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Currently writing for AKOTSK / HOTD -> requests status
Currently working on | drabbles and headcanons
Recent posts | A knights dream, Taste of you, How the AKOTSK men would react to you being harmed/in danger ,How the AKOTSK men would react to you wearing their shirt, Scent of you, Everything i do, i do with reckless abandon, The sun will set
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House of the dragon
A Knight of the seven kingdoms
Headcanons/drabbles
Game of thrones
A court of thornes and roses
The Pitt
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personal favourites
False god (Maekar x targ!reader)
Pretty in pink (Maekar x Florent!reader)
Golden (Baelor x Lannister!reader)
The Stags Knight (Ser duncan the tall x Baratheon!reader)
AKOTSK men courting autistic!reader
mine (Aerion x fem!reader)
Solace (Jace x targ!reader)
please, please, please (aegon x targ!reader)
seduction (Jace x Targ!reader)
none of my work is beta read!
post last edited: 18th July 2026
dividers by @zaldritzosrose and @saradika-graphics
Would love to see lady Lannister interacting with the orphanage that she built
The orphanage
Part of the pretty in pink/golden universe
Baelor Targaryen x Lannister!reader
You loved being queen, loved running the red keep and king landing, ensuring everything is in order and that petty quibbles are resolved. You loved your dutiful life, the endless tasks that kept you busy. You found solace in it. But as time went by, and your duties became shared between lady Florent, Makears wife, and Aerions wife lady stark, you soon found your days began to lack.
You always liked to be busy, so when finding that most days you were done with your tasks before luncheon had even been served, you looked for a new purpose to fill your time.
You rarely went to kings landing, or at least the poorer parts, flea bottom as it was called. But with your afternoons free and often lonely as Baelors duties always remained stacked high no matter how many of his brothers and nephews resided in the walls of the keep. You found yourself walking the streets of kingslanding, and suddenly a new way to occupy your time began.
Children scattered the streets of kingslanding, abandoned by fathers and mothers sick and dead. Many had never known a home, so you choose to build one.
It had taken a year to finish construction, but a home for the children of kingslanding was built. And every day that was spent planning it, working to fill its stores with grain and drink, finding the gold to pay the men. Finding septa’s and maesters to care for the children. It was all worth it in the end.
It was your crowing jewel, a home away from home for you. As you began to spend your nights helping the children settle in, spent your time helping to cook for them and feed them, even cleaning whilst you found the septa’s who would be happy to live in a house full of orphaned children. You loved it there, loved caring for the children, loved seeing how they played and interacted. And though many were unsure at first, thinking it some trap, that a price would come with the food, drink and sheltered the crown offered. As the months went by they soon realised they owed the crown and you nothing.
Soon it became rare that a day went by were you did not spend hours by the children side. Teaching them to read and write, to sew and paint. You spent countless hours by there side and no matter how many whispers of your failings filled the keep, the laughs and joy of the children at sight of your face was enough to keep your heart full with joy.
“It’s the queen!” You heard one of the girls, Mia, shout, alerting the children to your arrival. You had been lacking in visits as of late, what once was daily now became weekly, but the joy of seeing you never once lessened. “And the king!” One of the boys, Jack, shouted, running through the courtyard to gather the rest of the kids.
Baelor stood at your side, a large smile on his face as he watched the joy that overtook your features.
Soon you were overwhelmed with children, more and more children had moved off the streets of kings landing in recent moons, calling for an extension to be built. You feared that soon you would loose track of all the children’s names, but the children cared little if you remember there names, just that you remember to see them.
“Hello,” you smiled, crouching to the ground as the some of the girls surrounded you, showing the dolls they had made. “My these are beautiful, did you make them yourself?” You asked smiling softly as the girls all nodded, giggling as you asked them the dolls names and who they were.
Baelor stood to the side, his gaze turned to the boys of the orphanage as they came to show him their wooden swords, “fine knights you shall be,” he laughed watching as they attempted to spare one another, “I should get you all a maester of swords, and turn you into warriors,” he laughed as the boys began to jump with joy.
It was rare that Baelor could join you in your visits, but when he did it only made the whole vist full of more joy. You loved visiting the children, watching them grow and learn. Watching as they grew up safe and comforted and away from the hard life of a child alone in the streets would offer. Watching them as they talked of the toys and stories that they made up, enjoying when you or Baelor added to them, there eyes wide as they took in every word you said.
Hours would pass my in minutes there, your heart full as you played and spent time with the children of kings landing, your joy never once wavering, even when you left. Your heart would be full for days. No whispers or hard truths could fallen the joy that the glee of the orphanage gave you.
Plagued by dreams of death and war, you distance yourself from your husband, and Gwayne does everything he can to make sure you don’t stray away from him any further. (2.5k words) (requested)
Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader
Content: MDI, 18+, smut, p in v, oral (f reciving), angst, hurt/comfort. Nightmares and talks of death. not proofread.
All of Westeros had seen the signs. The threats, the conspiracies. From the day Prince Aegon was born, the realm readied itself for war. The realm knew Rhaenyra would not back down, not surrender what was hers by right. And so alliances were made, talks of war and preparations for what was to come.
But despite all that preparation, House Targaryen still seemed blind to it. Still acted as if war had not been on the horizon for two decades. A blindness House Hightower lacked. They knew how to prepare, how to make alliances that solidified their house and battlements more so than they should in what was so-called peacetime.
You had been a part of those alliances. Wed for your family’s soldiers and gold, wed to Ser Gwayne Hightower, the queen's brother and a man you slowly began to love. But love did not protect you from the arising war. Nor did it protect you from the truth of what was to come. Of the fact that your husband would fight and most likely die for a cause he did not believe in but duty bound him to.
It was those very things that plague your dreams. Nightmares of death, of fire and war replaced dreams that once calmed you. Dreams full of your husband and the life you wished to have. Dreams that plagued you even as the night faded to morning. Dreams that even the comfort of your husband's arms could not ease.
And as time went by and the inevitable war drew closer, the small comfort of your husband faded as his face, of his life fading before your eyes, became the nightmare that haunted you the most.
Soon his dying face was all you could picture, and him dead was all you saw whenever you looked at him.
You distanced yourself. Not all at once, just slowly. Avoiding dinners and lunches where you could. Going to bed either before or after Gwayne, for fear of seeing his face and his death replaying over and over in your mind. Avoiding sitting in the gardens where you once spent every moment you could, knowing that that’s where Gwayne would always run into you.
But no matter how much you avoided your husband and your feelings and fears, the nightmares never stopped, the death and fear haunted you day and night. Haunted your every word and every step to the point where your avoidance of your husband and the thought of his demise led you to move chambers and to mend your schedule to avoid his every move. Fear of what would come, fear that he would die, led you to distance yourself.
Fear that the love you bore him was too deep that you mourned his death before the war you feared would cause it even began.
You had always struggled with your emotions. Always feared confronting them and instead chose to keep them bottled up. You avoided everything, a bad habit you had developed over the years. And Gwayne, who had never been at the receiving end of your avoidance, had always strived to make you comfortable and loved to the point where you hadn’t bottled anything up since the day you had wed. Not once had you avoided your husband, but this sudden change, avoiding his every move to the point you moved from the chambers you had shared since the day you had married him, not once spending the night apart. And that change, that decision to separate yourself from your husband entirely, it destroyed you both.
It took two weeks for Gwayne to snap.
He had tried to give you space, it was what you craved, even if you did not tell him. He did not know why you needed space, let alone from him. But he had known you were suffering. Had seen the signs, had watched you closely even when you tried to change your entire day to avoid him. And he had let you, much to his chagrin. But his cousin Ormund had said it was what was best, that the woman needed it from time to time. Though Ormund's opinions were hardly worth listening to, especially when it came to you.
But he had listened, at least at first, had allowed Ormund's words to guide him, for hope that space was what you needed.
But two weeks of space, two weeks of not seeing you, of not holding you in his arms, of kissing your sweet lips. It damn near drove Gwayne mad.
He went to your chambers that evening, determined to speak to you, to see you, to spend time in your company even if you refused to speak.
He had waited until after dinner, waited until your maids were dismissed before he wandered over. His feet moved swiftly through the halls of the tower, eager to see his wife, even if just for a moment.
“Wife,” he greeted, startling you slightly as he stepped into your chambers. He had readied himself for bed and had forced a look of determination on his face, eager to solve whatever issues haunted you and stopped him from giving you the love and affection he craved.
“Gwayne, I-” Your eyes darted to him, a panicked look on your face. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to see you,” he stated, walking towards you, a kind smile on his face, but a look of determination in his eyes.
“Why?” You asked, stepping away from Gwayne, hoping the distance would stop the flashes of his dying face from appearing.
“I have missed you, and I no longer wish to be parted from you.” Gwayne breathed, following after your evasive movements, “I know not what has caused you to distance yourself from me. If I have done anything wrong i do apoligise, i did not mean it, and I shall repent I-”
“You have done nothing,” you breathed, your hand reaching his cheek, caressing it softly as he now stood before you, unshed tears in both your eyes. “I promise you, my love, this…distance is not because of your actions i- i just need space i… You need to leave, please, leave”
“No,” Gwayne shook his head, his heaving moving to rest on your shoulder, his arms wrapping tightly around you, “I'm not leaving, not until we talk…please, whatever it is, let me help you.”
“No,” you shook your head, your hands on Gwayne's shoulders as if to push him off you, but you couldn’t. You needed him; you wanted him and loved every second of his comfort, and the short respite it gave you from the nightmares that haunted you.” I need you to leave, please…I can’t…I can’t-”
Gwayne's grip on you tightened, holding you to him as tears began to fall through your body. “Please, Gwayne, I can’t. Let me go.” A sigh fell from his lips, but he did so, kissing the tears away from your cheeks as his arms fell to his side.
“I'm not leaving you, you need me just as I need you, whether you are ready to admit it or not.”
“No, I-”
“I will follow you if you leave, I am not parting from you. I cannot bear it,” he breathed, cradling your face and wiping the stray tears that remained
“Fine,” you nodded, leading Gwayne to bed, both of you knowing you would not talk tonight. But for Gwayne, it was the start of you trusting him with whatever was wrong, hoping that a night's sleep by his side would help whatever troubled you. But for you, you feared this night would only make matters worse.
You awoke with a scream on your lips.
You had tried to stay awake, thought every urge to settle intoy our husbands arm, to sleep beside him in hope his company may offer the respite you had prayed space would give you. But instead, after hours of watching the rise and fall of your husband's chest, watching as he nuzzled into you, grasping any part of his body that he could reach, you had surrendered to the realm of sleep and were once again haunted by fire, dragons and the screams and slaughter of thousands.
“My love,” soft arms wrapped around your body, your name and sweet nothings whispered into your ears, soothing and pulling you out of the hellscape of your dreams.
“Gwyane,” you cried, turning to bury yourself into his chest as sobbs once again wracked through your body. He shushed you, rocking you gently until your cries eased and the breath you hadn't realised you lacked returned to your body and your breathing returned to normal. “Gwayne,” you breathed into him, settling yourself in his lap as he patiently waited for you to speak. “I- I'm scared.”
“Scared? My love, whatever for? Whatever has happened?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss to your brow, then down to your cheeks.
“I-” the words were on the tip of your tongue, but the words refused to leave you, even as Gwayne pressed soft kisses across your skin.
“Tell me, my love, what plagues you?”
You cleared your throat, willing yourself to look at Gwayne. “I fear…I fear war and death,” a tear fell from your cheeks as you spoke, only to be kissed away by Gwayne, “your death…I see it every time I close my eyes, even when I open them, but most of all when I look at you, I see death, your face being swallowed by fire.”
“My love,” Gwyane began, gripping your chin towards him, a soft kiss pressed to your lips, “there is no war-”
“But there will be; we've all seen the signs. The talks.”Your breath stuttered, “You will be dragged into it, and I shall lose you.”
“My darling,” Gwayne's hands caressed your cheek, kissing you softly once more, “you cannot fear what may never come, it shall destroy you” Gwayne's own breath stuttered as he took in your stress, the fear of war, of his death and what had become of you. “My love, my sweet girl, I assure you, if war is to come…then not even the gods could keep me away from you. Yes, I may have to do my duty and fight, but I shall return from every battle with your favour in hand, protecting me from the swords of villainous men.” Gwayne soothed, the truth and promise of his words clear to you both, “i will not let you loose me, not before i am old and grey, passing in my slumber with you by my side,” gwayne kissed your lips, “i promise,”
You closed your eyes, letting the words sink in. “You do? You promise it?”
He nodded, tugging you impossibly close to him. “I promise you, I am here, with you now, and I am going nowhere,” he breathed, his arms untangling from you and laying you softly on the bed. “Let me show you the meaning of my words.”
You smiled, your hands reaching from him, pulling him over you, letting his lips meet yours in a soft kiss. The kiss was slow and soft, full of his love and devotion, as they moved against you. Your hands reached for his hair, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck as he moved to place soft kisses across your jaw, his hands reaching for the straps of your nightgown, letting the straps fall from your arms as his mouth descended from your jaw to your neck, soft, hated kisses pressed into your skin.
Reaching your breasts, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and his hand toyed with the other, before letting go of your breasts with a soft pop, a groan falling from your lips as he crawled down your body, pulling the rest of your slip off, leaving you bare before him.
“Will you let me taste you?” he pleaded, his head level with your cunt, his breath hot against it, your cunt slick with need. A soft moan fell from your lips as he spoke against you, the pleading in his eyes making you let out a wanton moan.
“Please, touch me, husband, please.”
Gwayne needed little more before his lips descended onto your cunt, feasting on you like a man starved. His thumb circled your clit in soft circles as his tongue swiped through your folds.
“Gwayne,” you moaned in pleasure as he placed another lick down your slit. “Oh gods,” you moaned, as his fingers reached to spread your folds, groaning at the sight of how wet you were. His tongue placed another long lick across the length of your folds. His thumb still circling your clit as his tongue began to feast on you, lapping at your cunt as he feasted on you. Loud moans tore through you, as his tongue moved to your whole, fucking into yo. The coil in your stomach tightened as pleasure rocketed through you. Your hands flying to Gwyanes hair, tugging him as he feasted on you. His own groans vibrated through you, the feeling of your peak washing over you, causing your back to arch off the bed, as you came with a scream.
Gwayne broke away from your cunt hesitantly, rising up your body, his eyes darkened with lust but no less filled with the love and reassurance he craved to give you.
“I need you, Gwayne, please,” you pleaded, face flush from pleasure as your hand reached to ride him off his own clothes, craving the feeling of his skin against yours. His lisp met yours once more, the kiss heated, as his chest met yours, both of you wanting to be as close to each other as possible, as his cock lined up with your entrance, pushing into you with a whimper against your lips.
His hands gripped your waist as he pressed into you, holding you close to him as your bodies moved as one. Pleasure filled your bodies, your lips never once breaking apart. Your moans swallowed by his whimpers as he pressed into you. Filling you perfectly as he thrusted into you softly.
You came quickly, the feeling of him, after denying yourself the love of your husband for too long, the feeling of him loving you, filling you with his cock and reassurance of his love, causing you to peak.
Your lips broke away from him as you peaked, cuming with a loud moan, as Gwyans lips moved to your neck, sucking softly on your skin as he felt your cunt flutter around him, his hands moving to grip your waist as he worked on his own peak, coming with a whimper, mumbled by the softness of your skin.
He collapsed onto you, his body settling onto o yours as he pressed kisses across every inch of skin he could reach. “ I love you,” he repeated like a mantra, holding you close as you faded off to sleep. Watching you and hoping no more nightmares came.
And for the first time in weeks, you slept soundly in a dreamless sleep.
hey!! ♥️ i’d like to make a request for gwayne hightower. he and reader are married and they live in the oldtown (it’s happening before aegon’s coronation) and reader has returning nightmares about a big war and gwayne’s death but she doesn’t want to tell him about them, because it’s hard for her to open up about her struggles sometimes, so starts to avoid him and sleeps in a seperate room and he can’t stand it. one night she can’t get him out of her room and tries to stay awake all night, but eventually falls aleep and after some time she wakes up with a scream. he’s very sweet towards her, comforting, he kisses her and makes her tell him about the nightmares, cuz he wants to make it better. they talk, make love and fall asleep together while cuddling. sorry if it’s too long or weird, but i really like the idea of it 😘 and also sorry for any grammar erros, but english isn’t my first language!!
Love this idea ! Thank you for your request and so sorry it took my forever to get too. Here it is!
Baelor would be delighted, he would beam, smiling from ear to ear when you finally said, “I think I’m ready to retire and just stay home to look after our kids.” He had tried to pursue you for years, but he never forced you to quit your job because he knew how much you loved working. Still, he’d rather see you at home, barefoot, playing with your kids, baking cakes for him, and taking naps whenever you want. Since he is so wealthy, he reassures you that he can provide for the whole family, so you don’t have to worry. The day you dropped him that line he swears he’s the happiest man on earth!
Baelor loves his wife, no matter what decision she would have made. Weather to continue working full time, part time or staying at home he would love her equally for it. But the idea of coming home, and seeing his wife waiting for him fills him with joy he didn’t even know to expect.
Walking home and seeing you covered in the days activity, weather it be paint from teaching your children how to paint on paper only to end with your face covered in stick men and some very poor attempts and butterflies. Or seeing you covered in flour from the food fight Valarr and Matarys got into when arguing on who got to like the bowl clean when you were among cupcakes for the kids.
Or weather it’s you say with a book in hand, awaiting him with a smile on his face as you tell him the kids are at some activity or napping, allowing you both some much needed alone time.
Baleor could not be happier.
Especially as it means she gets to spoil you more. Not that he wouldn’t have spiked you if you had decided to continue working, but staying at home making the choice to fill your days with Barbie’s and toy cars and whatever other toys the children had laying around, caused Barlow to spoil yiu (and the children) rotten.
There were always fresh flowers brought to you, clothes you glanced at for a second to long brought before you could even blink. books you had mentioned or liked a tik tok about, lay waiting in the library that at this point was filled with more books than the citideal.
He spoiled you with love and whatever you wanted.
Beau see you and made him the happiest man alive and given him everything he had ever wanted.
And the delight you gave him when you had chosen to stay at home and allow him to spoil you and treat you as the queen you were. That delight never once faded.
Being parted from your husband is never easy, for you or for him. You always crave to keep a piece of him with you, and he craves a piece of you. It’s only fitting you send him off with a gift. (1k+ words) read part two - taste of you
Ormund Hightower x wife!reader
Content: MDI, 18+, pantie sniffing, male masturbation. Aka Ormund jerking off to his wife sending him used unwashed underwear. Smut. Scent kink. This is pure filth. Brief mentions of pregnancy. Ormund is his own warning. I am gross and perverted. Don’t know what came over me but this idea has been in my head since the second he sniffed that vile and somehow pantie sniffing has now turned me into a rapid animal. Not proofread.
“I miss the sweet taste of your nectar. I miss the smell off your cunt after you peak. The smell of your sweet cunt in the morning when I wake you with my tongue. The taste of you after a day in the hot sun of the reach where I have forbidden you to wash and the musk of your cunt overwhelms my senses. The taste and scent of you when I drop to my knees and bury myself between the soft plush of your thighs. I miss you my sweet wife, I miss your face, your voice and most of all your sweet scent.”
Ormund was never a sentimental man, never did he care for the idea of carrying objects meant to symbolise meaning or memory of a loved one. That was until he took you to wife, and suddenly the idea of keeping something to remind him of you filled him with complete and utter lust. And he supposed love but the mere thought of you made his blood pump and his cock grow hard.
You rarely parted from one another but when you did Ormund made sure to leave a part of him with you, whether a babe in your belly or some extravagant gift that had the envy of all the ladies of your court. And you always made sure to give your husband ample gifts in return. Weather a miniature of your naked form. Letters full of each and every thing you desired to do to him and he to you upon his return in excruciating detail. And he loved each gift you gave him, but his favourite kind was when you gifted him your small clothes.
The first time he had asked you had been hesitant. Not over the action of sending your small clothes, no Ormund often stole yours, whenever he would drop to his knees and burying himself under your skirts to lap at your cunt, your panties always ended up in the pockets of his doublet, where he would reach for them as the day went on sniffing them when the stresses of the day got to him.
But the idea of sending them, of them being intercepted or the men of the camp seeing your panties in your husbands hand as he sniffed them? That had made you hesitant. But ormund already kept a vile of your perfume to sniff when he felt like it, panties where not much different. At least that’s what he reassured.
So you had sent them, and he had sent them back you ruined and covered in his cum. The fabric torn from the endless rutting of his cock against the delicate fabric.
He had done that after three days apart. And now with this godsforksane war he had been parted from you for three moons. Three moons of lust filled letters, three moons of you depicting the most sinful of words on paper that would no doubt get your both exiled from old town and excommunicated from worshiping of the seven. Three moons before Ormund snapped and his requests grew into pure filith.
Panties where before you would wear them for perhaps an hour before rolling them in your letter to him and sending it away. Now ormund grew depraved in his requests.
Asking you not to bath for days, wearing the same pair of underwear each day before sending it to him. Begging you to touch yourself and coat your panties in your silk before gifting them to him. And you complied, even when your maids whispered about your lack of hygiene and the growing amount of underwear missing in your draws.
You cared not, not when your husband would detail exactly what your underwear was used for.
My dear wife,
I must thank you for the small clothes you gift me, for the it has allowed me to dream once more of you and to know what the musk of your cunt smells like.
The sweet aroma of your cunt fills me with undying lust my sweet wife. Dreams of you riding my face fill my slumber, as I lick and feast upon the delicious aroma of your small clothes. My hand fisting my cock as I imagine you riding my face with recklass abandon, my tounge fucking your cunt with a passion no man has ever known. I cum each night with your panties wrapped around my cock, wishing it was your cunt, wishing I was fucking into you and not the mattress if my tent. Each night when I sniff your panties, the husk of your cunt lingering even days after their arrival, each night I feast upon them with more hunger than a starved man.
I crave you and your cunt, I crave to sleep by your side, where my cock can rest and soften within your warmth. To fill you with my cock every moment of every day. I wish for you to ride my cock as I work through the endless paperwork that no doubt awaits me upon my return. I wish to stuff your mouth with my cock and fuck your full of my cum. I wish for you to ride my cock with your small clothes stuffed into my mouth, were all I can feel and taste is you.
I need you my sweet wife, I crave the very air your breath. I crave your cunt, your taste I crave you. Fucking my fist each night hardly compares to the warmth of your cunt. To the feel of your lips in my mouth, and your small clothes hardly replace the want that pumps from my heart down to my cock.
I write this with love and leave you the knowledge that I fuck my fist with your newest panties wrapped around my cock as I write this, staining them with my cum.
Though my love, my sweet wife, this shall be the last pair of panties you should need to send to me, the last time I wait days to smell the aroma of your cunt, to know that you wear the very panties I will demand to smell and taste upon my arrival.
Moons apart, moons sent gifting your husband panties, drawings and letters detailing everything you wanted him to do to you. Three moons and he had arrived to give you just what you wanted. (1.4k Words) Can be read as standalone or part two off scent of you
Ormund Hightower x wife!reader
Content: MDI, 18+, smut, scent kink, oral (f receiving) p in v, pantie sniffing. Ormund is his own warning. Gagging and light choking. Ormund uses your panties to gag you. Religious imagery? idk this man is the religious sex freak of westros.
I shall be home by weeks end, do not wash
Ormund arrived three days after his letter's arrival. Three days of not bathing, much to your maids' distress. Three days of ensuring everything was to your husband's liking. That the walls of the Hightower were adorned with his favourite tapestries, that anything that annoyed him greatly or anyone was kept out of sight and far away from your husband's gaze. Three days of ensuring everything was to his liking. And most of all that you were to his. Not that you need do anything, just follow his simple request and Ormund would die a happy man between your thighs, smelling the sweet aroma of your cunt.
Three days of muttering from lords and slides of your husband's impending rage. Forced to surrender a war he had spent years planning. Three days and they grew wary of his arrival, but for those three days you merely heard and more heard and saw your husband and what he had in store for you.
The door to your chambers burst open, the fast footsteps of your husband quickly entering your chambers, his sword and belt quickly finding themselves tossed to the floor, your name on his lips as he entered rooms, where you sat with maids, me at to ready you for the day, that fled the room the second your name left Ormund's lips.
A dark look was set in Ormund's eyes as he took in the state of your undress, adorned in a sheer slip that left little to the imagination.
“Ormund,” you greeted, standing to meet your husband as he prowled across the room, neither of you paying attention to the slam of the door or the sounds of your maids giggling as they walked down the halls.
Ormund’s hand reached for your throat. Once he reached you, his hand squeezed ever so lightly, as his eyes assessed you. He took in your every detail, ensuring his instructions were followed. No doubt.
He kissed his teeth, his hand moving from your neck to your chin, his thumb sliding over your lips and pushing into you gently, coaxing you to suck in his thumb.
“Good girl,” he muttered, his head falling down to smell you, heaping at your scent, “ you followed my instruction?” He asked, though both of you knew no answer was expected. His thumb fell from your mouth with a pop, his hand reaching to pull your chin towards him, his eyes closing in bliss as he smelt you. “My sweet wife,” he nearly moaned.
Your hands rested on his chest, reaching for the ties of his doublet, undressing him as he took in the sight and smell of you.
“I have waited moons to see your face,” he moaned, “to smell your sweet scent, to taste your nectar.” he spoke as he soft kisses along your neck, working his way up to your jaw, before finally placing a kiss on your lips.
You moaned as he kissed you, your hands still working to tug the clothes off his body as you shared a heated, messy kiss. Moans fell from your lips as his hand reached for your throat, your body pulled against his as he squeezed your throat. His mouth took yours possessively, giving you little chance to breathe as his own hands reached to bunch your slip over your hips as his hands reached to toy with the lace of your smallclothes.
You broke the kiss as his finger circled your clit through the fabric of your small clothes, your face still held close ot his as his hand remained wrapped around your throat.
“Ormund,” you breathed, your head flying back with a moan as his fingers slowly pressed into you.
“Gods, I have missed you,” he groaned as his fingers fucked into you, his cock growing hard in his breeches. “I missed your cunt,” his head fell to the nape of your neck, breathing you in, as a loud moan fell from your lips, pleasure flaring through your body as your husband fucked into you. “Your smell,” he breathed you in, relishing the smell of you. Pleasure sparked through your body, your peak washing through you as He pulled his fingers from your cunt, your eyes drawn to his lips as you watched him slide his fingers into his mouth and taste you, “your taste,” he moaned, tasting you and the sweet nectar of your cunt that he had spent moons dreaming about.
He took a step back from you slowly, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the flushed look on your cheeks.
He smirked, watching your eyes follow the movements of his hands as he undressed himself fully, his chest toned from moons of sparring in preparation for war. His body clean and well-groomed, as always and his cock as hard as ever. A pitiful whimper fell from your lips at the sight of his cock, your own hands reaching to tear your slip from your dress.
Ormunded tutted, stopping your moments, “Let me, wife,” he breathed. Prowling towards you and tearing the slip from your body, with the ease of a man who did it often enough that the fabric of your clothes was like paper to him (he did). “On the bed,” he commanded, his eyes set on your arse as you crawled towards your bed. He let out a pleased hum as he followed after you, pulling your legs to the end of the bed, before dropping to his knees and kissing his way from your feet to the heat of your wet cunt.
Toying with the strings of your smallclothes, his head burying into your heat as he licked at the fabric of your panties, moaning at the taste of slick.
“Ormund, husband- please,” you moaned. Ormund looked up, his eyes meeting yours as he slowly tugged your panties down your legs, holding them to his nose before placing them to the side.
Ormund wasted little time before moving to feast on your cunt, his tongue lapping at your cunt, his own moans vibrating through your body as he relished in your taste and smell. Pleasure soared through you, your second peak building. Omrund's name spilled from your lips as you moaned, relishing the feeling of him.
Moving away from you, with one last sniff of the musk of your cunt, Ormund licked his way from clit to naval, his eyes never once looking away from you. “On your knees.”
Doing as your husband bid, you moved to your knees, your arse on full display for your husband as he reached to kneed on your arse.
“Husband, please, I need to feel you,” you groaned, as you felt Ormund position himself at your entrance, teasing you with the head of his cock. He chuckled, pressing his cock into you slowly, your legs falling from under you as his cock fucked into you.
Ormunbd slapped your arse, reaching to straighten you out as he thrust into you. “Be a good girl,” he tutted, a please sound leaving his mouth as he felt your cunt flutter and tighten at his words.
“Oh gods, please,” you moaned, as Ormund fucked into you, every nerve in your body on fire as he filled you perfectly.
“There are no gods here,” Ormund tutted, pressing into you with a hard thrust that had you falling flat on your stomach, as Ormund's hands reached for your panties. “Only me…worship me, only me,” he moaned, gripping you tightly as he fucked you.
“Ormund, please,” you moaned, feeling Ormund's cock hit that sweet spot inside of you, hitting it perfectly. Your moans grew in pitch, filling the room with the sound of pleasure, your bed hitting the wall with force at Ormund's movements.
Ormund reached for your panties, bunching them in his hand as his other hand held steady to your waist. The panties moved to his nose as he smelt your scent, moaning at the smell of you before moving to cover your body, pressing you flat to the bed, his hand moving to stuff your panties in your mouth, silencing your moans as he fucked you both to completion.
His pace was brutal, his own moans and groans filling the room as he felt you flutter around his cock your peak washing over you, swiftly followed by his own.
Rolling from your body, Ormund pulled you against him, kissing your cheek lovingly before pulling your panties from your mouth and stuffing them in his bedside drawer.
“I have missed you,” he sighed, placing a soft kiss on your head, his nose breathing in the smell of your hair.