oldtowrs

[oldtowrs]

── SILK AND STEEL.

pairing: gwayne hightower x wife!reader

summary: gwayne returns to oldtown after two weeks away from his wife. too desperate for her taste and touch, he joins her in their chambers in the darkness of night.

warnings: oral (f!recieving), small mention of blood, gwayne is a munch and the armor stays on, tiny little bit of religious themes, not a lot of dialogue. mdni.

notes: this is literally just him eating out his wife. also i tried to make a hightower divider but it turned out ugly so you're just getting a line

word count: 1.6k+

Lonely nights were to be expected for the wife of a knight. You often found yourself retiring for the evening alone, with nothing but the echoes of your husband's presence to keep you company. It was not an entirely miserable affair. Loneliness made the heart grow fonder, and the moments between you were all the more sweet for it. Your marital bed had molded to the shape of his weight, a small dip ever-present on his side. Sometimes, if you truly focused, you could imagine his warmth still clinging to the sheets, as though he had only been gone for a moment and not a fortnight.

You did worry for your husband when the isolated nights drew long and silent. You had faith in him and the gods you were so devoted to. Gwayne was as good with his sword as he was his words. He had never once failed to return to you in one whole piece.

Slumber welcomed you with open arms, and your mind rested on the thought of seeing him soon.

The Hightower was cloaked in moonlight as the night dragged on. It was silent, save for the fluttering of curtains of the window you had left open. The cool air nipped at your throat, but it was the gentle clack, clack, clack of steel that roused you. It was a sound you had grown to know quite well ─ the sound of armor. Your fists clenched the silken bedsheets below you, and your eyes remained squeezed shut. Your heart fluttered, a light and airy thing within the confines of your ribcage. Gwayne had returned far earlier than what was expected. You waited in silence, feigning sleep as you did so, and anticipated the sound of shedding armor and the shift of the mattress as his weight met it.

Only, those sounds never came. You could feel his soft breath against the nape of your neck, and his fingertips - hands freed from his gloves - tickled your skin as he brushed your hair over your shoulder. Your back was facing towards Gwayne as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, and you could not stop the breathy sigh that escaped your lips.

A knowing smirk spread across his lips. Gwayne knew his wife far too well for her liking ─ he knew you had not been sleeping, your breaths too quick for such a thing. His mouth traveled lower, down the slope of your shoulder that had been exposed by the slip of your shift. He gripped at the quilted duvet that covered your form, inching it lower and lower as he went. His final destination was on his knees, hands grasping at the softness of your hips. The soft fabric of your shift bunched around his fingers, wrinkled from your slumber. Your body, now exposed by the lack of bedding and practically glowing in the moonlight, shivered beneath his gaze.

“What are you doing?” Your voice was a hushed whisper, hoarsened from your rest.

“Worshipping my wife.” Gwayne's voice was smoother, rich with a lilt that made your tummy flip. His hands smoothed up and down your calves. “As she deserves.”

The time apart from you had left him needy and hard within his breeches. His nights had been spent similar to your own when time allowed it, dreaming of the warmth of your skin, and the taste of you on his lips. Gwayne had foregone the task of ridding himself from his armor and swordbelt, favoring the sweetness between your legs.

His wrists wrapped around your ankles, his thumbs brushing over the delicate bone beneath the skin, and with a practiced ease, he tugged you closer to the edge of the bed. The sheets ruffled beneath you, and a little yelp of surprise slid past your lips. Gwayne's strength never failed to arouse you, even with the years you had known him. It was such a simple thing. He gazed up at you from beneath tousled strands of copper hair, his gaze locked on your own. His mouth found the inside of your knee, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the expanse of your inner thigh.

Your chest heaved, one hand reaching down to thread through his locks as you propped yourself up on your elbows. With the growing pit of warmth in your core, and the abundance of wetness pooling in your smallclothes, you found your voice. “How… how was your journey?” You sounded breathless, still trying to bring your concern for him to light.

“Long,” Gwayne answered simply. He nipped at your soft skin before he soothed the bite with his tongue. He switched to the other thigh, coating it with kisses and licks and nips. “It was a laborious affair,” he spoke between breaths, “and quite dull in nature.” His head dipped closer to where you needed him. You could hear him inhale deeply, heat of embarrassment rushing to your cheeks and neck. A playful scold died on your lips as his mouth met your cloth-covered cunt. He placed a kiss upon your clit, and he groaned at the wetness he could feel through your smallclothes.

“Gwayne-!”

The fabric was shimmied down your legs with a swiftness that left you gaping. His hands grasped at your hips with a need that was unbecoming for a man like Gwayne, and he tugged you ever closer. Your thighs were thrown over his shoulders, his pauldrons digging into the soft flesh. You shivered at their coldness, your grip in his hair tightening. With the lessened proximity, you could smell him. “You reek,” you announced breathily, “of horses and steel and… blood.”

“Not mine own.”

Gwayne's head of red hair disappeared beneath your shift, his tongue delving between the slick folds of your pussy. His hands gripped at your hips, stilling the way they threatened to twitch and buck. He flattened his tongue, lapping through your slit and savoring the familiar taste of you. His eyes fluttered shut as the tip of his tongue circled your clit, feeling the little bud throb and swell. His lips closed around it, encouraged by the whines that you made, sounds that made his cock twitch with need and greed. He suckled on it gently, moaning against your cunt as your thighs clamped around his head. Any thoughts of worry for your husband had been placed on hold, pleasure curling in your gut like a spring about to snap. His mouth moved with practiced ease, born of the many nights spent together.

“Gods, you're so-” you choked on a moan, tugging on his hair to keep him close, “too good. Too good, husband.”

Gwayne sucked and licked, his tongue circling over your entrance before he pushed it inside of you, lapping at the depths of your core. His nose nudged against your pearl, and the hands upon your hips had tightened, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your thighs trembled on either side of your head, your noises growing in pitch and volume as he fucked you with his tongue. Unable to stand the ache in his loins, Gwayne moved. His hips rutted against the mattress like a dog in heat, the featherbed creaking in time with his rhythm. The grip he held on your flesh had loosened, arms wrapping around your thighs to lift your weight off of the bed.

With a squeal of pleasure, both of your hands found purchase in his hair, and you rocked against his face. Gwayne whined against your cunt, encouraging your movements as his hips began to stutter, nearing his own orgasm.

“Gwayne, I'm-” the warning died on your tongue, and with a particularly firm suck on your slickened clit, you threw your head back with a shout. Your husband eagerly drank up your release, working you with his mouth until you were shaking and whining. With one final thrust, and a sharp grunt, he spilled himself within his breeches.

Gwayne felt your body grow pliant, melting into the bed as your thighs grew lax upon his shoulders. He pulled back from between your thighs, your hands slipping from his hair. A languid grin grew across his wet lips, his chin coated in spit and your slick. “That was quite enjoyable, wife.”

You flung an arm across your face, shielding yourself from his view as you tried to catch your breath. The kiss he planted to your thigh had your legs jolting again, and you could nearly see his grin widen in your mind's eye. His touch, gentle and firm, slid your thighs off of him, and settled you back into your previous place in the bed. You could hear the clinking of plates of armor as he rose, and the subsequent shedding of those layers before you slid your arm away. You watched Gwayne in silence as he undressed, eyes honing in on the stain of his breeches. The light filtering in through the window offered just enough to see.

“It seems you have missed me dearly,” you teased - or tried to, if it weren't for the breathlessness of your words. Gwayne turned to you then, and his gaze softened. Stripped down to his tunic and trousers, he cradled your face in his hands as he hovered over you.

“As always, my sweet one.” His lips met yours in a dance as old as time. It was wet and filthy, it was slow and sensual. Gwayne sighed softly as your hand slid into his hair again, carding through his copper locks. He broke the kiss to gaze down upon you, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. His touch was reverent, as was the look in his eyes, as he brushed a wayward strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. “It would be wise to get comfortable. I am nowhere near done with you after such an arduous time away.”

tags: @snow-blower @konigslittleliebling @nlnny @joygrey

[oldtowrs]

THE RINGS OF POWER ⤷ S2E8 "Shadow and Flame"

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all i have to say is that i keep seeing people bugging about freddie fox absolutely SLAYING the loki role in sandman 2 and they’re like damn… he’s hot. all i’m just saying is that i’ve been here WAITING. come to the dark side my children. i’m gonna grow a gwayne hightower appreciation army just y’all wait.

[oldtowrs]

AEMOND TARGARYEN | S02E05 REGENT

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and what if I said that the clip of the set with daemon, ormund and daeron that got leaked may have already given me a hotd s3 fic idea that may or may not involve both gwayne and ormund hightower... what then...

why eiffel tower when you can hightower...if you get my drift... what then...

[oldtowrs]

Olivia Cooke as Queen Alicent Hightower

2.06 • Smallfolk

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OMG i just noticed the theme change 😋 i love it 😌🖤

thanks pookie <3

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ugh you all have gwayne’s character so wrong (imo). he is not going to try to stave off his desire for the reader (in whatever role you might have in his life but especially if the reader is a targaryen or daemon’s neglected bride etc) by going to street of silk and drowning it in the touch of another. the touch of a thousand whores could not undo the hold reader has on his heart. no, he is going to the sept. that man is pious (whether it be towards the gods or you, you choose). he is going to get on his hands and knees, sword laid across his lap, head hung in solemn devotion and pray that reader leave his thoughts, pray that the image of reader's soft supple curves and the sight of their beautiful lips parting in a smile at something he said would stop torturing him every time he closes his eyes. he would pray that this sickeningly sweet sense of devotion leave him, that the gods absolve him of it. when he leaves and lays his head to rest that night, however, he dreams of kissing reader, by some pond deep in the godswood, where lilies float on the surface of the pond, and the late afternoon sun drifts through the leaves, and when he wakes up suddenly, in the hour of the wolf, the ghost of an ‘i love you’ is imprinted on his lips and his hand is clutching the ring that hangs on the chain about his neck — his mother’s wedding ring, given to him upon her passing, to be exact. he can’t help but take it as a sign, a sign that his love is not something to abstain from, some sin to absolve himself of — nay, it’s his gods given duty. and so he finally gives in and claims the reader for himself and all the while he is gentle — his touch feather light as it drifts across their cheekbone, his lips soft as they find the reader's over and over in a sweet rhythm, his body practically radiating his joy at the proximity to their own, his tongue (when it isn’t vying for control over the readers mouth) sings sweet nothings and praise in hushed tones and reverent devotion. the only name on his lips is reader's. the only pleasure his heart finds is with reader's.

gwayne is not one to drown himself in pleasure, unless it is given by his gods given beauty, the reader

[oldtowrs]

OOOOH WAIT I LOVE THIS NEW THEME (im late) BUT I WANNA EAT GWAYNE ALIVE

I hope you meant it how I mean it, but I too want to eat gwayne alive!! he's so delectable omfg. the smug sophistication of his tone and speech patterns, his mannerisms, the way he walks?!? freddie fox did a phenomenal job.

and his character just plays so well into the dutiful, devoted, worshipping knight trope so well... like GAWD. be honest should I post my gwayne thots? would anyone listen? would anyone like a gwayne fic bc I have so many sitting in my goddamn drafts dude...

[oldtowrs]

You'd be a formidable empress.

FLORENCE PUGH as Princess Irulan in DUNE: PART TWO (2024), dir. Denis Villeneuve

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“I have seen my share.”

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NEW THEME IS SO BEAUTIFUL SINNY

— hello. hello. hello. 💘

DIPPER?! HELLO!! HELLO!!! HELLO!!!!

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hehe new theme 🤭 do we like her?

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Paul Atreides. You are my son. You know who you are.

PAUL ATREIDES & LADY JESSICA in DUNE: PART ONE & TWO

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[oldtowrs]

Mundane Facts Character Building Challenge

thank you so much for the tag @frodosrings !! this was so creative and different from most tag games and I used it as a writing warm up and it was so fun ! I wanted to write for elrond, because I loved his character in lord of the rings, and rings of power only made me love him more. also @frodosrings I want you to know that the aesthetic of your post was so fucking gorgeous, like I was getting flashbacks to like obscure 1990's/2000's fantasy films (cite princess bride), so kudos to you my love. also gif by hikarielizabethbloom

1. if your character has a go-to coffee order, what would it be? ub the context of the setting of their story takes place in, do they have a go-to morning drink?

Regardless of whether it would be modern day or in tolkien's universe elrond in my mind is an avid tea drinker. sitting down to write some scrolls and do his scribe duties, he's drinking black tea with lemon and honey. if he is reading before bed, which I think is one of his favorite pastimes, its chamomile. Doing anything with his hands (see boat making, forging, sharpening his sword, etc) I think he would enjoy a nice calming peppermint. Maybe when he is lord of imladris, he finds obscure tea blends that he can only source from eriador, or when he sails I imagine him finding a very obscure tea blend there that he really enjoys. He is a tea drinker through and through (and I'm a barista, so this is my professional opinion).

2. do they have a hair and skincare routine? If so are they consistent about it?

I think elrond is definitely the type to have at least some routine, even if it is simple. I think that also comes. with being an elf. I feel like they definitely have some sort of like hair oil to keep their hair soft and shiny. elrond is also a healer, if he doesn't have some sort of homemade moisturizer that he uses or something I would be baffled. That being said, elrond is resilient and he is a warrior. So while I think that yes, he has some sort of hair/skin care routine, I think if the need arises he will forgo it and he will be 1100% fine with it.

3. does your character have a hobby or a pastime?

He is an elf. Their lives are literally meant for pastimes. I would be worried if his immortal ass didn't have hobbies.

Elrond has a life long love of learning, and I believe this is not even my own conjecture. Like this is canon. In the hobbit, he helps the company with their map and reading the runes under the moonlight.

I also imagine him being a little bit of a polyglot. He has lived for so long, I can see him knowing quenya, sindarin, common speak, etc. But I think he would also dabble in black speech, if not out of necessity of understanding the enemy, then at least for personal interest. Black speech especially would give him a challenge because so little of it is written down.

Elrond also loves to read. I would be surprised if there were even enough texts in the entirety of middle earth to keep this elf occupied. When he lives in Lindon he would love to sneak away and find a nice part of the forest to read in. I think he 110% has a place built in Imladris that is near a stream or part of the river that he loves to read in. I think the bruinen would give him immense peace. Especially after the events of the battles with adar's forces, where they fully diverted the path of the glanduin, I think flowing water would bring Elrond peace. I think Elrond would take immense pleasure in the natural world, and I think he would especially love reading whilst surrounded by it.

We also see him take part in multiple different hands on activities in rings of power (i.e. forging, boat-making, sword fighting). I think when he is under periods of stress, especially when he is younger (not yet lord of imladris) I think he would turn to using his hands to create as a way of clearing his mind and finding some peace.

Anyway, thanks again to @frodosrings ! this was so fun, and it makes me miss lord of the rings/rings of power writing so bad. I might have to revamp my tolkien fics one of these days and just archive my old ones, because I desperately want to write for gil-galad, elrond, elendil, adar, etc.

no pressure tags to my fellow writers: @swordgrace @eldrith @fourthcrow @dipperscavern @aesteries @mothswan @oncasette and any of my other writing mutuals <3

[oldtowrs]

@oldtowrs HELLO