#SMUFF

[therogueflame]

Steel and Silk

Hi my sweetlings,

Here is the promised Harwin x Reader fic! After writing Through Storm and Silence, I reeaally needed something to lighten the mood. I love Harwin sm :'). (Possibility of subsequent parts based on reception!)

✨My Masterlist✨

WC: 5.6k

Summary: After brandishing some wounds in a heated training session, Harwin seeks out the comfort of your embrace.

Warnings: 18+, sex (p in v), oral (f!recieving), multiple orgasm, no use of y/n, smuffy goodness

Harwin Strong x Targaryen!Fem!Reader

MDNI!!!

The clash of steel tore through the training yard, breaking the stillness with a brutal rhythm that echoed against the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. The air hung heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken tension that had drawn a small circle of knights to the dusty ring. Their gazes, cautious and uncertain, lingered on the combatants, each man unwilling to intervene yet unable to look away. The midday sun bore down with relentless heat, clinging to the air and earth as though it too braced for the storm brewing within the circle.

Harwin Strong stood at its center, his broad frame taut with restrained fury. His chest rose and fell steadily, but the tight grip of his knuckles on the hilt of his sword betrayed the simmering anger that burned just beneath the surface. Across from him, his opponent staggered to his feet, arrogance still etched into the lines of his bloodied face. A smear of red stained the corner of the knight’s mouth, but his sneer remained intact, insolent words still lingering in the air like an unwelcome shadow.

“You’ve had enough,” Harwin said, his voice low and steady, the calm before the inevitable storm. The weight of his words cut through the murmurs of the onlookers, a warning carried on the edge of his barely restrained temper. “Stand down before you make a greater fool of yourself.”

The knight wiped at his mouth with deliberate slowness, the smirk on his lips deepening with every passing moment. “Temper, temper, Strong,” he mocked, his tone dripping with false amusement. His movements were unhurried, calculated, as if testing the boundaries of Harwin’s patience. “Tell me, what inspires such fire? Most men only fight this way for someone they hold close. Family, perhaps. Someone they love.”

The insinuation struck its mark, slicing through Harwin’s restraint like a blade. His jaw clenched, the tension in his frame growing as he stood frozen, unmoving. A ripple of unease passed through the onlookers, their shifting feet betraying their discomfort, but none stepped forward to break the moment.

The knight took another step closer, emboldened by Harwin’s silence, mistaking it for hesitation. The grin on his face widened as he raised his chin. “Or perhaps,” he continued, his voice softening into a goad, “it’s something more. What drives you, Strong? What makes a man risk so much for someone who will never truly be his?”

The knight’s words landed like a spark on dry tinder, igniting Harwin’s fury in an instant. He moved without hesitation, swift and deliberate, his sword flashing in the harsh sunlight. The strike was precise, unrelenting; the knight’s blade flew from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground. The man barely had time to register his defeat before Harwin’s fist crashed into his jaw with a sickening crack. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, dust rising in a choking cloud as he hit the ground with a thud that seemed to echo in the still air.

The knights who had been watching froze, their breaths catching as the scene unfolded. Harwin didn’t pause. He dropped to his knees, pinning the man beneath him with a force that left no room for resistance. His fists came down like hammers, each strike landing with brutal precision. The sharp, visceral sound of bone meeting flesh punctuated the knight’s groans, his earlier arrogance dissolving into pitiful whimpers. Dust and blood smeared across Harwin’s knuckles, but the fury in his eyes didn’t waver. It burned, raw and unyielding, a silent warning to anyone who dared linger too long.

“Harwin, stop!” one of the knights called, his voice edged with alarm. It took four men to seize Harwin’s arms, their combined strength barely enough to drag him away. Even as they restrained him, his chest heaved, his muscles taut with the effort of holding himself back. The tension radiating from him was palpable, a storm not yet spent.

“You’ll speak no more of her,” Harwin growled, his voice low and venomous. Each word struck the air with the weight of a promise. “Not here. Not anywhere.”

The knight groaned weakly, his head lolling to the side, his broken form a stark contrast to the bravado he had carried mere moments before. The yard fell into an uneasy silence, the onlookers shifting awkwardly as they exchanged wary glances. Harwin wrenched himself free from the hands holding him, his movements sharp and purposeful as he turned on his heel. Without sparing the knight another glance, he strode away, his shadow stretching long and dark across the sunlit dirt, leaving behind the image of a man both feared and resolute.

⚔

The whispers began before the dust in the training yard had even settled. By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting its golden light across the Red Keep, the tale of Harwin Strong’s fury had reached every corner of the castle. Servants murmured in dimly lit hallways, their voices a blend of awe and speculation. Knights recounted the scene over their cups, their retellings growing more embellished with each round. Even the ladies of the court, draped in silks and jewels, leaned in close with hushed voices to trade fragments of the story like secrets too potent to be spoken aloud.

And yet, for all the exaggerations that followed, it was the truth beneath it all that lingered in your mind, the fragments that carried the weight of why it had happened.

You moved through the halls that afternoon with practiced grace, your head held high and your steps measured. The air around you felt charged, buzzing with glances and murmurs that trailed in your wake like shadows. The weight of their stares was nothing new—you had long ago learned how to steel yourself against their quiet judgments. But this felt different. Harwin’s actions had carved a story into the fabric of the day, one that would not be forgotten easily. Though the rumors stung at the edges of your composure, there was something else nestled within your chest, a warmth that refused to be ignored.

As dusk fell, the day’s oppressive heat surrendered to the cool stillness of evening. You retreated to your chambers, seeking solace in the quiet, though it brought little peace. The faint hum of the castle drifted on, the occasional clatter of footsteps and low voices a distant reminder of the world outside your door. You sat in silence, your thoughts restless, turning over the events of the day like a worry stone. The stillness of the room felt heavy, pressing against your chest.

It wasn’t until a soft knock broke the quiet that your heart stilled. The sound was hesitant, almost reverent, yet it carried a weight that settled low in your chest. For a moment, you hesitated, your hand brushing the arm of the chair as though the act of rising might anchor you more firmly in the present. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, you crossed the chamber, your bare feet ghosting across the cold stone floor.

When you opened the door, the flickering light of the torches outside cast long, uneven shadows across the threshold. Standing there, framed by the golden glow, was the figure you had expected—yet seeing him still made your breath catch.

Harwin Strong. His broad frame filled the doorway, his City Watch armor scuffed and dulled, streaked with marks of the day’s ordeal. His face was unreadable, though his dark eyes searched yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt fragile, heavy with all the words left unsaid.

“Your Highness,” he said softly, his voice low and edged with a weariness he couldn’t quite mask.

You stepped aside without a word, the flicker of your gaze enough to convey permission. He hesitated, lingering in the doorway as if weighing the impropriety of entering your chambers at such an hour. But the look you gave him—a silent command wrapped in quiet understanding—left him with no choice. He stepped inside, the sound of the door closing behind him swallowed by the stillness of the room.

“Sit,” you said gently, gesturing toward the chair by the hearth. Though your tone held no sharpness, it allowed for no argument. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, but his voice faltered as he crossed the room. Lowering himself into the chair, his movements betrayed him—stiff and deliberate, a faint wince flickering across his face as the bruises beneath his armor made themselves known.

Without hesitation, you knelt beside him, your hands moving to the straps of his armor. The cold metal was unyielding beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from him. He tensed at first, his shoulders tightening as though bracing himself, but as you worked, his breath eased, and the tension began to melt from his frame.

“You’ve been the subject of much talk today,” you murmured, your voice low and measured, your focus never leaving the clasps beneath your fingers. One by one, they loosened under your careful touch. “The Red Keep is alive with whispers about the training yard.”

His jaw tightened at your words, the shadow of something unspoken flickering in his eyes. He turned his gaze away, letting it settle on the darkened hearth, now faintly glowing with renewed embers. “I regret nothing,” he said after a pause, the resoluteness in his tone firm yet quiet, like steel forged in fire.

“I’m not here to demand your regrets, Harwin,” you replied, your voice steady though a trace of softness lingered at its edges. You slid the breastplate free, the weight of it pressing briefly against your palms before you set it aside with care. “But you must understand how this looks. A knight of the City Watch, losing control, laying a man low with his fists. It’s not a story they’ll forget.”

“I know,” he admitted, the tension in his voice softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. “And yet… if I had to do it again, I would.” His eyes flicked to yours, dark and unyielding. “He spoke of you as though your name were his to wield. As though your honor was a thing to be mocked.” His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “I could not stand it.”

His words struck you like a sudden wind, stealing the air from your lungs. The raw honesty in his tone caught you off guard, and for a fleeting moment, you faltered. But you masked it quickly, your hands resuming their work as you moved to undo the vambraces strapped to his forearms. Beneath the polished steel, his skin bore the marks of the day—a collection of fresh bruises and a shallow gash along his arm that gleamed faintly in the firelight.

The sight made your chest ache, a pang of something sharp and unnameable lodging itself beneath your ribs. “Reckless,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, the word carrying both reproach and quiet affection. Rising, you crossed to the small table near the hearth, pouring water into a basin with practiced ease. The cool splash of it was the only sound in the room as you retrieved a clean cloth and returned to his side.

Kneeling once more, you dipped the cloth into the water and pressed it gently against the wound. His sharp intake of breath was the only sign of discomfort he allowed, and as you worked, your touch firm but careful, you felt his gaze on you—steady, unwavering.

“They don’t understand,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet. There was no bitterness in his tone, only quiet conviction. “What it means to protect something worth more than your own life.”

The weight of his words settled over you, silencing any reply that might have formed. You kept your focus on the task at hand, the cloth brushing over his skin in slow, deliberate strokes, but your heart beat faster beneath his unrelenting gaze. The warmth of the firelight seemed to intensify, cocooning the two of you in a fragile moment suspended from the world outside.

The cloth in your hand hovered above his skin, forgotten in the tension that thickened the air. Slowly, you exhaled, finding your voice once more, soft but firm. “You are brave, Harwin,” you murmured, “but bravery and wisdom are not the same. What good is your protection if you destroy yourself in the process?”

His eyes searched yours, unabated, his jaw tight. “And what would you have me do, Princess?” he asked, his voice low and laced with frustration. “Stand by while they speak of you that way? Pretend I don’t hear it? Pretend it doesn’t tear me apart?”

His words hit you with the force of a wave, and you faltered, the breath you’d drawn catching in your chest. For a moment, the room was silent but for the faint crackle of the fire. At last, you shook your head, a soft sigh escaping as your hand resumed its careful work. “No, Harwin,” you said, your voice trembling just slightly. “But you must remember—your life is not so easily dismissed. Not to me.”

His shoulders eased slightly, the hardness in his expression giving way to something gentler, something unspoken. He watched you with an intensity that made your fingers feel clumsy as you worked, and the weight of his gaze sent a warmth rising to your cheeks. The air between you felt fragile now, the earlier tension softening into something tender, something that seemed to close the space between you with every passing second.

As you shifted to reach for the basin again, his hand moved. The warmth of his palm closed around your wrist, halting you. “Enough,” he murmured, though his voice carried no edge, only quiet insistence.

Before you could respond, he tugged gently, the motion steady but unyielding. You stumbled forward, your balance catching as he guided you into his lap with ease. A soft laugh escaped you, startled and unbidden, as you found yourself straddled across his lap.

“Harwin!” you exclaimed, the word more breathless than scolding. Your laughter softened as his arms wrapped around you, steady and sure, holding you close against him.

The corner of his mouth curved into a faint grin, the earlier shadows in his expression lifting. “You were fussing too much,” he said lightly, though there was a warmth in his voice that sent your heart fluttering. “I thought this might quiet you.”

“Oh, so you think this is better?” you retorted, though the mirth in your tone betrayed any attempt at reproach. Your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, and the solid warmth of him beneath your palms only deepened the blush rising to your cheeks.

“I do,” he replied simply, his grin softening into something sweeter, his gaze dipping to yours. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand shifted, settling at the small of your back. The gentle pressure sent a shiver up your spine, and the playful tension between you melted into something quieter, something far more intimate. The firelight flickered against the stone walls, casting the two of you in its soft glow, but all you could focus on was the steady warmth of him, the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly along your side, the weight of his gaze fixed entirely on you.

“Harwin…” you said again, his name falling from your lips softer this time, the sound of it barely audible over the crackling fire.

“Yes?” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin.

You allowed yourself to relax, the tension in your shoulders melting away as his hand came to rest at the small of your back. His fingers moved absentmindedly, tracing slow, soothing patterns that sent warmth curling low in your stomach. “You’re lucky I don’t scold you more,” you murmured, your voice light, though the weight of your concern lingered in your tone. “Throwing yourself into fights as if you’re made of stone.”

Harwin let out a soft chuckle, the sound deep and resonant, rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. “And yet, here you are, tending to me every time,” he replied, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Perhaps I’ve grown fond of your care.”

You pulled back slightly, shifting so you could look up at him, your hands braced lightly against his chest. The firelight cast golden shadows across his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw and catching the warmth in his dark eyes. “You’re not invincible, you know,” you said, your voice quiet but firm, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Even the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms can break.”

His grin widened at that, spreading slowly across his face, the kind of smile that made your heart stutter. “So you admit I’m the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms,” he teased, though his tone carried a gentleness that softened the jest.

You rolled your eyes, though your smile lingered. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” he countered easily, leaning back slightly, though his hands didn’t loosen their steady hold on you. “If I’m to be scolded, I might as well be comfortable.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you, soft and unguarded. The sound seemed to catch even him by surprise, his gaze softening further as his thumb brushed along the curve of your arm. The space between you felt impossibly close now, the air warm and heavy with something unspoken.

“You know they’re still talking,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter, almost hesitant. “About the fight. About you.”

“They can talk,” he said simply, his tone calm and unbothered, but there was an edge of steel in his words. “I’d do it again. A thousand times, if I had to.”

The unshakable truth in his words struck you, made your chest tighten with something too complex to name. Your hands shifted against his chest, your fingers toying idly with the fabric of his tunic. “You shouldn’t have to,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire.

His hand moved to yours, his palm steady and warm as his fingers curled around yours. “But I will,” he said, his voice low, filled with quiet conviction. “Because you’re worth every blow, every scar, and every rumor.”

The raw sincerity in his voice made your breath catch, and your heart rate increased as he locked eyes with you. You couldn’t tear yourself away from his gaze, feeling a change between the two of you. Without thinking, you shifted your body, aware of the warmth emanating from him through his trousers and the thin material of your nightgown. 

Harwin stilled for a moment, his hands steadying at your waist, his fingers flexing slightly against the fabric of your gown. His gaze flicked down briefly before meeting yours again, darker now, the tension between you thick and electric. “Princess,” he murmured, his voice softer, lower, his grip tightening just slightly as though to keep you there.

Your hands rested against his shoulders, your fingertips grazing the strong curve of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his tunic. “Yes?” you replied, your voice soft but laced with a teasing edge, the smallest smile tugging at your lips as you leaned closer.

His lips curved, his grin both tender and filled with a quiet challenge. “You’ll be the ruin of me,” he said, his tone low and almost reverent.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with promise and unspoken desire. Your breath caught in your throat as you gazed into Harwin's eyes, seeing the intensity there, the raw emotion barely contained. Your fingers curled against his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your touch.

"Perhaps," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "but what a sweet ruin it would be."

Something shifted in Harwin's expression then, a dam breaking. In one fluid motion, his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. His lips met yours with a hunger that stole your breath away, passionate and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your body pressing against his as your arms wound around his neck.

The kiss deepened, igniting a fire that coursed through your veins. Harwin's large arms encircled you, pulling you flush against his chest as his lips moved against yours with increasing urgency. You responded in kind, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently as a soft moan escaped you.

The world beyond this moment ceased to exist. There was only the heat of Harwin's body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, the intoxicating scent of leather and sweat that clung to his skin. Your hips rocked instinctively, drawing a low groan from deep in his throat.

"We shouldn't," Harwin murmured against your lips, even as his hands roamed your back, tracing the curve of your spine.

"No," you agreed breathlessly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "We shouldn't.”

Your eyes locked with Harwin's, both of you breathing heavily. The firelight danced across his features, highlighting the conflict warring in his dark eyes - desire battling with duty.

"We shouldn't," you repeated softly, your fingers tracing along his jaw. "And yet..."

Your words trailed off as Harwin surged forward, capturing your lips once more in a searing kiss. Any remaining hesitation melted away as you surrendered to the passion building between you. His hands roamed your body with newfound urgency, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You shifted in his lap, pressing closer as a soft moan escaped your throat. Harwin's grip on your waist tightened in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown. With a low growl, he stood suddenly, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He placed you softly on your bed, and you watched as he removed his lingering undergarments from a day spent under armor.

As you lay back on the bed, Harwin's eyes raked over you with undisguised hunger. His hands moved to the laces of your gown, fingers working deftly to loosen them. With each inch of skin revealed, his breath grew heavier, his touch more urgent. You arched into his caress, helping him peel away the layers of silk and linen until you lay bare before him.

Harwin paused, drinking in the sight of you. His calloused palm skimmed along your side, igniting sparks wherever he touched. "You're beautiful," he murmured, voice rough with desire.

Harwin's lips trailed down your neck, kissing a blazing path along your collarbone. His calloused hands caressed your sides, drawing soft gasps from your lips as he explored your body with reverent touches. You pressed yourself closer to him, yearning for the heat of his body to seep into yours.

"Harwin," you breathed, fingers tangling in his dark hair as his mouth moved lower. He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire, before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. The anticipation built as his breath ghosted over your center.

As his soft lips pressed against your most sensitive area, you couldn't help but stifle a cry of pleasure. His tongue moved with fervent passion, eliciting breathy moans from your throat that echoed throughout the room. Your hips eagerly rocked against his face as the pleasure built, each wave crashing harder than the last and sending shivers down your spine.

Harwin's skilled hands and mouth worked in perfect harmony, savoring every taste and driving you to the brink of ecstasy. You clutched at his hair, pulling him closer and gasping for air as the tension within you coiled tighter and tighter. In this moment, nothing else in the world mattered except for the exquisite sensations he was drawing from your body.

You pleaded, your body writhing in pleasure on the bed as you approached the brink, "Harwin, please." He responded by intensifying his actions, one hand gripping your hip to hold you steady while the other skillfully worked to push you over the edge into pure bliss.

As release finally crashed over you, it was with Harwin's name on your lips. Your body trembled and shook as he continued his attentions, drawing out your climax until you were trembling and oversensitive. Every nerve ending was alive, every touch amplified into pure ecstasy.

As you came down from the high, Harwin moved back up your body, pressing tender kisses along your skin. His mouth trailed fire as he made his way up your thighs, hips, stomach, and chest. When he reached your lips, they tasted of him and of yourself, igniting a new wave of desire within you. Your hands roamed over the planes of his muscled back, feeling the strength coiled beneath his smooth skin.

"I need you," you whispered against his lips, your voice laced with want. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the musk and sweat that only added to the intensity of your desire.

Harwin groaned softly, his hips pressing against yours in response. "Are you certain?" His dark eyes searched yours, even in this moment of passion giving you a chance to change your mind. But there was no hesitation in your heart or your body.

In response to his question, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. "I've never been more certain of anything," you breathed against his lips, knowing that this was where you belonged - in his arms, in this moment of pure bliss.

With a low groan, Harwin slowly pushed into you, both of you gasping at the exquisite sensation. He paused, giving you time to adjust, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled for control. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint it took not to move.

"Harwin," you breathed, rocking your hips slightly. "Please..."

As Harwin's strong, calloused hands gripped your hips, you gasped and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. With practiced precision, he moved inside of you, each thrust igniting a fire within your body. Your fingers tangled in his thick hair as he kissed you hungrily, his need evident in the way he devoured your lips.

Your body responded eagerly to his movements, arching against him and urging him on. The room was filled with the sounds of your lovemaking - the wet slap of skin against skin, your breathy moans, and Harwin's gruff groans of pleasure. His muscles tensed beneath your fingertips as he buried himself deep inside of you, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

In that moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, lost in a world of pleasure and desire. And as you clung to each other, consumed by the intensity of your passion, it was clear that there was no one else who could make you feel this alive.

"Gods, you feel incredible," Harwin groaned against your neck, his voice rough with desire. His lips trailed a path of fire along your jawline, adding to the overwhelming sensations you were feeling.

Lost in the ecstasy of the moment, all you could do was whimper in response. The tension continued to build rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it felt almost unbearable. Sensing how close you were, Harwin's movements became more focused and intense. One of his hands slipped between your bodies, his fingers deftly finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that sent you over the edge into pure pleasure.

Your body curved instinctively, a graceful response as waves of pure bliss cascaded through you, Harwin's name escaping your lips in a breathless cry. The intensity of your release triggered his own, and with a low groan, he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he found his climax. For several long moments, you clung to each other, bodies trembling with the shared passion that pulsed between you.

As your breathing began to steady, Harwin shifted to lay beside you, the comforting warmth of his body close but no longer pressing down. Propped on one elbow, he gazed at you, his dark eyes brimming with a tenderness that sent your heart fluttering. You turned your head to meet his loving gaze, his presence grounding you in the moment.

Gently, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His calloused fingers lingered against your cheek, their warmth seeping into your flushed skin.

"My princess," he murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion. "My heart is yours, now and always."

Your lips curved into a soft smile as a wave of deep contentment washed over you. Lying there, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of Harwin's affection, you felt a profound sense of safety and love, a certainty that you were cherished beyond measure.

A soft sigh escaped you as your fingers traced slow, idle patterns across his broad chest, savoring the solid feel of him beside you. "And mine to you," you whispered, your voice laced with tender affection. "Always."

Harwin’s lips twitched into a gentle smile, his eyes softening further as they held yours. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a reverent kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, before finally capturing your lips in a kiss so achingly sweet it left you breathless. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes—so full of adoration—stole the air from your lungs all over again.

"I would move mountains for you," Harwin murmured, his voice low and fervent as he lay on his side, facing you. His gaze was steady, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch. "I would fight armies, slay dragons, challenge the gods themselves if it meant keeping you safe and by my side."

“Please do not slay my dragons, Harwin.”

Your soft, melodic laughter filled the quiet room, and you turned your head on the pillow to meet his playful grin. His chuckle followed, a deep, rich sound that rumbled softly between you. "Very well," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I shall leave your dragons be. But the rest still stands."

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, your hand resting lightly against your stomach. "My brave knight," you murmured, your voice tender. "I need no grand gestures or heroic deeds. Just you, here with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

Harwin shifted closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a delicate reverence. "And you shall have me," he promised, his voice low and earnest. "For as long as you’ll have me, I am yours."

A quiet peace settled between you, though it carried the faintest edge of sadness, as Harwin rose and began the methodical task of donning his armor once more.

The soft clink of metal filled the air as Harwin fastened the last pieces of his armor. You watched him from the bed, the sheets pulled loosely around you, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. As he reached for his yellow cloak, you rose, wrapping yourself in a light robe before crossing the room to him.

"Let me," you said softly, taking the cloak from his hands. With careful movements, you draped it over his shoulders, smoothing the fabric across his broad back. Your fingers lingered on the clasp at his throat, reluctant to complete the final step that would transform him back into Ser Harwin Strong of the City Watch.

Harwin's hand came up to cover yours, his touch warm and comforting. "Dawn will come too soon," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with wistfulness.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. "It always does," you replied softly, your fingers tracing the edge of the honey-hued cloak. The fabric was cool beneath your touch, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of Harwin's skin.

For a moment, you both stood in silence, the air heavy with unspoken words and shared longing. Then, with a gentle sigh, you fastened the clasp at his throat, completing his transformation. The golden cloak seemed to glow in the dim light of your chambers, a symbol of the duty that would always stand between you.

Harwin's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch impossibly tender. "My heart remains here," he murmured, his dark eyes searching yours. "Even when duty calls me away."

You leaned into his touch, savoring these final moments. "And mine with you.”

Your eyes met his, a silent understanding passing between you. "Go," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Before the castle wakes."

Harwin nodded, his jaw tightening as he steeled himself. He leaned in, pressing a final, lingering kiss to your forehead. "Until next time, my princess," he murmured against your skin.

Then, with a swirl of his yellow cloak, he was gone. The door closed behind him with a soft, measured click, leaving your chambers quiet once more. For a moment, you stood where he’d left you, your fingers brushing the place where his lips had lingered, the memory of his touch still warm against your skin. The silence around you wasn’t empty—it thrummed with the weight of what had passed between you, a fragile, fleeting gift stolen from the demands of the world beyond these walls.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze lingering on the door he’d vanished through. Duty would always call him away, that much you both knew. Yet tonight, in those stolen hours, the weight of that truth had felt lighter, bearable even. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you turned back to the hearth, his warmth still clinging to your skin like the faint glow of embers. For now, it was enough.

[iarchmybaculaa]

Suggestive!

Fic is a standalone drabble-ish? That I wrote on a whim 😭

Pairing: Idol! Jungkook x black fem reader

Tags: suggestive context, allusions to sexual acts, 2018 BTS, Jungkook is in love, FLUFFFFFF!!!

Tag list: @ririkookiemonster @le3worl @freshmoondragon

You watch as the other Armys file out of the arena, hearts so filled to the brim with joy, that their bodies eject it as tears. Most of them leave with their army bombs in one hand, and their freebies in the other.

You on the other hand? You find yourself with your army bomb in one hand, and the weight of what you assume is a ridiculously expensive pen in the other.

Your heart thumps so erratically in your chest, that you feel like if you swallowed too hard it would end up in the depth of your stomach. You’re not sure why you’re this nervous; not sure why your palms always sweat and your breaths become so shallow.

Mayhaps it’s the scandalousness of it all.

There’s a bottle of water on the small table in front of you, a straw already poking out of the cap. You roll your eyes as you unscrew the cover and gulp it down. The boots are starting to hurt your feet, but you keep them on. They look powerful, sexy.

They make you feel sexy.

And God knows you need to keep feeling that way for as long as possible to keep up the facade of confidence.

You’re too restless to sit, so you walk over to the one way window, and watch the droves of people scurry out of the venue. You’re far up enough that they almost look like ants.

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the door open and close. You barely catch on to the sound of approaching footsteps before there’s a pair of long arms snaking around your waist. Your body tenses before you relax into the hold, knowing it could only be one person.

“Hi,” you say in an almost breathless whisper.

He mumbles out a soft greeting in return, the sound getting lost in the crook of your neck as he plants his lips there

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, hands caressing the section of your stomach that’s exposed.

Despite the warmth spreading through your entire body, you can’t help but giggle a bit. You wondered how long he would keep repeating the very first question he’d ever asked you.

A part of you wishes he’ll keep doing it forever.

An even bigger part of you prays that you’ll always be there to hear it.

He spins you around, grateful that your hair is caught in a bun. It’s not that he minds having to push your braids back, and Lord knows how much he enjoys wrapping them around his hands and pull- he’s getting off track.

The point is, you have such a beautiful face. From your brown eyes to your full, two toned lips, to the pretty charm that dangles from your nose.

Fuck, he loves you.

But he can’t tell you that. Not when the only thing keeping you together is a stupid contract he makes you sign every time he wants to bury himself inside you.

The room is quiet, it always is when you two do this. The sound of your laboured breaths is the only thing left filling the space. Jungkook Isn't the best at English, and you aren’t the best at Korean. But Jungkook is confident that your pussy invented Hangul with how fluently she speaks to him.

You both have a common language.

Pleasure.

And you give it to each other so easily, so well that if you really did tell anyone that you and Jungkook were fuck buddies, He would contact the press himself to let them know it was true.

Jungkook is a beautiful singer. He knows that; it’s the entirety of his existence . It’s his job. But the sounds that you pull out of him? The sounds that come out of your mouth?

Jungkook is in, deep.

And not just inside you.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You make beautiful music together. Your harmonised moans and the synchronized slapping of skin as your hips meet far outdo anything that Jungkook thinks Yoongi will ever be able to produce (not that he’d ever tell his hyung that)

Jungkook kisses you like a man starved, like he’s scared that you will disappear, that the mere thought of having to wait to have you again drives him absolutely insane. (Because it does).

Jungkook takes his time to explore you, to learn you, to love you for as long as he can. Every time.

He fucks you like he wants you to remember him for a long time. How he feels, how he looks, how well he takes you.

And his reasons are very simple.

He has no way to contact you. You’ve never exchanged numbers, or even email addresses, because that’s how NDAs work.

NDAs in the entertainment industry are used mostly to protect an artist's image after their one night stands. They work because it will likely be the first and only last time someone is in such close proximity to the artist.

But you and Jungkook keep finding each other.

You because you keep showing up to concerts, and him because he keeps looking for you. Searching row by row, seat by seat until he spots you. Jungkook thinks he’d be able to find you in a sea of a million people (if they ever became that popular)

Your hookups always end with Jungkook kissing all over your face, telling you in the cutest, most reverent mix of broken English and the most delicate Korean how beautiful you are as he helps you get dressed.

He sneaks money into your purse, like he always does when you’re not looking, with a note that says “eat” on it and nothing else. He bends at your feet so you can use his shoulders as leverage to put on your shoes, and insists on carrying your freebies and merch in one hand whilst intertwining your fingers with the other.

He always thinks it’s so strange how you’ve never asked him for anything. No merch, no free tickets, no pictures…nothing. You’re content with spending your own money to come to the shows because you actually love his craft; because you love his members. And that means more to him that he'll e er be able to express to you.

So sue him if he tosses VIP sound check lanyards to their upcoming shows in your massive tote bag of merch, and charge him if he slips in one of his necklaces from tonight’s set along with it.

Jungkook can buy a million necklaces, and perform at a thousand other shows. But he can only find one you, and he intends to keep you.

He smiles as you hold onto his pinky, rambling on and on about what a great time you had at the concert, and how sexy everyone was. The hotel corridor is empty, your excited voice bounces off the walls and Jungkook adores it.

He doesn’t understand most of it, but he loves you.

You chatter away right up until Jungkook leads you into the backseat of the unmarked car his manager is driving. He places your bags on the seat beside you, and fastens your seatbelt.

He brings your noses together and places a soft kiss on your lips.

“See you next time.” He says, because saying “I love you” would be very stupid of him.

“Next time” you agree, because wrapping yourself around him and refusing to leave would probably get you slapped with a restraining order.

But as the door slides shut and you watch as Jungkook disappears from your view, you smile.

Because there will be a next time.

There will always be a next time.

Fin

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Huge thanks to @madmax8603 for putting together this smuff list.

Here is what you can expect from me in the lead up to Christmas:

December 14th - hand holding and dry humping with Billy Taylor (The Halcyon)

December 15th - dreams and dirty talk with Aemond Targaryen (HotD)

December 16th - in nature and deep throating with Ettore (High Life)

December 17th - reassurance and car sex with Billy Washington (Trigger Point)

December 18th - letters and lingerie kink with Abraham (Grantchester)

December 19th - future and face sitting with Michael Gavey (Saltburn)

December 20th - sharing a drink and toys with modern Aemond

December 21st - sunrise and orgasm control with Osferth (TLK)

December 22nd - swimming and face fucking with Ettore (High Life)

December 23rd - bed sharing and accidental stimulation with Tom Bennett (World on Fire)

December 24th - a fancy party and praising with Billy Taylor (The Halcyon)

December 25th - promise and phone sex with Michael Gavey (Saltburn)

No tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I'm so fuckin' pissed at Tumblr right now. I had everything all done and the fucking thing wouldn't post. So, here's the bare bones of what I had.

MDNI UNDER THE CUT

THIS IS SMUTTY AND FLUFFY. IT'S FLUT. PLEASE JOIN ME IN ADDING THIS TO THE READILY AVAILABLE TAGS.

I LOVE THIS MAN. I NEED THIS MAN IN SO MANY WAYS I'VE LOST COUNT.

PLEASE ENJOY THIS. GIVE KAFKA THE LOVE HE DESERVES.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING.

WC ::: JUST OVER 800.

"Ay-yo! Just what do you think you're doing? Mm, miss? I don't think my lady would appreciate you grabbing my ass like that. Especially since she's not around to defend what's hers." Kafka batted your hand away from his chest after you lightly smacked his cute little butt. 

"Oh hush. If your 'lady' had any clue as to just how much of a stud muffin you are, she'd never take her sights off of that sexy dad bod you've got going on here." You climbed into the shower and stood behind him, pressing your still dry breasts against his soaking back. 

"D-dad bod? But I - we - there are no kids. I don't have kids. I - we haven't even talked about having kids." He sounded like he was starting to panic. 

"Calm down. Calm ..." You ran your hands from the fronts of his shoulders down his chest and lightly scratched his upper thighs with your nails, "down."

You felt him tense up beneath your fingertips before he pushed your hands away and turned to face you. 

"Look, Miss...?" He backed you up against the shower wall and pressed his erection to your own cute, pudgy belly. "Eh, y'name's not important. I'll forget it anyway because my heart belongs to another. But I'm gonna make damn sure you never forget who I am." 

Kafka grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head and he held them there with one hand. His other hand traced the swell of the outline of your left breast. 

"Keep your hands there. Don't move them until I tell you to do so. Understood? Miss?" He was speaking so closely to your ear that you could feel the breath behind his words. 

You nodded, looking a little taken aback by his behavior. 

He grabbed your right thigh with his hand and hiked your leg up over his hip and pressed into you. You felt everything. 

Kafka slid his hand from your thigh to your backside and lifted your other leg up to wrap around his waist. He slowly lowered you onto his cock, watching your face all the while.

"Miss, you're so tight. Can't say I've ever experienced anything quite like this before. Damn, heh."

You gasped as he fully buried himself inside of you. The warm water was making the entire experience even more enjoyable.

"I told you not to move, Miss. What part of that didn't you understand?" He growled at you.

Kafka shifted his hips and thrust himself into you with such force that you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. His hands gripped your backside so tightly that you were sure he was going to leave bruises.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, trying to free your hands from his grip.

"Ah, ah, ah. No. You stay right there." He bit down on your shoulder, drawing a moan from you.

Kafka continued to slam into you, and you could feel yourself starting to tremble from the intensity everything.

"K-Kafka! I-I'm gonna ... oh shit! Oh my god!" You tried to pull your arms away from him, but he wouldn't let go.

"Hold it. Not yet." He moved his hips in a circular motion, grinding into you.

"Please! Please, Kafka! Let me cum! Please!" You begged him.

"Alright. Go ahead, Miss. Cum for me." He released your wrists and held on to your hips with both hands, pushing himself deeper and deeper into you.

You dug your nails into his back and screamed his name as you finally released the tension that had been building inside of you.

"Ah, hah hah hah! Fuck, Kafka! Fuck!" You continued to moan as he slowed down his pace and gently slid out of you.

"That's it, Miss. That's a good girl." He groaned as he reached his own orgasm. You could feel him cum hard inside of you. Your walls pulsating around his throbbing dick. 

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, kissing your neck and shoulders. "Was that too rough? I didn't hurt you, did I, kitten?" 

You were still trying to catch your breath. But you smiled and shook your head no, "Mm - Kafka, that was so hot. And where did you get the idea to call me 'Miss?'" You found yourself blushing, even after all of that you two just did. 

"Mm-mm-mm. Jus' came to me. You uh, you liked it, huh?" 

"Kafka, you were amazing." You pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes. "You are amazing."

He smiled and kissed you on the lips and gave your butt a playful smack.

You reached for the body wash and started to soap yourself up.

"I don't know about that, Miss. There's something about you that I find strangely irresistible." He winked at you.

"You are talking about me, right? You must be crazy." You teased him.

"Nah, just crazy happy." 

@supersecretsaga @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku

@darkstarlight82 @bakubunny @arlerts-angel

@reiners-milkbiddies @trevengersprincess @katkusuo

@viburnt

[magicalmysteries777]

magicalmysteries777 - masterlist.

Multi-chapter

The Bloody-Handed and The Anguish of Loving Them - (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson) - 39.5k - 10/10 chapters.

"Almost a year has passed since Eddie Munson died and it feels like the only person that isn't moving on is Steve. After spending the night studying a Dungeons and Dragons handbook, Steve is convinced he's figured out how to bring Eddie back. Not only that, but defeat Vecna once and for all too. Now he just has to prove it."

Tumblr // AO3

One Shots

Lay ons. - (Eddie Munson x F!Reader) - 2.3k

"Popular female reader with a secret crush on Eddie goes to buy drugs but ends up getting more than she paid for."

Tumblr // AO3

"You're clueless, you know that?" - (Eddie Munson x Reader) & (Reader x Steve Harrington!Fake) - 2.3k

"You agree to accompany Steve to Enzo’s for Valentine’s Day with only one shared goal in mind - to make Eddie so jealous he has no choice but to have the one conversation he’s being avoiding."

Tumblr // AO3

[bondwithme-murderstyle]

i have spent my whole shift at work fleshing out smut and i’m still not happy with it ugh

also might take some requests or prompts this weekend and fire out some shorts

[leslie057]

jancy fanart event day 1: philia (friendship)

me: wow theyre such good frens. best buds even.

[heraofta]

The image of supercorp cuddling and kara suddenly pulling lena's t-shirt down so she could kiss lena's boobies living in my mind rent free 😬

[slvtts]

୨୧ you’re finally awake..

was startin’ to get worried there,, anyway, welcome ‘home’ hope ya enjoy your stay.

𓈒 ˙ 🔪 ּ 🕷️⠀ . ਏਓ ݁

♡ masterlist ⟢ ︵

　　∿　　 ﹒　　 ☆　anon list .　　🕳️　　 ♫

♬    ⁾⁾　who I write  ✢ 📞 ⭒

[i-did-not-mean-to]

･ﾟ 🎀 𝒲𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝟤 🎀 ﾟ･

-> FOTFICS Post

-> Spicy Prompt Post

-> My Masterlist for this month

Requests are open :) (With the exception of the pregnancy spicy prompt, I am willing to combine a spicy prompt with a normal one)

🄰🄻🅂🄾 🄲🄷🄴🄲🄺 🄾🅄🅃:

@cilil (takes requests)

@lordoftherazzles (says she wants to do some)

@fantasyinallforms (has expressed enthusiasm)

[happilyhertale]

Take your Place – Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Your husband was away for months, leading the battle against the Triarchy and ultimately bringing victory. Now he is back and a ball is being held in celebration. Throughout the evening, you have spoken with many lords and ladies – but you have not seen the person you long for. So you go in search of him.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.8 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

The hall is filled with music and laughter. Lords and ladies are sitting at the various tables, engrossed in conversation. The wine tastes good and has already caused a few men to slip off their chairs tonight. And this exuberant mood is appropriate, because the Triarchy has finally been repelled in the Stepstones and your husband is being celebrated for it.

You walk through the rows of tables, looking for your husband. You know that he is most likely sitting somewhere with his men and has already had way too much to drink. But although you would normally be able to spot his silver hair anywhere, you can't see him.

But then something grabs your hand and pulls you down roughly. You cry out a little and are about to answer this impertinence with a slap in the face. But you look up as you land on a lap, fingers on your face, caressing you, while a drunken smile reflects back at you.

“Daemon!” you say, but you can't stop the smile that is already spreading across your face. You slowly try to get up again, but Daemon has other plans. His arms wrap around you and he presses his face into the crook of your neck while pressing your back against his chest.

“Stay.” is the only thing he slurs, and you notice the wine on his breath, which he has been consuming all evening.

You just smile slightly, but nod barely noticeable, as you stay on his lap. Your eyes wander around and you were right, his men have spent the evening with him. Some are already hanging drunk in the chairs and a few others are still trying to talk, but you only perceive a kind of grunt.

Daemon kisses your neck, his fingers press lightly into your thighs as he whispers in a low voice, “What are we going to do after this ball?”

You glance slightly over your shoulder and your eyes meet. His gaze is almost soft and you have to smile, “well... I'm going to go to sleep after this ball... you'll probably throw up...” you say to him, trying to suppress a smile.

Daemon chuckles and then laughs a little – he can't deny how many times he's thrown up in a bowl while you've been in bed.

“You know damn well that's not what I meant,” he mutters into your neck as his laughter subsides.

Now you have to giggle a little, “No?” you ask playfully, “I don't know what you mean...”

Daemon leans in and kisses your neck again, breathing into your ear, “I mean that I'd like to spend some time alone with you, love.”

Your eyes are locked on him and you see the determination in his gaze.

“Are you sure you're capable of having a night of pleasure... you're very drunk ...” you say softly.

Daemon grins drunkenly and caresses your cheek. He leans forward and whispers seductively in your ear.

“I'm not too drunk to make you moan, love.”

Your cheeks flush and your eyes widen.

“Daemon!” you say, and even some of his men grin at you, seeming to know what he's saying to make you blush.

Daemon grins at you and his fingers press into your thighs again as he leans forward to whisper in your ear again.

“I'm not too drunk to make you scream for me, love.”

The blush is now creeping down your cleavage. You bite your lip lightly.

“Stop it, Daemon...” you whisper, but you try to squeeze your thighs together a little as you notice the pulsing between your thighs.

Daemon chuckles at your reaction and squeezes your thighs even tighter. He continues to whisper seductively in your ear, “Then stop me, love. Come on.”

You can't stop yourself and you move your hips slightly to create some friction. But then Daemon grabs you and lifts you slightly to turn you on his lap. Confusion graces your features until you straddle him. “We're not supposed to be doing this here,” you say quietly, but he just grins.

“What? You're my wife and you're happy that I'm back... and you show me that by sitting on my lap,” he says, his words slightly slurred. You just shake your head slightly, but before you can say anything, Daemon presses his lips against yours. You gasp slightly, but you respond to his kiss. He grins when he feels your hips moving again, grinding against him slightly. He caresses your cheek and pulls you closer to him, his tongue meeting yours and your kiss intensifying. You feel him getting hard and you let out a small moan, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Daemon smiles a little as he feels that you cannot stop moving, that you keep grinding against him. He pulls your hips closer to him as he speaks, letting his fingers glide along your thighs. His lips gently slide down your neck and whispers seductively, “I'd like to see your dress on the floor.” Your eyes flutter closed and his words elicit a slight moan from your lips. But you bite your lip to make no further sound.

“The skirt of my dress is very wide...” you finally whisper softly, breathing heavily. “Maybe you could unbutton your trousers and... I mean, I could sit on you and no one would notice...“ you say quietly.

“But you're already sitting on me...” he mumbles teasingly and gets an annoyed look from you. Daemon glances over at his men and tries not to grin. None of them are looking in your direction, they seem to be engaged in conversation or have their heads on the table, snoring.

“But maybe.. it could work,” he mutters finally. Daemon slides his hand under your skirt, begins to unbutton his trousers, and glances at you from time to time. You look at him, everything except for your upper bodies is hidden under the skirt of your dress. Daemon lets his hands move back to your hips and you move slightly again. Then you have to suppress a moan as you feel his hard cock, how its length presses against your folds. His hands slide to your hips, gripping you, as he presses his the tip of your cock against your entrance.

You look at him, gasp slightly and then lean forward to kiss him as you feel your cunt clench around nothing from the mere anticipation of getting to sheath him. Slowly you lift up and then slowly lower yourself onto his hard cock.

You let yourself sink all the way down, your breath catching. You don't move so that no one can see what you are doing, but you're breathing out heavily.

Daemon suppresses a groan as he feels you move. He leans back further in his chair, eyes closed and head tilted back slightly. His smile widens a little, you feel his cock twitch slightly inside you. “You're so filthy, love,” he murmurs. You bite your lip, moving your hips slightly. “Gods... Daemon...,” you whisper. You close your eyes as he fills you completely. Daemon's moans are becoming harder and harder to suppress. He looks around to make sure his men are not watching. He leans forward to speak seductively in your ear, “Good girl. You feel so good,“ and makes you whimper. “I've missed your big cock...“ you suddenly let slip, making Daemon chuckle briefly, but it ends in a groan as he feels you moving up and down slowly.

“Gods... You feel so good, my love.” He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth as he leans back in his chair and his hands return to your thighs. His hand finds its way under your skirt, his fingertips leaving a fiery trail on your skin.

His thumb glides through your folds until he finds your clit and begins to rub it, making you whimper again “Daemon... I... I...” you stutter as your hips move a little faster. You slide up and down along his length, breathing heavily, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, gripping him, and he growls. Daemon leans forward again, biting your earlobe, “Good girl. That's a good girl.” He leans his head back again, trying to suppress a groan. His gaze returns to you, and he feels your cunt flutter around his cock as you slam your hips down on him. His thumb rubs faster as he kisses you again.

“Come on... Show me how much you've missed this... Riding me... My cock deep inside your tight cunt,” he growls against your lips. And then you moan into his mouth. Your pussy clutches his thick cock. “Gods...” you whimper as your orgasm floods your body. Your cunt milks his cock as you slide up and down. He grunts as he feels his balls tighten. “Daemon...” you whimper, your hand on his neck slides into his hair, grabs lightly while you cum all over his cock. Daemon bites the inside of his lip to suppress a groan. His eyes are closed and his expression is full of lust; he is visibly enjoying it. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm subsides. You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Slowly you open them again, you feel his hips moving slightly again. “Did you come?“ you ask in a whisper. Daemon sighs contentedly and looks down at you. He glances around to make sure that no one is around. ”Not yet, my love,” he speaks softly and caresses your face. “And you will help me finish it,” he grunts. You nod and lean forward again to kiss him. Your hips move slightly faster. “Come for me, my dragon,“ you whisper against his lips. Daemon is breathing heavily and his eyes are closed. He moans softly, your words making his cock twitch. He grabs your waist. "I'm close, love. I'm close.” “Fill me, my dragon...” you whisper against his lips. While you press your hips firmly against him. His cock is deep inside your tight heat as you gyrate your hips. Your hips move faster as you gently bite his lip.

And then he moans, his hips thrusting up and making you squeak slightly. He growls as he pumps his cum into you. You kiss him again and let your hips slow down. You slide up and down more slowly, milking the last drop out of him, to ride out his orgasm. His eyes are closed as he breathes heavily, clenching his teeth. “Love,” he growls.

Daemon leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. He tries to speak but nothing but breathless groans come out, although he tries to hide it. His breathing is slow and shallow as he holds you. “Gods, Love, gods.” he gasps quietly. You giggle slightly and gently kiss his cheek.

“Shall we retire to our chambers?” you whisper, and he just nods. His hands slide back under your skirt, fully covering himself again, and then he helps you up from his lap.

[aemondsbabe]

Love is Patient and Kind

summary: hand holding & dry humping || you aren't ready to take the next step with your monk, luckily for you he has the patience of a saint

pairing: osferth x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dry humping, very fluffy, osferth being cute and understanding and ruining other men for everyone, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2.5k

a/n: welcome to day one of 12 days of smuff!! hope y'all enjoy this one! Can be read as part 1 to Wind’s Howling or as a stand alone!

12 days of smuff masterlist

gif creds to @thecruel!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Are you sure you do not wish for me to carry that, my lady?” Osferth asks for the millionth time, nodding his head at the basket, laden with various herbs and medicinal plants, in the crook of your elbow. 

For the millionth time, you merely shake your head with a crooked smile. “I wish only for your company, monk,” you glance over at him as the two of you walk through the forest, admiring the way the early afternoon sun casts a golden halo through his hair, “I told you as much when we left camp this morning.”

Osferth merely nods in reply; your man is one of few words. A soft blush blooms across your cheeks at the thought – your man, but it was as good as true. Osferth was the first man in Uhtred’s company you felt comfortable with when you joined their cause all those months ago when they’d stopped in your small hamlet in need of a healer; you’d been by their side ever since.

In the months since, your relationship with the monk had steadily grown from hushed whispers around the campfire in the dead of night, when sleep eluded the both of you, to heated glances, delicate touches, and stolen kisses. More recently, Osferth had all but insisted on accompanying you nearly everywhere you went, which is how he’d come to follow you as you walked through the forest to gather the variety of curative plants you need.

A content sigh passes your lips as you tilt your head up, taking in the way the tips of the trees stretch up toward the blue sky. “I had almost forgotten what the sun looked like,” you joke, your heart squeezing proudly in your chest as the monk chuckles next to you, “But hopefully this summer will be dryer than the last.”

“I have prayed many times for sun,” Osferth says with a nod, blue eyes soft as he gazes at you, “Unfortunately, the Lord seems to ignore those requests.” The corner of his lips tilts up as he huffs a laugh at his own joke. 

Suddenly, a branch snaps loudly not too far off the winding path the two of you have been strolling down. Osferth acts quickly, ever vigilant, and takes your hand to usher you behind him as he draws his sword. Your breath quickens as you peek around his shoulder, pressing yourself tightly against his back as your hand grips his; you’d been assured by Uhtred’s scouts that the forest surrounding camp was perfectly safe, but in these times danger seemed to creep up from every corner. 

A buck appears a little ways down the path, followed by two more deer, each sparing you and the monk only a quick glance before scampering into the forest once more. The two of you let out a collective sigh of relief as Osferth sheaths his sword with a shy smile. 

“Perhaps now would be a good time for a break, my lady?” He suggests with a soft smile, “We’ve been walking since morning.”

“I think we’ve earned a break,” you nod, gazing up at him through your lashes, the two of you still close enough that you could make out soft flecks of green in his blue eyes, “I believe I saw a clearing a few paces back.” 

“Lead the way.” Osferth nods, keeping in pace with you as you backtrack to where you’d spotted a lush clearing through the trees only moments ago. As you walk, nearly shoulder to shoulder, the monk silently takes your hand again, his rough fingers threading together with yours. Neither of you speaks, though you can nearly feel his pleased smile from your periphery, twin to your own. 

After only a few moments, you veer off the path as the two of you step into a sizable glade, the trees giving way to a field of tall grass. Your hands stay clasped as you walk together, basket still tucked in your elbow as you lift the skirts of your linen gown to prevent it from snagging on the high blades of grass; your chest tightens once more when you glance down and notice how Osferth takes great care to step over any flowers in his path, the ones that sprinkle the meadow with pops of yellow and lilac. 

Soon, you come to a spot where the ground seems to be drier, however the monk grasps your forearm to stop you as he slips the thin, grey wool cloak off his shoulders and drapes it over the ground.

“Osferth,” you gently admonish, though a smile does creep across your lips at the sweet gesture, “I am perfectly capable of sitting on the ground.”

“A lady should not have to,” he says simply, nodding to the cloak, “Please.”

With a final glance, and a good-natured roll of your eyes, you comply, setting your basket down before relaxing atop his robe. After making sure you’re settled, the monk joins you, setting his sword to the side as he sits and leans back on his hands, scanning the treeline. 

“It’s so lovely here…” you smile as you glance around, a soft breeze causing the grass to rustle around you.

Osferth sits up beside you, a relaxed smile on his lips as he takes your hand and pulls you closer to him. “I find the company to be far lovelier,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, never taking more than you seem keen to give. The two of you easily fall into a lazy rhythm, your lips moving together as he guides you to lie against his chest. You lay your hand against his chest, right over his heart, thankful that he’s forgone his usual leather armor and chainmail today as you feel his warmth through the soft tunic he wears. 

He sighs against your lips, his fingers gently weaving into the locks of hair at the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and making you cling to him all the more tightly, his other hand wrapping around your waist before settling in the small of your back, holding you to him. 

After a few moments, the two of you part to catch your breath and he studies you with a warm gaze as you relax against his chest. “We are meant to be stopping in a town tonight.” Osferth says simply. 

“That we are.” 

“We could get a room together,” he breathes, making you gasp as he trails kisses across your jaw, “Just the two of us.” 

Immediately, you tense up and untangle yourself from him, sitting up with a sigh. He quickly sits up next to you and you can feel him eyeing you with concern, though you dare not meet his gaze. 

“My lady, I didn't mean to offend you…” He says hesitantly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“You didn’t offend me, sweet monk,” you turn to him with a bashful smile, “I am simply…I don’t know if i’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” His head tilts to the side as he eyes you curiously. 

You chuckle nervously, unsure of how to broach the topic. “Osferth, I have heard enough tales of your…prowess around the campfire to know that my skills do not match your own.” 

The crease between his brows only deepens as he continues staring at you, blue eyes flitting between your own. “My prowess?” 

“With more…intimate relations…” You say slowly, glancing away from him. 

“Oh,” he says softly before his eyes widen comically, a dark blush cascading over his fair cheeks, “Oh!”

You can’t help but laugh softly at his dumbstruck expression, your lips quirking up into a soft smile despite your nerves. 

The hand on your shoulder tightens as he leans closer to you. “My love, you need not fret over it,” he whispers, blue eyes conveying a deep seriousness, “We can get a room at the tavern and not do anything at all.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion – you’ve always been told to expect a very different answer from men. “What?”

He huffs out a soft laugh and pulls you back down to lie on the grass with him once more. “I mean what I say,” he says softly, one hand stroking your hair, “We can get a room and just kiss or cuddle or merely talk, I don’t care.” You look up from where you’ve had your cheek laying against his chest, the emotion in his eyes shocking you for a second, “I just want to be with you.” He whispers finally.

You can feel yourself blushing as he speaks, the apples of your cheeks heating up deliciously under his kind gaze. A girlish giggle erupts from your lips before you can stop it, which only makes him laugh too as you bury your head against his chest and bite your lip, breathing in his familiar scent of leather and campfire smoke. 

After a moment, the two of you calm down and you finally look back up at him, “Kissing sounds good…” you nearly whisper, suddenly shy as he surveys your face.

Osferth merely chuckles, low in his throat, and rolls the two of you over. Normally, this is when you’d be pushing any other man off of you with some mumbled excuse, but you can’t help but feel safe with the sandy haired monk, taking him at his word that whatever you were willing to give would be enough.

“We have time, and plenty of herbs already,” he rasps, his voice thick with an arousal you’d only heard on a very scant few occasions when the two of you had shared frantic kisses in the night once the rest of the men were asleep, “Why wait until tonight?”

A small giggle escapes you once again as the blush on your cheeks extends down, almost all the way to your chest, but you nod nonetheless, your arms coming up to snake around his neck as you pull him down to you. A small whimpery breath escapes you when his lips touch yours yet again, and he responds in kind with a low groan, the sound rumbling from his chest. His lips are soft against your own as the two of you move leisurely; once again, he lets you set the pace, only licking at your bottom lip after you do the same to him first. 

Your thighs spread as your kiss deepens and you moan again when he slots himself between your thighs, the linen of your dress hiked up just above your knees. A shiver rolls through you at the feel of him on top of you, so warm and weighty.

“Is this alright?” He breathes, navy eyes blinking between each of yours as he checks for any signs of discomfort from you, visibly relaxing when he finds none.

Wordlessly, you nod, bobbing your head eagerly as you pull him back down. His hands roam carefully over your body as your lips and tongues move together, breathlessly licking into each other's mouths. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hardness pressing against your center, a pleased hum emanating from your chest at the realization that you’ve affected him this much with only a kiss; the pride in your heart twists into something different, something deeper as a knot forms and begins tightening in your belly.

“My lady –” Osferth mumbles as he starts to pull away from you, an apologetic smile on his handsome face.

“Don’t!” You say quickly, tugging him back to you and surprising even yourself as you wrap your legs around his trim waist, “Please, I – It’s good.” You confirm breathlessly, eyebrows quirked up with need as you look up at him through your lashes. 

“Yeah?” He asks, unable to wipe the pleased grin off his face as he settles back on top of you, careful to keep most of his weight off of you as he presses against your center again.

You nod, already threading your fingers into the short hair at the back of his head to draw his lips back to yours. A breathy, high-pitched moan leaves you at the feel of his clothed length pressing against you, the ties at the front of his breeches only adding to the pleasurable sensations that zap through you as he starts rolling his hips against your own.

His pace quickens as he breaks away from you, panting against your skin as he traces wet kisses down your jaw to your neck. Your head lolls to the side as you whimper and whine underneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel his hard cock twitch against you, even through the fabric of your smallclothes.

You’re quick to match his pace, using the leverage of your legs wrapped around his middle to ruck yourself up into each thrust, earning grunts of pleasure from the monk. 

“My lady,” he groans, one hand fisting into your hair as the other trails down to run appreciatively over the bare skin of your thigh, “Y-You are bewitching.” He gasps, mouthing at your neck, his cock no doubt leaking into the leather of his trousers. 

Your only reply is a choked out moan of his name as your back arches underneath him, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter as the ties of his breeches rub over your pearl deliciously, your smallclothes no doubt soaked. 

Blessedly, Osferth seems to understand the desperation in your voice and movements and pulls back to look at you, both of his hands quickly grasping yours, fingers threading together as he holds them to the earth beside your head.

 “Sweet girl,” he grunts as he gazes down at you, a rosy blush cascading beautifully over his high cheekbones, “P-Peak, my lady, please,” he pants as his fingers tighten against your own, “I’m, God be good, I’m right behind you.”

You nod frantically, your only sound a choked out sob as you tense underneath him when his hips rut perfectly against yours, the knots of his pants catching against your sensitive bud in just the right way to tip you over the edge. You twitch underneath him, white knuckling his hands when you feel your center clenching helplessly around nothing as pleasure buzzes through you. 

Osferth reaches his end mere seconds after you, humping against you two or three more times before tensing, his eyes squeezing shut as his own high washes over him, cock spasming in his breeches as his spend leaks into the waiting fabric. 

“You’re beautiful,” you declare softly, the words tumbling from your lips as soon as you think of them.

The monk blushes somehow more heavily above you, though a soft smile graces his lips. With a soft sigh, he falls to his side, bringing you with him. Your cheek once again finds its home against his chest and you smile at the sound of his heart thumping wildly as he pulls you closely to him, one arm wrapping protectively around you as he tucks the other under his head, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“You flatter me, my lady,” he says lowly, a pleased rasp to his voice. “You are truly an angel,” he continues after a moment, “A beautiful, precious angel.”

You smile contentedly, his heart thudding steadily in your ear as you let your eyes drift shut, happy to stay in this still, safe bubble with your monk for as long as the outside world will allow.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[roseblue373s-recs]

This came across my dash again, so I HAVE to reblog it, because it was just that good!! SMUFF!!! (with some angst to make the fluff that much fluffier!)

FwB - Master List

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: FwB - Friends with Benefits.

After walking in on Y/N following a fun encounter, Dean and Y/N decide it would be beneficial and much easier to use each other for their needs. But can they keep it just about sex?

Warning: NSFW. Smut (in case the title was not obvious) and 18+ themes and language.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary:

FwB - Friends with Benefits.

After walking in on Y/N following a fun encounter, Dean and Y/N decide it would be beneficial and much easier to use each other for their needs. But can they keep it just about sex?

Warning: NSFW. Smut (in case the title was not obvious) and 18+ themes and language.

COMPLETE!

The Proposition

Feels Like the First Time

The Rule Book

Discretion, Thy Name is Dean

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

The Dinner Date

Shower Sex is Complicated. So Are Feelings

Goodbye, Stranger. It's been Nice

Nothing Heals a Broken Heart Like a Broken Rib

Blurred Lines

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Collision Course

14/12: Blizzard and Blowjob - Ettore Word Count: 2.7k~ | Warnings: dub-con, face fucking, Ettore is a dick yada yada, facial

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: I was on something nasty when I wrote this FYI

“Dibs says there’s gonna be a solar storm soon. With any luck it’ll take us with it”, Mink mutters distastefully between bites of lumpy, cold rations.

“Hm..” 

“What’s that old cunt gonna do when it hits? Not like we have any escape pods.”

“Yeah…” she murmurs half-heartedly in response, only partially listening. Lost in the repetitive motion of pushing her food around her plate with a fork. It doesn’t even look edible, she thinks with displeasure. They’re all dying on this stupid ship, and somehow the rations look worse off.

Mink flicks her hand against her arm, prompting a sharp look, “Ow! What the fuck—”

“You’re not listening to me.”

She scoffs, rubbing her arm in more of a theatrical way than to show it actually hurt. “So?”

“The hell’s wrong with you? You’ve been weird a few days now.”

It’s been longer than that, is all she thinks with bitterness. About a week now she’d wager. 

Longer than that, really, she thinks with a familiar bitterness. About a week, she figures, maybe a little more. She’d known getting involved would be a bad idea. She knew better than to get involved with him, to anyone on this miserable tin can. But there had been that inescapable pull, that sharp ache that was part loneliness, part hormones maybe, stupid as it seemed now. And now, she was paying for it.

Mink’s voice pulls her back. “Is this about… Ettore?”

The name hangs in the air like smoke. She freezes, doesn’t answer, just stares hard at her plate. Mink leans closer, her brows drawn.

“Oh, come on. You think I didn’t notice?”

She wants to lie, but somehow, she doesn’t have the energy to. So, she shrugs, and that’s enough to make Mink snort.

“Thought you were smarter than that,” Mink says, and it’s not unkind, exactly, just blunt in the way only Mink can be. “You know what kind of guy he is.”

She sighs, finally pushing her tray aside. There’s no point pretending the food’s worth eating. "I’m not exactly winning any prizes for smart decisions lately, am I?"

Mink snorts. Glad she’s finding this amusing, she thinks bitterly, but really holding no resentment. 

“We have enough on our plate without getting tangled up with wanting dick. Not to mention it’s against the rules.”

“I’m aware,” she states bleakly, feeling that familiar flicker of irritation at the reminder. As if she needed another living soul to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. She’d done the worst things imaginable to end up here, as had everyone else, and yet that slimy, smirking doctor was gonna tell her she couldn’t fuck whoever she wanted? 

That was the reasoning initially anyway.

Now, she knew there’d be consequences if Dibs did find out. Punishment in the form of what metal instrument she could shove into their bodies next. 

As much as she enjoyed the release. It wasn’t worth that. Besides, she knew there was never any future in it. Never anything more than a few stolen moments in the middle of the night. A bit of relief in the endless monotony of living in the hollow, metal hell of this ship.

“I’m done, anyway,” she says, almost to herself, “should have stopped it before it started really.”

“Should’ve, but you didn’t. But you’ve given him a taste now. Who says he’ll want to stop?”

She sighs, eyes closed. Yeah, I’d considered that.

Ettore wasn’t the type to let go of his toys easily. Especially when he’d been given something he wants, something forbidden that he knows could be taken away. It seemed that the thrill wasn’t even in the sex, it was breaking the rules that had half the appeal. 

“If he pushes, he’ll get the message I give him.”

“Sure, but he’s not exactly the type to take ‘no’ for an answer, is he?”

“No,” she admits, looking off. As usual, Mink was right there. 

She had seen that look in Ettore’s eyes, the one that says he’s already decided what he wants, and nothing will stand in his way to get it. The thought had been exhilarating at first, that singular, dangerous focus. Now, it feels like a liability, a choice she wishes she could rewrite. 

“As much as I hate to give you ammunition, you are right,” she adds, “I gave him an inch, and he’ll think he’s got the whole mile. But I’ll handle it. Somehow.” She doesn’t know exactly how yet, but one thing was clear.

She could not keep going down this path, not with the risk getting sharper and closer by the day.

When she’s alone again, the silence presses in, heavier now, weighted with the knowledge of what comes next. She takes a breath, bracing herself for the inevitable fallout. Ettore may come looking, but this time, she’s ready to hold her ground.

Maybe, she thinks, the clean break will be worth it, if she can manage it before he pulls her back in again.

The worst part of trying to keep her distance from Ettore was the way it left her awake at night, her body a knot of unresolved tension that refused to let her sleep. She lay there, wide-eyed in her bunk, staring up at the dull, metallic ceiling and then over at the other bed, where Mink was already sound asleep, breathing evenly.

Bitch, she thought with a pang of envy. 

Mink never had trouble sleeping in this place, not like she did, tossing and turning every night, gnawed at by this frustrating, white-hot need she couldn’t shake.

She shifted, but no matter how much she tried to will it away, her mind continued to drift back to the last time she’d been with Ettore. How it had felt to give in, to let that need unravel. She could still feel the press of his hands on her hips, the roughness of his touch as if he needed it as much as she did, the intense look he had given her that made her forget the rules and her situation. The risk. Everything but him. She’d wanted to stop it, she really had.

But when she had him once, that familiar fire burned in his eyes, and it was hopeless to resist.

Now she was paying for it. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase the memory. But the tightening in her stomach, the craving, was near unbearable. 

Must be ovulating or something, she thought bitterly back to her last appointment with Dibs.

She was sick of lying here, wallowing in horny self pity. Glancing over at Mink, she saw she hadn’t moved an inch. The cold air hit her bare legs as she swung out of bed, not even having the effort to pull anything else on as she made the mercifully short journey to the Box. She hated using it. But any relief at this point was welcomed. 

Making her way down the steel ladder, she groaned and wanted to smash her head against the nearest wall when she found it occupied. 

At least the washers are on. Whoever’s in there better be out in ten seconds flat or else–

The door slid open with a hiss. Ettore stared right back. Surprise at first perhaps. But the shadows darkened over his eyes, looking her up and down.

Fuck.

And if that wasn’t bad enough.

The alarms blared to life, shrieking through the narrow corridors as the ship jolted under the force, lights flickering wildly. A shiver shot through her, but before she could shove past him, he reached out, his fingers closing firmly around her arm.

“Ettore, let go,” she hissed, trying to pull back, but his grip only tightened, and there was a glint in his eyes that made her pulse jump.

“Not a chance,” he murmured, a dark edge to his voice.

He moved quickly, pulling her into the Box with him as the door slid shut behind them with a heavy clang. The sound of the emergency lock echoed around them, trapping them in the confined, dimly lit room. She tried to turn, to make for the door controls, but it was useless, the ship’s emergency protocol had sealed them in tight. 

Emergency. Solar Storm. Automatic shutdown is in effect.

She was locked in with him, and judging by the way he was watching her, Ettore had no intentions of keeping his hands to himself.

With an annoyed huff, she slammed her palms against the door, the low light in the Box now charged with thrumming red glints of warning lights. Steadying her breath, she turned to him, schooling her expression to something calm in the face of his low, dangerous one.

He was not happy.

“You've been avoiding me.”

It wasn’t a question. He stood tall, blocking her like some predator in a cage, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with accusation.

“Maybe I have,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, trying to appear calm even though her pulse was racing. “Take the hint.”

Ettore’s lips curled into a humourless smirk. “That’s not how this works.”

“And here I thought this wasn’t supposed to be anything,” she scoffed right back.

“It wasn’t.” He stepped closer, and she pressed her back to the wall, her defiance faltering. “But then you decided to ignore me, and now it is.”

She swallowed, trying to do the same to the rising discomfort as he caged her in, trying to cover how she felt with her voice.

“You're all talk,” she says low, firm. “Trying to intimidate me. What you gonna do, hm? I bet you can't even get it up.”

The flash of anger in his eyes made her breath hitch. And yet, there was something about it that made her want to push him more.

He moved then, so fast she barely had time to react. One hand slammed against the wall beside her head, his body crowding hers. She should’ve been scared, should’ve shoved him away, but the sheer heat rolling off him pinned her in place.

His other came to her neck, fingers curling around her flesh, slow, deliberate, as if daring her to stop. But her lips parted slightly, exhaling so soft it was near imperceptible. She watched the pulsing red light on the side of his face, casting sharp shadows on his skin where his features were carved out.

And found she didn't want him to stop.

She swallowed hard, her bravado crumbling as his touch ignited something low and insistent in her belly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d come here to forget him, to regain control, but now, locked in this room with him, her control was slipping fast.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“No, you don’t.”

Ettore’s hands were on her, firm and unyielding as he grabbed and pulled her toward the bench that stood in the middle of the dim room. She stumbled, jerking against his grip, but he didn’t let go.

“Ettore, what the hell are you doing?” she demanded, her voice rising as she struggled against him.

“Stop fighting,” he muttered, the edge in his voice sharpening as he manoeuvred her onto the bench.

She tried to push herself up, her palms bracing against the hard surface, but he was already lowering her down, his strength undeniable as he guided her head to the edge of the bench. Her neck arched uncomfortably as she twisted, glaring up at him.

“Ettore, I mean it, what the fuck are you doing?”

His hand gripped her chin, tilting her head back so she had no choice but to look up at him. The dark hunger in his eyes sent a jolt through her, half fear, half something else entirely. Stood tall over her, head level with his strained crotch.

“I’m gonna feel your throat around me.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears, watching as he pulled his erection free of his sweatpants. Her mouth went dry, a mixture of anticipation and panic rising in her gut.

“And you're gonna take every fucking inch.”

She barely had a moment to even speak, before his cock head was prying her lips apart, his length sliding mercilessly into her mouth without care of comfort. Just the idea that he was looking down, watching, as she took him, her throat trying to close around him.

Her hands instinctively rose to push at his hips, her palms flat against the hard muscles beneath his sweatpants, but he didn’t stop. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place as he drove himself deeper, filling her mouth until she could feel the head of him brushing against the back of her throat.

Her eyes watered, her nails digging into his hips, but he didn’t relent, his other hand gripping the edge of the bench for leverage as he rocked his hips, sliding deeper with each thrust.

Just the idea that he was looking down, watching her struggle to take him, sent a strange thrill coursing through her, a mix of frustration, humiliation, and something far darker.

He groaned, his grip on her hair tightening as he angled her head just the way he wanted. “That's it,” he breathed darkly.

Her throat clenched around him as he pushed deeper, his hips rocking with steady, deliberate thrusts that left no room for her to adjust. The stretch was intense, her lips aching as they strained around his girth. Her gag reflex fluttered again, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to suppress the instinct, but Ettore wasn't about to let her hide.

"Don't close your eyes," he said sharply, following with a light smack to her cheek.

Her cheeks burned with humiliation, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. The smug satisfaction on his face only made her breath hotter, stuck in her chest.

"God, you're such a mess," he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he watched her struggle to accommodate him. "Look at you. Choking on me like it's the first time you've ever done this.”

Her lungs burned for air. He was relentless, thrusting into her mouth as if it were just another hole for him to claim. Each slide into her throat was deeper than the last, and the vibration of her whimpering around him made him groan out loudly.

His hand slid to her neck, as if to feel himself in her throat, squeezing experimentally, stimulating himself through her flesh in some lewd, completely wrong but erotic way.

"You feel that?" he said, his voice low and strained, using the grip he had on throat as leverage to pull her onto him harshly. “Bet you can't even breathe.”

His pace grew erratic, his grip tightening painfully as he chased his release. "Fuck," he growled, his voice breaking as his head tipped back for a moment.

Suddenly, he pulled back, his cock slipping from her mouth with a slick gasp of air that left her coughing, her chest heaving. Before she could gather her bearings or even protest, his hand was still firm in her hair, holding her in place as he stroked himself roughly.

Her stomach twisted, shame and anger warring with the simmering heat in her belly. "Ettore, don't-"

"Shut up," he cut her off, his tone sharp as his thumb angled her face up toward him. "You wanted to push me? Then take it."

She barely had time to process the words before his release hit her skin, hot and thick. He groaned deeply, his body jerking with each pulse, the sound low and guttural as he painted her face with his cum.

The humiliation burned hotter than her anger, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as he finished, the sticky warmth dripping down her cheeks, her lips. She wanted to wipe it away, to shove him off, but the way he looked at her, satisfied, smug, and utterly in control, froze her in place.

"Look at you," he muttered, his thumb smearing the mess across her cheek almost mockingly. "So fucking pretty like this.”

She glared up at him, her voice hoarse as she spat, "You're disgusting."

Ettore only laughed, the sound dark and unapologetic as he tucked himself back into his sweatpants. "You're the one who came crawling to me."

The door hissed open as the emergency protocols finally deactivated, the solar storm subsiding and red lights receding to normality. Ettore stepped back, the smirk never leaving his face as he looked her over one last time, his eyes lingering on the mess he'd made.

"Clean yourself up," he said lazily, turning toward the door. "Wouldn't want anyone to see you like that, would we?"

General Taglist:

@1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[noosayog]

THE NATURE OF LONGING

... is that the heart only wants for what it can't have.

fushiguro toji x fem!reader

contents: nsfw, non-curse au, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, lots of angst, fluff, eventual smut, each part will have its own cw/tw

wc: 4.3k as of part 1, no release schedule

Taglist: OPEN, send an ask!

MDNI

part 1

part 2

part 3

[notroosterbradshaw]

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised. 

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand... 

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening. 

Ahh, sisters. 

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock. 

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before. 

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly. 

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.” 

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours." 

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today." 

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly. 

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy." 

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time. 

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…” 

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole. 

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world. 

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled. 

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times. 

The one per cent, he’s told you once before. 

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable). 

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again. 

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound." 

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him. 

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious. 

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.” 

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.” 

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him. 

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it. 

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip. 

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?” 

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.” 

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time. 

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.  

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging. 

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start. 

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up. 

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were. 

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come. 

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts. 

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him. 

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it. 

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too. 

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no.