Hello! I wanted to ask you to write if possible about something that I can’t get out of my mind 😭
What if Cregan loves when his wife is rough with him, like choking him and giving him light slaps where fucking. They’re are in a heat moment and then Cregan proposes this idea to his wife…
Thank you!!
omgee anon your mind... thank YOU so much for this food....
slowly, gently, in the candle-light of your shared chambers, your hips pull against cregan's from where you lay below him, and he stares down at you with hooded eyes.
one big hand braces against your waist, the other effortlessly lifting your leg up against his hip, callouses rough as they rub repeatedly against your skin. he lets out a series of controlled huffs and low hums, jaw clenched, muscles coiled. your own sounds — gasps, moans — just barely drown his out.
"cregan," you breathe, hiking your leg further against his body and bucking your hips, urging him to hurry up. your arms tighten around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. "cregan—"
you give a soft tug to his hair without even realizing, desperately trying to spur him on, and he gives a low, shuddering groan, deep in his throat, a quiver running down his whole back. his hips give an involuntary stutter, too, breaking your shared rhythm.
his fingers dig into your skin, just barely enough for it to hurt, and suddenly, you're being hauled up and rolled over. your hands brace against the hard muscle of cregan's chest, and your thighs squeeze his hips in an attempt to hold onto your balance.
cregan's hands fall to your own hips, still grabbing with just enough force to make it ache. he's looking up at you in a way that makes your stomach flutter.
he starts moving for you, manually dragging your hips back and forth and bucking his own up into your heat.
you manage to collect yourself and pick up the slack after a moment, making each rocking motion as deep as you can.
"hit me," cregan grunts, still meeting your thrusts halfway. his eyes squeeze shut.
"what?" you tilt your head and lean forward, confident you'd heard him wrong. "did you—"
"hit me." he growls through his teeth. "please."
your brow furrows, but you lean back, and hesitantly raise your hand. you know you should be a little more hesitant — the one thing you shouldn't do is slap your lord husband — but the idea of your palm connecting with his face and the feeling of pure power that would follow is enough to win you over.
your hand comes down, a little harder than you maybe intended, and the following smack sound is immediately overriden by a throaty moan from cregan.
your cunt clenches around him in response the new, never-before-heard sound, and his head falls back against the pillows. cregan's practically panting with excitement, breath leaving him in sharp, shallow puffs, and you're not much better off.
emboldened by his response, you reach down, and curl your hand around his throat, just like he had once done with you. one of your fingers press into the pulse point just below his jaw, and it races beneath your touch.
you squeeze in a way that obstructs but doesn't strangle, and cregan full-body jerks beneath you, one of his hands flying up from your hip to grab at your wrist. he doesn't pull it away, but his grip is tight enough to make the muscles on his arm jump.
he croaks out your name.
"you like this?" you lean forward, making your thrusts a little harder, a little sharper. "this feels good?"
cregan growls affirmatively and paws at your thigh with his free hand. his chest heaves beneath your palm.
he finishes with all of his muscles seizing up and a choked noise, spilling into you. the look on his face and the warmth inside of you is enough to drive you, too, over the edge, and you cum with a sharp gasp, walls spasming.
after you sloppily ride out the aftershocks, your hand disconnects from cregan's throat, your skin slightly sticky from his sweat.
cregan's arms wrap around your waist and he rolls your still-joined bodies sideways. his skin is hot against yours, and your chests heave just slightly out of sync as they press together.
he doesn't say anything, but instead presses a soft kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. you kiss his jaw in response.
why are endings so hard to write😞😞... divider by @/saradika-graphics
we always get hotd targ!reader fanfiction about having sex with your siblings and cousins and whatever but never about your sick ass dragon. i've seen like two fanfictions total where you have a dragon and then they're mentioned like three times total and that's it. a lot of the time you don't even have a dragon at all. what's even the point of being a targaryen if you don't get a sick ass dragon? without a dragon you're just rich and inbred. it makes no sense to me
lord cregan stark bringing his "friend" to a feast
contains; fem!reader, yearner!cregan, fade to black smut at the end, everyone wants you because you're a total snack, reader is implied to be non-nobility, probably ooc, sequel to situationship of doom and despair but its fun this time, not proofread
cregan finally convinces you to present yourself before his court, during an ambiguous day of celebration where most of his allies and bannermen will be present; not as a wife, hells no, you'd never agree to that, but as a dear friend. a dear friend that no one's really seen or even heard of before, yes, but then again, lord stark is a deeply private man...
everyone's so anxious to just get him married and get it over with that they're all disgustingly kind and friendly with you as cregan leads you into the feast hall with a friendly hand on the space between your shoulders. the maester smiles tightly at you and several lords and sons and knights kiss your hand in increasingly flirtatious ways that makes cregan very softly go "hm." from where he stands behind you.
you sit at the high table, flanked by lord stark and lord karstark, and you have to physically restrain yourself from harrassing cregan — you can't steal his food, or drink from his cup, or even call him stupid, and it's killing you — and it gets really boring really quick.
lord karstark, sitting to your left, seems to sense your misery and offers you an easy grin — "sterlan," he insists when you formally greet him, "call me sterlan, any friend of lord stark is a friend of mine" — and kicks off an easy conversation about how it's been a great season for hunting.
cregan watches you two talk with an impassive face, all while actively ignoring another lord who's trying to strike up a similar conversation with him, content to listen to your pretty voice and a little less content with having to put up to lord karstark's deep register alongside it.
when it comes time to push all the tables to the walls and for the people cluster to together on the floor, you're in a much better mood, all thanks to sterlan.
cregan doesn't come down to dance, he's in no way a dancer, but he does stare at you while you gleefully dance with some second son of a banner house. his eyes catch yours from across the room, his gaze shamelessly intense, and you smile in response. you swear you see his lips twitch upwards.
at the end of the night, when the feast hall clears of all life except for you, cregan, and a handful of servants, you, finally liberated of propriety, kick your feet up on sterlan's empty chair beside you and lean your back against cregan's arm.
"you had fun, then?" cregan asks the back of your head, sounding vaguely amused.
you pick his half-finished wine up from the table and take a sip before responding. "i suppose."
"you suppose." cregan repeats, and you nod, grinning against the rim of his cup.
"it's better than 'i hated it,' isn't it, lord stark?"
"...i suppose," he hums. "you and lord karstark seemed to get along well."
"sterlan and i are the best of friends now, yes. we have a hunting trip planned in three moons." you snicker and crane your head back against his shoulder to look up at him.
cregan's eyes glimmer when they meet yours. "so it wasn't entirely worthless, as you swore it would be."
the servants skitter out, holding as many plates as they can carry. cregan wastes no time wrapping his arm around your shoulders the moment they're out of sight, making your back fall against his side.
you roll your eyes, shooting a feigned scowl up at him. "yes, yes, i was wrong. shove the fact in my face a little more, won't you?"
the corners of his lips twitch up again.
in the hour of ghosts, cregan leads you out to the stables after you staunchly refuse to spend the night. you two fall into a quiet, comfortable silence as you pick your way through the snow.
they're impeccably kept, but the smell of dust is still pervasive, making the large space feel stuffier than it actually is. the horses that you two woke with your presence snuff and stamp at the ground in their stalls.
cregan tacks your horse for you, because you felt bad making the stable boys do anything at this hour and also because it gave you two more time together before you have to depart.
"you shouldn't be riding out in this cold," he grunts as he adjusts the the girth, gloved fingers slipping against the leather, though he knows his advice won't be heard.
"well, i will be," you reply, in the exact the way he knew you would, and tilt your head up. "and i'm sure i'll survive."
cregan huffs wordlessly, words fogging in the air. "is there any way i could convince you to stay behind, so i don't lose you to a snowdrift?" he asks, like you even would tell him if there was.
"you could fuck me." you say casually, leaning against a stall door, cocking an eyebrow. "do it well enough, and i'll be too tired to leave."
cregan's fingers still against the leather strap they were pulling and he straightens, looking at you over his shoulder. his face is about as hopeful as he'll let it be, and you almost feel bad for him.
you tilt your head and grin wider.
he's on you in a blink, lips pressing with bruising force into yours, hands grabbing for your waist beneath your cloak.
"i'll do it," he whispers against your mouth between fervent kisses. "i'll do it if you'll stay."
i really gave up halfway through i just wanted this done and posted... divider by @/saradika-graphics
cregan who desperately wants you as his wife and won't take anyone else...
contains: sex (duh), fem!reader, one breeding mention, kinda pathetic/hopeless cregan?, and standard asoiaf marriage politics. ooc but like whateverrrrrrr.
at the age of twenty-and-three, lord cregan stark of winterfell, warden of the north, still hasn't found himself a lady wife. he pushes away any suitors or love interests, and blatantly ignores anyone that even tries to mention that m'lord should perhaps find himself a nice highborn lady, or settle for an ally's eldest daughter, if only to secure his legacy...
he's simply been too busy — too busy with you, that is.
maybe you simply aren't the marrying type, or you know you'll be rejected by his court, or maybe you're literally just fucking with him.
either way, cregan won't have anyone if he can't have you.
you make out in stables and dark corridors, noses bumping, your fingers tangled in his hair. whenever he manages to sneak you into his chambers, all he can say against your neck is "my lady, my wife," when he ruts into you with an almost animal fervor.
he jerks off in what little alone time he has (that also isn't spent on you) to the idea of bedding you on your shared wedding night, your love and union finally recognized by the gods; of sitting at the high table in the feast hall with you at his side, facing the rest of the court; of fucking his pups into his lady stark, and watching her swell with life belonging to the both of them and no one else.
he asks, and asks, and asks, usually during the heat of sex or right after — what's the worst thing that could happen, what does it matter so long as we're together, i need a wife, i need heirs, i need you — but all you ever do is shut him down, and eventually, he just gives up.
cregan learns to accept that all your relationship will ever be is casual, exceedingly passionate trysts and whispered declarations of love aside. it's hopeless, to think of marrying you, he knows.
but, if he's being honest, sometimes he still stares at you when he knows you aren't looking, and he imagines you in stark colors and wedding whites.
okay still stuck on cregan stark fingers down my throat im sorry
cregan's got thick, rough fingers, calloused and dexterous from swordplay. they taste like salt and maybe even a little leather and metal, if he's just recently used said sword.
he uses them to shut you up, stuffing them in your mouth if you're whinging too much while he's fucking you, or if you're moaning too loud, or begging, or if he's just fingered you and wants you to have a taste.
they get the job done, mostly shutting you up while you suck on them. if he's feeling mean, he'll press his fingers down hard on your tongue to stop it from swirling around them. sometimes you bite, on purpose or by accident, and he only tuts in response ans shoves them deeper until you feel close to gagging.
sometimes he'll give it to you as a treat or reward, too, when you squirt for him, or when you hold out longer than he expected, or even when you're just being generally obedient.
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