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[deadonyouraccount]

Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous baby

HARRY COLLETT as JACAERYS VELARYON HOUSE OF THE DRAGON | Regent

[deadonyouraccount]

Must have been horrible for you. As a Kingsguard, as a father.

GAME OF THRONES // S07E03 HOUSE OF THE DRAGON // S02E04

[deadonyouraccount]

I have no philosophy. Or rather, my philosophy was this. To protect the righteous and dispense justice on the rest. But now... You saw what I saw.

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I’m chomping at the fucking bit for shadows to release already PLEASEEEEEEEE

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Blocked someone who crossed boundaries hour later someone sent me a Twitter ss of the person in question calling Cole fans sensitive and puritanical

I guess I’m gonna be the fabulous nun now???

[deadonyouraccount]

THE GIFS ARE TAKING ME OUTTTTT ily george

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Criston Cole/You

WC: 2k

Tags: PWP, modern Westeros setting, Yeah we’re fucking cops🤡, infidelity, vague vague mentions of verbal abuse, quickie, car sex, age difference, but Criston’s 23 forever, pnv!sex, v!fingering, slight softness that came outta nowhere, dominant cris, whole ass messy situation but hey you came!

A/N: Dedicated to my colewives mwah mwah

You stood next to the car, frowning as you stared at the stop sign denting the front. Should’ve known, you thought. Your boyfriend was in the back of a cop car, getting ready to spend a lovely night in jail. They said the captain of the precinct was coming by.

You were in a different part of King’s Landing, in Uni at KLU on a night out with your boyfriend, trying to use a “date night” to patch up the shitty state of things. You were supposed to be DD. Alas, he insisted, no screaming at you he was fine. Now the car was lodged against the stop sign.

Another vehicle pulled up, giving the go-ahead to take your boyfriend to the drunk tank. You leaned against the car, arms crossed, frowning.

You weren’t sure why a captain would waste his time addressing a stupid accident in a practically desolate part of the city, but you were growing nervous about getting home and it was too close to Flea Bottom for your comfort.

He got out of the car, squinting under the low lights of the small street. He walked with a swagger, stiff shoulders but a rolling gait. You straightened up, grabbing your purse to provide insurance and your card. Your boyfriend was too belligerent to help.

“Have you been drinking ma’am?” He inquired with a low rasp. You looked up at the man, making eye contact with dark eyes. He was older, but handsome— looked Dornish but had that brusque Stormlander accent.

You replied, shaking your head, “No. I was supposed to drive. My boyfriend took the keys, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Couldn’t call a friend?” He asked, a subtle smugness across his features, curved lips turned up at the corners. You sighed, exasperated, but you weren’t going to mouth off. KLU’s police department wasn’t known for being particularly friendly, especially in the seedier areas and around the bars.

“No sir, he was pissed, I got overwhelmed. I’m not drunk. I go to school here and my car is screwed.”

He walked past you, his broad shoulder grazing your own. The cop looked at the front of the vehicle, a nasty little laugh filling the relative silence. You turned to face him, brows furrowing.

“He couldn’t see straight. I don’t know.”

“You should’ve called someone.”

You huffed, aggravated with his attitude, “And just let my boyfriend drive off in my car, officer?”

He stood up, leveling you with a look. He walked closer, filling up your space. You could see the stars on his shining badge, the name ‘Cole’ across his breast. The captain murmured, “Yep. He sounds like a real charmer.”

Cole took a look at you, then at the car as his jaw worked. He smelled like expensive cologne. Your eyes darted to the ring on his left hand. He spoke again, “Well, the vehicle is in your name. We’ll put the charges on him, but it’s your car. You need to call a tow while I file your insurance.”

You nodded, handing him the requested items.

You called the tow while he sauntered back to the cruiser, punching buttons into whatever technology they had. You almost wanted to cry at the price of the service, reading your card, pissed off.

Stupid boyfriend, stupid you, stupid asshole cop.

The captain was back, spooking you, his calloused hand holding out your belongings. You grabbed them, stuffing them back in your purse. “They’ll be here in forty-five. I need to call my roommate.”

He stared, jaw working again before speaking.

“I’ll give you a ride. You’re on campus?”

You nodded, unsure of this man. He was of the law, but there was something about the way the older man looked at you. The dark-haired man hummed, “It’s Criston. Don’t worry, there’s no charge for a ride. Come on, you look like you’re going to fall over.”

You relented, following him to the cruiser, eyeing his frame. He was handsome. You couldn’t help but notice. Maybe it was the sheer anger at your boyfriend. Criston seemed aloof, probably just being nice. Yet the stare.

You climbed into the other side of his vehicle, buckling in. He looked at you, taking his hat off, short curling hair underneath, some greys at the temples. It smelled like leather, cologne, and something distinct of the man.

“We need to wait until the tow. Shit part of town you’re in, love,” he rasped.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed, earning a humored huff from the stoic cop.

His arm moved around the back of your seat, legs stretching out as he got comfortable. You thought about the wedding band again, eyes flicking around the car. Criston was looking at you.

“How old are you? Too damn precious to be with a boy who wrecks your car.”

You blushed, mumbling, “Twenty-one.” He was hitting on you. Seven hells. The attention was nice, all things considered. Your belly tightened as you felt a pull towards this cop who was married and much older than you, regardless of his youthful appearance.

“Twenty-one. Hm. I was just a rookie then,” he said, a thoughtful note to his raspy voice.

“You’re married,” you stated, the words bubbling out.

“Yeah. I am. Got step-kids too,” he said, looking at you. Criston held your gaze until you looked away, heart beginning to pump. He shrugged, adding, “Can’t say it’s a pleasant marriage. She doesn’t care, I’d wager.”

He licked his lips. You made a soft noise, peering back up.

“We’ve got forty minutes now. Why don’t we make good use of the time, get your mind off of that little boy.”

His arm slid around your shoulders, hand squeezing your bare shoulder. You swallowed, voice weak as you questioned.

“Are you- you mean?”

He laughed, a derisive snort more than anything as he smiled, pretty teeth glinting in the low light. Criston looked at you, amused, his tone patronizing.

“You know what I mean sweetheart, c’mere, I can tell you need it.”

You didn’t listen to the voice in your head screaming no, climbing over into his lap, lips pressing to his. One of his hands slid around your back, pressing you close, the other sliding the seat back. He groaned, tilting his head to get deeper.

Your arms laid across his shoulders, bent awkwardly. You didn’t care, tongue sliding against his, the stubble of his jaw pricking delightfully. Both of Criston’s hands slid up and down your waist, sliding under your crop top as he lapped into your mouth.

You whimpered, pressing closer, shivering helplessly as his calloused palms gripped at your tits, tenderly kneading, thumbs sliding across your stiff nipples.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, panting against his mouth. Criston hummed, kissing down your jaw and throat, his cock growing full and thick underneath you. You rolled your hips, desire clouding your mind as you adjusted your arms, one hand in his short hair.

Criston grunted, growling against your tender throat, plucking at your peaks until they ached, the sensation drawing down to your pussy, connected by a string of pleasure. He murmured, “Needy little thing, someone hasn’t been taking of you huh?”

You whined, babbling, “Yes, yes, it’s no good, want you, please.”

You could feel his grin, a playful nip to your pulse point as his hands unbuttoned your shorts, you shifting up so he could jerk them down, underwear included. His lips were back on yours, tongue lazily dancing while he unbuttoned his belt, grunting when he undid the fly.

“You want me right here baby?” Criston rumbled, pulling your hand to palm his thick cock with a pleased groan, his pretty lips falling open. You nodded, begging, “Yeah, please sir, need it.”

“Sir,” he repeated, dark eyes peering at your debauched look. “You’re sweet, you know that? Just needed a little attention and you’re squirming in my lap, calling me sir.”

You whimpered as embarrassment crested, warbling, “I’m not like this- I swear.”

“I know, you’re just a little…deprived, baby.”

His fingers slid between your thighs, dipping into your soaked cunt, the heel of his palm rubbing your swollen clit. You cried out, lashes fluttering as he stretched you, playfully swiping up to make you moan or squirm.

“So wet, such a good girl aren’t you?”

You buried your head against his neck, losing your sense. Criston’s presence was strong, overwhelming, and the sound of your pussy getting fucked by his fingers was the cherry on top. He pet your back, almost soothing.

“I want you, oh gods, I want you, I’m a good girl,” you begged, voice cracking with need. You shivered as his fingers slid out of you, whining at the empty feeling. Criston brought them to his lips, sucking on his fingers with a deep groan.

You couldn’t take it anymore, hand darting down to pull his thick cock out, pumping a few times for good measure, Criston’s head falling back with a throaty noise. His hands moved to your hips, letting you guide him into your slick cunt.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he gasped, heaving a breath as you eased onto him. It didn’t take long for you to lose your bravado— you felt full to the brim with his prick, a bolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. You gripped his shoulders, thighs weakened and twitching as you could feel him pulsing, rubbing your sensitive walls.

Criston moaned, dark and filthy, grinning as he rasped, “Yeah. That’s what’cha needed. Gods you feel good, I’ve got you.”

His hips snapped up, eliciting a cry from your lips, hands digging into his shoulders. Criston adjusted his grip, fucking up into you quickly, cock rubbing deep into your pussy, building molten friction with every thrust. He was panting against your neck, focused on getting every drop of pleasure, mumbling here and there.

You were much louder, soft cries leaving your swollen lips as the captain fucked you. Your stomach was tight, growing tighter with each frantic snap of Criston’s hips. The car was growing humid, your hair sticking to your neck as you began to peak.

One of your hands snaked down, only to get swatted away, Criston’s voice snapping you out of the haze.

“No, I get this,” he said, brown eyes meeting yours, holding your attention as his thumb slid teasingly around where he was splitting you, making up to your clit to swipe at the tender bundle in quick flicks.

You could feel your eyes rolling back, lashes fluttering as your thighs tightened up, back arching as your cunt clamped down on Criston’s prick, squeezing him in waves as you cried and carried on, ecstasy spreading across your nerves. He made a soft noise, moaning, “Fuck, you on BC?”

You nodded, Criston’s mouth on your shoulder, hoarse moans as his cock swelled, filling you up with a rough thrust into you. He gripped your hips, hard, giving them a final squeeze as the man laid back in the seat, a pleased look on his face.

You looked around for a napkin or cloth, Criston handing you a shirt from seemingly out of nowhere, hissing with you as you eased off his softening prick. You cleaned up the best you could, pulling up your underwear and shorts, and buttoning them.

He did the same once you climbed off his lap, the cop quiet. He heard something on the radio, a frown on his pretty lips. He looked over at you, his voice surprisingly gentle as he pointed out the truck. The tow truck was pulling up now, you were glad— but too fucked out to care. Your legs felt like jelly.

Criston waited as the car was taken off to a shop, then turned the car on, the stagnant energy in the car lessening with the AC. He drove a couple of blocks before speaking, dark eyes swiveling around as he reached over to rest a warm hand on your thigh.

You looked down at his hand, mulling over the whole encounter.

“Do I need to call the emergency line to get you, sir?”

He laughed, more genuine this time. Criston shrugged, replying, “It’s Criston, but best not. Unless you plan on making up a heinous crime every week. You want my number?” He seemed surprised, a little disheartening for you.

He was a married scumbag who just fucked you in his work vehicle. Who knows who else he’d done the same to?

“Yeah, I do,” you said.

The sign for the University came into view, and you almost didn’t want to leave, you’d miss his hand on you. Criston hummed, “You have to pick up your ‘boyfriend’ tomorrow anyways, yeah?”

“He can catch a cab,” you said, still bitter.

“Good girl,” Cole said, grinning again, squeezing your thigh playfully.

You left with a hastily scrawled number and a pleasant ache between your thighs. There was no telling, but his long look and soft goodbye lingered. You put the slip on your nightstand back to your apartment on campus, ignoring the strange look from your roommate.

“Criston Cole,” you murmured in the quiet atmosphere of your room, smiling to yourself.

The man himself couldn’t get you out of his head. He frowned, eyeing the ring on his hand. He knew he sounded like a middle aged loser, puppy eyes for a damn girl almost less than half his age, leaning over as the precious dove got out on shaky legs. Criston groaned, recalling the way he had said goodbye to you so desperately, “Hey. Really, text me sometime.”

He said your name softly to himself, sighing.

[deadonyouraccount]

[deadonyouraccount]

ILYYYYYY

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Criston Cole/You

WC: 2k

Tags: PWP, modern Westeros setting, Yeah we’re fucking cops🤡, infidelity, vague vague mentions of verbal abuse, quickie, car sex, age difference, but Criston’s 23 forever, pnv!sex, v!fingering, slight softness that came outta nowhere, dominant cris, whole ass messy situation but hey you came!

A/N: Dedicated to my colewives mwah mwah

You stood next to the car, frowning as you stared at the stop sign denting the front. Should’ve known, you thought. Your boyfriend was in the back of a cop car, getting ready to spend a lovely night in jail. They said the captain of the precinct was coming by.

You were in a different part of King’s Landing, in Uni at KLU on a night out with your boyfriend, trying to use a “date night” to patch up the shitty state of things. You were supposed to be DD. Alas, he insisted, no screaming at you he was fine. Now the car was lodged against the stop sign.

Another vehicle pulled up, giving the go-ahead to take your boyfriend to the drunk tank. You leaned against the car, arms crossed, frowning.

You weren’t sure why a captain would waste his time addressing a stupid accident in a practically desolate part of the city, but you were growing nervous about getting home and it was too close to Flea Bottom for your comfort.

He got out of the car, squinting under the low lights of the small street. He walked with a swagger, stiff shoulders but a rolling gait. You straightened up, grabbing your purse to provide insurance and your card. Your boyfriend was too belligerent to help.

“Have you been drinking ma’am?” He inquired with a low rasp. You looked up at the man, making eye contact with dark eyes. He was older, but handsome— looked Dornish but had that brusque Stormlander accent.

You replied, shaking your head, “No. I was supposed to drive. My boyfriend took the keys, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Couldn’t call a friend?” He asked, a subtle smugness across his features, curved lips turned up at the corners. You sighed, exasperated, but you weren’t going to mouth off. KLU’s police department wasn’t known for being particularly friendly, especially in the seedier areas and around the bars.

“No sir, he was pissed, I got overwhelmed. I’m not drunk. I go to school here and my car is screwed.”

He walked past you, his broad shoulder grazing your own. The cop looked at the front of the vehicle, a nasty little laugh filling the relative silence. You turned to face him, brows furrowing.

“He couldn’t see straight. I don’t know.”

“You should’ve called someone.”

You huffed, aggravated with his attitude, “And just let my boyfriend drive off in my car, officer?”

He stood up, leveling you with a look. He walked closer, filling up your space. You could see the stars on his shining badge, the name ‘Cole’ across his breast. The captain murmured, “Yep. He sounds like a real charmer.”

Cole took a look at you, then at the car as his jaw worked. He smelled like expensive cologne. Your eyes darted to the ring on his left hand. He spoke again, “Well, the vehicle is in your name. We’ll put the charges on him, but it’s your car. You need to call a tow while I file your insurance.”

You nodded, handing him the requested items.

You called the tow while he sauntered back to the cruiser, punching buttons into whatever technology they had. You almost wanted to cry at the price of the service, reading your card, pissed off.

Stupid boyfriend, stupid you, stupid asshole cop.

The captain was back, spooking you, his calloused hand holding out your belongings. You grabbed them, stuffing them back in your purse. “They’ll be here in forty-five. I need to call my roommate.”

He stared, jaw working again before speaking.

“I’ll give you a ride. You’re on campus?”

You nodded, unsure of this man. He was of the law, but there was something about the way the older man looked at you. The dark-haired man hummed, “It’s Criston. Don’t worry, there’s no charge for a ride. Come on, you look like you’re going to fall over.”

You relented, following him to the cruiser, eyeing his frame. He was handsome. You couldn’t help but notice. Maybe it was the sheer anger at your boyfriend. Criston seemed aloof, probably just being nice. Yet the stare.

You climbed into the other side of his vehicle, buckling in. He looked at you, taking his hat off, short curling hair underneath, some greys at the temples. It smelled like leather, cologne, and something distinct of the man.

“We need to wait until the tow. Shit part of town you’re in, love,” he rasped.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed, earning a humored huff from the stoic cop.

His arm moved around the back of your seat, legs stretching out as he got comfortable. You thought about the wedding band again, eyes flicking around the car. Criston was looking at you.

“How old are you? Too damn precious to be with a boy who wrecks your car.”

You blushed, mumbling, “Twenty-one.” He was hitting on you. Seven hells. The attention was nice, all things considered. Your belly tightened as you felt a pull towards this cop who was married and much older than you, regardless of his youthful appearance.

“Twenty-one. Hm. I was just a rookie then,” he said, a thoughtful note to his raspy voice.

“You’re married,” you stated, the words bubbling out.

“Yeah. I am. Got step-kids too,” he said, looking at you. Criston held your gaze until you looked away, heart beginning to pump. He shrugged, adding, “Can’t say it’s a pleasant marriage. She doesn’t care, I’d wager.”

He licked his lips. You made a soft noise, peering back up.

“We’ve got forty minutes now. Why don’t we make good use of the time, get your mind off of that little boy.”

His arm slid around your shoulders, hand squeezing your bare shoulder. You swallowed, voice weak as you questioned.

“Are you- you mean?”

He laughed, a derisive snort more than anything as he smiled, pretty teeth glinting in the low light. Criston looked at you, amused, his tone patronizing.

“You know what I mean sweetheart, c’mere, I can tell you need it.”

You didn’t listen to the voice in your head screaming no, climbing over into his lap, lips pressing to his. One of his hands slid around your back, pressing you close, the other sliding the seat back. He groaned, tilting his head to get deeper.

Your arms laid across his shoulders, bent awkwardly. You didn’t care, tongue sliding against his, the stubble of his jaw pricking delightfully. Both of Criston’s hands slid up and down your waist, sliding under your crop top as he lapped into your mouth.

You whimpered, pressing closer, shivering helplessly as his calloused palms gripped at your tits, tenderly kneading, thumbs sliding across your stiff nipples.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, panting against his mouth. Criston hummed, kissing down your jaw and throat, his cock growing full and thick underneath you. You rolled your hips, desire clouding your mind as you adjusted your arms, one hand in his short hair.

Criston grunted, growling against your tender throat, plucking at your peaks until they ached, the sensation drawing down to your pussy, connected by a string of pleasure. He murmured, “Needy little thing, someone hasn’t been taking of you huh?”

You whined, babbling, “Yes, yes, it’s no good, want you, please.”

You could feel his grin, a playful nip to your pulse point as his hands unbuttoned your shorts, you shifting up so he could jerk them down, underwear included. His lips were back on yours, tongue lazily dancing while he unbuttoned his belt, grunting when he undid the fly.

“You want me right here baby?” Criston rumbled, pulling your hand to palm his thick cock with a pleased groan, his pretty lips falling open. You nodded, begging, “Yeah, please sir, need it.”

“Sir,” he repeated, dark eyes peering at your debauched look. “You’re sweet, you know that? Just needed a little attention and you’re squirming in my lap, calling me sir.”

You whimpered as embarrassment crested, warbling, “I’m not like this- I swear.”

“I know, you’re just a little…deprived, baby.”

His fingers slid between your thighs, dipping into your soaked cunt, the heel of his palm rubbing your swollen clit. You cried out, lashes fluttering as he stretched you, playfully swiping up to make you moan or squirm.

“So wet, such a good girl aren’t you?”

You buried your head against his neck, losing your sense. Criston’s presence was strong, overwhelming, and the sound of your pussy getting fucked by his fingers was the cherry on top. He pet your back, almost soothing.

“I want you, oh gods, I want you, I’m a good girl,” you begged, voice cracking with need. You shivered as his fingers slid out of you, whining at the empty feeling. Criston brought them to his lips, sucking on his fingers with a deep groan.

You couldn’t take it anymore, hand darting down to pull his thick cock out, pumping a few times for good measure, Criston’s head falling back with a throaty noise. His hands moved to your hips, letting you guide him into your slick cunt.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he gasped, heaving a breath as you eased onto him. It didn’t take long for you to lose your bravado— you felt full to the brim with his prick, a bolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. You gripped his shoulders, thighs weakened and twitching as you could feel him pulsing, rubbing your sensitive walls.

Criston moaned, dark and filthy, grinning as he rasped, “Yeah. That’s what’cha needed. Gods you feel good, I’ve got you.”

His hips snapped up, eliciting a cry from your lips, hands digging into his shoulders. Criston adjusted his grip, fucking up into you quickly, cock rubbing deep into your pussy, building molten friction with every thrust. He was panting against your neck, focused on getting every drop of pleasure, mumbling here and there.

You were much louder, soft cries leaving your swollen lips as the captain fucked you. Your stomach was tight, growing tighter with each frantic snap of Criston’s hips. The car was growing humid, your hair sticking to your neck as you began to peak.

One of your hands snaked down, only to get swatted away, Criston’s voice snapping you out of the haze.

“No, I get this,” he said, brown eyes meeting yours, holding your attention as his thumb slid teasingly around where he was splitting you, making up to your clit to swipe at the tender bundle in quick flicks.

You could feel your eyes rolling back, lashes fluttering as your thighs tightened up, back arching as your cunt clamped down on Criston’s prick, squeezing him in waves as you cried and carried on, ecstasy spreading across your nerves. He made a soft noise, moaning, “Fuck, you on BC?”

You nodded, Criston’s mouth on your shoulder, hoarse moans as his cock swelled, filling you up with a rough thrust into you. He gripped your hips, hard, giving them a final squeeze as the man laid back in the seat, a pleased look on his face.

You looked around for a napkin or cloth, Criston handing you a shirt from seemingly out of nowhere, hissing with you as you eased off his softening prick. You cleaned up the best you could, pulling up your underwear and shorts, and buttoning them.

He did the same once you climbed off his lap, the cop quiet. He heard something on the radio, a frown on his pretty lips. He looked over at you, his voice surprisingly gentle as he pointed out the truck. The tow truck was pulling up now, you were glad— but too fucked out to care. Your legs felt like jelly.

Criston waited as the car was taken off to a shop, then turned the car on, the stagnant energy in the car lessening with the AC. He drove a couple of blocks before speaking, dark eyes swiveling around as he reached over to rest a warm hand on your thigh.

You looked down at his hand, mulling over the whole encounter.

“Do I need to call the emergency line to get you, sir?”

He laughed, more genuine this time. Criston shrugged, replying, “It’s Criston, but best not. Unless you plan on making up a heinous crime every week. You want my number?” He seemed surprised, a little disheartening for you.

He was a married scumbag who just fucked you in his work vehicle. Who knows who else he’d done the same to?

“Yeah, I do,” you said.

The sign for the University came into view, and you almost didn’t want to leave, you’d miss his hand on you. Criston hummed, “You have to pick up your ‘boyfriend’ tomorrow anyways, yeah?”

“He can catch a cab,” you said, still bitter.

“Good girl,” Cole said, grinning again, squeezing your thigh playfully.

You left with a hastily scrawled number and a pleasant ache between your thighs. There was no telling, but his long look and soft goodbye lingered. You put the slip on your nightstand back to your apartment on campus, ignoring the strange look from your roommate.

“Criston Cole,” you murmured in the quiet atmosphere of your room, smiling to yourself.

The man himself couldn’t get you out of his head. He frowned, eyeing the ring on his hand. He knew he sounded like a middle aged loser, puppy eyes for a damn girl almost less than half his age, leaning over as the precious dove got out on shaky legs. Criston groaned, recalling the way he had said goodbye to you so desperately, “Hey. Really, text me sometime.”

He said your name softly to himself, sighing.

[deadonyouraccount]

Elia Martell...

[deadonyouraccount]

Thanks for the tag mwah @towriteloveontheirarms

I’m like totally a train wreck when it comes to writing rn but

TL;DR// my dream is to write for fun and exist w fellows where there’s a mutual enjoyment and not having a brainfuck about silly things❤️

1.) I want to get out of my head and explore unconscious feelings through writing whether that’s pwp or 11k words sitting in my notes

2.) To have a feeling of congruence where I feel like there isn’t a disconnect my real self and ideal self while having genuine ppl along w me for inspo

This is still a hobby of mine— just being candid where I feel like I need to detach from external expectations of when I was getting a lot of interaction in the ‘prime’ of my old blog and be happy with what I wrote. I used to reread my works all the time without wanting to throttle myself

Like in early sobriety I started writing about Bucky on ao3 and it was so nice bc I didn’t know how to focus or be still and fanfic helped w that. I had a lot of passion and was doing it more for myself than others and I had SERENITY

What are you guy’s biggest dreams as a writer/artist/*insert other passion here* ?

i’ll go first

1) i wanna make people experience every type of emotion just from my writing

2) i wanna reach the depth of characterisation where people like, hyperfixate on my characters/my story

@pythonmoth @pencil-n-pen @lovesick-all-over-my-bed (anyone else is free to reblog!)

[deadonyouraccount]

Face card is on Amex centurion🩶

[deadonyouraccount]

isn't there a tragedy in sacrificing your firstborn?

[deadonyouraccount]

"we LOVE a gossip"

[deadonyouraccount]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Criston Cole/You

WC: 2k

Tags: PWP, modern Westeros setting, Yeah we’re fucking cops🤡, infidelity, vague vague mentions of verbal abuse, quickie, car sex, age difference, but Criston’s 23 forever, pnv!sex, v!fingering, slight softness that came outta nowhere, dominant cris, whole ass messy situation but hey you came!

A/N: Dedicated to my colewives mwah mwah

You stood next to the car, frowning as you stared at the stop sign denting the front. Should’ve known, you thought. Your boyfriend was in the back of a cop car, getting ready to spend a lovely night in jail. They said the captain of the precinct was coming by.

You were in a different part of King’s Landing, in Uni at KLU on a night out with your boyfriend, trying to use a “date night” to patch up the shitty state of things. You were supposed to be DD. Alas, he insisted, no screaming at you he was fine. Now the car was lodged against the stop sign.

Another vehicle pulled up, giving the go-ahead to take your boyfriend to the drunk tank. You leaned against the car, arms crossed, frowning.

You weren’t sure why a captain would waste his time addressing a stupid accident in a practically desolate part of the city, but you were growing nervous about getting home and it was too close to Flea Bottom for your comfort.

He got out of the car, squinting under the low lights of the small street. He walked with a swagger, stiff shoulders but a rolling gait. You straightened up, grabbing your purse to provide insurance and your card. Your boyfriend was too belligerent to help.

“Have you been drinking ma’am?” He inquired with a low rasp. You looked up at the man, making eye contact with dark eyes. He was older, but handsome— looked Dornish but had that brusque Stormlander accent.

You replied, shaking your head, “No. I was supposed to drive. My boyfriend took the keys, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Couldn’t call a friend?” He asked, a subtle smugness across his features, curved lips turned up at the corners. You sighed, exasperated, but you weren’t going to mouth off. KLU’s police department wasn’t known for being particularly friendly, especially in the seedier areas and around the bars.

“No sir, he was pissed, I got overwhelmed. I’m not drunk. I go to school here and my car is screwed.”

He walked past you, his broad shoulder grazing your own. The cop looked at the front of the vehicle, a nasty little laugh filling the relative silence. You turned to face him, brows furrowing.

“He couldn’t see straight. I don’t know.”

“You should’ve called someone.”

You huffed, aggravated with his attitude, “And just let my boyfriend drive off in my car, officer?”

He stood up, leveling you with a look. He walked closer, filling up your space. You could see the stars on his shining badge, the name ‘Cole’ across his breast. The captain murmured, “Yep. He sounds like a real charmer.”

Cole took a look at you, then at the car as his jaw worked. He smelled like expensive cologne. Your eyes darted to the ring on his left hand. He spoke again, “Well, the vehicle is in your name. We’ll put the charges on him, but it’s your car. You need to call a tow while I file your insurance.”

You nodded, handing him the requested items.

You called the tow while he sauntered back to the cruiser, punching buttons into whatever technology they had. You almost wanted to cry at the price of the service, reading your card, pissed off.

Stupid boyfriend, stupid you, stupid asshole cop.

The captain was back, spooking you, his calloused hand holding out your belongings. You grabbed them, stuffing them back in your purse. “They’ll be here in forty-five. I need to call my roommate.”

He stared, jaw working again before speaking.

“I’ll give you a ride. You’re on campus?”

You nodded, unsure of this man. He was of the law, but there was something about the way the older man looked at you. The dark-haired man hummed, “It’s Criston. Don’t worry, there’s no charge for a ride. Come on, you look like you’re going to fall over.”

You relented, following him to the cruiser, eyeing his frame. He was handsome. You couldn’t help but notice. Maybe it was the sheer anger at your boyfriend. Criston seemed aloof, probably just being nice. Yet the stare.

You climbed into the other side of his vehicle, buckling in. He looked at you, taking his hat off, short curling hair underneath, some greys at the temples. It smelled like leather, cologne, and something distinct of the man.

“We need to wait until the tow. Shit part of town you’re in, love,” he rasped.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed, earning a humored huff from the stoic cop.

His arm moved around the back of your seat, legs stretching out as he got comfortable. You thought about the wedding band again, eyes flicking around the car. Criston was looking at you.

“How old are you? Too damn precious to be with a boy who wrecks your car.”

You blushed, mumbling, “Twenty-one.” He was hitting on you. Seven hells. The attention was nice, all things considered. Your belly tightened as you felt a pull towards this cop who was married and much older than you, regardless of his youthful appearance.

“Twenty-one. Hm. I was just a rookie then,” he said, a thoughtful note to his raspy voice.

“You’re married,” you stated, the words bubbling out.

“Yeah. I am. Got step-kids too,” he said, looking at you. Criston held your gaze until you looked away, heart beginning to pump. He shrugged, adding, “Can’t say it’s a pleasant marriage. She doesn’t care, I’d wager.”

He licked his lips. You made a soft noise, peering back up.

“We’ve got forty minutes now. Why don’t we make good use of the time, get your mind off of that little boy.”

His arm slid around your shoulders, hand squeezing your bare shoulder. You swallowed, voice weak as you questioned.

“Are you- you mean?”

He laughed, a derisive snort more than anything as he smiled, pretty teeth glinting in the low light. Criston looked at you, amused, his tone patronizing.

“You know what I mean sweetheart, c’mere, I can tell you need it.”

You didn’t listen to the voice in your head screaming no, climbing over into his lap, lips pressing to his. One of his hands slid around your back, pressing you close, the other sliding the seat back. He groaned, tilting his head to get deeper.

Your arms laid across his shoulders, bent awkwardly. You didn’t care, tongue sliding against his, the stubble of his jaw pricking delightfully. Both of Criston’s hands slid up and down your waist, sliding under your crop top as he lapped into your mouth.

You whimpered, pressing closer, shivering helplessly as his calloused palms gripped at your tits, tenderly kneading, thumbs sliding across your stiff nipples.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, panting against his mouth. Criston hummed, kissing down your jaw and throat, his cock growing full and thick underneath you. You rolled your hips, desire clouding your mind as you adjusted your arms, one hand in his short hair.

Criston grunted, growling against your tender throat, plucking at your peaks until they ached, the sensation drawing down to your pussy, connected by a string of pleasure. He murmured, “Needy little thing, someone hasn’t been taking of you huh?”

You whined, babbling, “Yes, yes, it’s no good, want you, please.”

You could feel his grin, a playful nip to your pulse point as his hands unbuttoned your shorts, you shifting up so he could jerk them down, underwear included. His lips were back on yours, tongue lazily dancing while he unbuttoned his belt, grunting when he undid the fly.

“You want me right here baby?” Criston rumbled, pulling your hand to palm his thick cock with a pleased groan, his pretty lips falling open. You nodded, begging, “Yeah, please sir, need it.”

“Sir,” he repeated, dark eyes peering at your debauched look. “You’re sweet, you know that? Just needed a little attention and you’re squirming in my lap, calling me sir.”

You whimpered as embarrassment crested, warbling, “I’m not like this- I swear.”

“I know, you’re just a little…deprived, baby.”

His fingers slid between your thighs, dipping into your soaked cunt, the heel of his palm rubbing your swollen clit. You cried out, lashes fluttering as he stretched you, playfully swiping up to make you moan or squirm.

“So wet, such a good girl aren’t you?”

You buried your head against his neck, losing your sense. Criston’s presence was strong, overwhelming, and the sound of your pussy getting fucked by his fingers was the cherry on top. He pet your back, almost soothing.

“I want you, oh gods, I want you, I’m a good girl,” you begged, voice cracking with need. You shivered as his fingers slid out of you, whining at the empty feeling. Criston brought them to his lips, sucking on his fingers with a deep groan.

You couldn’t take it anymore, hand darting down to pull his thick cock out, pumping a few times for good measure, Criston’s head falling back with a throaty noise. His hands moved to your hips, letting you guide him into your slick cunt.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he gasped, heaving a breath as you eased onto him. It didn’t take long for you to lose your bravado— you felt full to the brim with his prick, a bolt of pleasure shooting up your spine. You gripped his shoulders, thighs weakened and twitching as you could feel him pulsing, rubbing your sensitive walls.

Criston moaned, dark and filthy, grinning as he rasped, “Yeah. That’s what’cha needed. Gods you feel good, I’ve got you.”

His hips snapped up, eliciting a cry from your lips, hands digging into his shoulders. Criston adjusted his grip, fucking up into you quickly, cock rubbing deep into your pussy, building molten friction with every thrust. He was panting against your neck, focused on getting every drop of pleasure, mumbling here and there.

You were much louder, soft cries leaving your swollen lips as the captain fucked you. Your stomach was tight, growing tighter with each frantic snap of Criston’s hips. The car was growing humid, your hair sticking to your neck as you began to peak.

One of your hands snaked down, only to get swatted away, Criston’s voice snapping you out of the haze.

“No, I get this,” he said, brown eyes meeting yours, holding your attention as his thumb slid teasingly around where he was splitting you, making up to your clit to swipe at the tender bundle in quick flicks.

You could feel your eyes rolling back, lashes fluttering as your thighs tightened up, back arching as your cunt clamped down on Criston’s prick, squeezing him in waves as you cried and carried on, ecstasy spreading across your nerves. He made a soft noise, moaning, “Fuck, you on BC?”

You nodded, Criston’s mouth on your shoulder, hoarse moans as his cock swelled, filling you up with a rough thrust into you. He gripped your hips, hard, giving them a final squeeze as the man laid back in the seat, a pleased look on his face.

You looked around for a napkin or cloth, Criston handing you a shirt from seemingly out of nowhere, hissing with you as you eased off his softening prick. You cleaned up the best you could, pulling up your underwear and shorts, and buttoning them.

He did the same once you climbed off his lap, the cop quiet. He heard something on the radio, a frown on his pretty lips. He looked over at you, his voice surprisingly gentle as he pointed out the truck. The tow truck was pulling up now, you were glad— but too fucked out to care. Your legs felt like jelly.

Criston waited as the car was taken off to a shop, then turned the car on, the stagnant energy in the car lessening with the AC. He drove a couple of blocks before speaking, dark eyes swiveling around as he reached over to rest a warm hand on your thigh.

You looked down at his hand, mulling over the whole encounter.

“Do I need to call the emergency line to get you, sir?”

He laughed, more genuine this time. Criston shrugged, replying, “It’s Criston, but best not. Unless you plan on making up a heinous crime every week. You want my number?” He seemed surprised, a little disheartening for you.

He was a married scumbag who just fucked you in his work vehicle. Who knows who else he’d done the same to?

“Yeah, I do,” you said.

The sign for the University came into view, and you almost didn’t want to leave, you’d miss his hand on you. Criston hummed, “You have to pick up your ‘boyfriend’ tomorrow anyways, yeah?”

“He can catch a cab,” you said, still bitter.

“Good girl,” Cole said, grinning again, squeezing your thigh playfully.

You left with a hastily scrawled number and a pleasant ache between your thighs. There was no telling, but his long look and soft goodbye lingered. You put the slip on your nightstand back to your apartment on campus, ignoring the strange look from your roommate.

“Criston Cole,” you murmured in the quiet atmosphere of your room, smiling to yourself.

The man himself couldn’t get you out of his head. He frowned, eyeing the ring on his hand. He knew he sounded like a middle aged loser, puppy eyes for a damn girl almost less than half his age, leaning over as the precious dove got out on shaky legs. Criston groaned, recalling the way he had said goodbye to you so desperately, “Hey. Really, text me sometime.”

He said your name softly to himself, sighing.

[deadonyouraccount]

fab and tom - bts

[deadonyouraccount]

Oh I’m on the ceiling barking and screaming ughhh the handsssss

Imagining his hands just wrapping around my waist and going to town

LOVE IT LANA

(we have @deadonyouraccount and the colewives to thank for this!)

Thranduil x Elven Reader - Size Difference (drabble)

CW: MINORS DNI, afab reader, size difference, fingering.

His hand covered what felt like the entire column of your throat. Holding you tight against his broad chest.

If anyone had told you this morning you would be half clothed in Thranduil’s study, you would have called them ridiculous.

Yet here you were.

You had been in his presence a handful of times, being a new member of the woodland court. You were young by elven standards, most of the woodland elves towering over you. But Thranduil’s height made you look akin to a child.

Now, with your front almost pressed against his bookcase, his entire form seemed to cast a shadow over you.

“Oh, my sweet little thing…” he purred, leaning down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear.

“Shall I give you the grace of your king?”

Your voice was barely a whisper as you answered, your words cut short as his other hand skimmed down your front. The front of your dress had been torn, with the promise that a new one would be in your chambers that evening.

“Yes…my king…please…”

His hand haphazardly scooped up the layers of your dress. Baring the expanse of your thighs and stomach to his wandering hand. The rough warmth of his palm making your skin tingle as it moved lower.

Your hands gripped whatever you could reach. The shelf before you, Thranduil’s shoulder, the rich fabric of his bunched in your smaller fist.

Thranduil wanted to savour it. To let you feel every brush of his hand, every inch your body stretched to accommodate his long fingers. Skimming your already damp folds as he trailed hot kisses over the expanse of your shoulder.

Your eyes rolled as he finally sunk his fingers into your depts. Head falling back against his shoulder as you surrendered yourself to his touch. The stretch soon turning from painful to pleasurable.

His pace was slow and you knew it was going to be a long, pleasure filled night.

Not sure who to tag, as this is a one off random thing!