Ormund Hightower who reluctantly takes his wife with him when the Hightower army marches towards Kings Landing because he cannot bear to be apart from her and she cannot stand knowing that he is leaving for battle and might not come back.
Ormund Hightower that keeps his wife’s handkerchief tucked into his armor and pulls it out to press into his nose whenever a reeking commander or soldier approaches him after being summoned for new orders.
Ormund Hightower that orders his wife to stay in their tent at all times because it’s too dangerous for a lady of her birth to wander around soldiers but the in reality he doesn’t anyone in the camp ogling her and getting funny ideas about his wife.
Ormund Hightower marches into their tent buzzing with anger after getting a message from Kings Landing saying that he is meant to remain where he is and wait for Aemond to come on Vhagar before he can make any other move.
Ormund Hightower who takes his anger out by fucking his wife into the mattress — lewd sounds, desperate moans and grunts could be heard by anyone that passed their tent. He himself couldn’t care less by who heard or who knows that he’s fucking his wife — for him it’s even better because they all will know that she’s only his.
Ormund Hightower who takes his wife while she’s on her hands and knees, his hand wrapped around her throat to tilt her head back to rest on his shoulder, her back pressed to his chest, hair sticking to her forehead and eyes glossy with tears because of how well he fucks her. His cock hits all the right places making her clench on him and whine pathetically while his hand chokes her slightly.
Ormund Hightower whose hand slide off her throat to press into her lower belly when he cums — deep inside her, his seed planting another heir, another son for house Hightower and he throbs at the mental image of her swollen and filled with his child bearing the fruit of his love for her.
Ormund Hightower that pressed his nose into the heated skin of her shoulder as she breaths — trying to stop the tremor of her muscles after he finally pulls out
Imagine being Rhaenyra's daughter married to Ormund Hightower. The marriage and Ormund's expectations are difficult to adjust to. You miss Dragonstone, your mother, and your brothers. But you unexpectedly begin to grow close your uncle Daeron. He is your one comfort in Oldtown. And imagine if you have a male dragon that begins to nest and mate with Daeron's Tessarion 👀👀 Ormund does not like any of it. He sees how his wife lights up around Daeron. Too much Targaryen closeness, he thinks. He begins assigning more duties to Daeron to keep him busy. He probably tries to command you to keep your dragon from Tessarion as if that's something you have control over 😭 meanwhile you and Daeron likely encourage the closeness of your dragons, hoping for eggs one day. Ormund's jealousy makes him rougher in bed, telling you he will civilize every drop of your savage blood 😭
declan o’hara is such a man, he doesn’t even have to think about it. he holds open doors, picks up heavy things so his girl doesn’t have to, walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, keeps a hand on the small of her back, redirects the waiter to her first at every restaurant, always pours the drinks, always pays the tab, comes home with a small gift every single day just to show that she was on his brain while they were apart, eats pussy like it’s the first time his taste buds have ever worked, makes sure she always cums first, and then a few times after that. breakfast in bed, remembers her morning tea or coffee ritual, offers to iron her clothes for the day, sits patiently on the bed as she decides what she’s even gonna wear, never complains about her taking too long to get ready, compliments her when she finally appears in his line of sight. all without breaking a sweat. and that’s not even the half of it.
i am thinking of visiting king’s landing with cregan in the summer and having sex that is just so hot and sweaty!
my poor sweet angel baby cregan who can't tolerate any heat at all. have we discussed?
he was born and raised in the north, and i think with his father dying when he was so young he prob didn't really have a chance to travel! he couldn't be anyone's ward, because he was the only son of one the great houses, so he was locked into that on the job training from like four years old.
he's never really experienced anything warmer than the mild northern summer, so when he goes to treat in the south for the first time he's SO miserable. and its prob only like the riverlands or the eerie 😭 but its summer and he's so hot. he doens't have the clothes for the north, so he's in his thick ahh wool doublet.
he's so, so reluctant to go to king's landing. he's not interested in going anywhere past casterly rock — being a little older, and more aware of his wardrobe, he can handle that, but NOT the crownlands. sucks, cause he goes anyways. duty outweighs how much he hates being hot.
and he is just not having hot, sweaty sex. you've been there for like one full day and he's so miserable, so hot — linen tunic and his hair up and off of his neck, and STILL burning up. sex in a hot bedroom on an upper floor of the castle, in perpetually humid-damp sheets, engaging in an activity that will make him even hotter and sweatier? oh no. absolutely not.
but in the bath... hm, thats different. but he's def not willing to do any of the work, you can ride him.
seeing how miserable he is and dragging him down to the cold wine cellar: now we're talking. it's cool, and it's kind of some freak shit, which he likes!
the tunnels also have potential, but i don't know the logistics for that.
Daeron initially tries to be a very respectful prince while courting his lady love, avoiding getting too close and only giving gentle kisses on the hand. But the poor drunken prince can only last so long before he's stumbling toward her room and hooking her legs over his shoulders. It's only his tongue, it's not like he's actually taking her maidenhood, so it's okay, right?
Cregan Stark just SEEMS like the type to be in love with his wife’s hips. They’re sleeping? His hands are wrapped around them so she won’t roll away. She’s speaking to him, standing above while he sits? His thumbs are rubbing circles on them to the point she loses her train of thought. They’re fucking? Oh, you already know she’s gonna feel the imprint of all ten of his fingers on her back and front from how tight he held on for weeks to come. Cregan is obsessed with his wife 🫶🏾.
having dex x reader in a dinner in america!au thoughts..
i was thinkin of reader who is absolutely obsessed with the bullseye vigilante in the city of hell’s kitchen, even going as far as sending fanmail with photos of her in them, maybe he’ll never see them but it’s the thought that counts she thinks. outside of that —working a shitty job that doesn’t give her much opportunity. and when she’s on break, eating lunch in the back alleyway she sees dex hiding from the police on some stairway. making direct eye contact with the man on the run, he motions for her to “shh” as she looks up at him and the police ask if they have seen this dangerous man.
which is definitely the man she sees hiding up on the stair fire escape!! but she says “no i have not..”, letting the police drive away.
then dex comes down and thanks her, asking if she has a place for him to hide and how he’ll repay her for her compliance. and of courses she takes the handsome man home because why not??
and when she gets home with him she shows him her room, nerding out on all the photos and homemade merch she has made for bullseye. and suddenly dex is taken aback, no way a girl is this obsessed with him. no way she doesn’t think he’s a bad person just like everyone else. and he’s getting up in confusion when he sees the decorated mail that hasn’t been sent out yet, she’s explaining in excitement how she makes them especially for bullseye cos she loves him so much. they are the same ones he gets every month with a polaroid of a girl sticking her hands down her panties, which he jerks off too everytime. now realizing that girl is you :(
˖ִ⊹˖ִ ˚ want RYLAND GRACE so bad its got me writing again...
picturing him and an ART TEACHER!READER, walk with me
ryland’s been keeping a silent eye on you since you were first hired at grover cleveland middle a year ago, your classroom was two doors down from his, and you both coincidentally taught the same grade. even being an art teacher, there had been the occasional time one of his students mentioned a familiar concept you taught in class. the fibonacci sequence, golden ratio, color theory, sound waves, light spectrum, etc.
he was surprised by how quick you settled in, the students loved you and his colleagues enjoyed making joint projects with your class. he wanted to do the same, badly. he knew there could be an opportunity there to approach you, talk with you, get to know you. but his mouth stayed shut, sticking to his usual lesson plan and definitely not searching up any direction correlations for a science and art class.
thankfully for him, you had bumped into him at the teacher’s lounge before winter break and proposed an adjacent project. apparently, you had noticed the decorations scattered around his classroom — when did you see that? — and explained to him how you were going to introduce chesley bonestell as well as techniques including lightings, shadows, and scale. he would have said yes either way, but the shared interest in cosmos only had him thinking about you more. What else did he have in common with you? Was that finally his opening to be able to approach you more?
if it was, he (un)surprisingly did not take advantage of it. the days he had spent brainstorming the project were only filled with him trying to distract himself from your proximity and trying to get back to the safety of his solidarity the moment it had been over. he never regretted something more.
and that’s why he was here. new year. new classrooms. new students. it had been a little early in the year, school just began three months ago, your project wouldn’t happen again until second semester, but he wanted to get ahead of it, share some new ideas with you, and maybe… finally be able to talk to you. outside of the classroom.
ryland has paced the entirety of the hallway for the fifth time now. his hands were clammy, he was fidgety. constantly rearranging his tie, fixing the way his glasses sat on his nose, or adjusting his hair in the reflection of the small window on his classroom door. it was a silly thing to be stressed about, you. what was he expecting, for you to bite off his head and tell him to leave? his worry was irrational, you weren’t that type of person… he hopes you weren’t.
he told himself this was the day he was going into your classroom to ask you about it. he had tried earlier today during his free period, but he got jittery halfway through and sped past your classroom door to make his way to the bathroom. he tried again a few minutes later, only to do the same thing and head towards the teacher’s lounge instead.
but now, the eight graders were at recess and the second floor was silent, for once. he completed his sixth walk down the hallway now, eyes fleeting towards his watch for the umpteenth time. recess was over in ten minutes, the conversation would last at most five minutes. he swallowed, rubbing his hands over his face before finally making his way to your classroom. “you’re a teacher,” he muttered to himself. “you talk for a living. this is the same thing.”
he stopped at the door, hand hesitant as it moved between wrapping itself around the doorknob and falling back to his side. “…this is not the same thing.” still, he finally decided to let out a breath and open your door with a soft knock. he stepped in and saw how your head perked up at the sound, a small smile on your face as you greeted him. Oh God, you looked like moonlight. Why did you have to look so nice today? Right now?
“hey,” he said sheepishly as he hovered near your desk, unsure what to do with himself. “i, uh..” he cleared his throat, looking at your expecting eyes. did you think he was making a fool of himself? “i was just wondering about the project, y’know, the… thing.”
he mentally berated himself. the thing? seriously? “i wanted to know if you ever wanted to meet up some time, outside of school… just— to talk about the project! nothing else.”
…if you didn’t think he was a fool then, you definitely did now.
if you did, you definitely didn’t show it. you just gave him a small smile and nodded, telling him a “that would be great.” he’s sure he accidentally scheduled a time to meet with you during one of his grading times, but he doesn’t know how he was expected to focus when your eyes glimmered under the schools lights.
you settled on a coffee shop two blocks away from the school after work on friday, and he had to stop himself from grinning until his cheeks hurt. he bid you a small goodbye before walking out your classroom, closing your door with a soft click before punching his fist in the air, practically skipping back to his classroom.
he was more animated during his lectures for the rest of the day, his students had noticed it, and he brushed off their questions, simply telling them that it was a beautiful day while the rain pattered on the windows. whatever, none of it mattered to him as long as he got to see the way your eyes light up with ideas on friday.
Been thinking about how the new Superman movie did a really good job of giving Clark interests beyond “Truth, Justice, and a Better Tomorrow.” He likes pop punk rock. His favorite meal is breakfast for dinner. Clark does a little dance when he gets the front cover byline. He likes to doom-scroll. Unclear if he’s a dog guy. His girlfriend makes him hot cocoa when he’s sad. So often Superman in film has zero personality beyond tortured alien that must guide humanity. Giving him these small details made the character feel so much more real. He really is just a guy doing his best.
Oh my gosh yes!! All these little details convinced me to give Smallville a try and now I’m obsessed!! I adore getting to see the little pieces come together that make Clark Kent who he is!!
