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#colored ones are people I talk to often ! :')
eyeballsoup7310 · 3 months
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She’s the only one who gets me
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which-qsmp-egg-would · 2 months
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Poll's Origin Story (kind of)
Stardust wanders. That's their whole thing. They are a spirit, or more accurately an... entity? Minor deity? It's a little complicated, but what is important is that they wander, and they wander wherever they want. One day, they ended up in just the right place at the right time.
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That little egg that Stardust found ended up being Poll, Of course.
It's a little hard to glean how long Poll was in the Federation labs and why they were made. Like many of the other eggs, Poll doesn't talk about what happened (if they remember at all) and generally pretends like it never happened. As far as they could figure out though, Poll had gone through all the testing and was in storage until the right set of islanders arrived.
Having spent their entire life surrounded by Federation employees, Poll's dragon form was *very* different from what it is today, to say the least.
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After spending a little while around Stardust, their form changed to the one we know and love! Although since their papa is a shapeshifter too, their form resembles the dragons their genetics are from instead of their papa.
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lesbiansanemi · 8 months
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Sorry. Saw a gay trans man accuse a lesbian of being transphobic one too many times because they said they "hate men." Grow up. Grow the fuck up. I'm so tired
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Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...
#Definitely not going to be able to stick with it just due to like... being realistic about my energy levels and etc. ESPECIALLY as we#enter the Evil Summer and it becomes hot all the time. But... one can attempt.. at least...#I'm also a very slow writer since I tend to re-read and edit while I write. and only move onto the next section once what I'm writing#seems okay. Which is easy for visual novel type stuff. since ''sections'' of a conversation are more clearly marked (like if you#have a menu option with 5 different dialogue choices. finish the character's response for choice 1 before moving onto 2. etc.)#Especially since when I'm done with a whole quest I always follow it up by playing through it and picking every option and making sure it#actually all works okay and etc. So I am already going to see it all a second time. Then I can go back and reorder a few words or remove#certain sentences that don't sound natural when I read them out loud (I always read it all outloud to myself since it is... just peple#talking.. it should sound like natural dialogue in their voice. etc). But my ''first draft'' is kind of not as first drafty since I pause t#edit a lot as I go along. So it also takes longer probably than it would take other people who I think treat a first draft as more#of a loose guideline or something. AANYWAY...#80F in my bedroom right now again... huzzah... I did end up finishing and recording that sims build video before the heat wave (or is#it really a heat wave if it's just summer..?? lol) came in.. but now... augh.. the editing... plus the costume photos and all else... Much#to do as always.. Often such a long todo list.. a giant scroll hung upon the walls of the evil hermit wizard tower..#Anyhow.. I hope I can finish getting ready for bed early in time to reward myself with a game of tripeaks solitaire whilst I snack on#cheddar cheese and some of those preserved artichokes in a jar. hrgm... I actually have nasturtiums (ultimate best flower) on the#deck again this year but I had to move them all into a corner today because the leaves were getting burnt by the sun lol.. Also am now more#cautiously weaving through social media to ignore all dragon age news. NOT bc of spoilers (I actually love spoilers/literally never play#any game until there's full guides on it I can read to plan my entire playthrough based on knowing exactly what I want to happen lol + mods#and etc.) but just because I'm so busy with my ownprojects I simply do not have the brainspace to dedicate... Yes I love to think#about elves and fictional universe lore. but no.. I pretend I do not see it. Does not exist to me actually. ghgj.. OHH also took som#cool pictures of flowers in the garden section of a store and I wanted to do like.. character designs based on the colors of the flowers o#something. but that might just be another unnecessary project to add to the pile.. I want to commit to the daunting task of dyeing my#hair again some time.. hrm.. this is all of the updates I can think of. As if a bunch of random tags make up for never posting anything for#weeks on end lol.. alas.. too warm to think properly I suppose.. .. I neeeeeed a long lost relative to leave me some million dollar#estate in their will so I can have the resources to move to a colder climate or something ..augh#.. but for now.. I shall toil away in my little wizard tower trying to write 2000 something words a day whilst sweating and such ghbj
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whatisthisnonsense · 4 months
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"mutants are poc analogy" "mutants are queer analogy" Listen, X-Men and as such mutants as a whole should really be disability representation, and I mean representation and not analougous to it they just occassionally also get to blast ice while having furniture not built for them, struggles with keeping their mind in the present, and constantly having people casually discuss sterilizing or euthanizing them and being considered either dangerous or simply incapable of understanding when they get mad about this. But nobody is ready for this conversation.
#Marvel#X-Men#But no as someone who is queer and also has untreated disabilities#Plays at saying being antimutant is metaphorically homophobic mostly just pisses me off#And I'm sure people of color aren't thrilled when Mutants As Analogous To Racism comes up since most of the big names are white#And more often than not this is usually used for Marvel to avoid actually talking about the real issues#Nevermind rarely combine in an interesting way when you do get a gay mutant or a poc mutant or a gay poc mutant#However any time they run into the world simply not being built to accomodate their physical or mental needs and get sneers for asking#You can immediately see me doing the Leonardo DiCaprio point#“but what about Homo Superior” nobody in the 616 knows how genes work because the writers don't#And as a scientist if I have to see X-Gene pop up one more time I'm going to transmogrify into Galactus and eat the planet#One of the biggest experts on Mutant biology is from the Victorian era why are we listening to him#Anyway where are the DIY accomodation features for people with tails or touch telepaths#Rogue basically had to be bubblewrapped most of her life once her powers kicked in#Scott has literal braindamage on top of his powers so he's either blind or colorblind if he doesn't want eyebeam everything#Magneto and Polaris's mental instability probably is related to their electromagnetics fucking with their brains#And Also They Both Have Hella PTSD#Hank has had to make shit that's big enough for him or just run around in boxers#Kurt literally had to use holograms to hide his physical appearance and sometimes still does or has to wear concealing clothes#Logan has chronic pain and rips his skin open any time he pops his claws#Big Fuckoff Migraines plague all psychics#And we have ALL of the Morlocks EVER#Isn't Hellion using his powers to make up for having no hands??#Or at least was before they walked it back like they did the Professor needing a wheelchair#I just think there is an argument to be had here about this
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sheryl-lee · 10 months
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im sorry but the foolishness of being on a gif-dominated website that is barely functioning at all times and telling the users who have been making and posting those gifs for YEARS that "actually i know better about this than all of you" while saying things that are entirely false and laughably untrue. and making a fucking PSA like you're a genius for it like be fucking serious. be so for real.
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lord-squiggletits · 9 months
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The Slope by @megatron-fucks provides a great scene where Pharma gets to blow up on Ratchet about how he lost everything good in his life and faced a fate worse than death so Ratchet has no right to judge him.
But you know what else I really want to see and might write myself?
I want a post-Delphi scene where Pharma gets to verbally rip Ratchet apart about how he disowned Pharma and is acting as if the 'new Pharma' is a completely different person, but in reality Ratchet is just desperate to convince himself that Pharma was always a bad apple and the "best friend" Ratchet knew was either a lie or a person who's "died." Basically Pharma getting to lambast Ratchet about how 'the person he used to be' isn't some separate entity, that the old Pharma LITERALLY IS HIM and it's Ratchet who's a piece of shit for being unable to reconcile that Pharma could be his former best friend and also the monster he ended up becoming.
Mostly in regards to the aspect of canon where despite being former best friends, Ratchet made basically zero efforts to have any sympathy for Pharma or extend help/mercy to him and mostly used their former friendship to prey on Pharma's insecurities to manipulate him into doing what he wanted.
Of course it's a narration by Pharma so it might not be 100% correct or unbiased, but like. I just desperately crave some sort of resolution between Ratchet and Pharma. Or if not a resolution, at least some catharsis where Pharma gets to unload and Ratchet acknowledges he was a bastard.
#squiggposting#pharma apologism#i know that at the time they thought pharma died#but it literally is SO disturbing that ratchet and first aid talk about pharma like#'he was a good doctor for most of his life' 'you can carry the best part of him with you'#it's fucked up bc like. good doctor pharma and bad autobot pharma arent two people in one body#pharma is pharma it's literally the same good doctor who turned into the bad autobot#it lowkey reads as if theyre trying to compartmentalize pharma like. oh there was Good Pharma and Bad Pharma#but the reality is the good and bad are a whole person-- Pharma#it was a gradual slope to madness and evil caused SPECIFICALLY BY PHARMA WANTING TO PROTECT OTHERS#it's kinda fucked up that no one ever acknowledges that#even in the fandom level there's often a silent implication that pharma was always a little evil/suspicious#so delphi just revealed his true colors or something. like no he went insane under threat of the DJD#idk i'm apologisting for my boy#but real talk i do think pharma and the way ratchet/others treated him could make a good story abt like#the way ppl want others to fit neatly into good/evil roles ESPECIALLY IF THEY USED TO ASSOCIATE WITH THEM#and how ppl will attempt to distance themselves from 'problematic' exes by just claiming#'oh i always knew there was something evil about them' even when that wasnt the case#idk lol. i mean ppl acknowledge pharma used to be a good doctor but just bc they say it#doesnt mean they actually gave him a chance or didnt treat him as just an autobot who went bad#i know im being contradictory. i'm apologisting i didnt ask for feedback sjfksjfjsjd
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sukibenders · 8 months
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The way some people are reacting to the Oscar nominations, specifically in regards towards Barbie, and many other things surrounding it holds certain undertones, especially when they then start to go and deny America Ferrera's talent among other things, that are very concerning. Like let's not do that. Especially if you're writing an article for a newspaper (LA Times) that makes digs towards the other films and their nominees, mainly who were women, and say that that proves the point of Barbie. Even though the point of the film was that women have to work harder than men just to get their foot in the door, not about shaming other women, but I digress.
#oscars#barbie (2023)#barbie movie#america ferrera#like from the way some people are talking you would think that the film didn't get nominated for anything#don't even get me started on that la times article that was dismissing the themes of killers of the flower moon either#that was not just some murder plot it was a genocide#but i also can't expect these certain types of people to get that when they act like their fave not getting nominated is an act against#feminism even though many other women (woc mainly) were nominated#but adding to the fact that women and young girls in palestine congo & sudan ate facing many forms of violence & discrimination#and yet said people haven't been up in arms about that (and you know why)#if this doesn't apply to you than it doesn't but if it does dni if you can't be calm about in this discussion#you can wish that greta & margo got nominations all you want#but pls don't get upset when others (especially poc) talk about how concerning some of the rhetoric around this conversation is concerning#also congrats to america ferra (and coleman domingo) for their nominations!#and to lily gladstone for being the first native person of native descent in the us to be nominated#as well as to all the people of color who were nominated bc often times fields like these don't give you (us) a chance to be recognized#like how are you going to watch barbie and then make digs towards other films (one with a woc who talked about the many complex feelings#derived from/during the film and the other created by a woman that was snubbed by her own gov bc they didn't like how she called them out)#and say that you understood the message behind the film? that is not-#also didn't margo help produce barbie? and isn't nominated for best picture? so she is being acknowledged not forgotten#(also bc tumblr won't let me correct my tags without deleting them completely when referring to palestine and etc#i meant to say are and not ate but my fingers were moving too fast so sorry for that and just want to clear that up)
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wigglebox · 11 months
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ignatiusteto · 10 months
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i think people should stop thinking in stark black and white and stop taking things violently at face value and maybe society would be a little better. or at least stop making it the problem of other people. it really is a great brain exercise to stop and be like well okay wait a minute. you literally feel better.
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room215 · 1 year
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don’t really know how to articulate this but learning that so many people disliked lyse in stormblood for being so headstrong coming off of the heels of the expansion with fucking estinien in it makes me feel an unreasonable amount of rage
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theradicalace · 1 year
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Please elaborate on Petunia X Lifty
you would not believe the fight or flight reaction i had when i realized someone had actually perceived the fact that i mentioned that /lh
honestly i don't have TOO much more for it than what i already mentioned, i just think it's so funny for them to be highschool exes who dated pretransition for both of them, so when they end up running into each other as adults, they literally have no idea who tf the other one is. "i went to (x) high school" "what no way i went there too i don't remember you at all??" type of energy
i'm imagining them making the connection by flipping through their yearbooks together and like. lifty points out his yearbook photo only for petunia to go dead silent, flip a few pages forward, and point to hers, and there's just this shared moment of "oh my god...... we were DATING" between them.
i don't even think they would try getting together again as adults i think they would just be gossip buddies
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vulturvolanss · 2 years
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mutuals be honest. how much respect for me have you lost now that i like genshin.
#i literally didn't. know. the fandom was so bad#i have a group of friends that i play with and that's abt fucking it#and now im like. damn. i am embarrassed to admit i like this thing#because people will think i'm being fucking weird on twitter#i don't even USE twitter#or tiktok. or anything other than tumblr and discord (for talking to said friends)#like the game itself (minus the. colorism. and orientalism. which they got a novella from me about.) is actually...well written so far?#they know how to write characters well too imho#it's one of those things i think consuming critically is perfectly fine#but then you look at the fandom. and.#holy fuck it's all like super racist people who have never touched grass ever#it's given me such whiplash learning about it#because like. in my friend group there are a few of us whose heritage lines up with some of the in-game nations#and we have cool discussion about what they get right and wrong#and we all brainstorm like body type headcanons and just have a fucking great time#i dunno why i felt the need to ramble it's just. i miss when i played just with my friends and didn't know about all of this#because now i'm ashamed to admit i even like it for fear of being grouped in with actual racist/sexist/every fucking -ist imaginable people#i'm literally just going crazy here but while the character designs in sumeru were Bad for the most part the actual region itself got-#-a LOT right. like little details#one of my friends was overjoyed recognizing things from their culture that don't often get the spotlight#so as awful as parts of it are there is genuine good in it#and i'm just shocked the fanbase as a whole is so. terrible#i guess i shouldn't be surprised it's anime gatcha game fans (fucking hate the gambling part btw)#and those people tend to be. You Know#but still. i dunno. it's weird that the game does actually seem to have a lot of heart at least in parts of it#and then the character designs and the fanbase are. Like That#anyway. i've rambled enough in the tags#i just wish both the character designers and the fanbase were better
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nochepsicodelica · 1 month
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Toji who leaves hickeys all over you so often that you have to push him away when you start looking like you fought an octopus.
"Toji, you know these aren't always gonna be so small. They're gonna end up looking like bruises. Just look at the ones you already left."
"Mhm," he hums, already leaving another one on your shoulder blade, releasing your skin with a wet smack of his lips. He rubs his spit into the mark like it's some sort of salve that'll make it last longer.
"I'm fine with these," you say, looking at all the one's he left on your chest and below. "but my neck... i'm running out of makeup, baby. I won't be able to cover them if you keep this up."
"Then don't." He would just love that. Despite how nonchalant he sounds about it, it's a highly recommended suggestion. He would genuinely love it if you walked around with his marks all over your neck. People will automatically know that you already have someone you get freaky with.
"I have to go to work sometime. I wouldn't be able to take having my neck stared at by everyone I talk to. No more neck hickeys."
He nears your neck, again. The second you say he can't put another mark on it, he spots a clear area and leans in, lightly pressing his lips against it.
"Tojiii," you whine, leaning forward, away from him. "Leave it alone."
"But, it's clear. It's lonely without being marked like the rest of your neck." He scoots forward again, putting his enormous hands on your waist to pull you close. "I'll be quick. Just-"
"Mm-mm. No," you interrupt, brushing his hands off of you.
"I might just die if you don't let me do this, ma."
"Really?" You raise your brows in disbelief.
"Really," he responds, so confidently.
You scoff. "You're so dramatic. You won't die if you don't get to suck on my neck."
"Who knows? I might spontaneously collapse because of it. Weirder, more unexplainable things have happened."
He's so dumb sometimes. Your hunk is absolutely ridiculous, and yet you find yourself weighing towards his point in this.
"Would marking up that blank space actually cure you?" You feel as silly as him for asking the question.
"Who's to say?"
You tilt your head and deadpan. "Right. I guess i'll take my chances and just keep the random patch of unmarked skin on my neck."
"Hey, that doesn't mean we can't try. Come on, now."
You groan and roll your eyes before making your way back to him. He cups your cheeks, smirking as he looks into your eyes, before turning your head to expose the blank area on your neck.
"It's a reaaally good spot, doll. I think i'm gonna make it."
You huff, unable to look at him because of the way your head is turned. You feel his tongue slide over your neck, the gesture transitioning to his lips kissing the area and then it feels sharp. His lips leave a stinging sensation with every second that they stay on you.
"Ow, fuck, you vampire. It feels like you're actually trying to suck the blood out of me." You wince. "Are you done?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm done." He admires his masterpiece and smirks with pride. You have an entire collar of hickeys that he put on you, and the newest one looks mean.
"You look pretty. Could eat you up, mama." He swipes at the new mark with his thumb, looking at the color that will remain on your skin for the next few days.
"I can tell. You already devoured me. You're insane. Just look at all of this," you say, running your hand over your kiss stained neck.
"I was just nibbling on you," he speaks, into your jaw, before smoothly laying you down, onto the bed. "Just wanted a little taste," he says, taking your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "Am I really insane for that?"
"Um..." you laugh, making your flustered state obvious. "Yes?"
"Damn." He gives you a long, deep kiss, that makes you forget what you were talking about. "You think i'm crazy?" You hum, and he does it again.
"Haven't you played with me enough? I feel like i'm some chew toy for you." You giggle, feeling his lips on your cheek, trailing towards your jaw.
He hums, dismissively. "Found more blank space."
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my personal Media Genres tier ranking and also Neopets Species tiers. put together in the same post just due to being adjacently related because they're on the same website lol
links to the specific tier makers: Media Genres --- Neopets
#(might have to right click open image in new tab to zoom and see some of them. tumblr always makes screenshots tiny)#Also I think this is why I have trouble finding things to watch/just don't watch media very often since I'm so so so hyper specific and#particular that I just end up disliking or neutrally not caring about like.. SO MANY things ghfg#Even being aware of my particular-ness I was still surprised to see how many were in the 'dislike' and 'not care' categories lol#Also it is so so so hard being an Action and Romance genre hater YET being a Fantasy and Historical genre lover ghhjb#EVERY fantasy story is also an action romance.. every historical story is a romance.. ouch oof taking psychic damage always#KIND of like how I LOOOOVE point and click mystery puzzle games but I also generally dislike the horror genre#but many point and click puzzle games I used to see would have horror elements or be 'scary' in some way#and it's like HHRgghh.. I just want to navigate a creepy old dilapidated mansion collecting secret codes from books but NOT in a scary way!#just like I want fantasy & historical content but NOT in an action romance way!!#Also.. NEOPETS.. I think my two favorites are both one of the most common choices and also one of the least lol#like EVERYONE loves aishas pretty much. I think they even won a favorite neopets poll on tumblr. But then nobody talks about vandagyres#or even cares about them (seemingly) and they have like so few clothes or good options because they're just irrelevant apparently#also I know it seems very uncharacteristic for the neopet that's basically A Cat to not be in my favorites but I just gjhjhbj#the eyebrows of the wocky bother me. it doesn't match everything else. Even in different paintrbsuh colors it will be#nice and cohesive and pastel or something and then two big dark lines. I aesthetically love thick dark eyebrows on people it just looks wei#rd on a cartoon cat. ANYWAY.. fun to think about#I love ranking things always#also curious to know if anyone has similar opinions... my fellow vandagyre lovers.. and action movie haters.. cutthroat kitchen fans.. :0c#AND as someone tired of romance in general & ESPECIALLY cardboard cutout cishet romances. yes I would of course like to see more lgbtq+#stories in media etc. The genre is just not placed higher because so much seems to be Modern Young Adult Romance which of course I hate#those themes lol.. We need some drama comedies with a cast of gay 300yr old elves in victorian costume. please.. ghjgj.. (and like ACTUAL#300 yr olds. NOT 'is immortal bt still acts like an irrational 15yr old bc plot'. what abt jaded eccentric elder romance? hmM? lol) ANYWAY#always manifesting a 'high fantasy historical mystery comedy drama satire psychological character study (with vampires)' into existence lol#if I could make a tv show set in my world... the sheer power I would have.. and nobody would watch it because it would have NO action or#romance (at least none that was serious/was not framed as lame/goofy/comedic) & would have intricate complicated worldbuilding and be very#VERY broadly unmarketable.. but I would finally have a show that meets my tastes lol
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swordgrace · 2 months
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𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.
⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ cregan stark x fem!targtower!reader.
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SYNOPSIS: as the youngest daughter of alicent hightower, you are wed to the young wolf, cregan stark. what many believe to be a union of strife, such a notion is proven wrong very quickly.
anonymous request.
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{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.
{ WORD COUNT: 6.7K.
{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), arranged marriage, reader is a targtower with pale hair & lilac eyes, skin color unspecified, first time sex (for reader), loss of virginity, p in v sex (unprotected), massive breeding kink, all stark men have a breeding gene, oral sex / cunnilingus (fem!rec), face-sitting, biting/marking, making out, lots of touching, missionary position, talk of having a child, soft ending + aftercare
{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: There’s been a ton of Cregan requests, so I hope that this satisfies a lot of people until I post another! ❤️ Thank you all so much for the incredible requests and support of my work, it means the world to me and I am extremely grateful for all of it. See you guys soon!
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𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚��𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 — 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚�� 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞.
The North was often regarded as a harsh and unyielding environment, with bitter, stinging winds and snowfalls that could bury men alive beneath their might. Such tales were often told to scare children or dissuade them from leaving the roost.
It was untamed and savage, according to your mother — she who vehemently fought against your betrothal to Cregan Stark, the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. A marriage steeped in wariness and discord, you had been pleasantly surprised by your husband’s kindness and warm stoicism.
Piety was a rarity in the bleak, bloodsoaked world you lived within — innocence was a quality as uncommon as a diamond in the rough. When Cregan had been offered such a sacred proposal during the last days of King Viserys I, he nearly scoffed at it.
A Targaryen, a Hightower — he almost imagined that the both of you would not do well together, and that it would become a sour union, made only to please families and uphold duty. His advisors, old men with embittered grudges against the South, cautioned him away from it, imploring him to wed a girl from the Vale or the Reach.
When Cregan Stark met you, clad in pale shades of sage and ivory, with lilac hues and a smile that could melt even the toughest of ice, perhaps it would not be a dreadful marriage after all.
Even with a dragon at your heel, there was something positively resplendent about you — Cregan could feel it within his marrow, a feeling seldom felt by any man locked in an arranged betrothal.
It was your innocuous, tenderhearted nature that beguiled him, as if you unconsciously drew him in with your honey. Your very first meeting happened to be to seal the marriage pact itself before you would be shipped away to the North, to be his wife and the new Lady Stark.
Cregan rarely found himself charmed by anyone, yet you possessed an inner beauty that flourished in his presence. You were your own flame, burning through his hardened exterior. He did not mistake your docile nature for weakness — you possessed a dragon, where he did not.
You were rather taken with him, perplexed by his outward ruggedness and gruff accent, the way in which he carried himself, massive physique clad in the thick trappings of a wolf. He was a mountain of a man, yet he handled you as if you were some precious jewel, sacred and worthy of admiration.
Alicent begrudgingly watched as you, her youngest daughter, untainted by her own fractured morality, was sent away to the North in the hands of some brute. For the good of the Realm, Viserys had told her, but it cut deeper knowing that it was you, her beloved flesh and blood.
Yet, as you found yourself beneath the crimson leaves of the Weirwood Tree in the Godswood, hands bound with Cregan’s own, you forgot about your mother’s bitterness entirely — and you were happy.
The first kiss was one that would make a permanent residence within your memory for lifetimes to come. He had cradled your face, towering over you as if he were a solemn statue, but even you could see the softening within his visage.
King’s Landing was suffocating, more often than not. The animosity that festered between your family smothered you, crushing you beneath its sharp heel. You were no longer surrounded by bitterness and resentment, and instead, cloaked by the protection and warmth of your new husband.
The feast held in honor of your blossoming union was one of merriment, the mood lighthearted and blissful. You sat beside your husband, stomach tumbling with a coil of nerves. Everyone seemed foreign to you, unfamiliar faces with their northern attitudes and odd indifference.
You could not fault anyone for having their suspicions, given your heritage. Being a Targaryen, pale-headed and violet-eyed, bringing your dragon from the South — it must’ve been jarring. Growing into your station as the Lady of Winterfell would be a long and arduous process, but you hoped that Cregan would show you the way.
Oblivious to your Lord-Husband’s smoldering stare, you politely consumed bites of the sugar-dusted fruit cobbler, admiring the vibrant aura within the room. Your wedding gowns were as pure as the driven snow, accented with silver embroidery and lined with pale fleece to keep you warm, given the cold gnaw of winter.
If it weren’t for Cregan’s steadfastness in providing you with a new wardrobe fit for winter, the icy chill would’ve consumed your extremities from the inside-out.
Leaning over within his seat, Cregan reached for your hand, stormy-gray hues churning with a kindness reserved for you. “How are you faring, wife?” He inquired, voice a low rumble; a soothing timbre that sent shivers down your spine.
“Very well,” Warmth crawled along your flesh when he referred to you as wife so openly and affectionately. You weren’t accustomed to having someone be so attentive to you, hang upon your every word, treat you with such courteousness. “This is so wonderful. I must thank you and your Keep, for your kindness.”
If you were anyone else, Cregan might’ve treated you with a stalwart cordiality found in most formalities, but you were not anyone else. You were good, sweet, and kindhearted — above all, you were quite innocent. He would’ve been telling himself a bold lie if he hadn’t thought about taking you to bed several times already.
The colors of the North suited you — his home suited you. Not many men of his position were so lucky when it came to betrothals, but he felt as if he was beyond fortunate to have married you. Cregan only hoped to be a good husband to you and to your future children, heirs to Winterfell, with the blood of the dragon and the wolf in their veins.
He had forbidden a bedding ceremony, content to guide you to your chambers once the festivities ceased, instead. Cregan enjoyed observing you and your demure mannerisms, from the way you made small talk with those around you, complimenting the choice of food and drink. It warmed his heart to know that his wife was an amiable soul.
“You needn’t worry, Princess. It is my duty as your husband to show you a bit of Northern hospitality.” Cregan mused, a ghost of a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth. He rarely showed any emotion, let alone treating his subjects with a smile given his hardiness, but he did show a sliver of it for you. He didn’t want to scare you away.
With a delighted smile, your hand shyly curled around his, your skin unblemished and soft. Cregan hadn’t touched a woman as silky as you, and it made his blood run hot — an inopportune time, given that it was in the midst of his wedding feast. “Thank you, my Lord.” You weren’t sure if you were permitted to abandon formalities just yet.
Cregan huffed, gaze twinkling with amusement as he let your smaller hand hold his own, digits tenderly caressing over your knuckles. “I would hope that you only call me ‘my Lord’ if you’re angry with me,” His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound. “You aren’t in King’s Landing anymore.”
Embarrassment rippled through you, but before you could correct yourself out of anxiousness, Cregan gingerly squeezed your hand. Instead, it evoked a smile from you, the very same tender expression you’d given him when you were proclaimed as his wife. “I will call you husband when I am pleased with you.” You mused, bright as could be, and so blissfully naive.
Often regarded as a brooding, serious man with little traces of humor, Cregan found himself letting his guard down just enough with you. Of course, to any observer, he still seemed rather stoic, but the brief, fleeting looks he gave you, the threadbare smiles — it suggested otherwise.
As the excitable buzz of the feast began to simmer, Cregan stood from the table, wood scraping across the stone floors of the Great Hall. He stepped away from you, sparing the servants and guardsmen a word before he returned to your side.
“Is there not to be a bedding ceremony?” You whispered, stomach still tight and festering with nervousness. It was something you feared since you last saw Aegon and Helaena be hauled away for such a thing. The concept of it frightened you, twisted and unusual.
With furrowed brows, Cregan shook his head, offering his thick arm out for you to take. “No,” He grunted, noticing the swell of anxiousness etched into your features. “I would never subject you to such a thing, or myself.” He murmured, feeling you take his arm as he led you from the Great Hall.
Relief flooded through you, and you finally relaxed, seemingly appreciative of Cregan’s thoughtfulness in the matter. “Thank you, husband.” You sighed, gripping onto his arm as he led you into a warm corridor and towards a massive spiral of thick, stone steps.
Though, you still had a duty to perform — consummating the marriage, creating an heir. Part of you feared what it all entailed, given that Helaena never seemed pleased with any of it. Would he hurt you? You were uncertain, but you wanted to believe that your new husband would keep you safe.
Cregan welcomed you into your marital chambers, tidied and polished for your stay. Whatever belongings you brought with you, they were situated near a set of fine, wooden chairs circled around a stone table. Everything seemed warm and comely in his quarters, the direwolf aesthetic heavy-handed, the hearth crackling and bursting with ripples of fire.
“If there is something not to your liking, inform me — I will have it rearranged,” Cregan rumbled, following in your footsteps as you neared the open hearth, warming your hands and basking in its glow. He stood close to you, towering over you with his bulk and might. “How are you?” He asked, ensuring your comfort above all else.
There was little need for the hearth when Cregan was near, radiating a natural heat that drew you in. His countenance seemed softer, not nearly as impassive as he’d been before. “I am more than fine, I promise.” You assured him, hands wringing together. “I thought that I would miss home, but I do not. Isn’t that terrible?”
Perplexed, Cregan seemed inclined to listen to your elaboration, chestnut tresses framing his face. “It isn’t a terrible thing, princess. I would imagine that it must be freeing, to be somewhere else. You’ve never left the capital.” He replied, knowing that you were quite sheltered for most of your life.
A soft sigh escaped you, and you tried not to think about it anymore. You didn’t want to sour the mood with talk of home and the past — this was now. “It is liberating,” You confessed, craning to look at him with a semblance of wonder and affection. “I am happy that I’m here with you.” You spoke with genuineness and finality.
It was pleasing to hear you say such a thing, and even better to know that you truly meant it. One thick, burly arm slowly encircled your hips, bringing you into the warm expanse of his chest. “Good,” He murmured, expression steely. “That pleases me greatly.”
To know that Cregan valued your happiness was a wonderful feeling — you felt cared for and seen, shrouded within his protectiveness. You imagined that it would be a blissful marriage. “Thank you, Cregan.” His name slipped from your perfect tongue, and he thoroughly enjoyed the sound it made.
A low rumble vibrated through Cregan’s chest as he drew you as close as he could, tracing his calloused digits along the soft curve of your jaw. “You are very beautiful,” He murmured, timbre edged with a delicious husk that made your knees buckle. You shivered, something that he took note of. “Are you cold, wife?”
You nodded, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips neared yours. “I am.” A squeak escaped you, followed by a steady exhale. You had been kissed before, but the extent of your experience abruptly stopped there. You imagined that you wouldn’t be cold for much longer.
His lips met yours, the kiss tender yet passionate, deepened by your husband. Cregan found your mouth to be most pleasant, pliant and perfectly soft, yet malleable. You reciprocated his kiss, hands moving to press against his chest.
“Will it be painful?” You whispered, likely in an attempt to soothe your gnawing nervousness. Agony was something that didn’t coexist with pleasure, in your mind. You wanted this moment to be special and sacred, binding yourself to your husband.
Cregan hesitated, gently cupping your face with his rough palm, tenderly stroking along your cheek. “I wouldn’t dare harm you, princess. You have my word.” He assured, and it confirmed his suspicions — you hadn’t been with another before. “It might be painful, but I will be gentle. We don’t have to start tonight.”
Admittedly, it was quite the opposite for you — you wanted to start tonight, but you longed for clarification first, and he gave it to you. You shook your head, hands slipping toward the front of his tunic, as if silently pleading with him to stay. “I want to.” You insisted, looking like the picture of innocence.
As much as he liked you sweet and pious, Cregan had a feeling that it would be somewhat different after this. His gray hues swirled with a heavy desire, dropping towards the delicate curve of your mouth. “May I?” It was all that he needed to ask, and as soon as you nodded, he brought you in for a heated kiss.
Despite his appearance, a stone-faced wall of muscle and Northern strength, he was incredibly gentle with you. He held you against him, never tight enough to cause you discomfort, hands softly kneading into your hips. You kissed him back as best as you could, feverishly hot, butterflies erupting within your stomach.
His beautiful wife — Cregan could not imagine another, now that he had you in his arms. The way you kissed him was innocuous and tender, as if you were also terrified of making a mistake. Your purity, a precious thing indeed, would be tarnished and dissolved after this evening.
The thought of you, round and swollen with his child, was both tantalizing and tempting — well within his grasp. Cregan wondered if they would take after you, pale-headed with lilac hues, or perhaps himself. If the Gods were good, they would be a blend of the both of you, a dragon and a wolf.
You shivered again when your burly husband curled his hand into the back of your wedding gown, fingers slipping between the gaps, feeling inklings of your bare skin beneath. “I’ll keep you warm, wife.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss against your jaw. It wasn’t from the cold, he knew this, but his honeyed words made you flustered.
He dropped his cloak, allowing the thick curtain of fur to land against the floor. He was impossibly broad, as thick as stone, tunic loose yet snug enough to accentuate his brawn. You felt your breath hitch within your throat, swallowing another barrage of nerves.
Cregan’s mouth assailed your neck, hand peeling away the collar of pale fur in order to reach you. Every kiss was passionate, wrought with need, yet maintained that air of gentleness. Roughness was in his nature, but he wouldn’t dare fall into that pit on your wedding night.
You tasted ambrosial, sweet velvet beneath his lips, which peppered themselves wherever they could. He listened to your soft gasps and needy whines, your hands having curled into the coarse material of his tunic. He wanted to show you just how perfect you really were.
Suddenly, your gown felt much too tight and constricting, as if you would drown within it. You alleviated such sensations by loosening the bodice, tugging on the ivory strings. The fur became unraveled as Cregan gently draped the garment over the back of a chair.
Left in the thin, humble trappings of your smallclothes, nothing more than a corset hugging a linen slip, he silently appraised you with the hunger of a wolf. You appeared to be shy, somewhat coy in his presence as he looked you over, large palms settling against the swell of your hips.
“Why do you shy away?” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together, tone one of genuine concern. You were the prettiest creature he’d ever seen — most Targaryens were known for their beauty, but you possessed it both ways, inner and outer, and that only made you more incomparable in his eyes.
Swallowing your nerves, you chewed at the inside of your cheek, hands fidgeting together. “I suppose I worry about what you’ll think,” A sore insecurity, to be sure, but something most young maidens possessed. Cregan’s gray hues softened, one hand stroking along the length of your spine. “That I won’t be suitable.”
A huff escaped him, a threadbare chuckle as he shook his head, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “You worry too much, princess.” That deep, thunderous timbre of his, husky with his Northern accent, shook you right to your core. “You are my wife — and you are perfect.” He assured, kissing along your jaw.
You exhaled, hands reaching for his tunic, wanting to see him without his clothing. There was a rush of warmth that crawled across your flesh, surging through your blood as Cregan pressed endless kisses against your skin. He trailed from jaw to collarbone, hands loosening your corset.
With a brusque tug, your gruff husband tore it from you altogether, tossing the bodice aside. “I will show you how perfect you are.” He rumbled, voice a low, heavy caress near the shell of your ear. You shivered, gaze half-lidded as you tugged insistently at his tunic.
The message was unspoken, but conveyed nonetheless as your mountain of a husband let his hands drop from you, only to tug the coarse, dark linen over his head. He was burly, broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, wisps of chestnut tresses framing his face.
Amusingly enough, Cregan possessed more of a cherubic, youthful face than you expected, yet his nose was slightly crooked from having it broken, faint scars upon his face. His eyes seemed wisened, old beyond his years. He reached for your slip, gathering the material within his hands as he looked to you for consent.
With your confidence rejuvenated, you nodded, breathless and wanton as you assisted him in maneuvering out of your thin smallclothes. The brief lick of chilled air dragged across your bare flesh, causing your nipples to harden, pebbling with the chill.
Fire danced across your physique, tantalizing and gorgeous, beautiful beyond compare. Even Cregan seemed speechless for a beat, throat reverberating with a low grunt as he motioned toward your shared bed.
You half-expected him to pounce on you, grab your hips and stake his claim, but he simply resorted to watching you slide onto the bed, covered in furs of all varieties. The frame rustled slightly, and you laid down, a picture of true perfection. Your crown of pale tresses seemed to stick out amidst the darker pallor of the furs.
Anticipation churned violently within your gut, arousal slick and mounting between your thighs as Cregan stalked closer, removing clothing in the process. You watched with bated breath as he loosened the ties of his breeches, removing them altogether.
It was to be expected — a man of his indomitable stature likely had the assets to accompany it. You nearly choked at the sight of him, terrified that it really would hurt, even if he was gentle. You sucked in a sharp breath, bewildered when he had reclined beside you instead.
“I won’t bite, my Lady.” Cregan rumbled, soothingly patting his lap as you crawled closer. He effortlessly picked you up, letting you straddle his hips as he admired you from below. “Hm.” With a hum of approval, he caressed along your form, stroking from your thigh to your breasts.
It was agonizingly deliberate, made to explore and study instead of acting upon salacious impulses. Cregan observed you closely, palm gently cupping your breast, thumb swiping over your nipple. You gasped, careening into his sensual embrace.
A flurry of desire bubbled within him when you planted your smaller hand atop his, as if encouraging him to knead and grope at his leisure. He seemed pleased, and so did you, a low hum escaping you as he caressed your silky flesh.
He made sure to show that same amount of attention to your unattended breast, slowly kneading into you. Those tempestuous gray hues never tore themselves away from you, boring into you with a searing intensity.
Warm slick coalesced between your thighs, only mounting and growing when he continued to touch you, hand lifting to cup your chin. You absentmindedly leaned into his touch, eyes becoming half-lidded as you rocked forward within his lap.
The sensations you felt were new and exhilarating, goosebumps dancing across your spine, heat pooling between your legs. “May I touch you?” You asked, tone delicate and sweet, a display of your piety and innocence. He quite enjoyed your desire to explore alongside him, and he gave a nod of his head.
“You don’t need to ask, princess.” He soothed, jaw tensing as your soft palms settled against his chest. Cregan’s stormy eyes didn’t leave you, carefully tracing each plane of your curves, the downy texture of your skin, the lilac glint of your eyes.
Your fingertips dragged across his musculature, committing each scar to memory, features becoming hot beneath his incendiary stare. He was your husband now — you imagined that scenarios like these would become commonplace. “You are so handsome,” You whispered incredulously, lips curling into a gentle smile. “Perfect.”
Cregan appeared perplexed, a soft huff escaping him as he trailed his calloused palm across the small of your back. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him perfect and meant it — and he knew that you did. He neglected to act, allowing you to explore as much as you pleased.
Awestruck, he watched with silent hunger as you leaned down, lips pressing against his own. A soft grunt escaped Cregan as he caged you in, mouth passionate as it tangled with yours. He enjoyed the feeling of your body snug atop his, your skin resplendent, like velvet against the grating bite of stone.
Dragging a hand from the swell of your hips to the nape of your neck, he gripped the base of your skull, gingerly kneading into your pale tresses. He kissed you again, oozing with desire as he stole every wisp of air from your lungs.
He pulled one leg up into a v-shape, supporting your back to keep you upright atop his lap. You could feel the thick girth of his cock nudge against your backside, causing you to shiver at the foreign sensation. “Do you trust me?” Cregan murmured, roughened fingertips dragging over the pliant flesh of your thigh.
There was an indiscernible look within his eyes, chestnut brows drawing together slightly. Your breath hitched as you nodded, and Cregan settled against the furs, strewn on his back. Those strong hands of his continued to nudge you forward, bringing you from his warm lap to his chest, and then a touch closer.
“What are you …” Uncertain yet filled with exhilaration, you had no idea what Cregan was planning. Your slick cunt neared his mouth, and your Northern paramour did little to slow the process, bumping you forward until you hovered above him. “C—Cregan, C —” Your voice tapered off into a whine.
His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, a sensation that immediately made your knees buckle. You used the headboard to brace yourself, mouth tearing open as a strangled gasp escaped you. Part of you feared sitting down entirely, but Cregan coaxed you down, hands digging into your haunches.
Your reaction was beyond worthwhile, body trembling and coiled, hand scrambling to brace yourself as the other fervently dug into his chestnut tresses. You never imagined that such pleasure was even possible, filling you with an excitable ecstasy that sank into your bones.
Splitting past your folds, Cregan tasted every inch of you, tongue seeking your cunt with a fervor. He was vigorous in his ministrations, not shying away from consuming every drop of your arousal. His nose brushed against your mound, hands kneading into your thighs to reassure you, let you know that he had you.
Even when he rested beneath you, he still seemed indomitable, perhaps a touch intimidating. You didn’t look down, body involuntarily trembling and rocking forward, back beginning to arch. “Gods, a—ah!” You stammered, thighs twitching and quivering as his tongue gently flicked over your clit.
Visibly flustered, you felt so strange and smitten, riding your husband’s face as you would your dragon. It filled your belly with a rousing fire, one bright enough to consume the rest of your body, licking along the length of your spine.
A low rumble emerged from Cregan’s chest, a vibration that rattled you to your core. He wanted you to have your fill, take as much as you could and drown within pleasure. Your maidenhead was still intact, a virtue that he did not treat lightly. He didn’t feel the need to breathe, lapping at your cunt with a wolfish gluttony.
You were undeniably soaked, like a fine stout upon his tongue as he devoured you. Cregan was passionate, each stroke of his tongue ensuring that you felt it all, bliss erupting throughout your stomach.
Chasing after what you imagined to be your release, you happened to peer down for a moment, finding the contented face of your husband, whose face was lodged between your legs. His brows were creased in concentration, tongue prodding against your entrance before languidly flicking back to your clit.
It was only when he pursed his lips around that sensitive clutch of nerves, that you nearly collapsed around him. Even your draconic blood could melt, tempered by the hardened ice of your Northern paramour. You gasped, hips stuttering as your thighs squeezed at either side of his head — fortunately, he didn’t seem to care.
The only thing you wanted was this, forever — your husband’s tongue between your legs, a sanctuary in the North with a potential family, a life in which you could finally find your solace. You continued to squirm and writhe, moaning his praises into the warmth of your chambers.
As you approached your peak, you grappled with Cregan’s tresses, tugging at the root as you rocked forward, again and again. “Cregan,” You moaned, countenance contorting into a look of sheer pleasure, bones crawling with an insatiable heat. “Cregan, Cregan, please!” It was a siren’s song of desire.
He did not stop, but he didn’t change course, either. Instead, he simply continued on, suckling at your clit as he intermingled it with timed laps of his tongue. Your release slammed into you, white-hot and blistering, gnawing away at your stomach as that coil of heat effectively snapped.
A whine emerged from you, one that was nearly breathless as you rocked forward again, legs shaking from ecstasy as you rode out your peak. Cregan, ever the dutiful husband, lapped at your nectar, savoring the taste, the scent of a pleasurable aftermath.
“What —” You had to catch your breath again, attempting to recuperate as you sat back on his chest instead, thick, burly muscle plentiful enough to cushion you. “Where did you learn how to do that?” It was an innocuous question, one so sweetly-spoken that it nearly caused Cregan to chuckle.
He did, however, smile — a rare, sentimental gesture reserved only for you. It was threadbare, and if it weren’t for the nature of your relationship, one might’ve thought him to be rugged and indifferent. “You need only ask, princess, and I will oblige.” His voice was a deep rumble that warmed your insides.
You thoroughly enjoyed the nickname of princess — a term of endearment given your status, but you were a princess no longer. “I am a lady of the North now, aren’t I? A princess no longer,” You proclaimed, skin shimmering with perspiration. “What will you call me, now?” You asked.
“Hm,” Cregan contemplated, pressing a kiss against your leg before he sat up enough to have a good look at you, chin still glistening with your slick. The sight was lewd, enough to make you unbelievably flustered as he grew closer, nearly chest-to-chest with you. “Lady Stark would suffice.” He murmured.
Something amorous burned within you, a smolder that soon turned to ignited sparks. “It would please me greatly.” You hummed, running your hands over his biceps before Cregan gently changed places with you, moving you beneath his bulk, comfortable upon your back.
Soft was a mere understatement — he could feel himself melt. It was not your dragon’s blood or heat that made him crumble, but your heart. He could imagine you as the mother of his children, belly round with his heirs, the Lady of Winterfell, a Hightower no longer.
He settled between your legs, and you gasped when his cock gently glided against your slick core. Cregan knew to temper himself, to be as gentle as he could with it being your wedding night, but his resolve was steadily diminished in your presence. He steeled himself, pressing a string of kisses along your body.
Without thinking, you unconsciously goaded Cregan into a point of near-frenzy. Your hands found the taut, trunk-like muscle of his biceps, visage filled with a sense of awe and adoration. “A child would please me greatly.” You confessed, having no clue what it would do to your husband.
Cregan stopped, digits curling into the thick furs on either side of your head. It took every fiber of his being not to fuck you then and there — and he wouldn’t, it wasn’t right for him to take your maidenhead with such roughness. His fantasy became reality, a visceral, beautiful vision that made him grunt, jaw unnaturally tense.
His rough palm soothingly stroked along your thigh, lust swelling within him like a blizzard, a violent storm of need that transcended all bonds of propriety. “Does Lady Stark want me to put a pup in her belly?” Cregan rumbled, tempestuous hues ignited with a fire that demanded to be extinguished, sending shockwaves right to your core.
You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, shuddering at the sound of his voice — an edged husk, like the rumbling of thunder before a deluge or the shaking of a mountain. “Yes,” You exhaled, searching his countenance, only to find desire. “I would.”
The Gods were testing him, aiming to see if he would break beneath the pressure, but he refused. Cregan lowered himself over you, lips molding themselves against yours in a hot kiss. Your hands remained poised atop his biceps, barely able to wrap themselves around the thick, corded muscle.
He wasn’t much of a talker, and it quickly dwindled into deep grunts and heavier sighs as he aligned his cock with your entrance. He made sure to part your legs, keeping them spread as he began to push inside of you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, startled at the twinge of pain, the discomfort of it all.
Cregan despised the mere thought of causing you harm, and even he was willing to end it all then and there. “We don’t have to continue, beloved.” He rumbled, pressing a soothing string of kisses along your face. The endearing nickname made you preen, nails digging into his arms.
“No, I — I’m well enough,” You breathed, insistent on continuing. Cregan deliberated, but when you let out a low whine, he obeyed your command. “Gods, I need you, Cregan.” Pitched with a wanton resonance, you urged him to keep going.
Your neediness made his blood run hot, and he nodded, sluggishly resuming his pace. He continued to tilt his hips forward, cock feeding into you, inch by agonizing inch. Cregan felt the desperate bite of your nails clutching into muscle, leaving behind angry crescents.
You were never fully warned of the pain, the discomfort that accompanied pleasure. It was always sold as some fantasy, particularly for men — nights of heavenly passion resulting in bliss. For you, it was simply a marital duty to provide your husband with an heir, but this transcended that. Passion and affection sparked between the both of you, and it felt right.
As Cregan finally bottomed out inside of you, he allowed you time to fully adjust, rocking into you at a lackadaisical pace. He continued to shower you in kisses, wherever his lips could reach, giving particular affection to the crook of your neck.
Whatever discontent you felt, you hastily pushed it aside, tossing it into the recesses of your mind. Instead, you focused on him — on how incredible he made you feel, the warmth you experienced in his presence. One of your hands slipped to thread within his chestnut tresses, mouth agape.
You took him so well — better than expected, and it filled him with a sense of pride and ardor. Cregan pressed hungry kisses along your throat, nose buried into the hollow of it, right beneath your jugular. He continued to go slow, afraid of causing you further pain.
Cregan repositioned his hand, leaving one lodged beside your head, the other sinking into your haunch, digits tenderly kneading into your thigh. It was an offer of reassurance, and he watched your countenance shift from discontented to relaxed.
“Move,” The sharpness of your command brought him to heel, and he very nearly smiled — it was there, the ghost of it toying at his lips. Bringing his hips back and then forward, you moaned, knowing that the sting of pain would soon blossom into pleasure. “Please.”
Molten heat swirled within the pit of your stomach, arousal thick between your legs as Cregan began to find his pace, a rhythm that shook you to your core. He was so very gentle, even for a man of his herculean mass and muscle. He took care of you, soothingly caressing your thigh as he thrusted into you.
His cock filled you completely, a stretch that would take you more than just one night to adjust to. Your maidenhead was gone, your cunt tight around his length, pulling him in again and again.
Cregan’s breathing became heavier, somewhat labored as he consummated your union. Each snap of his hips held meaning, beyond the creation of an heir. It was tenuous with feelings, a burning sentiment he felt for you, ardor that had grown into a fire.
Admittedly, his mind was hazy, fueled by desire and the mere thought of you wanting a child — you had asked it of him, demanded, and he was at your mercy. Cregan couldn’t have gotten any luckier with you, the most resplendent woman he’d ever seen.
Imagining you full and round, still as lovely as the day he set his eyes upon you, a mother and a dragon — it was nothing short of true perfection. He chased after it, evident by the growing vigor and passion in each thrust of his hips, cock nearly tearing you into two.
No matter how gentle and careful Cregan was with you, it was to no avail, but you no longer cared. “Cregan,” You moaned, lifting one leg to hitch it around his waist, and that only seemed to further spur him on, allowing him to hit new depths. His throbbing length nearly kissed your womb, filling you to the brim. “Cregan!” You cried.
For a moment, you feared being split in-half by your mountain of a husband, but he slowed enough to let you recuperate, throat reverberating with carnal grunts. The rumbling of his chest, the heat that radiated from him in waves — it was all perfect.
It was driving him mad, the way your cunt constricted around his cock, the way in which your back arched from the furs, chest brushing against his. Cregan grunted, jaw set and brows furrowed in concentration as he kneaded into your thigh, something to alleviate his tension.
His thrusts deepened, became passionate and invigorated with love, and each snap of his hips made your head spin with delirium. You were drunk on desire, clinging to him as if you were a drowning maiden, hand splayed against his shoulder.
Whenever he happened to become a touch too vigorous, he felt your nails dig deep into his flesh, leaving behind the reddened marks of your consummation. Cregan was getting close, chest erupting with labored pants as he pressed his forehead against yours.
You moaned, body bending beneath his passion, malleable within his hands. His cock throbbed within you as he sought to spill his seed, face against yours, lips occasionally connecting in a series of sloppy, warm kisses. Everything felt incredible, in ways that you couldn’t comprehend.
He was so burly, a thick wall of impenetrable muscle that seemed to envelop you entirely, shield you from everything else, from all harm. Strands of chestnut stuck to his temples, flesh glittering with perspiration from the exertion of lovemaking, coupled with the heat in your chambers.
With another brusque thrust of his hips, he settled inside of you, reaching his peak with a subtle groan. His seed filled your cunt in hot ropes, more than enough to take, if the Gods were good. Cregan exhaled, feverishly hot as he began to recuperate, neglecting to remove himself from you for a few moments.
“Are you alright?” Cregan murmured, ensuring your wellbeing first, above all else. A stinging soreness settled into your thighs and your core, but you would survive. He didn’t completely obliterate you, thankfully — you wondered what he would be like, unrestrained.
“Yes,” You smiled, visibly flustered beneath the intensity of his stare. “That was incredible.” Your confession made him huff, likely one of amusement as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. Even you glittered with sweat, but that was to be expected.
You already wanted more — and you nearly asked it of him.
Lascivious fantasies took root within your mind, and the mere idea of him being rough and completely domineering made your cunt throb. You could not do it now, given how exhausted you were, but he had certainly unlocked a new side to you, a side that you were unfamiliar with.
Cregan pulled himself from you, propping your hips up beneath a feathered pillow to ensure that his seed would take. He rested beside you, drawing you into the bulk of his muscled arms, allowing you to rest your head against the expanse of his chest. “You were perfect.” He rumbled, roughened digits stroking along your spine.
It pleased you to know that your husband was satisfied with you, much to your delight. “I am glad,” Relief rippled through you as you inched closer, perfectly slotted against his frame. “So were you.” Your pleasant accolades made him smile, fracturing his stony exterior.
“There will be plenty of time for this, that I can promise you,” Cregan was more concerned with getting to know you, his beautiful lady-wife, Lady Stark. “I would like to start with you.” He murmured, savoring the sensation of your fingers tracing across his abdomen.
You blinked, seemingly surprised by Cregan’s genuine interest in you. It made you happy — perhaps you could have both. Moments of learning and moments like these, where you could indulge in pleasure.
“Would it offend you if I asked you to do both?” You questioned, warmth crawling along your body as Cregan squeezed the swell of your hip, gray hues sparkling with a semblance of mirth.
“It wouldn’t,” Cregan mused, timbre dropping to a lull, a husky octave that seemed to envelop you in its stoicism and warmth. “It pleases me to know that Lady Stark possesses the appetite of a dragon.” His teasing made you squirm, but he simply caressed you and held you closer.
With a coy smile, you lifted your head, pressing your lips against his, asserting your still-lingering desire for your husband. “Not a dragon,” Your tone softened with a sweeter resonance. “A wolf.”
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