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bucknastysbabe · 6 months

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Rating: Explicit

Tags: Loss of virginity, Criston is champ (who likes to be a bit puppy), Lady Dondarrion is a plus sized queen who doesn’t play around, pnv!sex, begging, set before HOTD, He learns alot that year Lmfao, pwp-ish, this is actually super soft

You stared from a high walkway, your companion next to you. Serena Caron was your closest friend and cousin. She was sent to Blackhaven as a girl. She tilted her head down at the training yard, eyeing a familiar yet changed face.

The newly knighted Ser Criston, the son of Blackhaven’s steward. Your uncle Arlan had knighted him since they returned from the last skirmish over the Boneway. He had grown into his gangly body, a man grown now. The dark haired knight was fearless with a Morningstar.

Serena noted, “He burned two water towers on the Boneway. Ser Criston was knighted soon after. He’s eight and ten now. Quite handsome you think?”

“Very much so. Much more handsome than the boy who stuttered and blushed to his ears when I spoke to him. When Cole was a squire still. Arlan’s ‘cole-black shadow’.” You snickered with Serena, clasping her arm, eyes catching the dark orbs of the steward’s son. You gave a smile and he nodded briskly, returning to training.

Your nightingale giggled, “He had to have gotten his cock wet by now. You know those camp whores flock to knights like flies to shit.”

Scoffing as you traveled down basalt steps, you replied, “Definitely not. He’s still green as the Mistwood. I’d imagine young Cole is like his father Wilhelm, all duty no fun.”

Serena’s dark eyes sparkled as she taunted, “Are you afraid your little childish flight of fancy has turned into a big handsome knight? Can’t moon over the highborn girl when his title can get many a pretty girl.”

Your cousin knew the jealous streak of yours. In your younger years, Criston was the cutest boy in the keep. You’d playfully tease and flirt with him, getting his stutter riled up and face darkened. You still wanted a piece.

You pinched her, snarking, “Oh don’t rile me up, you conniving songbird. He’s green and I can prove it. Make those pretty eyes wet with tears from my cunt alone.” The matter of your maidenhead was pointless— your husband Benjamin Tarly laid dead. Too soon for any seed to take.

Eventually some other lord’s wife would die in childbirth and you’d fill in. You were merely wedded and bedded at the tender age of 16 and now approached 22. The heir of Harvest Hall’s wife was rumored to have difficult births. Marcher to marcher, Selmy’s were not bad.

Whatever. You’d seduce this handsome knight and make him whine like a pretty maiden, doleful eyes begging you for relief. Serena interrupted your lustful thoughts and laughed, “Alright. If I’m correct, you get to brush my hair for a month.”

You sighed in annoyance regarding Serena’s thick curls.

“If I’m correct, you have to finally ask my brother for a dance,” you stated with a sniff.

Serena sputtered and blushed, slapping your shoulder. The Caron lady hissed, “Oh you witch! Beron thinks I’m a silly little girl.” Those two were so oblivious the Vulture King could spy their chemistry from Dorne. You shooed off your best friend.

“I’m off to seduce a maiden, wish me luck!”

She cursed you with a laugh, turning to her quarters.

Criston sat lower at the table for dinner, moved up above the castle guard and lowborn workers, bastards. Knighted now, he still retained a solemn disposition. There was fire underneath, not any soldier took initiative like he did near the horrid lands of House Wyl. Ambition lay underneath his puppy-ish face, baby fat all gone. Striking, with those deep eyes and tousled curls.

Wilhelm seemed to be preening, he boldly claimed his son would easily find his way to glory. Just needed some tourneys to get his name and skill out there. Criston gave a shy smile, sculpted lips curling up, tan skin darkening a shade.

You sipped on wonderfully bitter wine, eyeing him shamelessly. Serena snickered from your side. The young knight met your gaze and held it, brows furrowing in confusion. Placing the goblet down on the dark wood of the table, you licked your wine-stained lips, tossing your hair.

Criston averted his gaze, suddenly finding his supper very interesting. Shy little pup. You murmured, “Green. Green as the Queen’s dress.” Serena shrugged, “A highborn lady of the house he’s sworn to is much more intimidating than a whore.”

Supper was finished, servants coming to clear the plates. Abruptly standing up, you left to wait in a dark corner, eyes peeled for his fine frame. Ser Criston was clad in the familiar faded red of his small house. Annoyed as others filtered out, Arlan had cornered the object of your desire with your father.

Likely talking about horseshit and the upcoming tourney in Ashford. You waited and waited until they split, passing you by. Your Lord Father questioned, “What are you doing dear? Skulking like a ghost.”

Feigning innocence and batting wide eyes you simpered, casting a look to Ser Criston, “I simply wished to ask our valiant new knight about his adventures!” Arlan grinned and pushed the lad forward, “Go ahead, he’s too damn humble. Night my lovely niece.”

“Thank you nuncle, night to you.”

They strode off and Criston seemed like a fish out of water, eyes wide with uncertainty. He furrowed those dark brows again and asked, “What would you like to know about?” You hummed, “Walk with me and tell me all about it, before you get carted off again, Blackhaven’s new wonder!”

He gently took your arm and the pair of you strode around the basalt stones of Blackhaven. He seemed to ease up after some conversation, describing the bleak circumstances of the lands. You shuddered at the descriptions of the men lost and mutilated as a warning.

He asked a couple questions of his own, how your were holding up. What marriage offers may lay on the horizon. Chivalrous talk, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in the banal affairs of a Lord’s daughter. It warmed your heart some, your late husband was more concerned with hunting around Horn Hill.

You stopped the knight, conveniently at the doors to your chambers. He looked at them, back to you, and back to the door. Criston stuttered, “O-oh uh- it seems our walk has come to an e-end.” You smiled in a feline manner, placed a hand on his chest, felt his rapidly beating heart.

He inhaled sharply, unsure, murmuring nervously, “Lady Dondarrion, T-Tarly, wh-what’s going on here? This is unseemly for me.”

You shrugged, “Dondarrion. My maidenhead is gone and I desire you,” plastering your body to his you purred, “Since coming back on that black gelding looking like a maiden’s fantasy.”

He made a soft noise, eyelids fluttering, hands clenched at his sides. You murmured into his ear, so close your lips grazed the shell, the poor thing shivering, “If you desire to have me, the offer is standing now. Take it or leave it, Ser Criston.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, the pair of your stepping backwards into the door, lips meeting feverishly. He’d had some experience kissing, pretty lips easily moving with yours. He opened the door, more awkward stepping, then the dark haired man sealed the room shut.

His big hands wrapped around your corseted waist, gripping with a delightful force. Need emanated off the man, his broken noises slipping out between increasingly wet kisses. Your nimble fingers began to unbutton his doublet, exposing a pale undershirt and his lightly haired chest. He had a gorgeous golden chain upon tanned skin.

You pulled back, Criston softly whining and chasing your lips. He panted as you purred, “I’m a big girl sweet Criston, can you take it?” He nodded eagerly, seeking to get back to lapping your plush lips. Obviously he didn’t care of your curvy body, soft places that bothered you. Your mother passed down that.

Serena’s slim frame and busty chest oft drew the attention of most. You weren’t frumpy by any means, just thicker of waist and plumper thighs and ass, an overlarge bust you tried to bind down. Criston’s fuzzy brain seemed to catch up with him, praising, “You are beautiful, no amount of extra flesh is deterring me.”

You began to unbutton his breeches and he paused, indicating you to turn around. Thankfully the heat from the fire kept the room warm. You moved your hair aside as Criston’s hands undid your jewelry, carefully placing them on the nearest surface.

There was a stagnant pause. Criston’s hands hovering on the top button of your dress. You had already moved your hair, what was the hold up? Then it hit you, the green boy had no clue on how to undress a lady. Which granted, was a complicated ordeal.

“Unbutton that gold one,” you instructed.

He did so, pushing the dress down to reveal the next layer. The stiff corset, verdingal and bum roll. You untied the latter two yourself and teased, “Never seen a lady’s undergarments Cole?” He whispered, fingers faltering on the laces of the corset, “No, not of a highborn.”

The fire crackled as he released the garment, you breathing a sigh of relief, breasts and waist free of the restrictive garment. Only your thin shift remained, Criston making a weak noise as he jerked up the linen, groaning again at your soft frame.

It was your turn to be abashed, it had been a bit since anything but a primal rut in the dark at a tourney or feast from a visiting lord. He breathed, “Gods, oh, my lady.” You turned gently, unlacing his own breeches, tented by his cock. The knight’s thighs trembled, nervous hands roving your plush hips and ass.

You looked up at his doleful eyes, wide and needy. He’d bitten his lip bloody while you had been turned around. You asked, “Have you bedded a lady before?” He choked on an answer, gasping as you pumped his gorgeous prick.

He strained out, “No, fuck, fuck, my lady, I’ll be good for you, please.”

You thumbed around the tip, his mouth now fallen open.

“You’ll be good for me? Fuck your lord’s daughter, it’s almost your duty to be good. It’s okay, you’re a stud, I’ll let you eat my cunt if you blow early.” Criston made the sluttiest little whimper of your name, begging again, “Oh please, please.”

“Please what?”

He mournfully whimpered, “Pleeeease.”

You’d rendered the darling of Blackhaven to mush, begging for a treat like a sweet little hound, not even aware of what he was begging for. You let go of his leaky cock, leading him to the bed, pushing the tanned man down with a smirk. Your own cunt was aching, the power trip intoxicating.

Criston’s sweet face looked so innocent, panting heavily, hair already a sweaty mess. You straddled strong thighs, hands sliding up his lean torso. You asked sweetly, hands retreating to hold your breasts, “Do you want to touch them sweet knight? They’re so sore.”

He nodded, eyes growing teary with need. Criston warbled, “Yes, yes, may I?”

You nodded in assent, throwing your head back with a smile and throaty moan. Criston’s calloused hands felt good on the tender flesh, squeezing and experimentally thumbing your peaked nipples. The man groaned in pleasure, gasping out, “You’re so soft, feels good.”

You leaned over his frame, flesh to flesh gently coming together. Your paler skin against his tanned. His thighs trembled, mouth hanging open again as your body laid atop his stiff prick. You caressed a lightly stubbled cheek, smiling, “You’re just the sweetest thing, Ser Criston.”

He blushed, face screwing up when you laid kisses along his jaw and pulsing neck, nipping here and there. At the same time you rutted your swollen slick folds against him, sighing in pleasure. His big hands groped at your ass, voice strained, “Fuh-fuck me, fuck me please, oh gods m’lady, I’ll do anything, it- it hurts I swear it.”

Kissing his trembling lips, you cooed, “I’ve got you, relax, deep breaths sweetheart.” He nodded, frantic hands stilling, Criston’s staccato breath winding down a bit. Reaching under your body, you nestled the blunt tip of his cock against your sopping entrance. Cole cried out softly, hands clenching back down into your plush hips.’

He was doing his best to keep his breathing in line, exhaling sharply from his nose. You slowly sat onto the thick member, eyes fluttering from the feeling of fullness, the familiar stretch of your walls. You pressed your forehead to his cheek, hands planted on his muscled chest.

Criston seemed to be holding on for dear life, fingertips digging into you, leaving sweet bruises to cherish later. His cock twitched and throbbed, the knight babbling, “I, I, I, can’t m’lady oh seven hells!” You stroked his curls and shushed his frantic whining.

“I know, feels so good, just hold on, it’ll pass sweet boy.”

His teary eyes gazed at you intensely, nodding, you coddling him through the intense new sensations. Stroking back a sweaty piece of hair you asked, “Better sweet boy? Such a pretty pup with a pretty cock. Want me to ride you now?”

Criston managed a weak moan of ‘yes’, hips already twitching upwards. You began to raise your hips, riding his thick cock in slow movements. His back arched a bit, planting his feet down to thrust into your wet pussy. You praised, “Yesss, yes, that’s it!”

Soon the slow rolls sped up with each collision of your ass to his lean hips. What had once looked like gentle lovemaking had turned into fucking— loud, lurid, sloppy. Your mouth mashed against his, the pair of you whining and carrying on accompanied by the sound of your cunt being pounded.

Criston warbled, “So good so good, my lady, gods!” You nibbled on his lips, angling your hips to graze your sensitive bud against his body. The knight’s noises were getting more frequent. He thrust harder, hitting that good spot, you involuntarily tightening around him with a cry. You watched as the man stiffened with a whimper, eyes going wide, cock swelling up.

You immediately pulled up and off his cock, Criston too lost in the throes of his sudden orgasm to register the loss of your warm cunt. In a frenzy you ground yourself against his body, cumming as his seed spurted against your back and ass. He moaned dazedly, eyes watching you get off, rasping, “On me, my lady, on me, beautiful. Shall I get down on my knees and lap at you?”

His utter adoration and sweet voice, big hands at your sides accompanied the heightening sensitivity to your bundle, you grunting and moaning deeply, grabbing a handful of dark curls. The image of the pretty knight with a collar between your legs sent you over the edge with a raspy keen. Slick covered his lower belly coarse curls, Criston seeking out your lips desperately.

He shuddered underneath you, cute little ‘thank you’ leaving his lips. You rolled off of him, uncaring of the seed dirtying the bed. Criston immediately pulled you into his frame, tucking a stubbled chin into your neck. You rubbed his arm around your belly and hummed, “Not bad for your first time. I can teach you many a thing before off your pretty ass goes to tourneys and I get sent to Harvest Hall.”

“I would quite enjoy that,” came his soft voice.

Ser Criston Cole always sought out the banners of House Selmy during Royal tourneys later on. She was beautiful as ever, holding a babe and nodding at him with a dazzling smile. He’d always be fond of his times in Blackhaven, especially with her.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #criston x reader #pre canon

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la-dame-aux-pieds-nus · 7 months

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Serena Carone, (Le cénotaphe de Sophie).

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eternaleternity-rpg · 1 year

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Conoce algunas búsquedas de nuestros usuarios. Por tomar una búsqueda puedes llevarte 15 dragones y si tomas alguno de los personajes canon que otros usuarios están buscando, puedes también reclamar esos puntos de búsqueda!

Lady Cerelle Lannister busca a su hermana gemela, lady Genna.

Lady Alarra Velaryon, busca a su marido Aethan, a su padre y hermano, Tristoy y Lucifer Massey.

Lady Serena Bolton, busca a su hermana menor y a su hermano bastardo.

Lady Cyrenna Swann, busca a sus hermanos, el señor y heredo de Yelmo de Piedra.

Lady Elenei Caron, busca a su hermano mayor. Heredero de Canto Nocturno, el único (junto a Elenei) que no está secuestrado por los Fowler.

Lady Myrcella Swyft, la nueva señora de Roca Casterly, busca a su padre, el ¿consejero? de Loren Lannister.

La reina Rhaenys Targaryen, busca a su espada juramentada, un primo lejano de los Targaryen.

Aemma Volmark, capitana de El Alba, busca a su hermana mayor la señora de Volmark, un compañero de viaje y una inocente doncella.

Lord Gawen Tarth, busca a sus hermanos menores y a una doncella de la casa Estermont con la que muchas cosas podrían pasar o no.

Lady Elia Blackmont, busca a su madrastra malvada y varias tramas para ayudarle a sobrevivir

FORO ♛ PERSONAJES CANON ♛ AMBIENTACIÓN

#submission

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lasirenita-prom · 1 year

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