i'm going to make a life i love even if it's not the one i expected or thought i wanted. and i am going to let myself be proud and grateful of what i do have. i am allowed to be proud of it without other people realizing the gravity of what i have accomplished in scale to my life and abilities. i do not need permission.
we romanticize blue and green eyes, but it’s time we romanticized brown eyes. brown eyes the color of chocolate. brown eyes deeper and darker than a forbidden wood. brown eyes that hold mystery, unfathomable despair, and the warm promise of a tender embrace.
I just want to remind you that sometimes your life really doesn't begin until you are 26+... Romanticizing and obsessing over our youth is harmful. Growing up is beautiful. Discovering who you are and how you interact with the world is a gift. Maturing and learning what you truly want out of life and living in that purpose brings fulfillment and peace. Your life is not over in your early 20's because you haven't figured it out yet, it's just beginning.
“i feel like i have no purpose” You are not a fixed entity. You do not have one grand, singular, constant purpose. As long as you have genuine intent behind your actions, everything you do serves a purpose. As long as you are truly present, you notice that everything contributes to a greater whole. You do not need to dedicate yourself endlessly to one practice to achieve a purpose; allow yourself to oscillate freely between them all. Experiment. You are not one dimensional: treat yourself as such.
I think things become a bit more pressing when you fully understand that your life is in your hands and you have to make positive decisions regarding your own future. Your path has not been chosen for you, and it has not been created in advance. With every choice you make, you are choosing to step in the right or wrong direction. Accountability and taking action are the only two things that will help you make it to where you want to be; a healthy dose of personal responsibility wouldn’t be amiss as well.
For a long time, I thought I didn’t have anyone to let down because I didn’t feel like I had any family. What I should have been focusing on was the way I felt about myself and how letting myself down would negatively impact my self-esteem. Every step you make is a step forward or a step back, although I’d like to say that the goal should always be steps forward; it’s in our human nature to stumble and take steps back. In order to really make progress. It’s more important to be able to identify our missteps and make steps to correct them than to strive for perfection in all things and inevitably fail.
Realistically, life is what you make of it, and like I’ve made a point of saying, you always have choices within your circumstances. It can be extremely difficult to take responsibility for things that have not gone your way, and it can be ugly at times too; there’s nothing worse than fighting with yourself and beating yourself up over situations that you know you could have handled better. Making a point of practicing personal responsibility and holding yourself accountable when you let yourself down will improve your life and help move you along on the path you’d like to create for yourself.
Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist
Rating: 18+
Word Count: ~5k+
Summary: The night of the banquet finally arrives, and things get turned upside down.
Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining, SMUTTY GOODNESS (fingering, p in v)
⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹
The night of the banquet promptly arrived, and soon you stood in front of a mirror, admiring the gown that hugged your figure in the best ways. In true Northern fashion, the gown was black with silver accents, gray and white fur adorning the shoulders, and a neckline low enough to expose skin, but not so low as to be improper.
A firm knock interrupted your admiring, and you turned as the door to your chambers opened, revealing Sara.
“Wow,” she said as she took in your attire. “You look beautiful.”
You sheepishly smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“I was coming to let you know that many of the Northern lords have arrived and the banquet began a short time ago,” she informed. “And with how you look tonight, I would not be surprised if a few of them came with proposals.”
“Hush, Sara,” you chastised, fidgeting with the sleeve of your gown. “Tonight is not about finding a husband.”
“But is it not?” she countered. “After all, we agreed that it might not be a bad idea to get acquainted with some lords who have shown an interest in you.”
“Yes, but that is not the reason we are holding the banquet.” She waved you off and rolled her eyes.
“Yes, yes, if you insist. No matter. Shall we join the festivities?”
“We shall,” you replied, taking one last look at yourself, and brushing nonexistent dust off your skirt.
Here goes nothing.
The Great Hall bustled with activity. The thunderous roars of drunken men echoed through the night, and as you approached, your nervousness grew.
Who would be there tonight?
You warily glanced at Sara, and she met your eye, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.
You knew you would be sitting near Cregan, if not next to him, but that also meant that you would be near Arra. The two of you had spoken little since her arrival to Winterfell, superficial pleasantries being the only interaction between you, but regardless of your feelings about her betrothal to Cregan, you were cordial to her, and she to you.
You did not know if she felt anything towards the man, but you dared not to dwell too long on the thought in fear of your jealousy becoming apparent. Everyone knew that you and Cregan were close, so you sitting at the head table would not raise questions, and for that, you were grateful. However, you were sure that there would still be some kind of gossip about your lack of presence around the young Warden as of late.
As you and Sara entered the Great Hall, you glanced at the head table and caught sight of Cregan, dressed in his finest furs, his broad frame having a commanding presence in the room. To no surprise, Arra was sitting to his left. However, the person sitting to his right was a welcome sight. Lord Cerwyn was in the chair beside Cregan, the two rooted in deep conversation. As if sensing your presence, Cerwyn looked up and caught sight of you, a large grin spread across his face as he stood to greet you. Cregan, turning to see why his friend stood, saw you and he felt a flutter in his chest.
You looked ravishing.
He followed in his friend’s actions and stood to greet you and his sister. Arra, taking notice of the men’s actions, followed suit.
“My lords. My lady,” you warmly greeted with a small curtsy. Sara quickly copied you before taking her place at the end of the table, three seats down from Cregan, leaving an open seat between Cerwyn and her. Arra returned the gesture before resuming her seat and continued silently sipping her wine while absentmindedly watching everyone in the room.
“My lady,” Cregan spoke, bowing his head politely as he took in your form, before also taking a seat and taking a large gulp of wine. You paid him no mind as you turned to Lord Cerwyn.
“My lady,” he greeted, taking your hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “May I just say that you look beautiful tonight.” A blush crept across your cheeks at his words as the two of you took a seat.
“Thank you, my lord,” you responded, wordlessly thanking a servant when they came to fill your cup of wine.
“How do you fare?”
“I am well,” you responded. “Summer is finally upon us.”
“Yes, it is,” Cerwyn affirmed. “I look forward to what the summer may bring. Have you been riding or spending time in the library since my last visit?”
“Unfortunately, not riding, but I have read more of the books in the library. As well as working on more needlework.”
“Needlework? You? What a surprise. Though, I would like to hear more about the stories you’ve read. Perhaps on the morrow?” he asked. “I’m afraid the wine is dulling my senses, and I would like to dedicate my full attention to you.”
“I shall await your presence come the morning to tell you of the tales I've read,” you agreed with a smile, placing a hand on his forearm. You were unaware of the jealousy brimming in Cregan’s eyes; however, Sara took note and shook her head at her brother.
As the night progressed, you found yourself enjoying Cerwyn’s company, as you always had. You were grateful for his easy conversation, his stories and humor a welcome distraction from your nervousness. But despite your focus on Cerwyn, you couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.
From the corner of your eye, you caught Cregan’s gaze flicking toward you more than once, and although his expression remained unreadable, there was a tightness to his jaw whenever Cerwyn leaned closer to say something and make you laugh. Meanwhile, Arra was engaged in quiet conversation, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, while Sara occasionally glanced between you and Cregan with a knowing smile, as if enjoying her brother’s evident unease.
“My lady,” a booming voice interrupted. You turned to see Lord Umber, his broad frame casting a shadow over the table. “Might I have the honor of a dance?”
You hesitated, glancing briefly at Cerwyn, who gave you an encouraging nod. “Of course, my lord,” you replied, rising gracefully.
The music began, and though Lord Umber’s movements were less than graceful, his hearty laughter was infectious. You found yourself smiling as you twirled among the other couples.
When the song ended, you curtsied to Lord Umber and turned to return to your seat, colliding into Cerwyn who was standing behind you. With a laugh, he caught you and helped steady you on your feet.
“May I have this dance?”
“I would be delighted,” you replied, grateful for the familiarity of his presence.
As Cerwyn led you back into the sea of dancing couples, you felt Cregan’s eyes burning into your back. The intensity of his gaze was a palpable weight, but you refused to let it affect you. Cerwyn’s hand rested lightly on your waist as he guided you through the steps with surprising grace.
“You move beautifully,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His words drew a genuine smile from you as you relaxed into the rhythm of the music.
After the last notes of the lively tune faded, you and Cerwyn made your way back to the head table, your steps light and easy from the dance. You took your seat next to him, the pleasant warmth of the dance still lingering. As the musicians struck up another song, the room’s chatter continued, but a sudden hush fell over the hall when Lord Manderly stood, raising his cup high.
“A toast!” he boomed, his voice cutting through the noise. “To the Young Wolf and his lovely bride to be!”
The guests erupted in cheers, raising their cups in unison. You hesitated for a moment, your gaze flickering to Cregan as he lifted his cup with a polite smile, his expression unreadable. As he lowered his cup, he glanced at you, surprised to meet your eye. You raised your own cup, offering a courteous smile, before turning back to Cerwyn, who gave you a reassuring nod. You could not help but notice the brief tension in the air, though it was quickly drowned out by the laughter and clinking of cups that followed the toast.
Hours ticked by and the revelry showed no signs of slowing. The Great Hall filled with the warmth of bodies and the heady scent of wine and roasted meats. You found yourself swept up in conversation after conversation, dancing with various lords and suitors and catching up with old acquaintances, your cheeks flushed from both the wine and the constant attention.
Lord Cerwyn remained a steadfast presence at your side, his hand occasionally brushing against yours in a gesture that was both comforting and thrilling. You were glad for his company, especially when you caught glimpses of Cregan and Arra, their heads bent close in conversation.
“Another dance, my lady?” Cerwyn asked, his eyes filled with understanding. You nodded, allowing him to lead you once more to dance, eager to distract yourself from the happy couple.
As you twirled and stepped in time with the music, you couldn’t help but notice Cregan’s gaze following your movements. His face was a mask of neutrality, but there was something in his eyes - a flicker of emotion you couldn’t quite name.
Strange.
During a brief respite from the dancing, you retreated to a quiet corner to catch your breath. Cerwyn appeared at your side, offering you a cup of cool water.
“Thank you,” you said appreciatively, taking a long sip.
“You’ve been quite popular this evening,” Cerwyn remarked with a smile. “I daresay you’ve charmed half, if not all, of the North tonight.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You flatter me, my lord. I’m merely being polite.”
“Polite, perhaps, but no less enchanting for it,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with warmth.
Before you could respond, you heard a familiar voice behind you.
“Lord Cerwyn,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Might I cut in?”
“Of course, my friend,” Cerwyn responded, giving you an encouraging smile, though you noticed a flicker of something—concern, perhaps?—in his eyes. You turned to Cregan and found his hand extended towards you. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his intense gaze. For a moment, the bustling hall seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you.
“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked politely.
“Of course, my lord,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. As Cregan’s hand closed around yours, you felt a jolt of electricity course through you. You had not spoken to him since your argument in the godswood, and you grew nervous.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured, his eyes roaming your face.
“Thank you, my lord,” you responded, trying to keep your voice steady. “You look quite handsome yourself.” His hand tightened on your waist, and you could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of your gown.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, so only you could hear. Your heart clenched at his words.
“Cregan...” you started, but he shook his head.
“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “I know I have no right to say such things. But it doesn’t make them any less true.” You sighed, shaking your head slightly.
You danced in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you, and as the song came to an end, Cregan’s hand slightly tightened on your waist.
“Meet me in the godswood,” he whispered. “After the feast. Please.”
Before you could respond, he stepped back, bowing formally as the dance concluded. You curtsied in return, your mind whirling with confusion and anticipation.
As you made your way back to your seat, you caught sight of Arra watching you, giving you a small smile when your eyes met. Her lack of jealousy surprised you, but you nonetheless returned her smile. Once you returned to the table, Cerwyn warmly greeted you, but you could see the concern in his eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, having caught the tension between you and Cregan.
You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, of course. Just a bit warm from the dancing.” Cerwyn nodded, not pushing the matter further, but he knew that you were anything but fine.
As you settled back into your seat, you couldn’t help but wonder what Cregan could possibly have to say to you in the godswood.
And more importantly, did you dare to meet him there?
The feast had ended not too long ago, and Winterfell lay cloaked in the deep stillness of the hour of the eel. In your chambers, the fire crackled softly in the hearth, its faint light casting flickering shadows on the walls. You sat on the edge of your bed, absentmindedly twisting the fabric of your nightgown between your fingers, your thoughts restless.
The godswood.
Meet me in the godswood.
Cregan’s whispered words during the dance played over and over in your mind. You had felt the urgency in his voice, the way his hand lingered on your waist, as if reluctant to let you go. But what could he possibly want to say that required the secrecy of the godswood at such an hour?
You rose from the bed and paced the room, your bare feet silent against the stone floor. Part of you longed to go, to hear him out, to understand the emotion you had glimpsed in his eyes. But another part—a quieter, more cautious part—warned against it. What good could come from such a meeting? Whatever words passed between you could not change your reality or his.
The fire crackled again, louder this time, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced toward the door, half expecting to see it open, half dreading that it might. Minutes ticked by, and still, you remained frozen in indecision. Finally, with a resolute sigh, you sat back down on the edge of the bed. You would not go. Whatever Cregan needed to say, he could say in the light of day, not under the cover of darkness in a place so steeped in ancient, sacred silence.
The faint creak of the door opening startled you, and you whipped your head toward the sound. There he was, framed in the doorway, his broad shoulders and familiar face illuminated by the faint glow of the hearth. Cregan stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.
“You didn’t come,” he said, his voice low but filled with unmistakable hurt.
“I couldn’t,” you replied, your words hesitant. “It would have been pointless.”
He crossed the room in a few long strides, stopping just short of where you sat. His eyes searched yours, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and something far deeper.
“Why?” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything—after the way we danced, after what I said—why wouldn’t you come?”
Your hands twisted the edge of your gown again, the motion betraying your unease. “Because I don’t know what you want from me,” you admitted. “What could you possibly have to say, Cregan, that you haven’t already said?”
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.
“I wanted to tell you that I—” He broke off, his voice faltering, as though the weight of his confession was too much to bear. “That I didn’t mean for it to be this way. To break my oath to you…”
“But you did,” you cut him off, your voice barely audible.
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I never meant to hurt you. I—”
“Stop,” you interrupted, your heart aching at the helplessness in his tone. “Don’t say it, Cregan. Please. It doesn’t change anything. You’ve already said what you had to say when we last spoke in the godswood.”
Cregan paced the room briefly, running a hand through his dark hair before turning back to you. “You seemed to enjoy yourself tonight,” he said, his tone tight, his demeanor changing to mask his vulnerability.
You raised an eyebrow, unsure of where he was going with this. “It was a feast, Cregan. I was being polite.”
“Polite,” he echoed, his voice carrying a hint of derision. “Is that what you call dancing with half the lords in the hall? Or spending the better part of the evening with Cerwyn at your side?”
You folded your arms, holding his gaze. “And what would you have me do instead? Sit idly by while you spend your evening with Arra, completely ignoring my presence as you’ve done before? I have to think about my future now, Cregan. You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do.”
His jaw tightened, the muscles in his face flexing as he absorbed your words. “And yet, watching you with Cerwyn tonight—”
You blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. “Cerwyn?”
“Yes, Cerwyn!” he snapped, his frustration spilling over. “Seeing him make you smile, hearing your laugh, the way he looked at you, his hands on you—it drove me mad.”
He stopped, clenching his fists as though physically restraining himself from saying more. You stared at him, trying to comprehend his sudden jealousy.
“Why does it matter to you, Cregan?” you asked, your voice quieter now, though it carried a sharp edge. “You’re betrothed to Arra. What I do, who I dance with, shouldn’t concern you.”
His eyes darkened, and he took a step closer. “It concerns me because I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you—because I—” He stopped himself, visibly struggling to rein in his emotions. “Because I care about you.”
You felt your breath hitch at his admission, but you forced yourself to remain calm, to push through the turmoil his words stirred in your heart.
“And yet, you’ve hurt me, time and time again,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You made your choice, Cregan. So, I ask you again, why does it matter?”
Cregan looked at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as though hoping to find an answer there. Finally, he stepped back, his broad shoulders sagging slightly.
“It matters,” he said quietly, “because it’s you.” You sharply sucked in a breath, heart thundering in your chest.
“It matters because it’s you,” he repeated, his voice softer now, tinged with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. He hesitated for a moment, as though debating whether to say more, but then the dam broke.
“I’m in love with you,” he confessed, his voice raw and unguarded. “I’ve been a fool, and I wish—I wish I could take everything back. The oath I broke, the choices I made—everything. I don’t want you to marry someone else. I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Please.”
His words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily breathless. You could see the truth in his eyes, in the way he looked at you, as though you were the only person in the world. For a fleeting moment, you wanted to believe that things could be different, that his words could erase the pain of the past.
But reality set in, cold and unyielding. You forced yourself to look away, gathering the strength to say what you knew you had to.
“You had your chance, Cregan,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “You had your chance to tell me how you felt before all of this. But now—it doesn’t matter anymore.”
His brow furrowed, desperation flickering in his expression. “Of course it matters! It matters because I love you!”
You flinched at the raw emotion in his voice, but your resolve remained firm.
“And what of Arra?” you asked, your tone cutting through his plea. “What about the promise you made to her? Whatever you feel, whatever we feel—it’s nothing now. You’re betrothed, Cregan. To admit this, to act on this, wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Just as it wasn’t fair to me. It’s too late.”
“She doesn’t love me,” he countered. “It’s a match of duty, nothing more. You know that.”
“And yet, duty binds you to her, just as it once bound you to me,” you said firmly, lifting your chin as you faced him. “What kind of man would you be if you broke yet another oath? What would that say about the Starks and how honorable they are? What would the North think, Cregan? And what kind of woman would I be to encourage it?”
The silence that followed was heavy, his jaw tightening as though your words physically struck him. For a moment, you thought he might relent, might finally see the impossibility of what he was asking of you. But then his shoulders slumped, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache.
“I know,” he said, his voice quieter but no less anguished. “I know it would be wrong to break the betrothal to Arra. I know the shame it would bring about on my house. And I know that I have to make sacrifices for the sake of duty. But gods, I love you. I’m a fool having not seen it sooner. And no matter how much I want to do what’s right, I can’t change how I feel about you. I would give it all up if you asked it of me.”
You inhaled sharply, shaking your head, your voice rising with your emotions. “It doesn’t matter! Cregan, you’re asking me to sit here and listen to this while you remain bound to Arra. How can you expect me to stay in Winterfell, to—”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he interrupted, his voice trembling with desperation. “I told you, I don’t want you to marry someone else. Gods, I wish it wasn’t like this—I wish I didn’t hurt you. I love you, and I can’t—”
He stopped himself, clenching his fists, his emotions teetering on the edge of control.
“Cregan,” you tried again, your voice softer now, as though trying to ease the rawness in his gaze. But before you could say more, he took a step forward, closing the distance between you.
He fell to his knees on the floor in front of you, his face level with yours because of his height. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch both firm and trembling. “You are everything to me,” he said, his voice breaking. “Everything.”
Then, without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you.
The kiss was sudden and fierce, full of all the emotions he could no longer contain. It was a collision of love, regret, and desperation, and it left you breathless.
For a moment, you froze, your mind screaming at you to push him away, to remind him of all the reasons this was wrong. But your heart betrayed you, pulling you closer to him despite everything. You leaned into the kiss, your resolve faltering under the intensity of his touch.
When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing unsteady. His thumb brushed your cheek, his voice a rough whisper. “Tell me you don’t feel the same,” he said. “Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll let you go. You can leave Winterfell, marry whoever you choose—but I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you say that you don’t love me and that you wish to never see my face again. Please.”
You closed your eyes, your heart warring with your mind. His confession, his kiss, his plea—they were everything you had once dreamed of. Once hoped for. And still hoped for. But you knew it was too late. You could not have what he could not give, despite his words saying differently.
“Cregan…” you whispered, his name like a prayer, though even you weren’t sure for what. “I—I love you. You’ve known this, and I wish — I wish I didn’t feel this way for you. Gods, I wish I could just hate you, because it would be so much easier than loving you, but I can’t. You come in here, saying words that I’ve wanted to hear for so long, but it cannot be so. You know it and I know it.”
“Please,” he begged. “I know it took me seeing you with someone else tonight, and I’m a fool for it, but I will do anything to make this right. I will forsake my duty as Warden of the North. I will—“
“You and I both know you cannot do that. You only just took it back from your uncle. I will not allow you to throw away your whole life because of our selfishness. Cregan—“
“Fuck the North,” he declared. “If it means that I have you, then fuck the North. I love you, and I cannot accept that you would so easily give up on your love for me after loving me all these years.”
“Cregan—“
He once again cut you off, dipping his head to capture your lips, arms circling your waist to pull you closer. Your head grew clouded by his actions. This kiss had just as much fire as his previous one, and your body could not help but react. Cregan tightened his grip around your waist, the heat from his body warming you through your nightgown, and you battled within yourself. You needed to pull away, but your body would not allow it, having craved his touch for too long.
Cregan deepened the kiss, and before you knew it, you were on your back on the bed, Cregan hovering above you. He began to pepper kisses on your neck, and you moaned when he got to a particularly sensitive spot.
As you felt his hand move from your waist to your hips, you couldn’t help but arch your back into him, your body no longer listening to your mind. Cregan pressed more kisses to your jaw and throat as he slid his hand down to part your legs, slotting himself comfortably between your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his prominent arousal against your core as he ground himself against you.
You were in a daze, a wave of warmth surging through you as he brought his lips back to yours, your tongues colliding in a frenzy. Wanting to feel his skin against yours, you pushed his cloak off his shoulders and untucked his tunic from the waistband of his trousers. Cregan, taking the hint, broke the kiss and quickly pulled the fabric over his head, tossing it to the end of the bed.
He reclaimed your lips as he gripped your thigh, pushing the edge of your nightgown up your leg. You shivered at the contact, his touch igniting a flame beneath your skin. Cregan’s hand continued its journey up your thigh, pushing your nightgown higher. His fingers skimmed over your hip, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You gasped into his mouth as his hand found your breast, kneading it gently through the thin fabric.
“Gods, I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. “Of touching you like this, of hearing the sounds you make.”
You arched into his touch, your body betraying your mind’s feeble protests. Cregan’s lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His other hand joined the first, pushing your nightgown up further until it bunched around your waist.
“Cregan,” you moaned, torn between desire and reason. “We shouldn’t—”
He silenced you with another searing kiss, his hips grinding against yours. You could feel his hardness pressing against your leaking center, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You were lost in sensation, in the feel of his skin against yours, in the weight of his body pressing you into the bedding. It was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had dreamed of for so long.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Tell me you don’t want this as much as I do.”
You knew you should. You knew this was wrong, that it would only lead to more heartache. But as Cregan’s hands roamed your body, as his lips left a trail of fire on your skin, you found yourself unable to form the words.
Instead, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another kiss. Cregan groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tightly. In one swift motion, he pulled your nightgown over your head, leaving you bare beneath him.
His eyes raked over your form, dark with desire. “Beautiful,” he murmured, before lowering his head to your breast.
You gasped as his mouth closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Your back arched off the bed, pressing yourself closer to him, your hands burying themselves in his hair. Cregan’s hand slid between your legs, fingers finding your wetness.
“So wet for me,” he growled as he licked and kissed his way back to your lips, circling your clit with his thumb.
You whimpered, hips bucking against his hand. Cregan continued his ministrations, building the pressure inside you until you were a writhing mess beneath him. Cregan broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he watched your face. His fingers moved lower, teasing your entrance before slowly pushing inside. You cried out softly, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers slipping into your seeping hole.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispered reverently, his thumb resuming its circles as his fingers curled inside you.
You clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure built. Cregan’s thick fingers driving you higher and higher until you shattered with a muffled cry, burying your face in his neck. Giving you a moment to recover, Cregan stood, and you watched him unlace his breeches.
Your breath caught as he freed himself, his length standing proud and ready, the tip leaking in anticipation. Cregan positioned himself at your entrance, running his tip through your slick folds, his eyes locked on yours.
“Are you sure?” Cregan asked, his voice husky with desire but tinged with concern.
You hesitated for a moment, your mind warring with your heart and body. Everything in you yearned for this, for him, but you knew the consequences could be devastating. Yet as you looked into his eyes, seeing the love and longing there, you found yourself nodding.
With a low groan, he slowly pushed into you, stretching and filling you completely. You gasped at the sensation, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to his size. He stilled once fully sheathed, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted.
Fuck.
“Gods, you feel incredible,” Cregan murmured, his forehead resting against yours as he stilled his movements. “So perfect.”
After a moment, you rolled your hips experimentally, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Cregan. Taking that as encouragement, he began to move, starting slow but quickly building to a frantic pace. The room filled with the sounds of your gasps and moans, skin slapping against skin.
“Cregan,” you cried out as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Oh gods, right there.”
He growled in response, snapping his hips harder. One of his hands snaked between your bodies to rub circles on your clit. The dual sensations had you spiraling toward release.
“Cregan,” you panted, feeling yourself nearing the edge. “I’m close. Oh, fuck. I'm close...”
“Come for me, my love,” he urged, circling your clit in time with his thrusts. “Let me feel you. Let me hear you.”
It was all too much. With a cry of his name, you shattered, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your walls clenched around his length, pulling him over the edge with you. Cregan buried his face in your neck as he spilled inside you, painting your walls with his essence, his hips jerking erratically.
As you both came down from your high, reality started to set in. Cregan rolled to the side, pulling you against his chest. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of what you’d done hanging heavy in the air.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered finally, even as you nestled closer to him.
Cregan’s arms tightened around you. “I know. But I don’t regret it. I meant what I said before,” he murmured into your hair. “I love you. And I’ll find a way to make this right. I promise.”
You wanted desperately to believe him. To have faith in his words. But as you lay in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just made everything far more complicated.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
germansingergirl
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
areudirty
