Harwin X Reader - Tumblr Posts

hour of need

pairing - harwin strong x reader

warnings - fem!reader, sexual content, exhibitionism, cock warming

notes - short and sweet. also, since devoted to you has reached over 1k notes i just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support :')

y/n felt her body ached in pleasure, she never thought she would be caught dead in this position but here she was in Harwin Strong’s lap with his cock buried deep inside her. 

Their relationship had been complicated, to say the least. When y/n first arrived at court, it was merely in honor of Aegon’s second name day. But instead of returning home, Rhaenyra had decided to name y/n her lady-in-waiting, requesting for her to stay at King’s Landing. That was years ago, much had changed since then, but the one thing that stayed constant in her life was Ser Harwin Strong. From the moment they met, an invisible bond formed between the two. It seemed as if everywhere she went he would sooner or later make an appearance to be near her. It all started with longing glances from across the room to secretive touches when walking past each other. They were always playing cat and mouse, dancing around the fact that there might just be more between them just never outwardly admitting it. In turn, she started to give up hopes that he truly felt something for her, that this was all a lost cause. That was until Harwin saw her chatting with Jason Lannister who was obviously trying to woo her with his expensive wine and honey-coated promises. Something in him snapped that day, suddenly realizing he couldn’t wait on the sidelines anymore. He was a fool to assume she would wait forever for him.

So here she was, her dress bunched around her hips, the collar of her dress slipping off her shoulders as his lips ravaged her neck. She whined in need, wanting nothing more than to grind her hips against his but his hands were tight around her waist, keeping her in place. 

How long had it been since he had been denying her the release she so badly wanted?

“Oh, gods…please” throwing her head back impatiently.

He lifted his head from her neck, jaw tightening as he grabbed her chin forcing her to look at him “What gods? It’s just you and me and it’s my cock that you’re drunk from.” 

He thrust up into her, a soft whimper escaping from her lips. He promised to give her his attention once he finished writing the letter that he had started when she first arrived in his chambers, but that felt like ages ago. Now it just seemed like he was just punishing her for his own satisfaction. 

“Harwin please,” she begged her lips quivering as she felt her eyes start to burn with tears. 

“Please what, my love?” he mumbled against the soft skin of her breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipple making her back arch. She was so lost in her own pleasure she hadn’t even heard the door to Harwin’s bedchamber open. 

“Brother, what is it- my gods!” a voice yelled from behind her nearly making her jump in surprise. 

“Come brother, deliver this letter to father,” Harwin said casually, obviously not phased by the situation. y/n cowered deeper into his chest, slipping her face into the crook of his neck wishing she could disappear. How could she ever face Larys ever again? 

“And why can't you deliver this letter to father yourself?” Larys demanded, his face red in annoyance, stumbling to grab the letter in Harwin’s hand while trying not to look at his lover’s half-naked body.

“I am leaving for Harrenhal.”

“Harrenhal?” 

“Lady y/n is to be my wife and we will be leaving for Harrenhal tonight,” he proclaimed, his hand running through y/n’s hair, tugging it at the roots, making her head tilt back to look at him. 

“But Harwin-“

“Make haste brother! Unless you would like to stay, I doubt my lady will mind an audience,” he teased with a smirk not once breaking eye contact with his lover. 

The sound of the door slamming shut was his only response. y/n whined, only making Harwin’s smirk grow, she wanted nothing more than to wipe that look off his face. 

“What’s wrong my love?” 

“How absolutely dreadful you are! You might as well have just taken me to the courtyard in front of everyone so they could all watch.”

“And to give them the pleasure of seeing the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms naked? No, my love, you’re all mine to devour,” he replied, as his lips trailed kisses down her neck once more, wanting to leave marks all over her body.

He gripped the back of her knees, effortlessly lifting her to lay her down on the table in front of them. The movement made her whimper in need, clawing at his body in hopes to bring him close to her again.

“Now, since you’ve been such a good girl, waiting so patiently. I think it’s time for your reward.”

Want Me

Ser Harwin Strong x Female Reader

Summary: You're Rhaenyra's lady in waiting, by her side at all times and thus leading you to spend many hours within Ser Harwin's company, drawing the two of you together

Warnings: Smut, mentioned violence, swearing, angst (if you squint), fluff

A/N: Hi, small warning, haven't written a full smut scene for a while so I'm a little rusty, but I hope you enjoy :)

"Want me to kill him?" You absentmindedly offer to Princess Rhaenyra. 

She chuckles from behind you, her fellow ladies attempting to hide their smirks and smiles whilst they finish up her hair. "I know how much you crave violence, but I can not allow you to kill him. Besides, how would you even do it?"

You pause in the mirror, your eyes flickering to find Rhaenyra's. "Seduction is a woman's greatest strength." You whirl around to face her, a cruel expression etching into your face at the thought. "A simple poison into his drink and during the night he'd cease breathing and the Maestor would declare a heart attack. An easy kill, if I say so myself," 

The princess raises her eyebrows, her lips pursing together. Tonight is her name day feast, celebrating another year of her youth and thus drawing in all the potential suitors wishing to offer themselves. One of the Lannister twins made a fool of himself, offending Rhaenyra and thus resulting in you plotting his death, should your princess command it. 

As her lady in waiting, you take your role very seriously. Though, you are oft referred to as her sister, the two of you becoming close at a young age and growing up together. It has solidified your relationship with her, and in turn, you know each other inside and out. 

Your sharp words and cunning nature are a breath of fresh air as opposed to the customary expectations of Rhaenyra's fellow ladies. 

You glance over yourself once more in the mirror, your attention spanning over the finer details of your gown and the excellent work of the seamstress. The dress accentuates your frame, the embroidery and accessories dating back to your House and heritage. 

You look like a woman, a woman grown and of power. 

"Are you ready?" Rhaenyra pulls you from yourself, twirling around to give you a full look at her. 

"Indeed, and must I say my Princess, you look divine." You tell her honestly. 

She smiles, the two of you making your way to the great hall. Heads turn at the sight of you both, the heir to seven kingdoms and her fierce lady, who would protect her more so than a knight. 

Your stomach begins to twist as you near the hall, your teeth grinding together to keep the nerves at bay. You feel a reassuring squeeze on your hand, your dear friend sensing your change in behaviour. 

"If he doesn't fall at your feet and beg for your hand, I'll feed him to Syrax myself," she whispers. 

You bite your tongue, though a small smile creeps out. In the past moons, you've become acquainted with a knight, the two of you sharing passions and dreams. Nothing more of talk has happened thus far, but you can't help but think that maybe he will ask for your hand in marriage, as the two of you spend most days side by side. 

He makes your heart beat rapidly, with the small gestures and whispered words when no one is close. Not to mention, the way he looks at you, like no one else exists but you. 

Yet, you can't help but think that you're in way over your head, too consumed to see the reality. 

You have no time to ponder Rhaenyra's words, as the two of you arrive at the hall, the chatter dying down instantly. Swallowing, you hold your head high, following Rhaenyra down the stairs and toward the high table where you veer off to your own. 

His eyes were on you the moment you appeared, refusing to leave even as you sit down. You look absolutely breathtaking. 

Of course, you avoid his gaze, even from across the room, as you begin to fill your plate. Your skin ignites under his heated stare, your desire overweighting your sense of propriety. Glancing up, you meet him, his deep blue eyes burning into your darkest depths and tearing down every wall you've ever built. 

Ser Harwin Strong, renowned for his strength throughout the seven kingdoms and his proud house. 

Your cheeks heat up under the intensity, neither of you daring to break contact. You admire how he's dressed, his fine threaded clothes making him look regal, his unruly curls neatly pulled back into a bun. Gods.

The grumble of your stomach brings you to your senses, your head bowing down to begin consuming your food. You feel him continue for a heartbeat longer, before he diverts his attention elsewhere. 

As the night begins to progress, you drag Rhaenyra to dance, moving with the music and enjoying yourself. You change partners throughout, making yourself known and extending yourself to the other lords and ladies currently attending for the princess's name day. 

For once, Harwin doesn't grace your thoughts, until he becomes your next partner. 

Your eyes widen for a moment, your breath catching. "Ser-" you start, not expecting to see him. 

"My lady, you look exquisite." His rasps, his body feathering your own. 

His heat wraps around you like wild vines, pulling and tugging you closer, enticing you to become lost. You hit your chin out, refusing to fall prey. 

"And you, good Ser," 

Harwin smiles, a hum of satisfaction rumbling within his chest. His hand brushes your own, a part of him needing to touch you, his resolve almost snapping from the softness of your flesh. His fingers itch to press firmly, to warn off any man or lord that dare think they have a chance with you. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, this evening?" He asks, his lips close to your ear as to make sure you hear him over the loud music. 

You turn your head, his breath fanning your cheek. Heat pools within your stomach, want gnawing at you and demanding to be free. "I'll enjoy myself once I've had my dessert," you dare. 

His eyes narrow, assessing the situation. Little minx. Before he can conjure his own smart remark, a fellow knight of the city watch approaches, pulling him away from you. You watch him go without a word, a sense of humiliation washing over you as you continue to dance alone, searching for Rhaenyra. 

You find her with her uncle, enjoying themselves. 

Biting your lip, you move off the dance floor, standing on the sideline. You feel deflated, watching your friends enjoy themselves and even sneak out of the hall with their suitors, and your heart's deepest love couldn't even excuse himself. He just left you. 

You see him, surrounded by his companions, and more so with an older woman hanging off him. Now you feel stupid, your usual confidence and ego a ghost. The woman wraps an arm around his waist, much like a partner, and him not moving. 

Of fucking course, I'm just the plaything to keep him entertained whilst his lover is elsewhere. 

Grinding your jaw in anger, you inhale deeply and begin to make your way through the crowd, ignoring Harwin and his group as you have to pass them to ascend the stairs out of the hall. Your hasty exit catches many people's attention, especially the one you were hoping wouldn't notice. 

You don't realise he follows you, until you almost reach your quarters. His boots hit the ground harshly, as he tries to catch you, going as far as calling out your name. You pause in front of your doors, whirling around to face him once he draws near. 

Fire dances within your eyes, making Harwin pause momentarily. "Ser Harwin?" You snap. 

"I wanted to make sure you're well, you left in such a hurry," 

"I'm fine," you start, your thumb running over your fingers anxiously. "The hall became too much, so I'm retiring for the evening." 

Harwin tilts his head. He calls bullshit. He knows you, he grew up alongside you and knows that you are one of the last to leave the party, oft enjoying yourself too much to notice the sunrise and thus requiring an escort, usually him. 

He reads your body language, depicting your sudden mood change has something to do with him. He chuckles lightly, amusement etching across his features at your frustrated glare. "You're jealous." 

"Jealous?!" You repeat in disbelief, your raised voice echoing the corridor. "Me? Of what?" You ask him incredulously. You naturally begin to step closer, "of that woman? Why would I be jealous of some wench when I am the Princesses lady in waiting, I can have almost any suitor I want, I have sway within these walls and no one quite realises the extent I'll go to if I'm pushed, not to mention," you stop just shy of him, your chest heaving. "One word to my Princess, and I can have whatever I want." 

Harwin peers down at you, a small smirk gracing his lips at your outburst. "I never said what you were jealous of," he says lowly, almost inaudible if not for your closeness. "I'll be sure to tell my sister you think she's a wench." 

Your world crashes and burns. Sister? That was his fucking sister?! Your heart ceases beating, your breath catches in your throat and your skin clams up. Realisation and dread wash over you, embarrassment etching into your cheeks. You become a wounded animal, and respond much as they do, 

"Fuck you." You don't know what compels you or who takes over your body, but you can't stop the words from tumbling out and sending them straight at Harwin. 

He blinks. 

Quickly you spin on your heel and make haste to your door, pulling the handle to only have it slammed shut, and a large body pressing against you. Your throat constricts, feeling Harwin's entire front against your back as his hand looms over your head, keeping the door closed. 

One small movement, and he could bury his nose into your hair. "Say that again," his chest rumbles, his mouth angling down to press on your ear. To make sure you hear him loud and clear. 

You're frozen, your body shutting down. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. "Go on, don't go shy on me now, my lady," he presses, pushing you. 

Licking your lips, you hesitantly shift on the spot, leaning your back against the door and tilting your head to hold Harwin's gaze. He pins you down, the entirety of his body caging you in, almost like a shield protecting you from peering eyes. 

"Fuck you," you whisper. 

Reflexively, his other hand snaps to your jaw, his fingers digging into the skin. Your lips part, your muscles relax and your body becoming a rag doll. He could very easily suffocate you like he was bunching up a piece of parchment, he wouldn't even feel your bones snap. Yet, in this very moment, your thighs press together, your garment becoming soaked with each passing second. 

You know he won't hurt you. His hold on you is firm and delicate, the pads of his fingers gently holding you in place. He tilts his head, assessing you like he would an opponent, his dark eyes roaming your face and his brows twitching in thought. 

You test the waters, standing straighter and in turn bumping your nose into his cheek. Harwin exhales shakily, his grip tightening if only a smidge, in comparison to his self-restraint. You nudge your nose against his, his hooded eyes following your every move. 

Your breath tangles with his own, desire and hunger transpiring. Harwin's jaw clenches, his palm against the door closing into a fist. You want him, he wants you. Swallowing thickly, your lashes feather your cheeks and you take the plunge, pressing your lips against his own with uncertainty. 

For a moment, you float, your body becoming weightless and your mind lost. His lips are softer than you imagined, despite his harsh reputation, soft and plump on your own. Harwin responds, before suddenly pulling you away by his grip still on your jaw. 

A bucket of cold water drenches you, his sudden cold demeanour creating a crack in your heart. Not so much that he pulled you away, more how forcible it was, after he began to lose himself under the taste of you. That hurts. 

Your eyes flash. You move to release yourself from his grip, but he tightens it, his head turning slightly as though to check for any movement within the corridor. With precision, he pulls you flush to his body and opens the door in one movement, shoving you inside to your quarters and locking the door behind him. 

"You naïve girl," he starts, running a hand over his beard. 

You scoff, creating distance between the two of you by standing at the window sill. "And they say romance is dead." 

Harwin narrows at you. "You have no idea what you've just done, what if someone had seen?" His voice raises, his hand gesturing to the doors. 

Confusion swirls within you at his sudden change of behaviour, at his switch from intimacy to frustration in an upsetting kind of way. "I don't see the problem," you cross your arms, raising a brow. "I want you, and I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks." 

"Well, you should!" You're taken aback by his sudden outburst, a sliver of fear creeping up your spine. "I am not good for you," he says your name with such emotion. "I have enemies at every turn, I can't be at your side protecting you every day and not to mention what would happen to your reputation-" 

"My reputation?" You cut him off, your voice low in disbelief of what you're hearing. "You think I give a fuck about my reputation! About your enemies? Gods Harwin," you begin to pace, your hands running over your head and falling against your neck. "How fucking dense are you?" 

He attempts to ignore the hiccup in his heart rate at the way his name rolls off your tongue. "I'm more than capable of protecting myself," you start after calming down a notch. You cross the room, standing before the brute and taking his large hands in your own. "Is it that hard to believe that I want you? That I don't care about everything else, about your history and reputation, about the fucking court gossip and your enemies? All I care about is you, your health and well-being, and that I know you'd never hurt me, physically and emotionally. I know you'd die protecting me, and you'd make me feel so loved, despite that shield you put in front of yourself every day." 

Harwin brings your hands to his lips, brushing them over your delicate fingers whilst he closes his eyes, relishing in the moment. His coarse beard caresses your skin, planting the idea of how it would feel between your thighs. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you drop your hands down, beating him to it. "You want me Harwin?" your voice pulls to him, lulling him in. "I am right here, otherwise there's the door," you gesture. 

Your chest clenches at the thought of him turning his back. You wonder how he could kiss you back, then cough up some bullshit about him being bad for you. It confuses and wounds you. 

His lips part, the cogs turning in his head as he makes his decision. He surges forward, gently taking your head in his hands and angling you upward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

He walks you back until you hit the pillar, careful not to slam you into it. His lips move against yours hungrily, his tongue begging for entrance and his breath meddling with your own. Your fingers curl onto the front of his jacket, squeezing out any air left between you, your fronts pressing tightly. 

Your lungs burn, your actions becoming erratic as you move up to his hair, tangling his curls and removing the band keeping it back. You pull at the roots, emitting a deep groan from Harwin, his own hands gliding down your body to find refuge on your waist. 

You pour all your emotions into the kiss; the hunger, lusting, anger and need. He dominates you, his mouth slowly moving down your jaw, his teeth nipping along your bone and travelling to your neck, unknowingly finding your sweet spot. 

You bite your lip at the sound you release, a small sense of embarrassment flooding your body. Harwin immediately comes up, holding you still with his hard stare. "Don't you dare quieten on me." 

"Like your girls loud, Ser Harwin?" 

He chooses to ignore your comment. You smirk, your usual demeanour washing into the shore, a calculating look flashing in your eye. Before he can do anything you shove him back, pushing him down onto the lounge. 

Surprise is evident on his face, his eyes watching you curiously. You crouch between his spread legs, your palms sliding over his thighs in a soothing manner, slowly making your way to his waistband. 

You quite like this image; his unruly dark curls free and framing his face, his intense eyes swallowing you whole and his knees bent outward. He looks casual, yet so fucking handsome you have to restrain yourself from fucking him there. 

"Don't look at me like that," you scold, tugging on his pants. 

"Like what," he grumbles, lifting his hips. 

His pants pool at his feet, his hardened cock free from restraints. "Like I don't know what I'm doing." He eyes you suspiciously, waiting for you to shut down his thoughts. "I've been fucked before, if that's what you're wondering." 

He hums in dissatisfaction. 

"I'll decide if you've been fucked, my lady." You raise a brow at the title. 

He opens his mouth to say something more, but only a loud groan escapes, your lips wrapping around his cock. His hips reflexively jut, his hand moving to your head in response to your movements, your tongue flattening along the underside. 

Harwin shudders, his chest rising in deep pants under your ministrations and his fingers flexing in an attempt to hold himself back from face fucking you. You work him steadily, glancing up at him through your lashes and feeling a sense of pride roll down your spine at his dishevelled state, his head lolling over the back of the lounge. 

"Fuck," he curses, tilting down to hold your gaze. 

You move a hand to work the rest of his cock that you can't fit in his mouth, momentarily pausing when he grabs your wrist, and quickly heaves you off him. "You do that, and this night ends very quickly." 

"I find it hard to believe that Breakbones finishes in under twenty seconds," you muse, slipping out his grip easily and situating yourself on his lap.

He groans quietly, both in frustration and need. "Believe me, my lady, that when I cum, I intend on cumming in you and filling you up." 

"Good." 

You begin undoing his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms before moving to his shirt, heaving it up and revealing his toned stomach. Your fingers splay across his chest, feeling his hard-earned muscles and scars from various fights. You pause on a particularly large wound along his abdomen, feathering the pink tissue. 

"Don't worry about it," he whispers your name, reading the emotion on your face. 

"This is an assassination attempt, Harwin." You press, flickering up to hold his stare. "Someone almost succeeded in fucking killing you." Unwanted tears spring in your eyes, raw emotion thick within your voice.

The thought of Harwin being killed, frightens the fuck out of you. 

He cups your cheek, his thumb tenderly wiping a tear. "This is what I meant," he refers to his previous statement about his enemies. You still, your features hardening. 

"Don't you dare, Harwin. Don't you fucking dare." You spit. 

He stays silent, observing you whilst your fingers continue their path along his torso, grazing each other his scars. "Seven Hells help the next man that makes an attempt on your life," you vow, your hand splaying out over his heart. 

"My little warrior," he rasps, pulling you down to him. 

Your lips collide, the taste of him invading your mouth and stealing your breath away. You whimper at the feel of his hands sliding up your arms and resting on your collarbone, toying with your dress. Blindingly he reaches for the lace tying it together, pulling it apart and loosening the top section. 

Goosebumps rise along your flesh as Harwin gently tugs the dress down your arms, exposing your breasts and stomach once it pools around your hips. You rest your forehead in the crook of his neck, gasping under the ministrations of his hands along your breasts, his thumb tweaking the bud. 

You thread through his curls, your nails scraping his scalp and your lips seeking out his neck. 

Suddenly he lifts you off him, placing you down on your feet. You raise your eyebrows in surprise and a little confusion, unsure of his next motive. "Take it off," he commands softly, the low rumble in his chest making your heart rate spike. 

The dress falls to your feet and you step out of it, mindful of taking off your shoes and being left bare before him. He slowly takes his boots off, never breaking contact even whilst he removes his pants. 

You watch him stand, tilting your head as he comes near. He doesn't speak, nor does he kiss you again. Instead, he hooks his hands under your thighs and hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms coming to the back do his neck. 

He walks toward your bed, gingerly laying you down. You stare up at him with adoration, every fibre of your body knowing you're safe with this man. Despite his reputation, you could almost laugh, knowing that there is a softer, more caring side to him than anyone realises.

No one has ever touched you like you're glass, like you could shatter and slip through his fingers. He kisses you with so much passion and care, in stark contrast to his daily goings. You've witnessed him in a brawl, smashing the men to the ground without a worry and pummelling them to an inch of their life. 

Yet you know, these hands handle you with love. 

You slide up to the head of the bed, brushing the hair from Harwin's face when he comes to hover above you. He descends, missing your face entirely and planting kisses along your neck, slowly travelling south. 

Airy breaths leave you, your body responding to his attention, more so as he pauses over your breasts, taking an erect nipple into his mouth and tugging. Fire pools within your stomach, threatening to pour out. In a way it does, your head falling back into the cushions and your lips parting to release sounds of pleasure. 

Harwin continues his way down, his eyes flickering up to you through his loose curls, intently watching your reaction as he nears between your thighs, softly blowing cool air on your sensitive region. You grit your teeth, glaring down at him. 

"Hurry up." 

"As my lady commands," he chuckles. 

Your flush at the incredibly loud moan, not exactly expecting him to dive right in. Harwin drags his tongue up your slit, finding your clit and sucking. He switches between flicking your clit with his tongue and sucking, groaning lowly to himself at watching you writhe under him. 

He draws more sounds out of you, snaking a hand up to tease your opening, carefully entering a finger. "Fuck!" You arch your back, your hands reaching for his hair. 

He slowly pumps it out of you, enjoying the way you feel around him. He can only imagine how tight you'd be around his cock. The thought almost makes him fuck you right here. 

Your stomach twists, your knuckles turning white. No man has made you feel like this, even with just his mouth and finger, the two bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He adds a second finger, wanting to properly prepare you for him, and enjoying watching you lose yourself to the pleasure he's giving you. 

He can feel you get close, teetering along the edge as he begins to increase his pace. You whimper at the ache, rutting your hips upward. "Harwin," you whine at the contact of his lips enclosing over your clit and sucking, hard. 

The fire burns brighter, scorchingly hot and desperate for a release. 

"Let go," he murmurs, gently nipping your clit. You do, your orgasm crashing down like a wave, engulfing you. 

He slowly continues to move his fingers through, allowing you to experience your high as he draws it out. He can't help but clean you up before he even thinks about moving away from the safety of your thighs. 

With ease, Harwin climbs back up, claiming your lips. You taste yourself, rummaging your hands through his hair and down his back, his muscles rippling under the pads of your fingers. 

He pulls away from you, question shining in his eyes; do you still want this?

You nod, leaning up to kiss him again, solidifying your answer. He hums, guiding his cock to press against your slit, teasing you for a moment before he nudges your opening. You gasp on his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders at every inch. 

Harwin falls into the crook of your neck, groaning at the sensation. He stops moving once you've taken all you can, pausing to make sure you're comfortable. You clench around him in reflex, eliciting a deep rumble from his chest, his beard grazing your neck. 

"Harwin," you pant. "If you don't move in the next five seconds," 

He chuckles at your warning, slowly pulling back. You bite your lip, closing your eyes at the high pleasure rocking throughout your body. Harwin lifts his head, his forehead brushing your own. He intends to watch you complete shatter underneath him. 

He slams home, somewhat slow but hard, rutting into you like wild waves against a rock, your back arching and pressing your chest to his. You can't help but rake your nails down Harwin's back, ignorant to the fact that you're close to drawing blood, desperate for a way to show how easily he's unravelled you. 

"Gods Harwin," you cry out at each thrust, harder and deeper than before. 

He grins, his lips on your ear, "I know quiet isn't exactly in your nature, but maybe don't alert everyone in the Red Keep of our rendezvous." 

"Oh fuck off."

Harwin reaches for the headboard, his knuckles turning white from his harsh grip, using it as leverage to pound harder. You chant his name, subconsciously clenching and unclenching around him, causing him to falter each time. 

That burning ache brews within you, gradually growing with each slide into you. His free hand comes down to your clit, playing with the bud and drawing you closer to the edge. Overwhelming sensations spark up your body, your legs starting to shake from the pleasure. 

"Harwin," you whine. 

"I know," he grits, picking up his pace. He hits parts of you that you never knew existed, fireworks erupting each time he enters you deeper, if that were possible. "Good girl, you're taking me so well, hmm?"

Your head is tilted up by his hand leaving the headboard to cup the side of your face, forcing your eyes on him. You struggle to keep your eyes open, a drowsy, drunken look coming across you. 

Without warning, you let go, bursting around him. "Gods, fuck!" Harwin calls your name, following you over. He couldn't last any longer, not after feeling you come undone from him. 

You gape in a silent moan, relishing in the feeling of him fill you up, his hips slowing but not yet relenting. You shiver from the sensitivity, thankful for when he stops. You struggle to hold contact, fatigue seeping in. 

You sigh at the feeling of him remove himself, your muscles relaxing and your spine calming. You don't see where Harwin moves off to, until he comes back and murmurs for you to spread your legs, gently wiping his seed from your thighs. 

For a moment, you wonder what happens now. Does he just leave? Does he stay? What happens between the two of you? Thoughts rummage, ruining your come down. 

"Hey," he brushes your forehead. "Come here." He pulls the sheets back, indicating for you to crawl underneath. All those thoughts are momentarily thrown out the window when he slides in beside you, pulling you to him. 

You lay in silence, your head on his chest and your hand playing with his loose curls. "What happens now?" You can't help but ask. 

"Now?" He hums, his chest vibrating. "You become my lady wife, and I fuck you whenever I please." 

You laugh, rolling further into him. "You better, now that I've given you my maidenhood." 

He pulls away slightly, making you look at him. "What? You told me that this wasn't your first-" he stops, reading the glint in your eye and the expression on your face. "You cheeky girl, almost gave me a heart failure." 

You grin cheekily, not quite saying anything whilst you comb his hair. You've found yourself with an obsession. "Leave your hair like this," you say lowly, loving the way it frames his face. 

"But it gets in my way," he grumbles, swatting your hand away. 

"And I like it like this," you counter, going for his curls again, but this time running your nails along his scalp, smirking at his groan. "And I think you secretly like it too." He gives you the side eye, taking your other hand and bringing it to his lips.

By Your Side

warnings: mentions of death/hanging (very brief), forced to marry jason lannister, f!targaryen!reader, not proofread

summary: as a targaryen, you must do your duty to strengthen your family’s alliances. that means marrying whoever your father chooses, regardless of your love for someone else.

author’s note: more harwin woooo. also I just know harwin would hate and beat up jason lannister without question.

You had never been so envious of Rhaenyra.

You hadn’t minded when she had been made heir, you’d been happy for her. You didn’t care that your father favored her, that she was ‘the realm’s delight’– you were content to be hidden behind her shadow.

But one thing you would always be jealous of was how your father allowed her a choice.

He had allowed her a choice of who to marry before she wedded Ser Laenor– a choice that was not afforded to you.

Viserys had grown ill– and quite frankly tired– of fighting with his daughters on political matters. So, after Rhaenyra’s chaotic wedding to Laenor and the binding of the houses Targaryen and Velaryon, it was your turn.

The King announced your betrothal with no ceremony. He requested you attended a meeting of the small council a week after Rhaenyra’s wedding, which was of no surprise to you. Your father often requested either you or Rhaenyra to attend and listen in on the going ons of Westeros.

But this council was different. As you sat in your chair, your fingers fiddling with the small dragon glass sphere in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. With one daughter wedded, you knew that your father would seek to marry you off, too.

“Princess,” it was the lord hand, Lyonel Strong speaking. “If it please the King, I was hoping you would consider my eldest son, Harwin, as your husband. I know you have many suitors asking for your hand–”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your father beat you to it.

“I apologize, Lord Lyonel, but I have already betrothed my daughter to another. She is to marry Lord Jason, of House Lannister.”

You resisted the urge to gag, anger and jealousy bubbling in your gut like a boiling pot about to overflow. Your hand clasped the dragon glass sphere fiercely, your knuckles whitening at the force.

“Father, if I may–” you began, but Viserys waved a hand and shook his head.

“You may not. It is settled. He is Lord of Casterly Rock, and a strengthened alliance between our families is of utmost importance.”

You shut your mouth, teeth grinding together in discontent and rage.

The remainder of the council meeting went by agonizingly slow. You sat there quietly, jaw clenched as you toyed with the seams of your dress. You could feel the occasional pair of eyes watching you, but you kept your gaze trained on the table in front of you.

As soon as you father rose and the council was dismissed, you sprung from your chair. Your walk was swift as you practically ran from the chamber, pushing through the heavy wooden doors and into the corridor.

Ser Harwin Strong, your personal guard, was waiting for you by the doors. At your abrupt exit he startled, straightening and following you without hesitation.

“Princess, if you would slow–” he began from behind you, quite surprised at your speed. He had never seen you so eager to be away from a place– or perhaps he had never seen you so worked up about something.

Harwin had been your personal guard since Rhaenyra’s naming as heir. Although most men vied for the chance to protect the future queen, he set his sights on you.

Your father had granted him the position with no protest. From then on, Harwin had been a constant figure in your life. Sure, you’d met him before he became attached to your hip. Rhaenyra had introduced you to him numerous times– but you never spoken beyond that.

Perhaps you were guilty of stealing glances when you thought he was not looking, or wishing he would ask you to dance at a festival. So what? Wishes seldom came true.

But then he became your guard, and your attraction to him reared it’s head. It was no secret he admired you– both from afar and up close. But you were slow to allow yourself to admire him.

However, after years of being together nearly every day, you either learn to love someone or you learn to hate them. Luckily for Ser Harwin, you learned to love him.

That made this whole predicament so much more difficult.

“I will not,” you threw over your shoulder, your feet stomping up the stone stairs as you made your way through the castle.

You heard Harwin mumble something behind you, but you paid him no mind as you stormed past corridor after corridor. Finally, you made it to the royal apartments.

You threw open the door to your chambers, attempting to slam it closed behind you, only to be stopped by Harwin’s large figure.

He slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind him and turning the lock. You ignored him as you threw yourself down onto a lounge, eyes watching the tall ceiling.

“Princess, what is the matter? You practically ran here,” there was a hint of amusement in his voice, but the moment you turned your icy gaze to him, he sobered.

“My father,” you spoke the words distastefully. “Has decided it is my turn to be wed.”

Harwin hummed as he approached your lounge, his hands clasped behind his back.

“No worries, Princess. I’m sure that my father will speak to the King.”

“He did,” you stated bitterly. “The King would not hear it. I am betrothed to Lord Jason Lannister.”

Harwin said nothing. He crouched beside you, his gloved hands reaching for yours. You allowed him to take them, breathing heavily through your nose as you thought of your now bleak future.

Jason Lannister was notorious for being an ass. Rhaenyra had corroborated that statement more than once during her time searching for a husband. She had narrowly dodged his attempts for her hand, but you had not been so lucky.

“It seems that my father has learned his lesson through my sister. I am not afforded the choice of a husband. Instead, I must mary this vile man and be forced to bear his vile children.”

Harwin chuckled softly, pressing his lips to your knuckles. You turned your head, eyes narrowed as you looked upon your knight.

“You find that amusing?” You questioned.

“I find you amusing, your highness. Your dramatics are quite entertaining.” He pulled back from your hands in favor of looking into your eyes.

“This is not meant for entertainment, Ser Harwin. This is a serious matter.”

“Most serious, Princess.” He replied, lips turning up in a teasing grin.

You huffed, pulling your hands from his and shifting your body in the lounge. Now you lay with your back towards him.

“It is not the end of the world, my love. You are strong, and you will not let a leech like Jason Lannister change that.”

“He will not change it,” you confirmed, your back still turned. “But what will he do to try? I cannot imagine being forced to spend days and nights with him. From what Rhaenyra has said of him, he seems truly awful.”

“I will be with you,” Harwin spoke. His hands moved to your side, gently pulling you back towards him. You went without protest.

He captured your chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning your face so you would have to look at him.

“I will be with you,” he repeated, his eyes locked with yours. “I will never let him do what you do not want him to do. I will not leave your side, and I will not stop loving you, no matter the lord you marry.”

“Careful, Ser Harwin,” your voice was low as you spoke, humor creeping into it as your lips quirked up in a small smile. “Such talk is treasonous. A princess and her knight? What would the realm think?”

“I do not care,” he answered honestly, leaning his forehead against yours. “Let them hang me. If it were up to me, you and I would leave this place and escape to Harrenhal. You would be my lady wife and we’d do whatever we pleased.”

You did not speak for a moment, weighing your thoughts and words.

“I do not see why my father refused your father. A union between the families of the King and his Hand–”

“Your father is doing what he believes is best. The Lannisters are powerful allies,” Harwin interrupted.

“Mayhaps, but I believe we have stronger allies closer.”

“Mhm,” Harwin hummed. “How much closer?”

You grinned, brushing your nose against his. “Oh, I dunno, maybe on this corridor?”

“That far?” He replied.

“This room?” You tried.

“A little closer.” He said.

“Mayhaps right beside me?” You giggled.

He smiled at the sound of your laugh. Harwin tilted his chin then, brushing his lips on yours.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes. If it were up to you, you would stay in this moment forever. But it wasn’t up to you, and duty was a cruel mistress.

“We could always run away,” you told him, your voice a whisper.

“You and I both know we are bound to our duties.” He responded, and you sighed.

“No more dwelling on this matter,” he spoke after a moment, his lips just barely touching yours as he talked. “It does no good to worry.”

You hummed in agreement, eager to free yourself from those thoughts– if only for a moment. You pressed your lips to Harwin’s and he responded quickly. The kiss was soft, full of unspoken love and promises between the two of you.

That was one thing you loved about Harwin. He was subtle with his affections, but he was also so protective of those he loved. You knew that everything he said had been true– that he would gladly die if it meant he got to love you for a moment longer.

And although you would not marry him, you knew what you had would not falter. Harwin had been there before, and he would be there after, Jason Lannister be damned. The pair of you had snuck around for years, what’s a few more?

Harwin pulled back from you, one gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb traced the line of your cheekbone as he looked at you fondly.

“I wish I could stay longer, but I fear my father would have my head. I’m to see him about matters with the City Watch.”

You nodded in understanding. You reached out a hand, brushing a stray curl from his eyes.

“Farewell, Ser Harwin. I’m to be at the dragon pit soon, anyway.”

He stood, his touch lingering until he could no longer reach your face. You sat up, watching as he bowed his head, gave you a small grin, and said a quick ‘princess.’

You watched him leave, and you didn’t rise until the wooden door closed behind him, already wishing that things were different like you had so many times before.

The bargain

Harwin Strong x Fem Mormont reader

First story!

“No absolutely not! How dare you do this without me knowing.” Alara screamed as her father told her of his most recent attempt to bring House Mormont more popularity among stronger houses. “Alara you are eight and ten, by this age your mother had already birthed both you and your brother. It is time you fulfill your duties to our house.” Her father tried to reason but she was having no of it. “ Hmm you seem to have forgotten one important bit… Your son is first in line therefore he has to uphold the house and it’s success not me why must I be burdened with the responsibility of bettering out house!” “Because your brother is nothing more than a drunk who only has abilities for whores and spending my money in foreign lands while he finds himself as he so loves to put in his letters. Besides you are twins the birthrights are split between you both now please enough of this bickering I still have much to explain.” Alara stood from her chair with an enraged expression “No we do not, you have said enough, you failed to better our house and failed as a father to your first son so you are using your daughter who has never been anything but loyal to solve your political headaches, a pawn essentially. And your bright idea is to marry me off to House Strong from the river lands millions of miles away from my home. How long do I have before I never see my home again.” Her father sighed knowing she was right. “A week your brother returns in two days, we will first go to Harrenhal where we will stay for a week then I will be off to Kings Landing on business Lord Creagan has entrusted me with.” The bile rose in Alara’s mouth as she heard how little time she truly had left in her home, but she had to hand it to her father he was a smart man to tell her without enough time for her to escape and not be found. “I will make arrangements for you to have everything you have here transported with us do not worry just prepare.” With a defeated sigh Alara finally conceded “I will serve my house but if you believe I will do it with a smile, you will be sorely mistaken father.” And with those words she rose once again and walked out the door without allowing another word be said. … “Harwin please do not complicate the matter is is time you marry you are twenty years of age. I have allowed you to find a wife yourself, but now it’s time I make the decision.” Lyonel tried to reason with his son who was not happy in the slightest. “I just don’t understand why you chose a northern house when there are plenty, stronger houses here in the river lands and in the south in general.” Harwin questioned his father “Two reasons; one I have no interest in allying our family with any of these greed driven, drunks in the south, and I have been friends with Corbin Mormont for years. I trust him and know he will not strike us in the back at a drop of a coin.” Lionel explained while trying to ease the confusion his son felt “I also happen to know that his daughter, your soon to be betrothed, happens to be an excellent fighter and carries the Mormont spirit. You said you didn’t not want a mindless girl only interested in producing heirs and clothing well I found one for you now enough of you complaining I suggest you start preparing yourself we are leaving Kings Landing for the time being to prepare Harrehal for their arrival.” Harwin sighed knowing he was not going to get his way this time “Yes father, but I will not do it with a smile on my face if that is what you expect of me.“ Lyonel looked at his son with saddened eyes “I know how you feel my son, but remember she is not happy of this either so try and be gentle with your actions. She may be a lady but not a spineless one.” With that warning Lyonel left Harwin to grapple with this new information and he wondered. “Are bears truly intimidating or is it merely for show.”

Three word sentence starters: please don’t cry. For Harwin x reader please

(I did this as pre-HOTD, before Lyonel has brought the boys to King's Landing, kind of like a first love type of ship.)

Harwin couldn't help the sharp wince that slipped out as one of the young squires helped remove the breastplate he'd been wearing. It wouldn't take a maester to tell him he'd be hurting, most likely for the rest of the tourney if the blow that had knocked him off his horse was any indication. The dark bruise starting to form under his shirt where the lance had hit only further confirmed the thought. His father had warned him of this, warned him that even if he were big for his age, taking on knights ten or more years his senior in the lists would be a dangerous feat. He'd insisted on competing when he'd been brought along to the festivities celebrating the wedding of Lord Tully's heir to a lady from the Westerlands. He'd turned five and ten on his last name day and grown to stand taller than his father in the months since. He was a man grown and ready to compete with the best there was. He just hadn't expected Lord Tully's second son to hit as hard as he had.

"Seven hells, Harwin!"

That was the other reason he'd been eager to compete. He'd met the lady Lara Tully the year prior when his father had met with other lords throughout the Riverlands to discuss trade and whatnot. He'd paid little attention to the business Lord Lyonel had meant for him to see but at the feast he'd been pushed in the direction of redheaded girl from Riverrun. They'd danced well enough for a pair of youths still growing into themselves, the first spin around the hall a bit clumsy but finding a rhythm and an enjoyable companionship by the second and third. As the wine continued to flow and polite conversation shifted to loud laughter and stories, the two had snuck away to a quiet corner. She wasn't the first girl he'd kissed but she had been the first he'd wished to see again.

Although perhaps not looking at him with such distress in those blue eyes of hers. He was quick to tell the squire to make himself scarce as she pushed into his tent, knowing the boy was unlikely to gossip about them being alone to anyone of note. She barely noticed as he scampered off, her eyes wide and focused intently on his chest.

"It's not as bad as it looks, I prom-sshit." His reassurance fell flat as her hand rested against the bruise, a hiss of pain and curse escaping before he could stop himself.

"Not as bad?! Harwin, it looks like a horse stamped on your chest. What were you thinking, facing Oscar like that?!"

His own hand reached up, taking her smaller one and moving it away from the bruise but not letting her pull free just yet. "I was thinking your brother wouldn't hit as hard as he did. And I was thinking of how lovely you'd look if I crowned you queen of love and beauty when the tourney was won. I suppose I could find another flower crown to give you but it won't be quite as impressive."

"Dammit, Harwin," she cursed softly, fingers curling around his as she stared up at him. The shock was fading a bit but the look of fear and sadness in her eyes didn't make him feel any better. "You could've been seriously hurt. You could have been killed. Do you have any idea-"

Her voice broken as a small sob broke free and the guilt he felt in his stomach overpowered the bruise on his chest. His arms moved around her and pulled her against him, offering soft whispers of comfort against the red curls that hung loose. "Please don't cry," he murmured, a calloused hand rubbing soft circles over her back. "You know I'm completely useless at helping crying ladies. This tourney was supposed to be all smiles for the both of us."

"That was before you went and tried to get yourself killed by a knight ten years your senior," she argued, though he could feel some of the tension slipping away the longer she stood there in his arms. He would take what he could get for now, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head and holding her tighter.

"I'm sorry, darling. I promise not to scare you like that again. Alright?"

"You'd better. Otherwise I'll have to take Larys as my favorite son from Harrenhal if for no other reason than to spare myself the grief."

He growled at the notion, no matter that it was simply a playful tease. His arms tugged her closer, his teeth nipping at the spot behind her ear, and finally he was treated to a shriek of laughter to replace the concern she'd first walked in with. "Well, we certainly can't have that," he grumbled, pulling her over to the small bench that had been left for him and settling her on his lap as his lips found hers in search of the sweetness they'd exchanged before. It didn't take long for any thoughts of returning to the tourney to leave him completely.

TRUE.

We forgot about him far too soon…

Where are the fanfic writers?!? No characters ever needed you more!

Me want

I have no self-control so I started writing this.

I haven't even started writing the Daemon part and I'm already over 1300 words. I thought this would be much shorter hahaha

Btw, if anyone wants me to tag them when I upload it, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments 🤭