I bore Viserys three Targaryens. But with the last, my last… I wanted him to be a Hightower. In truth, I'm glad I waged that battle, seeing now what came out of our other sons. Perhaps sending Daeron away was my truest act of motherhood.
summary: you can't stop your mind from spiraling about why your husband doesn't seem to agree with you giving him pleasure, does he not want you?
c/w: 18+ mdni, palming that hightower dick, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v, gwayne with teary eyes and wrecked face and reluctant whimpers (yes this man whimpers)
It was some of the many moments you feel that whole happiness in your own heart, the warm and complete feeling in your chest when your father called you to his solar and tell the news that he asked for your hand in marriage.
Gwayne Hightower.
You were overjoyed. You've been paying more attention to him than other men from great houses, the way he speaks with that firm mannerisms and the honorable story people whisper about. You dream about the way he looks at you with sweet tenderness and the way he puts the strands of your hair behind your ear.
And most scandalous, you dream about the way he touches you. It's the least expected for such a lady to have that thought cross her mind, but you can't help yourself. You saw the veiny path in his arms by no intention and you cannot escape from the desire it sparks.
To be courted and taken a wife by such a chivalrous knight from a great house is such a blessing itself, but what you repressed most from becoming is the very shreds of anticipation you feel toward your wedding night. The way he'd whisper soothing words in your ears while his fingers caress you tenderly in places no man ever reaches, and the way he'd murmurs praises in your ear about how you're taking him so well. The mere thoughts make your cheeks warm.
The wedding night came and most of it was what you expected. You heard some wicked stories about husbands who force themselves on their wives. Luckily, Gwayne is not like that. No, never that.
Quite the contrary, he prepares you so well before he takes you. He whispers gentle and sweet words while taking his time making you tremble in his arms. All goes well except his hand stops your wrist when your palm reaching for his trousers. Your shocked, worried eyes fearing for rejection soothed by a tender kiss to your wrist.
"Let us be one, my lady. Let your husband give you what you're most deserving of." He says with a gentle smile before palming himself and pushing in slowly to your soaked heat. He did kiss your discomfort away, relying on interlacing his fingers with yours as he praises you.
"You're taking me so well, my dear. Look how fitting you are of me." He rasps as his wide palm caressing the tender spot under your breasts where he's placed his marks before.
From then on, your nights with Gwayne are glorious, filled with tangled sheets and warm puffs of breaths against each other's mouth. You discover a lot of things about you and himself, like how you favor his praises while he's pushing into you and how he prefers you underneath him so he can watch the way you shatter so beautifully because of his doing, that one time he tells you himself.
The only problem, well not quite a problem if you're talking about the whole thing, is that Gwayne dismisses your wish to touch him after he does you. He usually would kiss your confusion away as he distracted you with his hands and mouth and before you knew it, you're already in his arms panting and moaning his name.
Gwayne relishes when you do that. He even encourages you by touching all your sensitive spots that he learns fast and making you feel overwhelmed with pleasure that you have no choice but to cling to his shoulder and calling his name.
"Husband, please..." Your face is flushed with sweats as your body clings to him desperately, the way a wife seeks comfort and indulgences to her husband, as he would fondle your breasts and press his thumb to your swollen bud.
"What do you need, my love?" He asks in that low voice that exists only when one of you is on the edge, while managing to wear the loving expression on his eyes.
"Please, I need to—" Your words are cut as his warm mouth envelopes the peaks of your nipples that have been staring at him and begging for his attention. With just a few minutes, your thighs clench around him and the world becomes mute to your hearing, the only thing you can feel is the way he thrust deeper before he joins you in ecstasy and you feel warm spurts inside you.
You are satisfied with being held closely to the safety of your husband like that, sated and your body warm from the afterglow. Gwayne would caress your body lovingly, giving generous kisses on the crown of your head as you drift off to dreamland. But tonight, you can't.
You're determined to find out the reason why your husband won't let you touch him and you'd make sure the next time you can convince him to allow you. You arrange the secret plan you're about to navigate while Gwayne gently runs his fingers through your hair, his breathing slow and steady. He's just happy and sated having his wife laying on his chest while peppering her with his affection.
That night, you wear the usual gown you do before your sleep. Gwayne just comes to your chambers, his presence familiar and pleasant to you now. He greets you with his ordinary tired smile and a loving kiss to your head.
The atmosphere takes turns faster than most, with you now panting for air after he brings you to your first release of the night. You watch him take off his trousers with heavy breathing, his hand faking composed but you can see the urgent desire in each finger.
Before he leans down to push it in, you catch his wrist.
"Let me pleasure you, husband." You say carefully, watching reactions from his eyes.
"There's no need, my love." He tries to dodge your wish and divide your focus to the tender kiss to your lips.
"Why wouldn't you let me?"
The air is thick with silence as he can sense the weight of your question.
"Do you not wish me to touch you?"
He lets out a sigh, then you feel his knuckles brush your cheek, a gesture so tenderly it makes your heart melt.
"It's not like that, my dear."
You look him in the eye and you can see the moment his wall breaks as you learn very well your husband cannot resist with that particular eyes of yours. He closes his eyes before speaking his truth.
"I merely didn't want to startle you."
"Startle me—Do you think of me as fragile, husband?"
"No, my heart, never that." He quickly reassured you with gentle kisses on your cheek. He closes his eyes before the decision settling in. He brings your palm to his standing, hard cock.
The first contact of your more soft, small hand brings jerk to his hips. You can see the breath hitched from his chest as you stroke him up and down. Heavy, restrained sound of rumbling that he holds in thin control.
Grasping the effect you hold over him, you manage to try something a little bolder. You lean down to bring its tip to your mouth, and that's when you hear it.
Not a grunt that he usually lets out in moments like this, no. Under that heavy sighs is a shred of whimper, a reluctant and accidental sound of whimper, but it is definitely one.
You look up at him as you try to take him deeper, and his face crumpled in the way you've never seen before. The composed expressions he wears with ease now completely disappear. What's left is a weak, painful frown on the line on his eyebrows as he can't bear the pleasure you give him just with the slick of your mouth.
"This is what you deny me, husband? The beautiful sounds coming out of your lips?"
Gwayne's cock twitch hearing the filth of teasing words from his wife's sweet lips. You were never like this, bold and teasing. But now that you've got your hold on him, apparently he's not immune to your little tricks and cruel teasing.
His breathing is ragged as he's getting close to his release. The veins in his neck grow obvious and his unintended moans saying your name like a prayer for he never experienced a thing like this.
You look so divine underneath him, taking your husband's long cock in your mouth devotedly, and he mutters how grateful and lucky he is as his broken voice murmurs compliment to your sweet and dedicated nature.
That's the last thing you hear before Gwayne's whimper goes off and his hips are still in place. Then you can feel the new warmth rushing to your mouth and you eagerly swallow it. Your lips swirl around his redden tip before he leans down to support his body on his forearms.
You pull out your mouth and watch him find the rhythm of his breath beside you. His eyes closed and his painful expression still proceeded on his face.
"Are you alright, husband?"
At your sweet, teasing voice he brings his weakened state to glance at you and fails to hide the amusement on his lips.
"You are dangerous, my dear." He says as he gathers you to the sanctuary in his arms. He lays down to calm his breathing and his eager cock that's greedy for more.
"I shall give you that often in later times." You say as you give a tender kiss on his sweaty chest that you lay on.
You can feel him exhale his anticipation of this before he caves and gives long, gentle press of his lips to your hair.
"I'm veritably ruined by you, my love."
a/n: hii do people yearn for more, if yes say it in the comments!!
writing ormund's wife!reader being motherly to daeron made me want to also write gwayne's wife!reader being motherly to daeron. that baby deserves all the love in the world.
The more I think about it, the more I find that all the Targtower kids got one substitute father each to fill the gaping hole of the father figure they couldn’t find in Viserys:
-Aegon found a substitute father in Larys, who’s a “cripple” just like him. Ever since Rooks Rest, Larys is constantly by his side, providing encouragement and moral support, teaching him to accept himself, telling him he “survived dragonfire” and that his resurrection will be the stuff of “songs and legends”
-Aemond found a substitute father in Cole, with whom he spent hours sword training and countless evenings discussing politics and making plans. The bond they forged was so strong that Criston repeatedly refuses to believe that Aemond has abandoned him and his army. Criston has faith in Aemond, just as a father ought to have faith in the son whom he raised
-Daeron thinks he has found a substitute father in Ormund, who raised him since infancy and who’s molded him to hate his real father and his Targaryen blood. In Ormund, Daeron sees an ideal he strives hard to reach himself. He idolizes him and tries hard to please him to get whatever crumbs of approval and affection Ormund has to spare
-Helaena is an interesting case, but I’d say that Gwayne is her substitute father. Remember what he told Cole last episode: “our Queens are both in chains.” Our Queens. That includes Helaena. Gwayne, even from a distance, feels some sort of fondness towards Helaena, who perhaps reminds him of his sister in her youth and is a symbol of all that is pure and fair and just in his world of chivalry and ideals. Had they spent more time together, I’m sure that Helaena too, who remembered Jace & Luke’s kindness with fondness, would have come to appreciate Gwayne’s kindness as well
Summary: Gwayne notices early on in the marriage that his shy wife is rather quiet in bed, and decides to encourage her to let out those noises she's been keeping in, or as in his much kinder words, make her sing like a song bird.
Contents/Possible Warnings: PIV Sex, Unprotected sex, Breeding kink, Cunnilingus, era-typical misogyny (kinda?), Creampie, Fem!Reader, Established relationship, Reader's a Targaryen but physical description/features are not specified or described, SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI
The very first thing Ser Gwayne Hightower had ever noticed about you, all those many moons ago, was your quiet nature, a gentle shyness rarely seen within the other members of your house. While the other Targaryens burnt with the flame of fire and blood, you held yourself more with the patience of the cool, still waters he'd grown with and cherished back at Oldtown. How'd you been bred from a line of blood that hosted fearless conquerors and madmen alike, he'd never truly grasp, but not a day passed where he didn't give thanks to The Seven for blessing him with you in the world, and by extension, your marriage.
On the rare occasion when you'd speak and make yourself known, Gwayne found himself growing weak with a warm infatuation for you, a feat no other he had met before could achieve. Your voice was like the sweetest honey to him, the kind he could never get enough of, and he yearned desperately to hear it more, especially during your most intimate moments. Yet, you remained silent during your shared displays of passion. It was humorous, almost, to Gwayne the lengths to which you'd go to prevent yourself from letting out a sound as he drove into you. Bearing down on the pillow with a strong bite, digging your fingers into the sheets or even his arms, and clamping a hand over your mouth when neither was an option.
"What a most wondrous voice my wife has, doesn't she?" Gwayne asked aloud to no one in particular upon finding you in your shared bedchambers, sitting on the bed as you worked away at a piece of embroidery in your hands, absentmindedly singing a small song to yourself as you concentrated.
"Gwayne!" You squeaked, jumping slightly at his voice, not having heard him come into the room. "Please, do not scare me like that again!" You scolded with a frown, your voice still soft despite the nature of your words. Gwayne smiled in response, moving to sit beside you.
"You sing beautifully, my love," Gwayne complimented. "Just as if you were a little songbird. Mayhaps the Gods will bless me with more of your heavenly voice if I speak enough prayer." His hands slipped down to yours, holding them in his own. "You know, I came here to have a discussion of much relevance to which we've just spoken, given that you'll indulge me with your time."
"As you wish, husband," you replied, giving his hand a squeeze, earning another smile from him.
"I suppose I should first apologize for the coarse subject matter," He began, "but I couldn't help but wonder a thing or two regarding our more... intimate marital duties." You felt your face grow hot at the sudden mention, averting your gaze as your mind began to race with every worst possibility.
"Don't look away from me, sweetling. There is no need." Gwayne murmured, reaching up to grasp you by the chin gently, turning your face back towards him.
"I have not displeased you, have I, husband?" You blurted out, pulling yourself from his grasp, your face growing warmer as you looked at him, scanning his blue eyes for any sign of displeasure. Perhaps the knight had finally grown tired of your timid nature, you feared. "I do my very greatest to ensure I perform my wifely duties to the best of my abilities, but mayhaps I haven't been—"
"No, no– Heavens no—" Gwayne spoke quickly, hoping to avoid your further panic. "I wished to ask the same question. I find myself growing with worry that I mayhaps be falling short of pleasing you. You, my dearest, have no fault." He reassured, pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. "I find I am no stranger to your quiet disposition, but I'm not quite accustomed to it during our moments of passion," Gwayne confessed, looking into your eyes. "I cannot help but find myself pondering if I'm not satisfying you enough to earn your voice, to make you 'sing', if you will."
Your face burned as you took in his words. "Ah– You need not hold concern for me. It is a wife's duty to please her husband first and foremost, is it not? Silent or not, if you are pleasured, then I am greater than content." You replied with a nervous laugh, heart hammering in your chest as you watched him frown.
"And it is a husband's duty to care for his wife," Gwayne retorted. "I beg of you, if I am unable of being able to please you, tell me what I can do to remedy it. Nothing brings me greater pleasure than your own." The knight pleaded in an act rare for him. You let out a long sigh, melting at the sight of him, looking at you almost as if he were a sad puppy in pursuit of putting you before himself. You couldn't have been more fortunate in your choice of husband.
"I'm afraid of making myself a fool," you admitted, looking away. "You are nothing but kind when you shower my voice with compliments and tell me of your desire for it, but I do not wish to harbour your distaste with what absurd sounds I may make."
Gwayne let out a chuckle, leaning in and allowing his lips to find your neck, pressing languid kisses to your skin. "You could never upset me, my love. Not even once. Especially not with this pretty little voice." He purred against you. Your hands found his green tunic, fingers digging into the fabric as his kisses turned to soft nips.
"G-Gwayne," you whimpered out in a small mewl. The noise he made in reply, one of pure and adulterated wanton need, made you weak, wettening at his continued touches.
"You're such a good wife for me, aren't you?" He said, voice sultry, hands moving to bunch your skirts up to your hips before moving down to press a hungry kiss to your inner thigh. "Always so eager to please your husband." He pressed a kiss to the other thigh. "Let me take care of you this time, hmm?" Then he dove in, licking and sucking at your wet heat. Your hands fell to his hair, tightly grabbing at his red locks as you cried out due to the sudden pleasure. He moaned at your cry, sending vibrations rippling against your soaked cunt. The bridge of his nose bumped against your clit as he ate, tongue slipping into you briefly before he moved up to your clit properly, sucking at the sensitive bud.
"That's it, my little songbird, sing for me," he encouraged, panting before diving back in, drawing out the exact sounds yearned to hear from your honeyed lips. No choir nor musician could sing as you could; he was sure of it.
"Gods! Gwayne!" You moaned, pulling him by the hair just where you needed him. "Don't stop! I beg, please don't stop!" You could hardly believe the words falling from your lips; once so quiet and cautious, you were now sure the rest of the Hightower could hear you from halls away. "I-I'm so close! Gwayne!" You warned, orgasm barreling towards you.
"Fuck," he groaned against you, pulling away from your cunt, chin drenched in your slick. You hissed his name as he moved further from you, cunt aching for his touch in hopes of reigniting your once impending climax.
"Not so fast, wife," he smirked, freeing himself of his clothing before moving onto yours, both pairs of your hands working to rid yourself of the bothersome fabric. "Surely you can't forget of your husband in this matter?" The knight teased, guiding his cock, hard and dripping with pre-cum at the tip, to your waiting heat.
"Oh! Fuck, Gwayne!" You gasped as he entered you, followed by him groaning out your name in bliss. He moved slowly, setting a pace that eased you both into soon wanting more. His mouth fell open, red, sweat-slicked hair mussed as he looked down at you like beauty incarnate.
"I love you," He moaned, pressing his forehead to yours before pulling you into a messy kiss. "I love you so much." His hands grabbed at your hips, pulling them closer and angling you both just right enough to thrust inside of you even deeper, the lewd sound of smacking skin-on-skin filling your shared bedchambers. "Such a sweet wife, so devoted to her husband," he praised, fucking into you faster. "You're going to give me a son, aren't you? A little Hightower with his mother's eyes and his father's courage. You'll be a good wife and do that, won't you, darling?"
You could only let out a mewl in response, legs wrapping around his waist as he fucked you, the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every movement. "Yesyesyes— just for you, Gwayne, all for you—"
"I'm going to cum— Fuck, you're going to make me cum," he announced, thrusts losing rhythm, bucking into you with wild abandon. One of his hands moved from your hip to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he pounded into you. "Gonna fill you up, yeah? Fuck this cunt full with my cum."
"Yes! I'm cumming! Gods!" You moaned, climax crashing over you as he fucked you through it, helping you ride out the waves of overwhelming pleasure. He followed close behind you, the feeling of your cunt spasming around him sending him spilling deep into you, warm cum flooding your insides as he bred you.
Your legs trembled as he stilled against you, his head buried in the crook of your neck as you both came down from your highs. You let out a whine as he pulled out and lay beside you, white cum spilling out of you and dripping onto your thighs.
"You know, we won't get our babe in just one attempt," he smirked, fingers combing through your hair. "That's all the more opportunity for you to sing for me, darling."
