done, another baby, take it for me, take me please.”

The blonde’s only response was clinging to his tan body, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist. She sobbed harder, “Do it do it— oh my God!” Criston whined her name through his nose, drunk off the feeling, not even aware of the blasphemy.

The office grew hot, noises of flesh and high sounds filling the small space. He couldn’t shut the fuck up either, rambling, “Wet baby, can’t help myself, gotta do it, fuck it all! M’still full up, gotta stuff you baby, how can I hngh not?” He reached down between them to circle haphazardly at her abused clit, the pretty thing writhing on his dick.

Another peak was approaching, he was already leaking, ready to empty another load deep inside her eager pussy. She tightened around him as he pinched her clit, crying real tears now, his name on her tongue like a broken record. Criston wetly cried into her fragrant neck, shoving himself deep inside to give her that last load.

He made a noise, she made a noise, everything growing foggy and distant.

Next thing he recalled was his demon, angel, twisted boon cuddled in his lap, tits still out. They were a sticky mess and he hoarsely asked, “How, ugh, long?”

“A couple of minutes. You went a little dumb there and I had to get your limp ass back into this chair,” she pressed her head into his chest, Criston naturally setting his chin on her head. His hands were slowly moving up and down her flanks. He still felt a bit dumb, dazed from the intense situation.

“You,” he swallowed, “Are a gift…I believe.”

She smiled softly, pecking his lips. The Targaryen mumbled, “We need to get ourselves together, I need a ride home.” Criston nodded, clinging tighter to her frame. He stammered, “O-okay, discuss this another time?”

“Sure, but after I show you what a blow job feels like.”

He didn’t object. The collar sat out of his sight, anything he once cherished gone from his mind. She took that place. He was irrevocably, obsessively infatuated. “I’ll have to leave my position after this year,” he murmured. She looked at him, a concerned look on dainty features.

“I think I’ll be around, will you?”

He remained silent, answer obvious in the air. He’d get down on his knees again and beg to never lose this gem. Fucked up from the get-go. For once, Criston Cole didn’t care. He kissed her instead.

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Criston Cole NSFW Alphabet

Summary: yes he’s arrogant, but Fabien frankel tho… can’t help myself

Notes: ik ik i can't stfu about my new fanfic but like... it's really good, okay? go read hand turns loom y'all

Taglist: @a-beaverhousen @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins

Masterlist | requests are OPEN!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare what aftercare? Leaves as soon as he’s done. Cannot compromise on his honor

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Favorite body part of himself has to be his back. For the love of the Gods, please scratch it. He wants to be distracted so bad smh, but also, he’s got a really nice back.

About you, his favorite body part is your hair. I hc that he had a little sister that he took care of, so he likes to braid/unbraid your hair. Plus, his hands were on Rhae’s hair when they did the deed, so that only confirms my suspicions.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Should not enjoy cumming in you as much as he does… still does it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Would absolutely fuck you in the White Sword Tower (that’s where the Kingsguard live) if there was no risk.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s Dornish ffs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style. He gets to yank on your hair + doesn’t have to face what he’s doing as this position is a little more detached.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very, very serious. There’s a bunch of shame attached to sex for him, so jokes are not in it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet matches the drapes, but he ‘doesn’t have time to groom’. Don’t try it

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not very romantic. If you end up running away with him however, he’ll make up for the years lost

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it whenever he can’t risk sneaking out. Also tries to hold off any visits to you with this for as long as he can.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Nah cuz he done smacked Aegon's ass with that sword

His biggest kink gotta be hair pulling. However, he’s definitely got a sadist side and likes to spank a little…

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In the safety of your bed, with the door locked and preferably sound-proofed

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He doesn’t really have any motivation, but when he gets the urge, he’ll come visit you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything public – there’s too big of a risk.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving over receiving. Idk why, but he doesn’t seem like the type who would enjoy looking down at you on your knees. Most definitely has some Madonna-whore-complex, so he still holds you up on his own weird kind of pedestal.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough, most definitely. Incelot has places to be.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

All. The. Time. It’s all he can manage most of the time, and you’ve gotta work as well, so this is the best solution most of the time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not really. He knows what he likes, and so do you, so there’s no sense in this for him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last a few, but mostly doesn’t have time for them. Usually it’s foreplay and then one round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s too proud for them, if there is a westerosi version of toys

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t like to tease tbh. Unfair applies more to your relationship, as it’s probably going to be mostly for sex and you can expect gaslighting from him…

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud, he’s intent on valuing his time with you (mostly), so he tends to go silent. Also reminds you not to make too much noise.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves you in his own fucked up way, and he’s in dire need of therapy tbh. If you do end up running away with him, he’ll fall so hard for you and absolutely marry you and have a bunch of kids with you. I think a part of why he became so bitter is his loneliness, and that he would love to have four kiddos running around and demanding his attention all the time. You can see it in the way he acts with aegon and aemond if you ask me.

Get him in the right headspace, and he’ll be THE best girl dad ever.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s big, and lowkey I wish it wasn’t. Definitely long, rather than thick, but it’s a good length ;)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sometimes, it’s basically non-existent for weeks, and then sometimes, he can’t stand to be away from you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t. His guilt keeps him up for the nights afterwards, but if you do run with him, he’ll be snoozing away in no time.

[ladystarksneedle]

Of ladies and birds

(Helaena’s pov)

A/N: For @starstrucksnowing thank you so much for reaching out to me with this idea💞 I hope you like what I've done with it.

Thank you all for reading! Please do refer to this post as this little drabble is connected to it.

Word count: 712

It is a cloudy day when they're informed, at breakfast. Mother sits with her hands still clasped in prayer, telling them how their father wishes to see them. It is more of a summon than a request. It is no secret that he isn't well. She doesn't remember a time when he's ever been healthy, but his ailments have worsened considerably over the past few years. He's lost an eye now with half of his face covered in salves and bandages. She'd been to see him once before, when the loss was fresh. Her mother had applauded her for her kindness and the care she'd shown him, however it was mere curiosity and partial spite that had led her to his chambers. Covered in a fog of incense and dust, with his model of Old Valyria looming ominously, she'd glanced upon his face trying to hide her shock. He looked pitiful, a man on the precipice of death. Skin blackened, with protruding bones and labored grunts of pain interrupting the hollow heaves of his chest. She'd held his hand for a moment, only to get closer before leaving just as swiftly.

"Rhaenyra?"

Her sister had found her way to him even near death. Perhaps memories lingered in places even the gods couldn't reach. 

She finds herself at his doorstep again now, her brothers in tow. She's decided to leave the children behind, despite mother's insistence, his face will only serve to scare them. The royal apartments are the same as before, with the curtains pulled shut and a flurry of maesters at work. They bow as they reach him with Ser Criston closing the door behind. He's opted to stay indoors, she notices, looking back. Her mother's hands on the King's face give her reason enough. Fresh blood coats her fingers as she speaks to him in hushed tones informing him of their presence, wiping and adjusting his bandages. He grunts audibly and raises a bony finger beckoning them. Aegon bows his head looking anywhere but him. Aemond is the first to approach. He kneels beside her, enquiring about his health, monotonously reciting pleasantries, exactly as is expected of him. Mother tenses nearby as he speaks, yet smiles at him nevertheless. It is their turn to go next. Aegon shuffles behind her as she goes to sit beside him, gazing at him with pity and distaste. He yearns for him still, yet his presence only serves to deepen the wound he's inflicted upon them all. 

"Helaena", he croaks surprisingly. "How are you my butterfly?"

"I am well, father. As are the children."

"That is good. Very good. Your mother tells me they are growing well, yes."

"They are, father. They've begun to babble now."

"That is good. Good."

She looks at her mother imploringly, wishing to leave.

"And what have they said, hmm. A child's first words are a true delight."

"Lady and bird "

He looks at her now, his eye widening a fraction. 

"Those are, interesting words to use"

"They're very attentive. They've been watching me embroider a ladybird for a while, a present rather. Perhaps that they caught on to it out of curiosity."

"How curious indeed, and who" he stutters, "Who was the recipient of this delightful present "

"Ser Criston of course."

She hears shuffling behind her followed by an urgent cough. Her mother wrings her hands anxiously. Aemond and Aegon look at her wide eyed, suppressing their smirks.

"Indeed" her father croaks pitifully, extending his hand towards her. "You are very kind, my child, a most comely princess, caring for all our subjects."

"Ser Criston is hardly a subject father" she says tilting her head towards him.

"I think it is best we let the King rest my loves, we have kept him long enough." 

"That would be wise your grace," Maester Orwyle chimes in hurriedly, behind her.

As they rise together to leave, she glances back at him being tucked in apprehensively by their mother. Ser Criston gives her a subtle nod as she crosses the threshold.

"Perhaps you'd like to take that walk in the gardens today princess, I've heard it's a good day to spot a ladybird."

She beams up at him and nods. The incense lingers on.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond

[sublimitymp3]

hi hope you have a nice day :) if you have time could you write hotd's yandere boys (estranged) romantic reaction to his reader wife giving birth to twins? (I apologize in advance if this bothers you or something I swear I didn't mean to :( take care :)

I'm back 😈😈😈

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Aegon was madly in love with you, his darling wife, but he never quite knew how to show it. He had awful habits of drinking, whoring, and gambling, only pushing you further away from him. Each time he'd come crying to you on his knees promising he'd do better, you'd hold him and suppress your feelings, but enough was enough. You were pregnant, carrying his child and he couldn't even make an effort to stop his wanton ways. You were fed up, and rightfully so. You had moved into your own separate apartments, eating your meals alone in your rooms, and avoiding places around the Red Keep you knew your husband would frequent. Eventually, the months passed, and you neared closer to giving birth each day, until one night, your labors finally had begun. Aegon was at some brothel wasting away and getting drunker by the second it seemed. He had no clue you were in the midst of your labors, nor that you would be bringing in not one, but two of his babes into the world. It is only the next day does he wake from his slumber, hungover and feeling ill, does he find out you had given birth. He rushes to your chambers to see you sitting up in bed, cradling two swaddled babes, each one with little tufts of white hair and violet eyes. He'd immediately burst into tears at the sweet sight, begging for your forgiveness and swearing to the old Gods and the new that he would change his lecherous ways for you and his newborn children. Despite your apprehension to forgive him, deep down inside you strangely felt that he would truly honor his promise this time.

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Aemond seemed so cold to you. He was distant and rarely ever spoke to you unless it was necessary. Even when you'd try to initiate conversation he'd only respond cooly with a yes, no, or a simple hum of acknowledgment. You'd tell yourself at night when you lay alone in bed that it could've been worse. He could've been prone to striking you, or he could flaunt paramours in your face. He could've been a drunkard, a wastrel, or a cruel and sadistic husband. However, your efforts to comfort yourself would be in vain, as the feeling of loneliness festered within.

Despite Aemond being a withdrawn husband, you both had done your duty on your wedding night and so it was no surprise you had fallen pregnant. Unbeknownst to you, Aemond was growing more and more obsessive over you once he had been told you were now carrying his child. He didn't mean to be quite neglectful, he only wished to not overwhelm you with his less-than-normal feelings of obsession towards you. He practically stalked you, despite the fact you two were married and expecting a child. The months passed, and Aemond would open up a bit more, showing bits of care and concern toward you in your fragile state. But even then, his actions seemed cold and his words curt. When your labors begin, Aemond remains in the hall outside the birthing room, despite wanting to rush to your side. He decided right then and there as he heard your screams of pain that he would no longer keep up this distant farce. He didn't care if you'd find his attentions odd, he just couldn't bear to torture himself or you any longer. Once he could hear the wails of a baby, he'd rush into the room to be greeted with the sight of two, small, and wailing babes laying on your chest. He'd come to your side, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he admired your newborn twins with a small smile. You felt hope for your marriage at that tender moment, the first hope you had felt in such a long time.

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Jacaerys loves you so much, he truly does, but sometimes you feel as though he puts his duties of being heir above you. He takes his role extremely seriously, as his mother's claim is already shaky due to her being a woman, and his even more so due to the concerns of him being legitimate or not. He doesn't mean to neglect you, to dismiss your attempts at spending time with him, or to hardly inquire about his babe that grows within you. By the time he notices, the damage is already done. You had given up any attempts to spend time with him, to conversate with him, or to merely be in his presence. It seemed to you that he put his duty before you, and you couldn't see how you could change that. Honestly, Jace is so sweet I can't imagine him not immediately coming to you and apologizing immensely for being an inattentive husband, so for the sake of this, let us imagine he finally realizes the effect his actions have on you by the time you are in the midst of your labors. He'd be pacing outside the birthing room, mentally chastising himself for being so foolish. How could he have ever been so stupid to leave you alone when you needed him most? How could he be so cruel to the one he loved most? Your muffled screams of pain from beyond the door shattered his heart even more, and all he could do was wait in borderline painful anticipation. When the maester does let him in the room, he rushes to your side. He apologizes immensely, kissing your tears away and brushing the hair that sticks to your sweaty face out of the way. When he holds the twins for the first time, you watch him adoringly. Everything seemed right again.

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Ser Criston didn't get to see you much. You two were wedded in secret, as due to his vows as a member of the King's Guard, he wasn't allowed to wed or father children. You were a common girl, living in the city, and Ser Criston spent his days and nights at the Red Keep. He could only visit you on his rare days off, and even then those were kept brisk due to his paranoia someone would discover you. You had always tried your best to be understanding, after all, you knew what you were getting into by being romantically involved with a member of the King's Guard. But an awful thought would always linger in your mind whenever you would see Ser Criston: did he regret marrying you? The thought would persist, never leaving like some parasite that had latched onto you. In fact, as the months passed and your stomach swelled with his child, it only grew. He looked uneasy every time he'd stare too long at your pregnant belly, only feeding that awful thought in the back of your mind. Sometimes, you would even find yourself questioning your marriage to him, doubting it all. Your marriage grew tense, and though none of you voiced these feelings, it was evident the doubts festered within both of you. The day Ser Criston visited you after you had brought his twins into the world, he looked shocked. The color seemed to drain from his face, as he saw them. Not one, but two, living breathing children, evidence he had broken his vows. But the heartbroken expression on your face as you held back tears slapped him back into reality. He would quickly kneel by your side, whispering to you how he loved you and the babes more than anything, and that he regretted nothing. When he finally holds the babes, his smile was so genuine, and his eyes were filled with nothing but love. At that moment, those awful doubts faded from your mind, never to be thought of again.

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Daemon longed for battle. He loved you dearly, and so desperately wanted to stay put with you and your unborn babe. But when the fighting in the Stepstones had begun, and the perfect opportunity to spite his brother for refusing to name him heir arose, he couldn't resist. You had begged him to stay, far too worried for the peril he would most certainly face during battle, and fearing for his life. He brushed you off, leaving you behind.

You spent your nights alone, praying to the Seven to keep your lord husband safe so that your child would have a father. He barely wrote to you, and you found yourself getting more and more frustrated at him for leaving you and your child behind to participate in some war that didn't concern him that much. And it wasn't like he wanted to help for some noble cause, you knew he only joined to spite his brother. Instead of spending the remainder of your pregnancy happy with the notion of your child growing within you, you spent it crying tears of anger and sadness.

When Daemon first hears word from a messenger that you had given birth to healthy twins, he abandoned his petty attempts to establish his own kingdom to spite the king. He would return to you as fast as he could, proud that you had given him two strong and healthy heirs. Daemon wasn't the best at saying apologies and preferred to show them through actions. The Stepstones could wait, all he needed right now was to be with you and the newborn twins.

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when that 3am inspiration pulls you out of your sixth month hiatus 😍

[raparopa]

a/n: i love house of the dragon that's all

warnings: fem!reader, some femslash

when someone at the tournament asks for a sign of attention from their sweetheart

daemon targaryen

Daemon thinks this is funny. What a fearless, and it seems, immortal knight. Of course, he knows that his lover is beautiful, and he also knows that men pay attention to her. When a knight in a tournament asks his beloved for a sign of attention, Daemon ostentatiously, so that everyone can see, holds out his S/O wreath, which he himself chose in front of everyone, nodding with a smirk at the knight, who already regretted his decision.

- Come on, accept a gift from my wife, youngster. Isn't that what you wanted? -For the rest of the tournament, he will taunt in the ear of his woman, pointing to the impudent little knight, who had his head blown off after two races. 💕

criston cole

Criston immediately gets angry. All he will feel is irritation and terrible anger. He can't do anything - he's just a White Cape who can't even throw something offensive at a bastard who dares to covet his beautiful lady. But his anger will subside a little when he sees his beautiful woman in a flowing dress, with flowing hair and ribbons, with a beautiful wreath in her hands - he just cannot help but smile, looking at his goddess. But the knight who asked for her courtesy is first on Criston Cole's list. Let him get ready.

aemond targaryen

He didn't understand at all at first. Tournaments are generally the last thing Aemond cares about, he only came for his S/O. And when some man in armor asks his lover to give him a token, Aemond just:🤨

He looks at his happy, embarrassed companion, then at the impudent one, and silently clenches his fists, waiting for this ridiculous trick on the part of the knight to end. It's not like he's angry... He's ten times more tense, because usually she only smiles like that for him; and when his lady returns to him, he will be silent and look ahead of him for a long time. (slightly regretting not participating in the tournament, you get the idea)

aegon targaryen

In the morning a knight fights with a wreath from his wife on a spear; in the evening his head rolls in the mud. It's all.

alicent hightower

She is calm enough, because she knows that this is just a tradition. When she sees that her S/O has been chosen to give her a token of attention, she will smile gently at her, nod her head, and I think she will be proud that she has got such a beautiful treasure for a long time. When her lady returns to her, they will imperceptibly join their fingers, continuing to smile and giggle at each other, completely forgetting about the tournament.

lucerys velaryon

Luke is the biggest kitten in the world. PERIODT. 😼

I think he really likes tournaments (he likes to have fun and family evenings in general). He likes to place bets (in secret) on knights, whistle and clap loudly. But he never paid attention to the wreath moment until he had his S/O. When a man asks her to give him a token, Luke is surprised. He will ask her a lot of questions.

- Did he like you? Why did you choose this particular wreath? Does he think you are beautiful? And you him? What if I asked for a wreath?

-Luke, if you want me to give you a wreath, I'll give you a hundred of them, please don't take it personally.

After such a promise, he will sit with a proud smile and your hand in his palm.

jacaerys velaryon

He is surprised. He doesn't even want to let go of his S/O's hand at first, opening his mouth to say something. He sits with his mouth open and large, round eyes all the time, while his beloved, to the general applause, gives the knight her sign of attention. He glances at the man, clenching and unclenching his fingers. When his lady returns to him, he will simply continue to stare at her questioningly, making her laugh.

-Y/N!

- Do you want flowers in your hair too, honey?

rhaenyra targaryen

If the word "pride" was a person, it would be Rhaenyra. She proudly raises her chin, grins at the knight, as if showing with whom this wonderful S/O is here today, and the rest of the time in general, too. She has a beautiful companion, in silks and gold, who makes these unworthy ones drool over her. She perfectly remembers such moments in her life, and understands how such a request elevates you above other women who did not receive this.