#the last kingdom fanfic

[valeskafics]

"Confession" - Modern Priest!Osferth x Nun!Reader

Summary: Father Osferth feels tempted by you, a beautiful young nun.

Word Count: 1,700

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: slight dubcon not really tho, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, stalking, perving, darkish!osferth, religion kink, hierophilia, priest kink, corruption kink, oral f receiving, tiddy succin, overstim, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the The Last Kingdom characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

The youngest priest to have ever led his flock, Father Osferth is a man of God. He has never once wavered in his faith. He went straight to seminary school and never looked back. He had no regrets about committing himself to a life of celibacy in service of the Holy Father.

That is, until you came into his life.

You, the sweet young nun, with the kindest smile that he’s ever seen on another person. You, with your curves that are still so evident despite the humble clothing you wear, your body driving his mind wild with lustful, sinful thoughts. You are always so sweet to him, greeting him so cheerfully, always willing to help him with anything. He wonders if you’d be willing to help him lessen the ache of his cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. He leans against the wall, watching as you lean over and set out the hymn books, mind consumed with thoughts of bending you over one of the pews and taking you then and there. But, somehow, with whatever little self restraint is left in him, he holds back.

It is Sunday morning, just before the day’s service when you approach him, greeting him as you always do, “Good morning, Father Osferth.”

He hates the way his cock twitches when you call him ‘Father’. It awakens something so depraved, so lustful inside of him that he feels ashamed of his thoughts. He nods, greeting you in return, a stirring in his body as you beam up at him and tell him that everything is ready for the worshipers to arrive. Osferth watches as you walk away, hips swaying back and forth with an effortless grace that has him entirely transfixed. The entire service, he keeps looking over to you as he preaches to his flock on the value of chastity. He’s a hypocrite. A complete hypocrite, with how his mouth waters at the mere sight of you.

Osferth must resist. You have been placed in front of him as a test by the Lord. To prove the depths of his devotion to his faith. He knows this. You have the face of an angel, but you are no doubt here to bring about his ruin. All this becomes fairly evident when you come to give confession. You assume that he will not recognize your voice, but of course he does. Osferth has committed every little thing about you to his memory.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two weeks since my last confession.”

The heat rises in his body as he swallows thickly, managing to reply, if only barely, gazing at you through the latticed screen, “Confess your sins, my child.”

He hears the slight tremble in your voice, the shame as you admit, “I have had lustful thoughts for a man of the cloth.”

You have to be talking about him. You must be. What other man of the cloth do you have such frequent contact with? It’s almost enough for him to break down the screen and grab you by the waist, taking you right then and there in the confessional booth. But, instead, he manages to control himself and allow you to continue to speak. He wants to hear more. No, he needs to hear more.

“I know it’s wrong,” you admit, your voice full of shame as you fiddle with your fingers, “But I can’t help it. I have done my best to resist. To stop myself from feeling like this. But it grows more and more difficult with each passing day.”

Osferth resists the urge to tell you that it has been much the same for him. That every day, he teeters on the precipice of throwing away everything he has ever worked for just to feel your lips against his, only once. Only for a moment.

“I have tried to pray these thoughts away, but they persist,” you say, your voice wavering, “Night and day I dream of him. And I know I shouldn’t.”

His knuckles grow white as he clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. He knows you need his guidance, his advice. But how can he give it? How can he give it when as you speak, his cock grows harder and harder, and he palms at it over the fabric of his trousers, imagining his hand as your own.

“I have touched myself to the thought of him,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, “I am sworn to celibacy. And it’s wrong, but all I can think of is him. His lips, his hands, his voice. Oh, Father, please help me…”

His mind reels with images of your delicate fingers moving between your thighs, face twisted in ecstasy as his name falls from your lips. Osferth’s stomach tightens as you plead, asking him what you must do. He finally clears his throat and manages to speak, voice rough and low with barely concealed desire.

“Have no fear, my child. We have all struggled with desires of the flesh. All that matters is your effort to resist the temptation to sin,” he takes a shaky breath before continuing, thoughts of his body intertwined with yours overtaking him, “What you must do is pray for forgiveness, for guidance. And know that our Lord forgives all who truly seek redemption in his name.”

You nod, thanking him for his guidance, and walk out of the confessional. The minute the door closes behind you, Osferth quickly moves to undo his pants, tugging furiously at his cock, feeling no shame for the noises that leave his mouth and echo throughout the now empty church.

Desperate moans of your name.

Osferth never noticed it before today, but there is a tiny hole in the wall between your rooms at the church. It is as if God himself wants him to gaze upon you in your natural state, as you stand in front of your mirror, wearing only your headdress and a thin nightgown, your soft, supple body on display for him as you apply lotion to your arms and neck, humming a hymn to yourself. He’s spellbound, hypnotized by the very sight of you, his greedy eyes devouring your every movement. You remove your habit, shaking out your now loose locks with your fingers, yawning softly. Every movement you make seems as if it is explicitly chosen to tempt him, a siren calling to a sailor at sea, luring him to his demise.

You climb into your bed, closing your eyes and murmuring to yourself, barely loud enough for him to hear, “Oh, Lord, please don’t let him fill my dreams tonight. Give me one night of peace.”

There’s no point in resisting you now. He enters your room, footsteps nearly silent as he opens the door, the idea of you dreaming of him driving him to desperation. You sit up, startled and vulnerable, grabbing the crucifix on your nightstand. But when you see that it’s him, you let out a sigh of relief. But you should not be relieved. Not when he has anything but noble intentions for you.

“Father Osferth,” you greet quietly, pulling your blanket up to cover yourself, “Is something the matter?”

He can’t speak, his tongue so heavy in his mouth, so overwhelmed by your beauty as he moves to sit beside you on your bed. So modest and sweet in how you cover yourself, your eyes wide and innocent as he leans in close to you, pulling your blanket away from your body, revealing you to him once more.

“Father?” You ask, confused.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he replies softly, hand moving to cup your face, replying when you as him what he means, “Fight you. I can’t. Not anymore.”

Osferth’s voice is low and husky, his breath hot against your skin as he runs his nose along your neck, deeply inhaling your scent. His other hand moves to your back, pressing you flush up against him, your soft breasts against the hard planes of his chest. His lips find yours, swallowing them in a heated, passionate kiss. He moves to pin you down to the bed, hands moving along the curves of your body, his cock grinding against your barely clothed cunt.

“I thought we were meant to resist, Father,” you manage to eke out between kisses, his lips now moving to your breasts, tugging your nightgown off your body as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples.

Osferth ignores your words, kissing down farther and farther until he reaches the apex between your thighs. He all but rips your panties from your body, burying his tongue deep inside you making you cry out, your hands flying to his hair as he stares up at you. He laps at your folds greedily, holding you in place, feeling the way you try to squirm away from the intensity of the pleasure he’s giving you. But he will not let you get away. Not from him, not ever. He continues his ministrations, rubbing at your sensitive, swollen pearl with his thumb, smirking to himself as you cry out his name, spilling yourself on his tongue. But he does not stop, he continues, drunk on the taste of you, eyes wild and desperate as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, fucking you with his tongue, large, calloused hands squeezing at your thighs as he devours you.

When he’s finally had his fill, he feels your eyes on him as he tugs at his priest’s collar undoing his pants just enough to free his cock, slowly pushing inside you. You’re so tight around him that he wonders if he’ll even fit, the way you whine and whimper, your body writhing against his as he pushes inside you, inch by inch, until he’s bottomed out. Your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips, his palms moving to grope at them, watching the way you cry out his name, your eyes rolling back as he pounds into you over and over.

He is Father Osferth no more.

No, he is a man consumed by his lust, by his love.

He only worships you now.

#osferth x you #osferth x reader #osferth smut #osferth the last kingdom #osferth tlk #osferth #osferth fanfic #osferth fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #osferth imagine #osferth x y/n #osferth x fem!reader #the last kingdom x reader #my writing #osferth oneshot #dark!osferth #modern!osferth #modern!osferth oneshot #nun!reader

[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!

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“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.

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#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth smut #osferth fanfic #osferth fic #osferth fanfiction #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom smut #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk fic #tlk smut #tlk #12 days of smuff #my writing #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #ewan nation

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Religious guilt. Canon-typical violence. Mild angst. Loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Part two of Deathless Death. Osferth has a crisis of conscience and faith, however, an attack on their party by the Danes makes him realise what's at stake. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @valeskafics. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Osferth rouses slowly into wakefulness, blinking his eyes open. For a moment, his mind is blissfully silent, focusing only on the canopy of green leaves above and the chirping of the birds in the woodland that surrounds him and his travel companions.

That is until the memory of the previous evening floods back to him; the taste of her upon his tongue, her cries of pleasure that had echoed through the trees and up into the night sky. He can still feel the smoothness of her thighs beneath his fingertips, the way the softness of her flesh had yielded beneath his hands as she’d hovered above his face while he’d devoured her like a man starved.

His throat tightens at the thought, his cock stirring in his breeches. He turns on his bed roll to face her, expecting to see her peacefully sleeping next to him, just as she usually is, her features a vision of angelic beauty. However, the space beside him lays empty and his brow furrows in concern as he props himself up on his elbow to look around for her.

He spots her. She kneels at a fallen log, her hands clasped in prayer against it. The early morning sunlight filters through the branches casting the top of her head in golden light. She is the picture of innocence, truly angelic, and guilt and shame wash over Osferth in thick, hot waves. He would have sullied her upon the filthy forest floor, if the others had not come back and interrupted them. Worse still, she would have allowed him to. This pure, devout, impressionable girl had been a vessel for his lust. Seeing her as she is now, Osferth vows to keep his distance; he must do better by her, despite his yearning for her.

He is startled momentarily when she opens her eyes and looks directly at him, clearly having sensed his gaze upon her. Her smile is warm, making her eyes soften with fondness as she looks at him.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice gentle. Osferth will never have enough of that dulcet sound, it is sweeter than honeyed wine. “Will you join me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak and makes his way over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the log. It’s a deliberate choice, a need to place a physical barrier between the two of them so that he is not tempted to reach out for her, to feel her lips upon his once more.

If she is offended by his decision, she does not show it, lowering her head once more and closing her eyes. Osferth wonders what she prays for. Had she awoken this morning filled with regret for what they’d done and is now praying for God to cleanse her of her misdeeds?

Pressing his own hands together, he closes his eyes and bows his head.

Please, Lord, give me the strength to resist her. Do not allow me to sully her innocence with my sinful behaviour any more than I already have. Forgive her for transgressions, for she does not understand fully what she has done, and was led astray by my lust.

“First one awake’s meant to light the fire,” he hears Finan grumble sleepily in annoyance from a few feet away.

He sighs, standing and walking towards the pit that had been dug the day before. “Apologies, Finan, I’ll do it now.”

The rest of the morning passes peacefully. Uhtred’s talk of their travel plans serves as a welcome distraction, though he is unable to stop himself from glancing over at her. She looks at him with such adoration that it makes his heart squeeze. He is not worthy of basking in the affection of her gaze, yet he craves it all the same.

When it comes time to move on, she leans back against his chest as they ride, and it takes everything he has not to wrap his arms around her waist. His knuckles turn white from the intensity with which he keeps a hold of his horse’s reins, knowing that if he lets go his hands will be upon her in an instant.

She tucks herself against his chest as they bed down again that night and he is glad to wrap his arms loosely around her, keeping her close. He reasons he is simply keeping her warm, nothing more, until she looks up at him doe-eyed and expectant.

“Will you kiss me again?” She whispers into the darkness and he feels a pit open in his stomach.

“Not tonight, my lady”, he tells her quietly, “get some rest.”

He hates telling her no. The way her face crumples in disappointed sadness feels like a dagger to his chest, but it is for her own good. A kiss would lead to more and he cannot do that to her. He must control himself for the both of them.

She nuzzles into him, closing her eyes and he allows himself a moment to simply let his hands stroke through the silken strands of her hair, soft as angel’s wings.

He is thankful that the constant presence of Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric during the day prevents her from asking about the night he had tasted her. He can see it in her face each time she looks at him, longing in her eyes and questions on the tip of her tongue, but she’d never dare speak of it in company, so he always ensures they are never alone.

Come nightfall she clutches against his robes as they lay together, and he savours her closeness, her warmth, her scent, pretending his actions are a matter of duty that he derives no pleasure from.

She catches him off guard a few mornings later, excitement in her eyes as she approaches him.

“There is a river close by. I’d like to bathe. Will you join me?”

Osferth feels himself flush scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. The thought rivulets of water running down her skin, tracing the curves of her body, has him swallowing thickly in order to maintain his composure. But he cannot give in.

He picks up his sword, fastening it to his belt. “I will keep watch to ensure you are safe, my lady.”

Her gaze lowers, he can see he has disappointed her yet again and guilt gnaws at him. He detests that doing the right thing makes her so sad.

She turns and walks off in the direction of the riverbank, and he dutifully follows her. He has to physically force himself to turn away when she begins to undress. Never having seen her fully bare before, he is desperate to look, but knows he will not be able to control himself if he does.

In his peripheral vision he sees her form illuminated by sunlight as she steps from the bank and into the water. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and he glances quickly at her, seeing how her hands move through the water, over her hair and down her body. 

Looking quickly away, he wonders how someone so angelic can be such a temptress. He wants to protect her virtue, yet ravage her at the same time, and it seems she is attempting to lure the latter half of him out to play. She does not know the full weight of what she is asking, however, and Osferth could not live with himself if he laid with her, only for her to regret it.

He keeps his focus on the surrounding woodland, to make sure no one approaches or sees her as she is bathing. He does not look upon her again until she returns to him, dressed once more, her hair damp from the river.

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes and Osferth feels panic flutter in his chest. They are alone. They are alone, and she is going to ask him about what happened between them and he will not know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That he is a sinner? That he cannot control himself? That he swore to protect her and has taken advantage of her instead?

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks sadly.

The question hits him like a punch to the gut. How could she assume she is to blame for anything?

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “Was it not good…the other night? Have you decided you don’t want me after all?”

Her tone is filled with insecure hurt and Osferth feels as though he wants to cry. He had never meant to make her feel unwanted. If only she knew that she is everything he has ever wanted and everything he does not deserve simultaneously.

“Osferth?” Sihtric’s voice echoing through the trees interrupts them, as the crackle of branches heralds his approaching footsteps.

He turns to face the direction he is coming from, brows rising in concern as he sees the hardened look upon Sihtric’s face. This is serious.

“Get ready to go,” he tells them both. “We are being tracked by Harald’s men.”

Without thinking, Osferth grabs her hand, rushing her back to camp. They hurriedly pack away their belongings, kicking out the fire, before mounting up and moving on at speed.

She rests wordlessly against his chest, and he knows they will eventually need to continue their conversation from earlier, but right now his only focus is on keeping her safe. If he cannot do that then he has failed in his entire reason for taking her with him from Alton in the first place.

Their horses are brought to an abrupt halt, rearing up slightly when Danes ambush them in a clearing, surrounding them. Bile rises in Osferth’s throat, icy fingers of fear wrapping around his heart - not for himself, but for what may happen to her.

As Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric dismount, withdrawing their weapons, he leans forward whispering quickly to her. “Run. Run away and don’t look back. I will find you after.”

He feels her trembling like a leaf, and wishes he could do more to comfort her, but in this moment the best source of comfort is to protect her and, so as she flees, he jumps down from his horse and unsheathes his own weapon.

Osferth is not a masterful warrior, but travelling with Uhtred has sharpened his skills and he fights with more confidence than terror with each passing day. 

Allowing pure instinct and adrenaline ro guide his movements, he drives forward, slashing with his blade, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the wet, dull sounds of steel biting into flesh.

A sharp sting against his temple happens so quickly that he barely registers he is cut, until he feels the warm trickle of blood in his eye. He blinks it away in time to see Uhtred run through the Dane responsible for causing the injury.

He is panting, sweaty, sight in one eye reddened by ichor by the time they have cut down Harald’s men. Those not killed have fled, but any solace he feels is short lived as dread and regret spur him into action, he runs through the woods in search of her.

Stupid fool.

If he’d have known better, he’d have taken her and rode away, not left her to fend for herself. What if some of Harald’s men have come after her? What if she’s dead?

As Osferth races through the trees he can no longer tell if the warmth upon his cheeks is blood or tears, he simply knows he has to find her.

His heart soars, relief and exhilaration flooding through him when he spots her cowering in a thicket, fresh tears pricking his eyes.

She is safe.

He calls out to her and she raises her head, her eyes wide with fright, though she visibly relaxes when she sees him, stepping out from her hiding place.

His jaw clenches in anger when he sees the slash in the sleeve of her dress, a long, angry looking red gash adorns the flesh of her forearm.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

She shakes her head. “I caught myself on a low hanging branch when I ran away. It is my own clumsiness that is at fault, no one else.”

Reaching up, her fingers brush over the cut to his temple. “You are hurt…”

Osferth winces, though does his best to sound brave in spite of the pain. “It’s only a scratch. The fact that you are safe is all that matters to me.”

They stare at each other unblinking for a moment, her thumb tenderly wipes away the tears that have tracked down his cheeks. 

If they are not meant to be together then why would God deliver her safely back to him? They both could have died today and all he wants to do is kiss her.

Before he can second guess himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss as he feels her return the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close.

She is alive, they both are, and he has never felt more so than in this moment.

That night, they do not sleep upon the forest floor. Uhtred finds them lodgings at a village alehouse, stating they have all suffered enough for one day and deserve the comfort of a decent night’s rest.

Retreating upstairs, bellies filled with ale and stew, Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric pile into one room, leaving Osferth and her to the other. It is humble, simply furnished, with a small double bed.

Osferth’s pulse races, keeping his back to her as he removes the light leather armour from his wrists and chest, leaving himself in just his robes. They have never spent the night alone together like this before. What would she be expecting of him?

He lips part involuntarily as he turns back to see her dressed only in her cotton shift. She has removed her dress, and tended to the cut upon her arm. She is beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels himself redden with embarrassment as she looks up and smiles, clearly having caught him staring.

She squeezes water from a cloth into a basin, before turning back to him. “Here, let me,” she says, gesturing to the wound on his temple.

Osferth approaches her slowly, his breathing unsteady. He hisses lightly at the sting of it as she gently presses the dampened cloth to his injury.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, lightening her touch, and his chest tightens.

As if my forgiveness is something you would ever need to seek.

She dabs at his face, placing the cloth into the bowl several more times as she goes, wringing it out, until she is satisfied he is clean.

Dropping the cloth back into the bowl, she places her hands against his face. She regards him with such tenderness that he has to close his eyes, unable to stand the way it makes it feel as though his heart will burst out of his chest.

Her fingertips move lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, over his lips, chin and jaw. If this is what it feels like to be worshiped then the satisfaction God must experience is beyond gratification.

He gasps as he feels her lips press eagerly his once more and moves his mouth hungrily against hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and walking her back towards the bed.

Pushing her back, he hovers over his, his lips trailing a path down her neck to her collarbones, before kissing the rest of her body through her shift. Eagerly, he pushes the cotton above her hips, finding her wet and wanting, eager to be tasted again.

Osferth’s gaze flickers back up to her face. Her eyes are glossy and darkened by desire, her lips swollen with kisses and parted as she breathes heavily through them.

If he had died today, he is certain the grave he ended up in would not be enough to hold him back from crawling back to her, if only to see her like this. But in that same moment, he remembers the men he has killed today, his hands sullied by blood, lives ended by his hand.

He is unfit to touch her. He cannot besmirch her virtue with his uncleanliness.

He bows his head, exhaling sadly. “I–I cannot go any further, my lady,” he whispers, “I would not dirty you with hands that are not worthy of you.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “And what about what I want? It is my virtue to give away, don’t I get to decide who takes it?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you cannot give me this,” he argues, eyebrows drawn together in a pleading expression.

“I know perfectly well what it is that I want,” she replies, her tone defiant.

She shifts on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and he lets her. All his fight has left him, so he simply lays there, watching her with curiosity as she sits astride him.

Carefully, her hands pull at his clothes, stripping him of his robe, trousers and breeches. He quietly allows her to do so, lifting his body as needed to aid her task until he lays utterly naked before him.

Osferth has never been nude in front of anyone before. He had anticipated feeling shame and embarrassment, wanting to curl in on himself to hide from her. However, her gaze is filled with such warmth and innocence, she looks upon him in wonder, the way that people gaze at sunsets and meadows of wildflowers. It makes pride swell within his chest to be looked upon as though he is worthy.

Her lips brush gently against his, and as quickly as he leans up to kiss her back, she is moving away. Her mouth trails a path down his neck, across his chest and over his abdomen, before she allows her fingertips to take the same journey. He shivers, feeling his manhood pulsate under her attention.

He sucks in a breath when he feels her hand wrap around his cock, testing the weight and feel of it in her palm, eyeing it reverently, before she lets go and comes to lay beside him.

She pulls her shift over her head, discarding it upon the floor, and his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of her. Not even the most diligent monks in his days at the monastery could illuminate visions as lovely as she is.

“I do not know what I am doing. I’ve never done this before, but I want to. Osferth, please.”

Her quiet plea is all he needs to hear. He turns her onto her back, hovering over her and kisses her deeply. A rumble of appreciation vibrates through him as he feels her instinctively part her thighs.

Pulling away, he grasps the base of himself, guiding his tip to her waiting entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes locking with hers.

“I have never wanted anything more. Please.”

Her words make his stones ache and he presses forwards, jaw going slack at the feeling of how tight she is as his length forces apart her walls.

She whines quietly at the intrusion, though as he studies her face he is met with desire rather than the discomfort that he had anticipated. It excites him to know that she wants him, though he fears he would not be able to stop now even if he wanted to.

If lying with other women has been the closest he has come to seeing the face of God before, then in this moment he has truly died and gone to heaven.

His thrusts into her are slow and soft, his lips linger against hers, exchanging sticky kisses and laboured breaths. As his passage eases, his movements become slightly harder and faster, groaning as she grows wetter, clenching around him as the wooden bed frame creaks with their efforts.

This is his forbidden fruit. He has tasted her and now there is no going back. He loses himself in the sensation of her, his grip on her tight as she writhes beneath him, the sounds she makes are sweeter than any music.

Noticing her tensing when his thrusts are shallower, he repeats the motion in earnest until suddenly she is crying out, pulsating around him, pulling him quickly towards release. He pulls out, stroking himself to completion, watching the way his spend paints her bare flesh in pearlescent ropes.

Breathlessly he falls back against the mattress, pulling her to him, wanting her close. She is pliable, eager, and snuggles against him, her head upon his chest.

He looks down at her through hooded eyes and she smiles back up at him, her gaze filled with warm affection.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words stick in his throat. They are not enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. They are just words, much like heaven and hell, and they are worthless. He will never want for anything, as long as he has her.

So, he simply kisses her, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how precious she is to him.

#osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth x y/n #osferth imagine #osferth smut #osferth angst #ewan mitchell #TLK #osferth the last kingdom #osferth tlk #the last kingdom #tlk osferth #the last kingdom osferth #baby monk #osferth fan fiction #osferth fanfiction #osferth fan fic #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom fan fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fan fiction

[aphroditesmoon]

sweet

osferth x warrior!reader

summary: osferth is in love with you but you are not used to receiving this much attention from anyone.

warnings; nsfw(smut), black cat/golden retriever, slight angst, simp osferth, clueless reader.

a/n: back on my osferth bullshit bcs the movie is coming n yet my fave is de@d😻

°°°

You're not exactly sure how you got to be apart of Uhtred's team. Actually that's not true, you remember exactly how.

The four warriors were being attacked by the same Danes that had owned you silver, lots of them. It was a coincident that killing them gave you what you were owed and Uhtred and his men's freedom.

Uhtred had made it his mission then, to find out more about you, wanting to make sure you weren't a spy or threat after noticing that you weren't exactly apart of the danes not christians. After deeming you harmless (at least to them) and incredibly depressingly lonely, he decided to scout you in as one of his men, like a bored man picking up a grumpy wet soggy kitten from the street.

You made sure you were paid more silver than any of the other men, insisting that you're worth more than them by your skills itself, and soon enough, you stuck with them as if you had always been there all along.

You got along well enough with all of them, letting yourself fall gently in the warm feeling of what it's like to have a semblance of a family.

Though with all the intelligence of a skilled warrior you have, you had not noticed the baby monk Osferth's obvious attempt to pursue you for 2 years now.

You admit you like Osferth more than the others. He was respectful, kind, and has never treated you less like any woman should be treated, although some would argue you barely counted as a woman.

Did you like him romantically? You can't say, making it a principle to never yourself aim for a love like that, it's just not for you.

But when the awkwardly charming warrior monk had kissed you during the festive night of Yule eve, your instinct was to immediately push him away from you, receiving a very offended expression followed by stutters I apologies from him before he scrambled away, like a dog kicked by it's owner.

The next day, you received multiple glares from Finan, and sympathetic grins and chuckles from Sihtric and Uhtred who had found this situation all too amusing.

Osferth had started to avoid you almost completely, never making eye contact and never directly speaking to you unless necessary. And it hurt you.

You should apologize, you knew that. But you weren't exactly sure if what to say, your feelings were complicated even to yourself.

It only gets worse when you found out you'll be staying with Osferth during one of your little missions. Arranged in purpose by Uhtred for sure.

When evening arrives, you notice Osferth leaving the pub early, closing himself in your shared room. You shook off your guilt and grabbed the bottle of liquor, walking away to seat yourself by the empty corner of the loud place, seeking for some peace.

If only peace could ever exist in your life.

You tipped the bottle into your mouth again, taking a big chug from it, wishing the ale would taste a little less like shit.

Taking notice of Finan from the side of your eye, you sigh loudly and cursed him out. The man only gave a humourous laugh and sat next to you.

"If this is about Osferth again, then you shouldn't tire yourself-"

"Oh this is definitely about Osferth." He agreed, receiving a groan from you.

"Finan please-" You started, rudely being cut off. "You did a number on him lad, he's been acting like someone just killed his dog and it's been two weeks." His voice was gentler than before, the worry obvious in his voice.

"I didn't mean it." Your mumbled out meekly, eyes drooping. "I didn't mean to push him away."

"Well that settles it the doesn't it?" The Irishman concluded. "Just go apologize and hump him." You snorted at his easygoing response and shook your head.

"He doesn't just want to hump, he wants to love." You clarify. "And that's so bad, why? I've seen you staring at him like he's made of sunshine and rainbows laddie, I'd thought you'd be happy to have him feel the same way."

You wince at his words, hating the sappy description of yourself that he gave. Rainbows and sunshine.

"Because it doesn't make sense does it? Of course I'd like him, he's kind, and sweet, and everything I don't deserve, everything I am not."

You speak the last word like a curse, a bitter taste on your tongue.

Glancing towards the half drunk Irish, you almost hate yourself for saying what you did, the pity in his eyes was worse than any insult you've had thrown your way.

"You carried Aelfwynn on your back while she was sick and lied to everyone about getting sick from her just so she'd have a chance to reach the royal healers, you've put yourself in front of the lady Aethelflaed to protect her more time than anyone could count, hell you've done it for Osferth more time than he could remember.

- So if you say you're not deserving of kindness and sweetness one more time, I'll make sure to hide the biggest frogs in your bathwater as a punishment."

His voice was teasing, but his eyes were set on you, narrowing down like a nagging father, and you almost hugged him there and then.

"Yeah whatever." You shrugged and look away.

You hear him sigh loudly, as if to prove a point and tried to hide your small smile.

"I should apologize." You repeated your early statement. Rubbing your face tiredly, the liquor doing a terrible job intoxicating you. "Yeah, and you should hump-"

"Goodnight Finan, I'm not listening to you anymore!" You exclaimed loudly and annoyed while getting up on your feet to retire to your small room.

The walk to your room was short but it felt like forever, standing in front of the door, you take a moment to collect some thoughts and steady your heartbeat before turning the knob open.

You feel relieved as you step in, seeing that Osferth was still awake, sitting by his side of the bed, folding in his dirty clothes.

He must've just bathed, you thought to yourself. When you walk closer you notice that his hair was damp, confirming your suspicions.

He acted as if he didn't hear you, but you know he did.

"Osferth." You called out, voice weaker than you intended it to be, almost like you're pleading him.

The silence was agonizing before he responds, you see him stiffen. "Yes?"

You hated how much more confident he sounded than you, but you were the one who owed an apology, so you force your ego aside and placed yourself next to him on the bed.

"I um- I wanted to, apologize?" There was that stuttering now. He raised an eyebrow at you and you feel your face burn.

"Apologize. Yes, I wanted to apologize." Getting your breath under control, you try to appear more put together.

His eyes look away from you and move down to stare at the floorboards. "Whatever for?" He asks, sounding uninterested.

"For pushing you away, when you...kissed me." You answer.

You were watching for his reaction like a hawk eyeing it's prey, feeling uneasy and scared. "Oh, tis not your fault, twas' mine, I should've asked." He says kindly, his old warmth returning to his voice.

"But it's not, nothing could ever be your fault Osferth, You've no foible and if anything your flaw is being too good and having no flaw-"

"Do you think you could ever love me?" He cuts you off, a demanding tone.

You turn silent from your rant, heartbeat fastening. "But why? Why me?" You breath out.

"Osferth-" You start, standing up to face his seated self. "-You could have many lovely beautiful woman to love you the way you deserve, I'm sure of it, we've all seen how they fight for you." You insist.

His face turns into a frown and he stands up along with you, face inches apart from yours. "I don't want anyone else, you're the only lovely beautiful woman I want." He snapped.

You grow frustrated at his statement and turn to walk in circles, not meeting his gaze.

"But why? I am not beautiful or ladylike- and don't tell me I'm wrong, I hear things too- and I'm not kind enough to those around me as I should be, and I am, god, so terribly, terribly horrible in my moral compass Osferth.

- Why would you want to be with someone so miserable?", You point out with a humourless laugh, feeling so vulnerable and pathetic you could break in an instance.

You feel his hands grip your shoulders to look at him as he stops you from pacing around.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to convince you that you're all I think about, you are the most beautiful piece of art to me, and to have your heart, to be able to love you the way you deserve, is all I'll ever wish for in this lifetime."

You would've asked him if he had practiced that if you weren't so shaken by those words, so baffled.

"Don't be ridiculous Osferth, what- tell me, who you'd choose between me and Eadith, or me and that redhead from last night- or the lady Aethelflaed herself?" You hated how much self pity you were drowning in, all the insecurities you've worked so hard to push down, to look past from yourself.

"You. You, you and you." His response was quick and without hesitation. You wanted to kill him for that's or kiss him, you couldn't decide.

"I would choose you over anyone because there is no one else for me, can't you see?"

He was staring at you with stars in his eyes and his breath was hot on your face.

You couldn't remember when or how it happened, but all you knew was that one if you had leaned forwards and your lips became one with eachother's.

There was no regret in yourself, letting your fans wrap around his neck whilst he moves one arm to hold you by your waits and the other cupping your cheeks.

Your fingers move to tangle in his hair as you let your mouth open slightly for your tongues to dance together.

You pressed your faces harder if it was possible devouring the taste you've been forbidding yourself to take a bite from. His arms around your back tightens and soon you feel both his hands move down to the back of your thighs and you instinctively jump to wrap your legs around him.

He groans in the kiss, palms full holding squeezing your ass. You let a rare growl escape you as you feel yourself tighten around him.

Walking you back to the bed, you don't release your hold over him even when he lays you down on the bed.

Your hands roam wild at his body, grasping at his new tunic to be taken off. He gets the message immediately, pulling away to pull it over his head before going back to sucking lips with you.

You feel his own hands wandering around your body, exploring your untouched haven. He dips his hand inside the collar of your own shirt and rips it off easily, earning a shocked gasp from you.

"Didn't think you had that in you." You joked breathlessly. He gives a small shy smile as he pushes you to lay back down on the pillow. "You have no idea how many other things you've awakened inside of me."

His lips trail down your neck, biting and sucking at your sensitive spot while his hands have their fun squeezing and palming your breasts.

You let out a wild moan, throwing your head back, your nails, trying their best not to leave marks on his back.

"Fuck you're stunning." He swears, also rare occasion. You feel your cunt clench at his words an thrusts up your hips to meet his, receiving a strained groan from the man.

Not relenting in his torture on your tits, he releases one of them to move his hand between your legs, palming your drenched cunt between the thin barrier of your underwear.

"Osferth- please." You whined, rutting againts his hand like a dog in heat.

He only uses his hands to palm you harder, bringing you to tears as you search for friction. "That's it angel, fuck my hand." He groans out, entranced by the sight of you, glistening in sweat and fucking yourself on him in all your beautiful glory.

Both your arms are above you head now, gripping hard on the furs as you grind harder on his hand, clenching on nothing, feeling your orgasm nearing.

He rubs a finger on you clit furiously and you feel yourself explode on him, eyes blurry as you cried out his name repeatedly, a prayer answered.

Feeling yourself come down from your high, your body relaxes againts his bed and your head spins with euphoria. Osferth wipes his hand off before climbing over to lay next to you.

Your head finds comfort on his chest as his hands finds home around your body. It was dizzying, what just happened. And it was most probably the best hump you've ever had, not that you make it a habit to hump around.

You glace up to meet his eyes, already gazing down at you with a small smile accompanying them. "Does this mean you've forgiven me?", You jest and his smile widens as he leans forward and kisses your forehead. "Only if you promise to let me love you." He bargains.

You feel a grin making itself known and let out an unfamiliar giggle, "You're so sweet it's nauseating."

#osferth x reader #osferth the last kingdom #osferth fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom

[undertheorangetree]

To Be Alone With You

Summary- Osferth becomes infatuated with a healer from the continent.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Osferth's got a big old crush. Like he’s down bad. Blood. Minor injuries. Shoddy knowledge of 10th century healing. Blasphemy. Admittedly more plot than porn. Cunnilingus. Masturbation. P in V sex. Against a wall in a church no less.

Author's Note- The fact that Osferth canonically fucks and is good at it to the point where women fight over him lives in my mind rent free. Anyway read the rest on ao3 link is belowww

dividers by me lmao

Osferth likes to think that he's different now. Or at least, that he has changed since first joining Uhtred. He's grown further into himself- his confidence, his ability to be a warrior, that he himself has changed as a whole. He's stronger now and though he still values his faith, it does not feel so all consuming, an anchor around his throat forever reminding him of his bastardry. He is proud of the man he has become, of the one that he continues to grow into, and it feels right that, over time, he has changed for the better.

But he seems to forget all that the moment he lays eyes on her.

She had arrived with a traveling priest from the continent, one who had come with the intention of spreading the word of God to the infamously heretical ealdorman. And though she traveled with a priest and his retinue, she wore no habit. Her hair was loose, catching the waning rays of the sun and he felt his heart stutter in his chest when he caught the colour of it shining in the light. She had caught his eye then, as their little ship docked, and smiled at him so brightly he felt himself fall back into the boy he once was, the cursed baby monk.

Though Uhtred had wanted to throw the whole group out at the first sign of a sermon, he agreed to give them a night in the inn out of respect for how long they had been traveling- after they had paid a small fee, of course- and Osferth had managed to catch her in the tavern later that night.

The words had caught in his throat the moment he tried to speak, but Finan had been with him and it had been easy for him to ask if they could join her and begin a conversation. He had nursed his mug of ale while they spoke, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her further, and joined Finan in highlighting all that Coccham had to offer. Finan had quickly become drunk, but they had found a joint amusement in that and he had revelled in every smile she cast his way. They learned that she was the priest's healer, having studied in Frankia before deciding to join the priest in order to see what the world had to offer. She told them of her travels to Burgundy, Provence, and the Northern Byzantine Empire, regailing them with stories Osferth could only dream about. Uhtred had joined them midway through the conversation, allowing Osferth the opportunity to join her on her bench, their arms brushing against each other.

By the time morning came, the priest had gone and she had stayed on as their healer. Uhtred offered her a cottage and the promise to retrieve everything she could possibly need. He had grinned at Osferth the moment she turned her back on them, raising his eyebrows playfully, and he had felt his face begin to burn from how obvious his immediate infatuation must have been.

At first, he simply admired her from afar. Though he is proud of all the progress he has made to become the man he is now, that all seems to melt away when he is around her. More often than not, he stumbles over his words when he tries to speak to her, face burning scarlet and heart beating faster in his chest. It is clear that the others know of his infatuation, as they do everything in their power to facilitate some kind of interaction between them. Inviting him over when they are speaking to her, offering her his assistance whenever she needs it. Finan had gone so far as to shove him in her direction whenever he felt like causing trouble, though thank God he had only stumbled into her once. She had done little more than laugh then but he had avoided her for two days out of sheer humiliation.

It is safer to simply keep his distance. Though he enjoys talking to her- more than enjoys it, if he is honest with himself- he does little more than embarrass himself when he tries. He wants more, he wants everything, but for now he will settle for admiration. Distance.

It seems kinder. To both himself and her.

He can see her now, walking back to her cottage with a basket full of herbs and flowers she must have picked nearby the river. There is a woman walking with her, one he doesn't know well enough to know her name, but they are laughing as if they are close friends. The other woman reaches out to rest a hand on her arm and he watches longingly as she raises her own to clutch at the other woman's fingers. He cannot hear what they're saying over the echoing clack of the wooden swords the boys are using to practice- a sparring match he is admittedly supposed to be monitoring- but she has a pull on him he can't quite explain and he can’t bring himself to look away.

It comes with consequences.

Read the rest here

#osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth smut #osferth fanfic #osferth fanfiction #osferth tlk #osferth the last kingdom #osferth x fem!reader #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom x reader #tlk x reader #tlk #the last kingdom

[fallingintoyourlilaceyes]

There is a first time for everything (Osferth x barmaid!Reader)

synopsis: They say there is a first time for everything, yet never in a milion years would Osferth have thought he would lose that specific first time to someone as gorgeous as you.

warnings: Osferth being teased for being a virgin, basically pwp, p in v, oral m receiving, flirty reader, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

“Are you going to stay a virgin forever, baby monk?” One teased, boisterously handing him a cup of ale, just as you passed to fill up their drinks. Osferth’s eyes landed on you almost immediately to, what you assumed, make sure if you had heard that. Only to visibly come to the conclusion that no delusion in the world could convince him that you hadn´t. His ears were pink and his cheeks burned cherry red. He looked immensely uncomfortable with the teasing, almost like he wants to drown himself in the cup, which gains him a sympathetic look, before you move on to serve the next table. From afar you can still see him take a sip of his drink, trying to appear unbothered by the comments. Just as one of his friends slapped him on the back, causing him to spill some of his drink on his robes. "Monk boy needs to get laid!" he laughed, causing Osferth to further blush and want to die of mortification.

As you pass the table yet again, you give Osferth a small wink and a reassuring smile, though you also make an effort to let your hips sway a bit more than before. You felt yourself weirdly drawn towards his seemingly sweet nature amidst the chaos and depravity of his friends. Osferth felt his face heat up even more, he couldn't help but stare at her ass. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Instead, he just continued to wish his friends would stop embarrassing him in front of you already.

Later that night, after closing time, Alenna found Osferth sitting alone, nursing yet another mug of ale. She walked over to him and sat down beside him.

"Where did you leave your loud friends, baby monk?" You lean in teasingly with her elbows propped up on your thighs and a lazy smile on your lips.

Osferth looked up at you, he noticed how close you were sitting, and he could feel the warmth of your body close by. He also noticed how your breasts pressed together against your tight blouse, and he couldn't help but feel aroused despite himself.

"They... left." he managed to say between sips of ale. He looked away, feeling his face grow even more crimson. "I think they went to visit some brothel or other... They wanted me to join. Said I needed to get laid or something..." he trailed off, not wanting to continue the sentence.

“Hm, it was hard to miss that." You giggle at the memories of their earlier antics. Then you become calmer. "And what do you want?"

He looked at you, his eyes wide and innocent. He had no idea how to act around someone so beautiful and confident.

"W-what do you mean 'what do I want'?" he asked. He had never been approached like that by a woman before, and he didn't quite know how to handle it.

You chuckle and reach out to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers. You lean closer to him, taking note of his scent before speaking softly.

"Desires. You want something don't you?" Your breath is hot against his ear as you whisper the word. "Or maybe you're tired of those loud friends telling you what to do?”

You pause to let the words sink in for a moment then you speak once more. “To ask in more plain language... Do you want to lose your virginity or are you content keeping it? It is all up to you. No one else should make that decision for you."

Silence settles over them. The choice truly is up to him and whatever it would be, she would respect it. Osferth felt his heart race as you spoke softly into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to speak.

"I... I don't want to keep it," he managed to say, his voice barely audible. He could feel the stiffness growing between his legs as he thought about losing his virginity.

"Aren´t you sweet?" You coo against his lips, teasing a kiss, before you lets your lips wander down his neck. Never once actually letting them touch his skin. "Just remember, should you ever wish to stop or want me to do something specific just tell me. I want this to be as pleasant for you as it possibly can be."

As you began to tease him with kisses along his neck, you also remove his robes, listening the soft moans. The blond shut his eyes tightly for a moment, he had always been taught that sex was something shameful and dirty, yet he found himself getting harder and craving the touch with each passing second as you undressed him.

When you reveal his cock, he watched as you admired it, your hand moving gently over it. Applying soft pressure to make it leak even more of the pearly precum, which collected at the tip of his member, from your place on the floor between his legs. He felt a surge of pleasure throughout his entire body.

“Is that alright?” you ask in a raspy voice as you feel him shiver.

He nodded silently, unable to find the words to speak. So, he let out a soft moan as Alenna’s hand continued to work magic on his length, driving him closer and closer to release.

"Use your words, baby monk. Tell me what you want." You try to coax an answer out of Osferth. Though it is clearly visible that he is overtaken by the pleasure he had never felt before.

His mind raced as he tried to think of how to express what he wanted but found himself unable to form coherent sentences. All he could manage was a series of incoherent grunts and groans as your hand continued rubbing his cock. The shaft twitched seemingly restlessly in your palm as you move your head down to lick small stripes at his sensitive, flushed tip. Instinctively Osferth´s hand comes to guide your head deeper onto his cock. Slurping and slight gagging sounds fill the room until you eagerly get pulled off him with a desperate whimper.

You know he is close. It is etched into every small muscle and crease of his face and so you let him move you away before you ask. “Where do you want to come?”

"Fuck me... please... fuck me..." He managed to gasp out. “I want to come inside of you.”

And with those words, he surrendered completely to the pleasure of the moment, letting go of any shame or hesitation that he might have felt any remnants of before.

Quickly you move your skirt and any other clothes out of the way and sink down on his lap with his cock buried deep in your tight folds, gasping at how well he filled her out. Osferth´s hands find their way to your breasts, cupping them gently and massaging them as he felt her tightness wrap around his throbbing member. At the same time, you bury your hands in his hair. The pace of your thrusts is barely matched by his desperate strokes, trying to keep up with all the intense sensations. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of pleasure, and he didn't want the moment ever to end.

The slight upwards curve of his cock has Osferth´s length rub against that special spot inside with every thrust, making you see stars as you throw your head back in pleasure.

"So good." There is a drawl to your words from the cloud of pleasure that overwhelms your own brain. "Fuck, you can touch me harder. I won't break."

Osferth let out a low groan and complied with her request, increasing the force of his strokes, and gripping her breasts more firmly as he felt her body trembling above him. He could see the pleasure etched onto your face like you were an open book and he found himself feeling incredibly satisfied by bringing you such joy.

"I'm not gonna last much longer..." You mewl, bringing one of your hands down between your thighs to caress your sensitive pearl, heightening the pleasure that made your walls grip his cock even tighter. Osferth felt your approach to orgasm and increased the depth of his thrusts even further, wanting to give her as much pleasure as possible before you both released. He watched as your hand worked its magic between your legs, committing the movements and your in pure ecstasy contorted face to memory. When he is sure what to do, the blond gently pushes your hand aside to replace your finger with his thumb, rubbing the same circles into your flesh. As he takes over on rubbing circles into your clit your hands go to hold onto his shoulders to keep from slumping against his chest.

It doesn't take long for your movements to falter under his ministrations, waves of pleasure shaking your body as the knot that had built in your lower stomach snaps. Osferth however continues to fuck into you, chasing his own release, which claims him only moments later. Encouraged by your fluttering walls, rolled back eyes and downright sinful moans.

As you let out a long, drawn-out moan and cried out in pleasure, Osferth let out a loud groan and came inside of you, filling your womb with his thick seed as he experienced the ultimate pleasure of release for the first time. He felt like he was on fire, every nerve in his body burning with need even after his peak had stopped overwhelming him.

You stay in Osferth´s lap until the two of you have found your breath again and his cock has softened inside of you. Only then, you stand up to go clean up.

"How was that for a first time?” You ask him with another lazy smile and hazy eyes that glow in the light of your previous orgasm as you fix his messy hair with gentle touches and clean his cock with a damp towel. Osferth looked down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion, his member still throbbing under the gentle, lukewarm towel. He nodded in response to your question, unable to speak for the moment due to lack of breath.

"I do not feel like I've done justice to how amazing you felt around me." He answers once he regains his mind, a weak grin grazing his lips.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. A bell like giggle escapes you at his statement.

"Well, you could always come back tomorrow..." You invite him in a sultry tone, eyes falling half close to give an equally seductive look.

The next day you hear his friends before they even enter the tavern. Smiling to yourself as you go to greet them and take their orders of assumingly more ale, it becomes more clear that they remained unaware as to what happened to their friend after they left the prior night. So, Alenna gives Osferth a wink and whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. "I cannot wait to see you again later. I had a lot of fun last night..."

#osferth #osferth tlk #osferth the last kingdom #osferth x reader #osferth x you #baby monk #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic

[mommytauriel]

+ · 。~ favorite physical touch

pairing.uhtred, finan, sihtric, osferth & sigtrygger x female reader |genre. fluff, reactions? Idk what to call this | warnings. Touching and some kissing | wc. 692 |

synopsis. some sexy tlk men’s favorite physical touch with there girl

request. no

note. I got this cute idea when I was watching kitchen nightmares, weird right? i really want to write more for other characters, just need some suggestions 👩🏻‍💻 this is kinda short, but it’s sweet. Maybe I’ll make a part 2 in the future!

☆ UHTRED

laying his head on your chest

Uhtred loves laying his head on your chest, for multiple reasons. One, because it's very comfortable, being able to lay down and just close his eyes, feeling your warmth. The second reason is because he loves being able to hear the soothing beat of your heartbeat. He has lost so many people that he's loved in his life, so being able to have you close to him and knowing that you're there, that you're safe…that you're alive. It's very special to him. The two of you don't even have to talk, just lay in silence; in bliss in the bed, you two shares. It's very intimate. 

☆ FINAN

cuddling

Finan absolutely loves cuddling with you, he loves how close it makes the two of you become. It doesn't matter what position, as long as the two of you are as close as you can be, he's fine with it. Finan doesn't mind showing some public affection but the two of you mostly cuddle at home, in bed or his favorite place, the soft fur rug in front of the fireplace. Finan’s favorite part of his day is when the two of you wind down, and cuddle on the rug in front of the fire, drinking some ale and talking about your days. Sometimes he would even interrupt you to place a few kisses on your skin that was illuminated by the fire. It was peaceful, it was warm. 

☆ SIHTRIC

hugging you close

It was hard for sihtric to really find his favorite physical touch, there all his favorites. But the more he thought about it, he realized that hugging you was his favorite. He hugged you when he was sad, when he was upset, when he was happy. He loved hugging you; he loved being able to pull you close and wrap his arms around you. He loved the smile that would spread across your lips when he pulled you close to him, or how flustered and shy you would get when he would lean to whisper flirty comments in your ear. Either it was hugging you from behind or the front, he loved it. He also hugged you and left a kiss on your forehead before he would have to leave (and ofc a breathtaking kiss). There was just something about hugging you that gets him going. 

☆ OSFERTH

resting his head on you

Osferth is a shy boy, at first that is. He was too shy to show public affection towards you around others, so he left all that for when the two of you were alone. But he started noticing something that he did in public and private without realizing, and that had quickly become his favorite thing to do. And that was resting his head on you. When the two of you sat next to each other, he would rest his head on your shoulder and watch your side profile, taking in every detail about you that he could. He also liked resting his head in your lap, looking up at you or the sky, listening to you talk or just quietly relaxing to the feeling of you playing with his hair. He loved it so much; it was just so comforting to be like this with you. 

☆ SIGTRYGGR

kissing you

Okay, Sigtryggr is a very touchy lover, so it's hard to pick just one. But thinking about it more, he realizes that kissing you is his favorite physical touch. He does it quite a lot, like a lot. In the mornings he wakes you up by placing soft kisses all over your face and neck, he loves the way your nose scrunches in confusion and your eyes flutter open, only too sleepily smile when you realize what's happening. You would lose count with how many times he would kiss you through the day, on the lips, on the cheek and even on your hand. He likes to surprise you and kiss you on the cheek, alerting you of his presence. He likes grabbing your hand in his and kissing it gently as he keeps his eyes on you, he likes kissing your shoulder and neck from behind. And let's not forget the breathtaking kisses the two of you share. 

note: this was fun to write omg! This was my first time writing something for osferth, uhtred and sigtrygger. I want to write more for them, I have some ideas 👩🏻‍🍳

I’m honestly just re-falling in love with sigtrygger like omg 😩🤭

I know I haven’t gotten a full fic out in a whileee, but I just have been having trouble really focusing on a fic. But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get my grove back!

Like I said at the first note, this is pretty short but maybe I’ll make a part 2 in the future.

I hope you guys enjoyed this!

Please comment and tell me what you think of it, I would love to hear your thoughts.

Likes comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

taglist: @clairacassidy @mads-weasley @bubblyabs @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

copyright © 2023, all rights reserved. you can't copy, translate, reproduce, repost my fic, use my plot or layout.

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom fanfic #uhtred x reader #finan x reader #sihtric x reader #osferth x reader #sigtryggr x reader #finan the last kingdom #uhtred the last kingdom #sihtric the last kingdom #osferth the last kingdom #sigtryggr the last kingdom #ewan mitchell #the last kingdom fluff

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Family Dinner

Pairing: Osferth x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy

Summary: Osferth comes home to see his wife working in the house even though she shouldn't.

"You should sit down and rest, my dear." Osferth came into the house to see his wife, eight months pregnant, working around the house. He sighed as he knew he would never get her to rest.

She looked at him and smiled softly. "I don't need rest. The child has been active as of late." Her hand glided over her swollen stomach before she resumed sweeping the floor. Osferth sighed in defeat.

He looked over, seeing his firstborn son wash some vegetables for dinner. He walked over to the small boy and began to help him. He leaned down so he could whisper into his ear. "I told you to get me when your mother started to clean around the house."

The boy stopped for a moment before looking blankly into the water. Osferth could see the guilt in his eyes. "She bribed me, father." He mumbled. His voice was full of remorse.

Osferth chuckled softly. "With what?" "She made apple pie." The boy whispered with a small grin. Osferth chuckled louder. "Was it good?"

The boy turned to his father and raised a brow. "You know mother a lot longer than me. So you should know she never once made a bad pie in her life." Osferth laughed out loud at his son's very true words.

"So she bribed you with her pie?" The boy nodded. "How long is she on her feet?" The boy looked up at the ceiling to think. "She took a nap a while ago, after that, she ate a little bit. Then she started cleaning. I think it was after you came home with firewood after lunch when she took the nap. It had been a long one." The little boy rambled on, trying to give an accurate timeline. "I think about an hour ago she began to clean the kitchen." Osferth softly nodded. He kissed his son's dirty blond hair before going back to cleaning vegetables.

A few minutes passed in silence until Osferth had finished cleaning the vegetables for dinner. He stood up to walk over to his wife. He took a knife and started cutting them up. "I could have done that." His wife protested softly.

He softly chuckled, cutting the vegetables into smaller pieces. "You have done too much today. Baked a pie. Bribed our son with it not to come get me when you were on your feet again." His wife softly snorted out a laugh. "Go sit down, my love. I can handle the cooking. I have done it several times before we had you in our band of merry misfits."

He felt a soft kiss on his cheek before his wife moved to a chair next to their family table. "It's clean enough, Noah." He heard her talk to their son. "Get them over to your father."

The small boy appeared next to him and brought him a bowl full of cleaned vegetables. Osferth took them and reached for the already cut ones. "Put them into the pot. But be careful not to touch it. You could burn yourself." His son nodded before completing the task his father gave him.

"Can I read to my sibling, mother?" Noah stood in front of his mother with a book. His wife nodded softly before their son sat next to her body on the floor. He opened the book and began to softly read. "Once upon a time, there was a great king named Arthur."

Main Masterlist

Can't get enough? Tell me about it...

#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth fanfic #osferth the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Feeling you 3

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: this is the last part and as I already wrote it got unexpectedly long, but I'm posting it as it is just as you voted. I really got so caugh up in this story 😅 I hope you'll enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it

Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT 18+

Word Count: 7,5 K

Part 1, Part 2

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07 @mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

You woke up with a throbbing headache, having struggled to find sleep until the early hours. The walls of the old house seemed as thin as parchment. Every sound penetrated your room – the laughter, the chatter, the clinking of mugs, and the crackling of the fireplace, all blending into a cacophony that grated your weary senses.

But it was the faint noises from the floor above that truly disrupted your rest, igniting your imagination. You briefly wondered if Eanflaed had deliberately placed your bed right beneath the room where Sihtric and Ealfwin spent the night. The thought was quickly dismissed, but couldn't you hear his voice through the thin ceiling? The blurred sounds of the muffled moans and passionate groans seemed to reach you even as you tried to block them out, covering your ears with your hands and burying your head under the pillow. It was almost dawn when your exhausted mind finally succumbed to a restless sleep, only to be woken soon after by the bustling sounds of morning chores.

"You've certainly looked better," Eanflaed remarked as she noticed you stepping into the main room, wincing when the bright daylight hit your red and swollen eyes.

"By the saints, I'd almost forgotten how thin these walls are," you grumbled, sinking into a seat and propping your aching head up with your hands. "I've ruined everything, have I not?" You added after a pause.

"Hold on, don't lose hope so quickly. Regarding Sigefried - you haven't acted in a manner unbecoming of a modest maiden. It was he who overstepped. If you wish, I can speak with him. But the real question is, do you truly want that?" Eanflaed said, a chuckle in her voice as she placed a plate of bread and cheese before you.

Her offer didn't surprise you. This was typical of Eanflaed, always resilient. Despite the hardships life had thrown at her, including losing her husband and being left to raise three young children while running an alehouse, she never faltered. Her approach was always pragmatic and thoughtful. She had a unique ability to balance her steadfast resilience with a protective nature towards her friends and the girls at the alehouse. They were like family to her, each deserving of her unwavering support.

But as much as you wished Eanflaed could solve this problem for you, you realised it was something you needed to address yourself.

"You are right, but I need to handle this myself. I have to speak with him," you said, nibbling on a piece of bread, lost in thought.

"Are you certain this is what you want?" Eanflaed's question caught you off guard, and you looked up to meet her probing eyes.

"Of course, I want it," you asserted, a hint of frustration in your tone. "I turned away a good man for... for a fleeting dream, for... nothing."

"Listen," Eanflaed said, sitting beside you and taking your hands in hers. "Who are you trying to convince? I've known you long enough. This isn't you. I know you're hurting now, but think carefully. If you accept Sigefried's proposal, it's a lifelong commitment. Don't make this choice out of hurt. You won't be able to bear it; your heart isn't made for such compromise, and I say that as a compliment.”

You gazed at Eanflaed in astonishment, trying to comprehend her words. The usually rational and sensible Eanflaed, who had often chided you for impulsively following your heart, was now advising you to reconsider what seemed like the most reasonable decision you had ever made.

It had been foolish to reject Sigefried. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by fleeting emotions and silly dreams, ignoring the stability and future that Sigefried offered. The thought of what you had almost thrown away for someone who didn’t even acknowledge your existence left a bitter taste in your mouth. It was time to face reality, and though the prospect of apologising to Sigefried was daunting, it was an unavoidable step unless you wanted to spend your life scrubbing mugs in the alehouse. If your fate was to be a whore in the disguise of a wife, you were ready to embrace it. At least you’ll be a modest and well-fed one. 

With a gentle but firm motion, you freed your hands from Eanflaed’s hold and stood up from the table. “There's nothing left to think about. I had the whole night for that. I’ve made my decision.” 

—--------------------------------------------------

"Look what I've got," Ealfwin announced, descending the stairs with a satisfied smile on her lips and dropping two golden rings onto the counter. Her smile widened as she watched them roll and clink across the wooden surface. Eanflaed's eyes widened in surprise.

"It was the strangest night of my life," Ealfwin laughed.

"What happened? It was that young Dane who took you upstairs, wasn't it? What did he want?" Eanflaed asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh, don't worry, it wasn't anything bad. He was so passionate, kissing me like a desperate starving man, right here at the table. But when we got upstairs and I started to undress, he suddenly told me he wasn't in the mood," Ealfwin explained, shrugging. "I was about to leave, but then he took off two of his rings and asked me to have a drink with him and stay the night. He said he didn't want to be alone."

"And then what happened?" Eanflaed probed, her curiosity evident.

"We just drank and talked. About life, the alehouse, all sorts of things. Then he asked for another pitcher of ale and told me to go to bed. I couldn't turn down such a generous offer. Just look at these rings – they're solid gold, and look at how thick they are."

"Yes, the rings are impressive. But what was he doing all this time?" Eanflaed inquired further.

"He just sat there, drinking. And this might sound odd," Ealfwin paused, licking her lips nervously before continuing, "but if I didn't know he was a Dane and one of Uhtred's fiercest warriors, I'd think he was crying."

"Crying?" Eanflaed's tone was filled with disbelief.

"Yes, crying. It was late already when I woke up to some odd noises, and there he was, still at the table, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as if he were sobbing," Ealfwin's voice dropped to a hushed tone, and she glanced around cautiously, as though worried about being overheard. "It must have been something else, perhaps I was still half-asleep. He's a Dane, after all, and just yesterday I heard Uhtred praising his prowess in battle. Such men don't cry, do they?"

"No, they usually don't," Eanflaed agreed, though her response came with a hint of hesitation as she slowly shook her head, seemingly lost in thought.

"Yeah, and by the time I woke up this morning, he was already gone," Ealfwin concluded, her gaze still fixed on the two gleaming gold rings resting on the counter. "I really need a new dress; this one's seen better days."

Eanflaed picked up the rings and slipped them into a small pouch at her waist. "I'll get these exchanged for money. Last night was really a good one. We should now have enough to restock for the winter, and I'm sure we can manage a few new dresses as well." 

—-----------------------------------------------

"It's a bit early, isn't it?" Eanflaed chuckled, glancing towards the door as it creaked open. It was still morning, edging towards noon, and she had only just finished cleaning the main room.

"I'm here to talk to Y/N, to offer congratulations on the engagement," slurred the young man leaning heavily against the door frame. Clearly drunk, he staggered towards Eanflaed and grabbed hold of the counter for support.

"What in the world?" Eanflaed blurted out, her stern gaze and furrowed brows fixed on the intruder. Her sharp retort was cut short as she recognized the young Dane from Uhtred’s company.

"Oh, I forgot to bring flowers. Isn't it customary to bring flowers for such occasions?" he mumbled, hiccupping, his clouded mismatched eyes boldly meeting Eanflaed's.

"What are you doing here?" Eanflaed demanded, eyeing him critically from head to toe.

Sihtric felt a sobering jolt from Eanflaed’s tone. Despite his drunken state, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. What was he doing here, indeed? He wasn't even sure how he had managed to find his way here in his current condition.

Compelled by the fear of encountering you again, he had stealthily slipped away under the cover of night, heading to the inn where Uhtred had secured rooms for them. There, he had joined the few remaining guests in their drinking. The ale had bolstered his courage, fueling his burning need for answers, and his legs had unwittingly led him here.

That brief moment the previous evening, when your eyes had met his, had unsettled him deeply. The surprise and pain etched on your face as you looked at him had caused him to nearly stumble and drop the girl he was holding. Why had you looked at him that way? Weren't you supposed to be happy and content, ready to start your new life without any place for his unrequited affection?

"I'm not sure," he mumbled, his momentary boldness fading into abashment.

"After what you did yesterday, you have the nerve to come here asking for her? You... you drunken fool," Eanflaed said, her voice rising in anger as she dropped the rag she was using to clean the counter. She advanced towards Sihtric, her smaller stature no match for her palpable fury. Sihtric instinctively began to retreat until he backed into a bench and clumsily sat down, trying to avoid tumbling over it, his warrior’s poise nowhere to be seen under Eanflaed’s fiery gaze.

"I don't know what tales you spun before leaving, but she waited for you all these long months. And just yesterday, she rejected a marriage proposal because of you. Do you grasp that, you fucking fool? She rejected Sigefried and ran off just to see you parade off with Ealfwin, ignoring her as if she were a complete stranger. And now you want to talk to her?" Eanflaed hurled her words at Sihtric with the force of thrown stones, growing louder as she jabbed her finger into Sihtric's chest.

"She did what?" Sihtric's eyes widened in shock, his mouth agape as he stared at the angry small woman before him. Her words had sobered him like a bucket of cold water on his head and in that moment Sihtric wished for nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "By the gods, what a fool I am," he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Leave now, or I'll call the town guards, and you can sober up in the sheriff's cell," Eanflaed threatened.

"Wait, please, let me explain," Sihtric pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I don’t want your excuses. Just leave! I won’t let you disrupt her life again. She might be reconciling with Sigefried as we speak..."

"I saw them! Yesterday, before coming here. I witnessed the proposal," Sihtric interjected, his voice rising in frustration. "I love her, I came back for her but I thought I stood no chance against him. I wanted to spare her the burden of remembering me. I never imagined she might still care."

"Oh, boy," Eanflaed sighed, her anger subsiding as she slumped onto the bench beside Sihtric. "That explains Ealfwin's odd night with you."

"What should I do?" There was such a despair in Sihtric’s voice that Eanflaed unwillingly felt sympathy with the boy. “Where is she? Please, I need to see her,” he pleaded.

"She's gone to speak with Sigefried," Eanflaed replied reluctantly, watching Sihtric's shoulders slump in defeat. After a moment, she added, "I’ll tell her you were here asking for her. But that’s all I’ll do. It’s up to her whether she wants to see you or not."

"Please, tell her I'll be at the White Goose inn, upstairs, last room on the left. I'll wait for her," Sihtric said, a hint of hope flickering in his voice.

—--------------------------------------------------

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," Sihtric said, taking a hesitant step back to let you into the room. A timid smile touched his lips. As you stepped inside, removing the hood of your cloak, your eyes took in the modest yet orderly room. Sihtric shut the door and faced you, his fingers nervously running through his hair while his gaze fell to his feet. "I... I..." he faltered.

"I honestly don't know why I'm here," you admitted, surprised at the calmness of your voice despite your heart pounding wildly in your chest. What were you doing here? You hadn't intended to come. When Eanflaed had conveyed to you Sihtric’s message, you knew instantly it wasn't a good idea, you knew it was only going to hurt and you had decided against it.

It's no use crying over spilled milk, you had told yourself as you headed towards the small street leading to your home. You rented a tiny attic room in an old, crooked house, owned by a landlady as aged and bent as the building itself. Evening was drawing near, and after last sleepless night, you longed for some rest before tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The word struck you like a bolt, a piercing realisation. Tomorrow was your wedding day. The cool autumn air filled your lungs, each season with its unique aroma, but autumn's – with its scents of rain, fallen leaves, and chimney smoke – was your favourite. 

Faint, hazy memories of a warm fireplace in a spacious room and the comforting chatter of gathered people lingered at the edge of your consciousness, as you slowly wandered along the empty and quiet streets of the drowsy town. Your yearning for sleep had slowly vanished. Tonight, nobody awaited you at home, a fact that would change tomorrow. Everything would be different then. But for now, the night was yours – the last night of freedom, the last night you could choose to do whatever you wished. Slowly lifting your eyes, you found yourself staring in surprise at the sign of the White Goose inn, gently swaying in the breeze above.

You were unsure how you found yourself there, but there you were, almost dreamlike, extending your hand to push open the large wooden doors leading to the noisy, crowded main room. Pulling your cape further over your head, you moved unnoticed through the busy, half-drunk crowd, heading straight for the stairs.

“Last room on the left,” you murmured to yourself, repeating Eanflaed’s words. Your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, resonating through you like a bizarre war drum. “What am I doing here?” you questioned yourself yet again, halting before the door. Nonetheless, your hand seemed to move on its own, lifted as if by an unseen force, and three loud knocks rang out.

You gasped in surprise as the door swung open almost instantly, cutting off the sound of your last knock. You were met by the deep, slightly startled gaze of two mismatched eyes. 

Sihtric’s voice was as soft and melodic as you remembered. “At least that hasn’t changed,” you thought fleetingly, as you stepped inside, only for the sound of the door closing behind you, sharp like the snap of a trap, to jolt you back to the reality, the sheer absurdity of the situation you had just brought yourself into washing over you like a rainstorm.

“It was a mistake. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come,” you stammered, trying to edge past Sihtric in a quick movement back toward the door.

He hadn’t expected this. After spending hours and hours pacing his small room, he had finally lost all hope of you showing up. Muffled curses and groans kept rolling over his lips as the shadows lengthened with the setting sun, his arms alternating between clasping his head and hanging listlessly at his sides, his fists clenching and unclenching, fingers raking through his hair or covering his face in frustration. The knock had taken him by surprise, standing by the door, rhythmically bumping his head against the wall, his elbows propped against it, fingers interlocked behind his head. 

He had yanked the door open, fueled by frustration, only to be completely caught off guard by the sight of you standing there, your hand still raised from the last knock. Fighting the impulse to pinch himself, to verify that he wasn't dreaming, Sihtric watched you hesitantly stepping into the room. His gaze fell to the floor, while his mind scrambled for something coherent to say. Throughout the long hours of waiting, he had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times, imagining all the things he wanted to say, just to find his mind empty as a blank sheet of parchment. 

His gaze still fixed on his feet, Sihtric almost didn't notice your sudden dash for the door. You were close to escaping, your hand nearly grasping the handle, when he realised your intent to flee and instinctively reached out, catching your arm and turning you around. You attempted to pull away, struggling to free yourself from his grip, but in the rush, Sihtric made another step toward you, and suddenly, you found yourself pressed against the door, his towering figure looming over you. 

“Please, don’t go,” Sihtric’s voice was deep and hoarse, a noticeable tremor running through it. His eyes finally met yours as he placed his hands on your shoulders, immediately feeling you tense up, panic and fear evident in your wide-open eyes. It was a look he recognized all too well, one he had seen too often, but never expected to be directed at him. Yet, there you were, staring back with a deepening darkness in your eyes and quickening breath.

"I’m sorry," he quickly stepped back, letting go of you and raising his hands as if in surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry. I…I’m getting this all wrong, aren't I? Please, just don't go yet. Give me a moment," the pleading tone in his voice washed over you, but amidst your rising anxiety, you barely absorbed his words. 

Averting your gaze and driven by instinctive fear, you reached behind your back, your hand frantically searching for the life-saving door handle. Your fingers finally found it, gripping it tightly, poised to push it down and open your path to escape as you looked back up at Sihtric and froze, surprised by the lost, sorrowful expression on his face, his large, expressive eyes shining with warm tenderness. There he was, the same insecure, alarmed boy, who had so trustfully followed you, squeezing your hand in his sweaty palm, his anxiety barely concealed. 

"I won't hold you back. If you want to leave, you can," he stated, stepping further back, giving you ample space, as if to emphasise the truth in his words. His gaze remained intently on you, earnest and unwavering. "You are safe with me. I'll never hurt you, you know that? Never."

Your expression softened, and the fear in you slowly ebbed away. You let your arms fall to your sides, though your chest continued to rise and fall quickly as you took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart. Time seemed to stretch out, the two of you locked in a silent gaze, the air around you thick with unspoken words and anticipation.

"What do you want from me?" you found the courage to break the silence.

"I missed you," came Sihtric’s immediate response. "Every single day since I left, you’ve been on my mind. I couldn't escape the thought of you."

"Then why…" you began, but Sihtric quickly cut you off.

"I saw you with Sigefried," he blurted out, his voice unsteady. "I heard his proposal, and then I saw him kiss you…" His voice faltered and broke, pausing for a moment to gather himself. "I... I had brought you flowers, and there he was, offering you a home, a future. I... I didn’t know what to do... I…" He stumbled over his words, his voice trailing off, as he struggled to continue.

"You brought me flowers?" you asked, a quiver in your voice, recalling your surprise this morning when you had seen the delicate blooms crushed in the dirt outside the alehouse. A sudden moisture gathered in the corners of your eyes, and it took all your willpower to hold back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"Is what Eanflaed said true?" Sihtric's gaze dropped to the floor, and even in the dimming light of the setting sun, you could see his cheeks redden. "She said you waited for me, that you turned him down because of me. Is that true?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Words seemed to lodge in your throat, making it difficult to speak. "Yes, I did," you finally managed, your voice emerging faintly. "But it doesn’t matter now. I accepted Sigefried’s proposal this morning. We’re getting married tomorrow after the morning sermon."

"What? Why?" Sihtric exclaimed, lifting his head, a look of pain crossing his face.

You gazed at him, a sad smile tugging at your lips, still leaning against the door. You wondered if he really expected an answer. He looked striking in the fading sunlight, the sharp contours of his face thrown into relief by the encroaching shadows, his beautiful, captivating eyes locking with yours, making it impossible to look away. A silent curse escaped your lips, your hands slowly balling into fists as you fought to regulate your increasingly shallow breathing. Your cheeks warmed under Sihtric’s intense gaze, a familiar heat spreading from your stomach through your veins, tingling every cell in your body, clouding your thoughts.

There was a part of you that knew there was nothing more to be said, it was time to leave, a distant voice in your consciousness urged you to go. Instead you straightened up, stepping away from the door, and hesitantly moved towards Sihtric. With each step, the distance between you lessened until you were standing right in front of him. Your hand trembled as you reached up, gently cradling his cheek, your thumb lightly tracing his lower lip.

"Thank you for the flowers," you whispered softly.

"But, I didn’t..." Sihtric began in a hushed tone.

"You are the first one," you gently cut him off, a tender yet sad smile on your lips, "The only one who ever thought to bring me flowers."

Closing his eyes, Sihtric leaned into your touch, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it more firmly against his cheek, a deep sigh escaping him. In that moment, he seemed to straddle the line between boyhood and manhood, like a young soul yearning for love and affection, yet hesitant to fully express it for fear of exposing his innate kindness as a vulnerability.

"I… I shouldn’t be here..." you stammered, your resolve wavering.

"Stay… please, stay with me," Sihtric's plea was soft, his other hand gently cupping your cheek, drawing you closer. He leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving you the chance to pull away if you wished.

You wanted to turn away, to step back and withdraw. It wasn't Sihtric's hold that restrained you – his touch was so featherlight and delicate that you could have easily slipped away at any moment. It was your own body that betrayed you, refusing to comply. With your eyes closed, you felt Sihtric’s lips tentatively meet yours, grazing them in an almost imperceptible touch, his breath warm and trembling against your skin.

“I can’t,” you murmured softly against his lips, but the involuntary whimper that followed told a different story. Despite your words, your hands seemed to act of their own accord, as they found their way to Sihtric’s neck, then upwards, weaving into his hair. The fervour with which you responded to his kiss, parting your lips in an eager, almost desperate need to taste him, betrayed the falsehood in your words.

Emboldened by your response, Sihtric deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.  And this time he knew exactly what he was doing, his movements were assured, his lips moving over yours with purpose. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, teasing and exploring, savouring the moment.

Your senses reeled. The sensation of Sihtric’s lips pressed against yours, his tongue entwining with yours, the mingling of your breaths, ignited a fire within you that you could no longer contain or deny. You kissed him back passionately, desperately, matching the intensity of his own need.

Sihtric let out a soft moan as you gently bit his lower lip, stirring sweet memories of your first time together. His hands cradled your face, drawing you closer to his eager yet tender lips. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and quick, and you felt utterly swamped by the intoxicating depth of his kiss, wishing this moment would last forever, that his lips would never part from yours, his hands never release you.

Your fingers began to fumble with the laces of his armour, impatient and desirous they tugged at the fastenings and Sihtric helped you to free him from the layers of the thick leather that kept your heated bodies apart.

"May I?" he asked, his hands hovering over the laces of your dress. You smiled, recalling how you had once asked him the same question.

"Yes, please," you responded, your voice quivering with anticipation. You held your breath as Sihtric's rough fingers began to undo your simple dress, first brushing it off your shoulders, then tracing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. With a firm tug, the dress fell to your feet, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric that made you blush.

Sihtric's palms cupped your face again, and he pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you want me?" he whispered, his voice husky and slightly hoarse, his breath unsteady. 

"Yyyes, I do," you whispered back. That was the undeniable truth, the sole clear thought in your mind. You wanted him, needed him, like a budding flower needs the rain. Yes, tomorrow everything would change, everything would be different. Tomorrow you would be married, embarking on a new life, but tonight, you were here and you were his and only his.

The soft moan that escaped Sihtric as he claimed your lips again in a gentle yet urgent kiss sent a flutter through you. Sihtric continued to cover your face with soft kisses, starting from your forehead, then moving to your cheeks, and finally trailing down to your jawline. His large hands settled on your hips, pressing you firmly against his pelvis as his hips gently rocked against yours, letting you feel his fully hard cock. “Do you want all of me?” he asked again.

Throughout your life, you had encountered many men, but none had ever made you feel as desired, cherished, and loved as Sihtric did at this moment. And never had you yearned for someone as intensely as you yearned for him now. It wasn't just lust or affection for this young man clouding your thoughts; it was something deeper, a profound and new sensation unfurling within you, so intense it was almost frightening.

“Please, say it. I need to hear it,” he urged, his voice strained between heavy breaths.

“I do, I want you, all of you, every part of you,” you moaned hungrily, your by now completely soaked pussy throbbing for him as your fingers went down to the laces of his breeches, unfastening them quickly, slipping inside and wrapping around his hard length, giving it a needy stroke.

Sihtric groaned, his hands quickly gathering your undergarments, pushing them up your hips and smoothly lifting them over your head in one fluid motion. His arms immediately wrapped around your shoulders again, pulling you close to his bare chest. The warmth of his body enveloped you, seeping into your skin as his mouth traced a path from your jaw down to your neck, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses and gently nipping at your skin. A loud whine escaped you, your skin tingling under the heat of his touch.

Sihtric placed his hands under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pressed against his broad chest, your arms encircling his neck, marvelling at his strength. He carried you easily, without any sign of strain, and gently laid you down on his bed.

You quickly scrambled up to your knees and reached for his waist, pulling down his breeches and freeing his fully hard cock. You licked your lips as you wrapped your hand around it, giving it a slow stroke and moving your head closer to his dripping tip. Sihtric’s head snapped back as he groaned loudly at your touch, but his hand firmly took hold of your chin, stopping you. 

“This time it’s my turn,” he said firmly, his eyes looking down at you dark with lust. “Let me make you feel good,” he murmured, gently pushing you back on the bed, moving his body over you and settling between your legs as he started placing soft kisses down your neck. 

He paused at your breasts, suckling slightly at your hard nipples, before going further down, each sloppy open mouthed kiss making you writhe beneath him. Muffled whines rolled over your lips as he continued kissing his way down to your belly, until he reached your pulsing core and the first lap of his tongue over your folds made you arch your back and dig your nails into the mattress, a heavy moan escaping you.

“Oh God, it feels so good,” you whined, and Sihtric let out a satisfied groan, his hot breath tickling you and making the pleasure even more intense. His hands were on your hips, keeping you firmly in place, as he sucked hard at your clit and circled it with his tongue. You felt your climax building up quickly, each lap of his tongue bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You whined and whimpered, rocking your hips against him, mewling his name   and begging him not to stop and the moment he pushed his tongue inside you, you felt a hot wave of pure bliss washing over you. Everything around you faded away, consumed by the inferno of ecstasy running through your veins and burning everything in its path, erasing all your doubts and possible regrets. 

Sihtric let you savour your high, his tongue gently lapping over your clit, waiting until your body stopped shaking. "Was I good?" he asked, as he moved back on top of you, a slightly sheepish look on his face paired with a mischievous, boyish glint in his eyes, clearly seeking praise and affirmation.

"Holy shit, you were sinfully good," you exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as you were taken aback by the profanity of your own words. You pulled him into your embrace, your legs wrapping around his waist. In that moment, nothing else mattered. All that was important was the soft press of Sihtric’s lips against yours, the comforting weight of his body pinning you to the mattress, and the delightful sensation of his breath tickling your skin.

 “I want you, I want to be inside you, to feel you around me,” Sihtric murmured in your ear, breathing heavily, his hard, leaking cock pressing against your core. “Will you have me?”

“Yes, please! I want you. Oh my God, I need you… I need to feel you again,” you moaned, shamelessly rolling your hips up against him. That was all he needed to hear, and in the next instant he was pushing inside you. His hands firmly grasped your wrists, securing your arms above your head, while he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savouring every scent like a dying man cherishing his final breath. 

He pushed into you completely until the very end of his shaft, freezing for a moment. “Gods, how good you feel!” Sihtric groaned against your skin, his lips sliding over your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. You bucked your hips impatiently, grinding against him, showing him how much you wanted him, how much you needed him and he instantly got you, starting to move, slowly in the beginning, but fastening his pace with each thrust until he was fucking you relentlessly into the mattress, wild growls rolling over his lips.

You met his thrusts with equal eagerness and passion, moving your hips against him, matching his pace. You felt impossibly light, as if soaring, your body seemingly weightless, free from all worries and sorrows. In that moment, there was no past, no future, just the present, blissfully unaware of your surroundings, even the image of the impending wedding had left you as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure surging within you, consuming all your senses.

Your eyes met Sihtric's, and you revelled in the way he gazed at you with such tender fondness, mixed with an unspoken, elusive depth, the softness in his eyes, a trait you never expected to find in a warrior, making your breath hitching in your throat.

You moaned his name, feeling your orgasm approaching, and dug your nails in his back. “Let go, my love,” Sihtric groaned, pounding into you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Let yourself fly. I want you to cum for me. I want to see you falling apart,” he murmured, reaching between your bodies and pushing his fingers at your clit, rubbing it gently. 

You gasped loudly at the sudden feeling of exhilaration washing over you and then you were falling or maybe flying, you couldn’t tell, as your back arched against the mattress in the most intense orgasm you had ever had. Your walls clenched around Sihtric’s cock and, watching your face lighten up in pure happiness, he followed you spilling deep inside you with a loud groan. 

“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric moaned, crashing against you, and you wrapped your arms around him with a blissful smile gracing your lips. 

“Don’t move,” you purred in his ear. “I want to feel you a little bit longer.” 

"As long as you want. I don’t want to let go of you, anyway," Sihtric replied with a deep sigh. "I want you to stay here with me. Will you?"  The pleading tone of his voice was tinged with uncertainty. 

"I will. I'll stay for the night," you whispered, cradling Sihtric’s face in your hands, gazing deeply into his captivating eyes, and sealing your promise with a tender, soft kiss. You held back a sigh that threatened to break free, grateful that the fallen darkness helped you to conceal the tears that shimmered in your eyes from Sihtric’s view.

Sihtric had so much he wanted to tell you. His wish wasn't merely for you to stay the night; he wanted you to stay with him forever. He longed to awaken each morning to your face, to the feeling of your warmth beside him. He told himself there would be time for those words tomorrow, and every day that followed. For now, you were here, with him, and his happiness was too profound for words, his contentment too deep to break the peaceful silence. Gently, he wrapped the blanket around you, just like that first time, and drew you into his embrace. Your back pressed snugly against his chest, your hair spread over the pillow, he inhaled your exhilarating scent and let the comforting fatigue seep into his bones, lulling him into a restful sleep.

—-------------------------------------

Sihtric awoke to a strange sense of emptiness and a chill in the air. Instinctively, he reached out, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but his hand met only the cold, thin air. His eyes fluttered open to a room bathed in the golden hues of sun long risen above the horizon. Your scent lingered, yet you were nowhere to be seen.

Leaping out of bed, Sihtric looked around in confusion.

"Damn it, no... it can’t be. Damn it!" he muttered as he paced the room. "Why? Why is she doing this to me?" he groaned, his hands balling into fists. A wave of despair and a sense of profound failure overwhelmed him. What had he done wrong? Did last night mean nothing to you? 

Glancing quickly out the window, Sihtric saw the small town coming to life in the new day's light, and his ears picked up the distant sound of church bells ringing. A painful realisation struck him, and he raked his hands through his hair, cursing softly.

"Fuck, no…" Sihtric exclaimed, scrambling to gather his clothes strewn about the room. Dressing himself hastily, he then stormed out of the room and pounded on the door down the corridor with both fists. 

"What's going on? Sihtric, have you lost your mind?" Uhtred's sleepy face appeared in the doorway.

"Lord, I need your permission. I need your permission to marry," Sihtric nearly shouted, and Uhtred's annoyed expression shifted to one of complete amusement.

"You want to marry? Now? Are you drunk?"

"Yes, lord. No, lord. Now, or it will be too late," Sihtric implored, desperation in his voice. "I've been too late twice already. I can’t miss another chance."

"Wait, slow down! Explain what's happening," Uhtred said, fully opening the door and gesturing for Sihtric to come in.

"Lord…" Sihtric began to protest, but a stern look from Uhtred halted him. With a heavy sigh, Sihtric stepped inside.

—------------------------------------------------

"Should anyone here know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace," the priest intoned, and you held your breath in anxious anticipation.

Stealing a glance beneath your lashes, you looked hesitantly at Sigefried beside you.  His gaze was locked on the priest, not on you, his fingers tapping against his palm with an air of impatience, as if eager for the ceremony to conclude.

A wave of nausea began to stir in your stomach. Was this the right decision? Was there even such a thing as a right decision? Your feelings for Sihtric were undeniable – profound and inexplicable, intense beyond words. Yet here you were, at the altar.

The hardest part had been slipping away from Sihtric's warm embrace. You had shifted carefully to free yourself from his hold, withdrawing your breath as it seemed you had awakened him. He had moved closer momentarily, his arm tightening around you. You waited, but his steady and rhythmic breathing soon told you he was still asleep. 

Finally out of bed, the cool air bit against your naked skin. You quickly picked up your clothes, and dressed. You were already at the door, your hand reaching out for the handle, as you stopped and turned, casting one last look at Sihtric. He appeared so peaceful, content, and serene in the ethereal light of the dawn's first rays, looking so young and innocent, like a prince from a fairy tale. But as much as you wished for it, this fairy tale couldn’t have a happy ending.

You couldn’t stay. Despite the ache in your heart, it was impossible. He was from a different world, he was a stranger, a passer by in your life. The events of the past days had made that painfully evident.

Today he was here with you, but tomorrow he would leave again, bound to follow his lord wherever fate led. What would remain for you? Only waiting. An endless, uncertain wait, shrouded in doubt and suspense, without even knowing its purpose. His absence turning into eternity you would never know whether it was because his gods had called him from this world or because he had chosen to marry and settle down with someone else. And nobody would ever tell you, for you were not a part of his world.

You struggled to contain the tears welling up, but realising there was no one around to witness them, you allowed them to flow freely as you gently closed the door behind you. As much as it tore at your heart, you were grateful to fate for having your paths crossed with this sweet, passionate, and kindhearted young warrior. He had awakened emotions within you that you were certain would stay with you for the rest of your life, giving you warmth and strength to face what you must do.

"Please face each other and join hands," the priest's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, and you turned towards your soon-to-be husband, extending your trembling hands. A shy smile touched your lips, but it failed to reach your eyes, where tears shimmered. 

The priest drew breath, and opened his mouth to speak as a loud voice suddenly cut through the air "I object!" echoed through the vast hall and a figure blocked the light streaming through the open doors of the church. You flinched, as if stung, immediately recognizing the voice. Panic welled up inside you as you turned, already knowing who you would see, the voice having been unmistakably familiar.

Why was he doing this? Was it an act of revenge for wounded pride? Was he about to reveal that you had spent the night with him, just to shame you? Could he really be that heartless? Questions fluttered through your mind like alarmed birds as you saw three men, three warriors, stride down the church aisle, stopping just before you.

The priest shifted nervously, his robe rustling in the sudden, uneasy silence. No one spoke. You didn’t dare to lift your gaze, acutely feeling the stares of Sigefried and the few witnesses he had brought, as if they were piercing through you.

"I object," Sihtric repeated, this time more quietly, a strange tremor in his voice.

"What matter do you wish to raise, young man?" the priest inquired, casting nervous glances at the three men, his eyes widening with apprehension upon noticing Thor's hammer around the necks of two of them.

"You can't marry him," Sihtric said, now addressing you directly. His voice was soft, almost imploring, devoid of any malice or anger. Sigefried cleared his throat, seemingly about to interject. He moved a step towards Sihtric, but the firm stares from Uhtred and Finan caused him to reconsider, and he stepped back silently.

"Why?" your question emerged as a faint whisper under your breath as you still didn’t dare to raise your eyes.

"Because I love you," Sihtric's answer struck you like a bolt from the blue.

"You love me?" you echoed, the concept feeling foreign and almost unreal. Love was a notion that had seemed absent from your life. Even recognising the feelings you had for Sihtric you had never dared to call them love. Could it truly have a place now? You lifted your eyes, meeting Sihtric’s earnest gaze.

"I love you and I know that you love me too, even if you try to hide it. Can you deny it?," Sihtric’s voice resonated with unwavering certainty, free of any doubt or hesitation, as he knelt before you, extending his arm towards you. "I may not have much to offer, but I offer you my hand, my heart, and the promise that I will love you until my last breath. Will you marry me?" 

You struggled to speak, but a lump in your throat rendered you silent. The church was steeped in a suffocating silence, and you stared down at Sihtric in disbelief. His gaze was steady, his hand outstretched and waiting.

Inside, Sihtric’s heart pounded at an alarming rate. He summoned all his willpower to appear calm and composed, concealing the storm of emotions within, striving to keep his outstretched hand from trembling. As the silence stretched, doubts began to cloud his mind. Had he been mistaken all along? Had he seen only what he longed to see, even if it wasn't true? Was he merely deceived by his own foolish heart, seeking love and acceptance in a place where none existed? His eyes darkened with shades of doubt and disillusion.

“Yes, I will,” your words emerged as a faint whisper, a light breeze carrying the soft clang of your shaking voice, yet he heard them. Those three words seemed to breathe life back into Sihtric, his eyes brightening with hope and happiness.

“Yes, yes! Oh my God, Sihtric, I love you! I will! I will marry you!” You found your voice again, repeating the words, thrilled by their sound. You placed your trembling hand in Sihtric’s, seeking stability as the world seemed to spin around you. In seconds, Sihtric was on his feet, closing the gap between you, wrapping you in his embrace, showering your face with kisses.

“I knew it, I knew you loved me. I saw it in your beautiful eyes. I could feel it, ” he murmured into your ear.

“Hey, priest, snap out of it. We’ve got a wedding to conduct,” Uhtred’s distant voice seemed to come from another realm. You looked up at Sihtric questioningly, only to be met with his reassuring smile.

“I will marry you here before your God, and when we return to Cochem, I’ll marry you again before my gods. Nothing in this world or the next will ever tear us apart.”

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric smut #the last kingdom fanfic

[valeskafics]

"Blood Of My Blood" - Sihtric Kjartansson x Targaryen!Reader

a/n: based on a request from @foxyanon combined with one from @the-shadow-queen02 🩷

Summary: When a simple stableboy from Winterfell saved your life during the Long Night, you learned what love truly is.

Word Count: 4,500

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, character death, spoilers for asoiaf/game of thrones, violence, fingering, oral f receiving, handjob, p in v sex, breeding kink

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the The Last Kingdom characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

You are not a queen the first time Sihtric meets you. And yet you carry yourself with all the dignity of one. He watches with awe-struck eyes as your dragon circles the skies above Winterfell, your hair flying in the breeze. You land soon after Daenerys, and though your dragon may be smaller than hers, Sihtric finds it no less impressive. You are the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, to the point he has to stop and wonder if you are even real. You slide down the wing of your dragon with such grace, landing easily on your feet. He watches as you look to Daenerys for guidance, wondering what you are supposed to do in this strange new place. She urges you to go and mingle with the people. And so, you approach the first person you see.

Sihtric.

You smile at him, “Erm, hello…”

Sihtric immediately bows, his heart pounding in his chest. He cannot believe his good luck that you chose him to speak to first upon your arrival North. He feels like a lovestruck child as he gazes at you, the cold Winterfell air mussing your hair. Your lilac eyes are unlike anything he has ever seen and he is completely enchanted. It is as though he is drowning in your presence. He clears his throat and tries to hide his nervousness.

“Princess.”

“You,” you shake your head, urging him to stand, “You needn’t do all that. The bowing and all. My aunt is the queen. Not me.”

He blushes, standing up straight, “My apologies, lady. I simply wanted to show you my respect.”

Sihtric averts his gaze, unable to meet your own for too long. It feels like staring into the sun, that he as a mere man should not be granted such a great privilege. He leans back against the stable, trying to act casual, but his eyes are continuously drawn to your lips as he wonders how they might feel against his own.

“I appreciate it, but it truly isn’t necessary.” Your smile is polite and your voice soothing and gentle as you ask, “What is your name, my lord?”

He feels flustered at you taking an interest in him, a baseborn stableboy, and he wonders if you will treat him any differently when you learn who he truly is. For some reason, he does not think you will.

Sihtric bites the inside of his cheek before muttering, “I am no lord, lady. My name is Sihtric.”

“Sihtric,” you repeat, his name sounding more beautiful on your lips than he has ever heard in his life, “Jon Snow speaks of you often.”

Sihtric looks at you, surprised that his old friend made king has been talking about him, but he feels pride as well, “Jon- Er, I mean His Grace spoke of me?”

You nod, “He says you grew up together here in Winterfell. But that while he took the Black, you remained at Winterfell and worked as a stable boy. And then you rode with his brother, the Young Wolf, yes?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Sihtric is feeling dizzy with excitement at the thought of a beautiful princess like you taking any interest in him. He is overwhelmed and also a bit proud. You seem a bit hesitant before finally speaking.

“Aunt Dany once hoped to forge an alliance with the Young Wolf by betrothing me to him,” you muse quietly, “Everyone who has met him speaks so fondly of him. But he is with the Stranger now. And I am here.”

Sihtric’s smile is gentle as he speaks, “He would have made a great husband, Princess. The Stranger gained a fine warrior that awful day at the Twins.”

As though sensing the pain behind his words, you take his hand in yours, taking him by surprise once again, “I… I wanted to give my sincerest condolences for your loss. Osferth, the septon-in-training. I met him one moon past, when we went Beyond the Wall to gather proof of the Others’ existence. In the process of saving my life, the Stranger claimed him before his time. He was a good man. I am sure he and the Young Wolf feast in the halls of the Seven Heavens together.”

Sihtric feels as though he cannot breathe, thinking of what he has lost but also of the way you are looking at him right now, with those beautiful, kind eyes, that sweet smile, “You are right, lady. You are wise beyond your years.” He pauses as you turn to stroke your dragon’s emerald scales, gazing up at the massive beast in admiration, “What is his name?”

“Rhaegal,” you say softly, “Named for my father. Aunt Dany’s brother.”

“A fitting name,” Sihtric comments, “Your father was a great man.”

You shake your head, sighing slightly, “You needn’t lie. Everyone says Rhaegar Targaryen was the cause of all the discord in the realm. That Robert the Usurper killed him without any great effort. That my father was no true warrior.”

Sihtric sees the pain in your eyes as you speak of your father and wants nothing more than to comfort you, “Roberet’s hammer may have killed your father, but his legend lives on. His heart may have been more for singing and reading than fighting, but he was no craven. And your lady mother died protecting you, sneaking you out of the castle away from the Lannisters. Neither your mother nor father were craven.” He sees the tears pooling in your eyes and speaks sincerely, “I am sorry for your loss, Princess.”

“It is alright,” you assure him, “I hardly knew them. I only know the stories. My father, my mother, my little brother and sister… All I have are stories. Aunt Dany and Uncle Viserys were the only family I knew after we fled to Essos.” You quickly change the subject, glancing at the Stark family banners that fly from the ramparts, “It must be nice seeing the direwolf fly after it having been the flayed man for so long. Were you here while Ramsay Bolton ruled?”

He nods, “I was, lady. It was terrible. It is good to see the Stark banners once more. I only wish Robb and Rickon were here to see them.”

You smile at him kindly before Daenerys calls you back to her side. You roll your eyes, turning to Sihtric.

“Apparently I am being summoned by Her Majesty. It was lovely meeting you, Sihtric.”

Sihtric stares after you as you walk away, saddened that your meeting has so abruptly come to an end. He feels like a fool for it, but his heart aches at your absence.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Princess…”

Battle plans are laid that evening and Sihtric watches with no little degree of jealousy as Gendry Waters and Podrick Payne flit about you like annoying little gnats. He purses his lips with displeasure, ignoring Jon and Theon’s knowing grins. They have always been able to read him so well. Even Sansa and Arya seem to be biting back their giggles at his expression. He listens with bated breath as you suggest taking to the skies with Rhaegal to help Daenerys, but she refuses, stating that she wishes for you to stay safe on the ground. He watches as you stare at her, defiance in your eyes as you say that you will not be kept from the fight. Daenerys sighs, turning to Sihtric and asking if he will watch out for you.

“Aunt Dany, that is wholly unnecessary-”

Daenerys cuts you off with a sharp glare before turning to Sihtric, who nods resolutely, “Yes, Your Grace. I will protect the princess with my life.”

He vows he will hold you close and keep you safe, no matter the cost to him. He would die a thousand deaths if it meant keeping you safe, set himself on fire if it meant keeping you warm.

What feels like moments later, the two of you wait on the ramparts, blades in hand, keeping your eyes peeled for the arrival of the wights. Sihtric sees you shiver slightly, immediately removing his furs to place them on your shoulders.

“You don’t need to-”

“You’re shivering,” he cuts you off, “Let me protect you. It is my honor and my duty, lady.”

Sihtric leans in close to you, wrapping an arm around you to give you his warmth, smiling to himself as you lean into his embrace. All is silent save for the wind and the distant sounds of Drogon and Rhaegal’s mighty roars. After a few moments, you turn to Sihtric, whispering his name so softly that he thinks he may have imagined the noise. He turns to you with a faint smile, butterflies in his stomach at the way you gaze up at him.

“There’s a very good chance we could all die tonight. And I don’t want to die without ever having kissed a man.”

Sihtric’s cheeks flush a bright red at your words. You couldn’t possibly want to kiss him. A bastard boy. But with the way you’re looking at him, nothing but affection in your gaze, he realizes that is exactly what you want.

“If that is what you wish for, my princess…”

The trumpet horn sounds, signaling the arrival of the White Walkers, and so you quickly pull Sihtric into a short but passionate kiss, your lips soft and sweet against his own before pulling back. Both of you draw your blades and prepare to fight in the Long Night. And you do so valiantly, slaying wight after wight, each of them tasting the steel of your blade. As the night draws on, however, both of you begin to tire, the fatigue of war wearing you down. Sihtric hears you scream for help, seeing that two wights have you backed against the wall, hands reaching toward your throat. Sihtric dispatches them with ease, though a new horde soon descends upon you.

He pushes you behind his back, snarling as he readies his final assault. The Others may take you both, but he swears he will make them earn it. But just as they approach? He sees the glorious sight of dragonfire raining down upon them. The two of you glance at each other as wight after wight falls to the ground, burning and writhing in agony.

“Rhaegal,” you whisper, a smile on your face, “He could sense I needed him…” Sihtric is taken by surprise when you grab his hand, running toward your dragon. You climb atop his back, extending a hand to your companion, “Come on then!”

Sihtric is stunned, but does as you ask, the two of you taking to the skies, burning all the wights you can see. He sees Tormund Giantsbane, Ser Jaime, Brienne of Tarth… He sees them all fighting valiantly, you coming to their rescue. The wind whips against his face as the two of you fly above Winterfell, his heart pounding with excitement as he holds tight to your waist, his face buried in your hair. And every time you say the word “Dracarys”, he is amazed by you, captivated once again. He is proud of you, of your dragon, of being able to serve you.

He thinks to himself that you are, perhaps, the Princess That Was Promised, with how you have flown fearlessly into battle and saved Winterfell from ruin.

Sihtric does not see you until the night before you march on King’s Landing. You are in your aunt’s tent, pleading with her, your voice desperate as you call for diplomacy rather than war, that the people who will be harmed in the process of her plan are the very ones she seeks to liberate. But your aunt does not seem to be of the mind to listen to you, too angered by all that has been done to her, to your family. You let out a cry of frustration as she leaves, falling to your knees. Sihtric rushes to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Princess…”

You turn to face him, eyes going wide, still feeling a bit shy after the kiss you two shared before the battle’s commencement back in Winterfell, “Sihtric…” You avert your gaze and sigh, “I was just… It doesn’t matter. She’ll never listen.”

Sihtric feels that same nervous energy, asking you gently, “What were you doing, my lady? It matters to me.”

You are quiet for a long moment before you speak, your voice solemn, “I do not think after the gods granted us such a great victory over the Others that we should march into another war. The people of King’s Landing are the ones who will suffer the most should open confrontation arise.”

“I agree with you,” he murmurs, nodding in agreement, “You are wise, lady. Wiser than most.”

“She has ignored Jon’s words, and Lord Tyrion’s,” you say, biting your lip nervously, “I’d hoped she’d listen to me. But she will not.” You meet Sihtric’s gaze and lower your voice, leaning in close so that no one else hears you, “I have had dreams since I was a girl. Dreams that often come true. And I saw…” You swallow thickly, tears in your eyes, “I saw myself sitting atop Rhaegal, some great weapon shooting us down into Blackwater Bay. Aunt Dany doesn’t believe me but I know it to be a vision. Just like the one I saw of Viserys. Of Khal Drogo…”

“She wishes you to fly beside her,” Sihtric realizes, “Lady, you must not. I will not let you ride to your death.”

“I must go against my aunt and follow my instincts. I need your help once more,” you take his hands in your own, gazing up at him, pleading, “It will be treason, Sihtric. But I beg you to help me.”

He immediately nods, “My sword is yours, my body is yours, my life is yours.”

Were he more bold, he might have confessed his heart and soul are yours too.

Sihtric distracts Grey Worm while you go to Rhaegal, your voice a hushed whisper as you give him the command to go to Dragonstone until you come for him. He lets out a quiet rumble of protest, staring at you with those eyes that, at times, feel all too human. Rhaegal bows his head before flapping his mighty wings, taking to the skies and flying toward Dragonstone. He flies higher and higher until he is nothing but a speck, disappearing into the night sky. You whisper a prayer under your breath before finding Sihtric again, resting your hand on his arm, nodding that the task has been done.

Grey Worm eyes the two of you with thinly veiled suspicion and you lead Sihtric to your tent, standing outside on the eve of battle.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, gazing up at him through your lashes, your gaze holding him captive, “For everything you have done for me.”

Your lips brush against his cheek and a rush of warmth floods Sihtric’s body, his stomach tied in knots as he replies, voice trembling, “You need not thank me, lady. It is my duty and my honor.”

The two of you gaze at each other, lips nearly touching, the memory of your last kiss prevalent in your minds. You lean in, ever so slightly, and Sihtric’s body tingles with anticipation. He meets your gaze and closes the gaps between your lips, brushing them against yours in a chaste kiss, one that says all the words that he cannot. His heart swells as your arms wrap around his neck, his hands going to your waist. It is a tender kiss, chaste even. Magical.

When you pull apart, you gaze up at him, speaking quietly, “Stay safe tomorrow. Stay near Jon. I have no idea what Cersei nor my aunt have planned, but I know it isn’t anything good.”

“I will,” he promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently, “I will stay at Jon’s side. Promise me you will stay safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You rest your hand on his cheek and nod, “I will try. Do not think of me tomorrow. Think of staying alive so we may see each other again. Focus only on that.”

Sihtric and you kiss just once more before you disappear into your tent, smiling at him one last time.

King’s Landing lies in ruins and Sihtric finds you, among the rubble and ash. Jon urges him to go to you, wanting to do a sweep of the city for survivors. Sihtric helps you to your feet, both of you coughing from the amount of smoke in your lungs. You say his name softly, and he embraces you.

“My princess.”

You look around, tears falling down your face as you whisper, “How could Aunt Dany do this? So many innocent people… Women and children…”

The city is devastated, Sihtric thinks, barely any having survived the wrath of Queen Daenerys and her dragonfire. A rush of sadness fills him and he takes your hand, hoping to comfort you. When you squeeze it, he feels content in knowing he has managed to do something for you.

“We defeated Cersei…” You trail off before murmuring, “But at what cost?”

Sihtric embraces you once more, tucking you under his chin, promising everything will be alright. Even though both of you know it will not.

It doesn’t surprise you when you get word that Jon has killed your aunt. What she did was wrong, but so too was Jon taking justice in his own hands. Upon receiving word, you collapse into Sihtric’s arms, sobbing.

“I… I know what she did was wrong, but it still hurts…”

“I know, Princess,” he says, stroking your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sob into his chest, “I have no one left now. No family. Nothing.”

“You have me,” Sihtric promises, “You will always have me. Whatever happens, whatever you need, I will always be here for you. To protect you. Always.”

When the council is held to determine the fates of both Lord Tyrion and Jon, you are taken by surprise when none other than Sansa Stark nominates you to be the Protector of the Realm. Your eyes go wide with shock as you ask her to repeat herself.

“It makes sense,” Robin Arryn agrees, “She is the rightful heir. The last remaining child of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia. The last of the Targaryens and Martells.”

Sihtric watches the meeting with excitement. Are you about to be crowned as queen? You voice the fact that you are not Daenerys, you were not raised for this. And Sansa just smiles at you, telling you that is why you will make the perfect queen. All the nobility present vote in your favor and Sihtric watches with pride as you accept the heavy burden of the crown, knowing that you will be a just and true leader. He smiles at you encouragingly as you step forward and allow it to be placed on your head, looking around the table in shock.

He finds you that evening, walking in the Kingswood, dressed in your finest clothes, that golden crown still atop your head. He approaches you quietly, quickly bowing to show his respect.

“What did I tell you about bowing to me?” Your smile is playful as you face him, “Sihtric… I want my first act as queen to be legitimizing you. I have signed the decree already. You are now Sihtric Kjartansson, Lord of Dunholm.”

Sihtric stares at you, speechless, lips parted in shock, “My queen…”

You take his arm, the two of you walking in the moonlight, his heart swelling with joy as you meander through the woods.

“I have been told that I will need to marry soon,” you remark, “To secure the alliance of one of the regions.”

Sihtric stiffens slightly. He had hoped this day would not come, and now here it is before him. His heart sinks, your words weighing heavily on his mind. He looks at you, the air between you thick with tension, and nods slowly.

“That is true, Your Grace. Now that you wear the crown, it will be expected.”

A wave of sadness washes over him, your romance ending before it had even truly begun as you state, “Several names have been suggested. Gendry Baratheon. Robin Arryn. Bran Stark. What are your thoughts?”

Sihtric’s mind races, his voice wavering ever so slightly, “They are all worthy suitors. They would make suitable consorts and husbands.”

He can barely get the words out. The thought of you being married to someone other than him is too much to bear. And then? You look at him and smile, that sweet smile of yours as you speak.

“And what of you? The lord of the second most important keep in the North. Surely you will be expected to wed soon.”

Sihtric’s heart skips a beat as he realizes that you are right. He is a lord now and will be expected to marry soon. But the thought of marrying anyone other than you feels so wrong. He can’t imagine anyone other than you as his wife.

“My queen,” he says, voice raw with emotion, “It can wait. I am content here. Serving you.”

You pause and face him, resting a hand on his cheek when you notice the tears in his eyes. You smile at him, meeting his gaze.

“You misunderstand. I mean that you are supposed to wed. I am supposed to wed…”

You trail off, a playful glimmer in your eyes. Sihtric’s jaw drops. Could you really mean it? He drops to his knees immediately, gazing up at you as he asks those four words that you so long to hear.

“Will you marry me?”

You nod, throwing your arms around him, nearly tackling him to the ground with the force of your affection. Sihtric laughs, his arms moving to wrap around your waist as he kisses you back, whispering words of love in your ear, his entire body trembling with love for you. You declare that the two of you will take Drogon and go to Dragonstone immediately, that you will wed there in the sight of the gods of Old Valyria, and upon your return to King’s Landing, you two will be married in the sight of the Seven.

When you walk to Sihtric, on the cliffs of Dragonstone, dressed in the Valyrian robes you and Daenerys had procured so long ago, you take his breath away. The two of you exchange your vows then and there. He cuts your lip with a shard of dragonglass and you do the same to him, kissing him allowing your blood to mix and become one. He gazes at you, amazed as the two of you pull away, lips stained red.

“The Dothraki have a saying. ‘Blood of my blood’. It refers to a khal and his blood riders,” you whisper, his hands holding yours, “I think it fits us too. You are my blood now and I am yours. The only blood the other has.”

He nods, resting his forehead against yours, “We are each other’s family. We will only ever need each other.”

Drogon and Rhaegal circle the skies above the two of you, as if blessing your union. Sihtric and you go down to the beach and he lays you down on the sand, his body warm and comforting against yours. You pull him in for a heated kiss, hands wrapping in his hair as he makes quick work of both of your robes. You smile up at him softly.

“Your eyes are two different colors. I noticed the first time we met. They are so beautiful.”

He gives you a quick peck on the nose before moving his lips back to capture your own until the two of you are completely bare before each other. You eye his cock with a hint of trepidation and more than a hint of interest, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. You recall something Aunt Dany told you long ago and spit in your hand before you slow start stroking his length, watching the way he throws his head back, moaning your name as you move your hand along his cock. Sihtric’s teeth sink into his bottom lip and his face flushes, looking so beautiful, so needy for you. But he moves your hand away before he reaches his peak.

“I want to spill my seed inside you,” he whispers against your skin, lips trailing down your jaw to your breasts, down to your stomach, “To watch you swell with my babe. The next king or queen. Our own little family.”

You nod eagerly, letting out a yelp of surprise as he laps at your folds eagerly, your hands flying to his hair as you roll your hips against his mouth. It feels so strange and foreign, especially when he moves to focus on your sensitive pearl, slowly pumping one finger in and out of you, as if to prepare you for his cock before adding a second finger, and finally a third, filling you up perfectly. His fingertips brush against that rough patch deep inside you that has your back arching up off the sand as you cry his name over and over until you finally spill yourself on his tongue.

Sihtric’s eyes remain locked on yours as he joins your bodies, pushing himself inside you slowly, taking care not to cause you any discomfort, staying still for a long moment, content to pepper kisses all over your face and gaze into your eyes. And when you nod, signaling to him that you are ready, he moves his body against yours seamlessly, hips rutting against yours, the fat head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot every time he slams back into you. His hands grip yours, holding them above your head as the two of you kiss, bodies entwined on the beach. He pounds into you, pistoning his hips against yours at a breakneck pace, getting closer and closer to his peak, feeling your walls flutter and tighten around him so perfectly until you let out a mewl of his name, soaking his cock. His own end follows soon after and he spills his seed deep inside you, a bright smile on his face at the fact that after tonight, you may be with child. His child.

Sihtric vows then and there on that beach that he will always protect you, the little family the two of you will create.

You are everything to him, his love, his lady, his queen, his entire world. And he? He is your lord, your prince consort, your everything. The two of you somehow found each other amidst all the sadness and tragedy in the realm.

And now that he finally has you, Sihtric has no intention of ever letting you depart from his side.

You, the blood of his blood.

#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric x y/n #sihtric kjartansson x y/n #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric the last kingdom #sihtric fic #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #sihtric tlk #my writing #tlk x asoiaf crossover #sihtric oneshot #targaryen!reader

[aemondsbabe]

Wind's Howling

summary: sharing a bed & accidental stimulation || you're nursing osferth's injury as the two of you spend a cold night together in an inn, but you feel called to help him in another way as well

pairing: osferth x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, mentions of injury but nothing graphic, dry humping kind of, kissing, breast/nipple play, piv sex, unprotected sex it’s like literally the 800’s sue me, cuddling, osferth whimpering how precious, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day five of 12 days of smuff!! this one can be read as a continuation of love is patient and kind or as a stand alone! enjoy! also yes, the title is a witcher pun

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @black-dread!

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

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You can hear Osferth let out a soft sigh behind you as you shift yet again in another futile attempt to get comfortable on the thin, lumpy mattress. You sigh too, as you finally settle, only to let out a quiet groan when you realize this position is really no better than the last twenty you tried. 

“Sorry,” you spare a glance over your shoulder as you speak, wincing as another harsh gust of wind blows a cold draft through the room, “I can’t get comfortable enough on this damn thing to sleep.” You say with a defeated sigh. 

“You need not apologize,” the monk murmurs behind you, “Between my shoulder and this cold, sleep eludes me as well.” 

As if on cue, another stinging draft billows through the room, eerily whistling through any cracks it can find. The two of you sigh, defeated — leave it to Uhtred to pick the worst possible inn to stop at, though he had insisted upon it, saying Osferth needed a few days in safety to rest his shoulder and the rest of you needed the opportunity to gather supplies anyway. 

Truthfully, a break was probably a good idea. Ever since the ambush a few days ago, the spirits of your group had been in short supply and members were beginning to bicker and fight amongst themselves. Your poor monk had taken it upon himself to be the peacekeeper, which had only served to cause you more stress as you kept trying to compel him to stay in bed and rest his shoulder. 

You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of his injury, the memory of him being harshly tugged off his horse in the chaos of the ambush still makes you uneasy; your heart twists in your chest as you think through your list of “what ifs” yet again. 

Almost as if he can sense your thoughts, Osferth bumps the back of your leg with his knee. “Please do not worry yourself, my lady,” he says, a heaviness to his tired voice, “I am fine, we are safe.” 

“How did you know I was thinking about it?” 

“You tense up every time you do.” 

You sigh again before finally turning over to face him, your tired eyes meeting his in the dark room, the only light in the room coming from the full moon outside. 

“Hi,” you murmur after a moment. 

“Hi,” he whispers, the corner of his lips quirking up into a soft smirk. 

“How’s your shoulder?” You ask, shrugging one arm out from underneath the thick wool blanket the two of you share to gingerly run your fingers over his arm, taking extra care in the spots you know are still bruised and sore, “Is it feeling any better?” 

“I think so,” he mutters, flexing it a little, “It aches to move it too much but as long as I am still, it causes me no pain.” 

You nod thoughtfully, silently thanking whatever God there may be that he had escaped relatively unharmed. 

After another moment of silence, you wiggle again on the mattress before letting out a quiet, rueful laugh. “I give up,” you groan, “This mattress is useless.” 

Osferth sighs next to you and shuffles closer, reaching out as far as he can without extending his shoulder to skim his long fingers over your arm as an act of comfort, “I’m sorry, my sweet lady.” 

“I should be the one apologizing,” you murmur, “Without my tossing and turning, perhaps you could find sleep.” 

He breathes a quiet laugh through his nose, “You are not what is keeping me awake,” he says with a sigh, “Between this cold and my shoulder, your restlessness is a blessing.” 

The wind howls outside once more and you see Osferth shiver as another draft of bitter air blows through the room. With a sigh, you shuffle closer to him, practically molding the front of your body to the front of his as your legs slot together under the woolen blanket; your eyes flutter closed as you savor the warmth of having him pressed against you, though the action causes your thin linen shift to ride up nearly to the tops of your thighs as one of his long legs presses between yours. 

After a moment, you find yourself squirming for a much different reason, the discomfort of the mattress quickly slipping from the forefront of your mind as your center begins to throb, making you keenly aware of the way the monk’s warm thigh presses against your bare heat, the thin fabric of his breeches the only thing separating the two of you. 

You stay quiet, opting not to disturb him further as you know sleep is important to the healing process. However, it seems his mind is wandering too because after a moment, your eyes shoot open when you feel his hard length pressing against your hip, only to find him already looking at you. 

“Osferth —,”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he murmurs softly, a blush visible on his cheeks even in the dim lighting, “I—,” he starts, though you cut him off with a soft kiss, sighing as his lips press against yours, his warm breath fanning across your face. 

“You needn’t apologize,” you whisper, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, “In fact, I can think of something that may help us both sleep…” You tease, just barely rutting your hips against his. 

His eyes slip closed at the feeling, a soft, whimpered sigh escaping his lips before he shakes his head. “You’ve already done so much for me, my lady,” Osferth murmurs, his blue eyes meeting yours once more. 

“So let me do this last thing,” you smile, pressing one more sweet kiss against his lips, “Please?” 

Your monk can’t help but smile at your eagerness and nods, making you smile brightly in the darkness of the small room. Gently, you untangle yourself from him before guiding him onto his back, taking care to ensure that he moves his shoulder as little as possible. Finally, you climb atop him, straddling his hips, both of you groaning at the way your wet, warm center presses against his length through his cotton breeches. You’re careful to keep the blankets wrapped over your shoulders as you maneuver on top of him, lifting your hips just enough to free his length. 

You shiver when you feel him press against you, already throbbing in your grasp as you run the head of his cock through your folds, gasping as it bumps against your already aching bud. 

“Please, my lady,” Osferth groans beneath you, his chest already heaving, “You… you feel too good, please.” 

You can’t help but obey him, smirking at his pleas as you position his length at your entrance. “Shhh, sweet monk,” you soothe, moaning as the head of his cock slips inside you, “Let me make you feel good.” 

Osferth whimpers beneath you as you sink down onto his length with a pleased sigh, your walls already squeezing against him. You gasp softly when he presses fully inside you, your hips resting against his as his length fills you completely, leaving no part of you untouched. You wiggle your hips on top of him, grinding your pearl against him with a soft whimper. 

You slowly start moving atop him, though you quickly pick up the pace as one of his hands grips harshly at your waist, the other remains draped across his chest at your insistence, determined to keep his shoulder safe. You bite your lower lip, intending to stay quiet as you know the walls of the old inn must be quite thin, however that gets harder and harder to do as the tip of Osferth’s cock brushes against that sensitive spot within you every time you sink back down onto him. 

“You feel so good,” the monk gasps as he stares up at you, marveling at how you move against him, at the beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks, at the way your breasts bounce beneath the nearly sheer fabric of your simple shift dress, “So beautiful, my sweet lady.” He sighs, his cock twitching against your walls. 

“Osferth,” you whisper through a harsh gasp, “I love you, my precious monk.” You smile when he groans beneath you, his cock throbbing as you continue moving against him. 

“I — Christ,” he gasps, the hand on your hip pushing itself under your shift dress, “I love you too, sweet girl.” He groans, perhaps a bit too loud, as he cups your breast, kneading your soft skin in his palm. 

You gasp loudly at the added sensation, the heat in your belly threatening to boil over. Blessedly, Osferth seems just as done in as you, his hips squirming beneath yours as he tries to stay still. 

“My lady,” he gasps, blue eyes staring up at you more urgently than before, “My lady, I — !” He cuts himself off with a loud moan when you lean forward to press your bud more firmly against him, which only serves to press his length somehow deeper within you as his fingers toy wildly with your nipple. 

“I know,” you nod your head with a gasp, struggling to keep your eyes open, “I know, my sweet monk. It’s okay, please” you moan, your walls clenching hotly around him as your high finally spills over you, igniting every nerve ending with a blinding pleasure, “God, fuck!” You can’t help but squeal, bracing your hands on either side of the monk’s head as you tumble forward, unable to hold yourself up. 

Osferth whispers your name over and over, as if in prayer, before he finally groans loudly, cock twitching wildly within you as he cums, painting your walls with his thick spend. He moans happily as you sink further down against him, mouthing at your nipples through the fabric of your dress. 

After a moment, your high subsides and you open your eyes once more, giggling softly as you lean down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. With a sigh, you lift yourself off of him before dropping to the bed with a tired groan. You slot yourself against his side and pull the blanket back up from where it had slipped off, one of your legs draped across the monk’s hips. 

Just as you’re about to open your mouth again to ask about his shoulder, a fist pounds on the wall above your heads from the next room, making the two of you gasp. 

“Oi!” Sihtric calls, his gruff voice muffled, “If you don’t stop fucking like rabbits I’ll come in there and strangle the damn monk myself!” 

“Oops,” you whisper to Osferth through a giggle, nuzzling your head against his neck. 

“I would face the wrath of ten vikings to bed you, my lady,” the monk whispers softly before pressing a kiss against the top of your head.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses

(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!)

#osferth #osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth fanfiction #osferth fanfic #osferth smut #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom smut #tlk #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic #tlk smut #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewanverse #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #my writing #12 days of smuff

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

All Things End

Pairing: Osferth (The Last Kingdom) x f!reader Warnings: Angst, smut. Word count: ~2.7k

Summary: Based on this request. Life has been blissful for Osferth since finding love with a Christian woman from Alton. However, he cannot shake the thought that she deserves better; if he loves her, he should want her to be happy, even if that happiness is not found with him... Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @blvckmvgicwoman. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Her breaths come in ragged pants that fan hotly against the sweat soaked skin of Osferth’s neck. She is pliant beneath him, thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, mirroring the spasming grip of her warm, wet walls, pulling him towards his end as she reaches her own. The pressure that has steadily been building at the base of his spine explodes in white hot intensity, and he screws his eyes shut as he pushes back into her with a final, deep thrust, spilling himself inside of her.

Inside of her.

He freezes as the sensation fades away, eyes snapping back open in stark realisation. He pulls back, breathing heavily, panic not allowing his heart rate to slow.

“I–I did not mean to…I’m sorry. That was careless of me, please forgive me, I–”

She places a palm against his cheek, caressing his face gently, halting his rambled apologies. Her expression is calm, though her eyes are glossy, lips parted as the afterglow of their tryst suffuses through her flesh.

“It is fine, my love, we will take care of it.”

He knows all too well what she means when she says that. She will take care of it. It would not be the first time that she has had to.

It has been a year since they shared their first night together, and they have enjoyed many more since then, under the cover of stars, or on the straw stuffed mattresses of the various ale reeking inns that they find themselves in when they have enough coin to seek proper shelter on their travels. Osferth is usually always careful, pulling out and coating her thighs, lower back or belly with his spend. However, there have been two occasions when he has gotten lost in her warmth, the intoxicating scent of her, and forgotten himself, finishing inside of her as he ascends to the height of bliss, before the gravity of his carelessness plummets him back to earth with horrifying cognizance. Tonight is the third time that this has happened.

His expression is sullen as he sits by the campfire the following morning, watching her brew the pungent roots and herbs in a steaming pot of water. The acrid stench makes his nostrils twitch in disgust, but he refuses to move or look away. She is the one that has to drink the noxious liquid, suffering the smell of it pales in comparison, and does little to assuage the guilt that weighs heavily upon his chest.

She grimaces as she gulps it down, brow furrowed as she struggles not to retch at the taste, and he swears silently to himself that this is a torment that he will never allow her to suffer again. She deserves better, he must be better for her.

The frightened young woman he had met in Alton has come a long way since he had rescued her. She is no longer shy and fearful and, though still steadfast in her faith, she shares herself with him freely and without shame. She drinks ale, laughs heartily at Finan’s dirty jokes and no longer displays any apprehension at interacting with Uhtred and the others. His heart swells with warmth and affection for the woman he has fallen in love with, she is truly the light of his life. Though in moments such as these he is left to ponder on how exactly he has changed hers, and if it is for the better.

He has basked in her warmth on chilly evenings, enjoyed the sinful pleasures of her flesh, found comfort and joy in the unconditional love that she showers him with, but what can he possibly offer her in return?

Osferth is her protector, but would she need that protection at all if she were not travelling with Uhtred and his men? He is the blade against the harm that he directly places her in the way of every time they prepare for battle. They have no home, no money, nothing but what they carry upon their horses. He loves her more than he ever thought himself capable of loving another person, but love alone will not provide for her.

The thoughts consume him as they ride south, towards the next village, and he clings tightly to her as she leans back against him in the saddle, as though he can feel the very essence of her slipping through his fingers. A man less selfish would simply let her go, but he cannot fathom a life without her. Deep down, despite trying his best, he knows he will never get it right.

Beocca and Æthelwold are awaiting them when they arrive, and she leaves him with a cheerful smile and a soft kiss on the lips, explaining that she wishes to explore, a polite means to excuse herself from the discussion that she knows does not concern her. He is ever grateful for her intuitive nature, but once more left disheartened that she is placed in that position to begin with.

He is barely able to focus as Beocca relays Alfred’s demands to Uhtred. There is a dawning sense of finality settling in the pit of his stomach, causing cold tendrils of dread to spread throughout his body, and it does not come from the news of the King’s order of one hundred pieces of wergild and an oath sworn to his son, Edward. There is a price he knows he will have to pay sooner rather than later, and it will come at a greater cost to him than any fealty sworn to a future ruler.

Osferth watches as she laughs breathlessly, the sound carrying softly on the breeze. The children scurry around her skirts, rosy faced and grinning, eager to play. She had obliged and agreed to join in on their game of chase when they had invited her, excited at having new people arrive in the village. Her playing with them feels effortless, natural even, and he thinks about how easily she would adapt to motherhood, to have a babe of her own to hold in her arms. It causes a lump in his throat, his gaze growing misty as his mouth tugs downward, knowing that’s something he will never be able to give her.

He is a bastard. He will not pass that curse on by marriage or parentage, that will die with him.

But what of her wants and needs? He is depriving her of the opportunity to be a wife, a mother. He can no longer subject her to a life of vagrancy and uncertainty, simply because of his heedless desire to have her at his side. She did not ask for this, it has been thrust upon her without her say so. Her life cannot truly begin until the one she leads with him comes to an end. With a heavy heart, he decides that when they reach the next town he will travel on without her.

The village they currently occupy seems too small, too dirty, not vibrant enough for her to call home, he reasons, she deserves to live somewhere bigger and as filled with exuberant life as she is. He knows he is lying to himself, he is simply unprepared to let her go, he is not ready. He is not sure he ever will be, but he will have to be for both of their sakes.

Over the coming days, he keeps her close, committing to memory the softness of her hair between his fingers and the way the sunlight dapples upon it like fresh spun silk. He inhales the fragrant scent of her skin every time he holds her close, as though trying to permanently imprint the faint floral smell upon his mind.

The way her eyes light up whenever she smiles is the sight he will miss most of all. He wishes for that to be the only expression he ever sees upon her beautiful face. He cannot bear the thought of parting ways and seeing the heartbreak in her eyes, or the tears that might fill them. It is craven, but he knows the only way he will ever be able to leave her is if he slips away without telling her.

His heart sits like a stone within his chest when they eventually arrive at the next town. He knows that when he departs it will no longer be in tact, torn asunder as he leaves half of it behind. He can see his future darkening as he looks into her eyes, knowing it may be the final time he ever gets the opportunity to do so.

Osferth makes love to her that night, his pace unhurried, every thrust drawn out slowly, memorising the subtle movements of her hips and each soft sigh that passes her lips. His hands stroke through her hair, caressing her face, before dragging over her curves. If this is to be his final time with her then he wants it to last, wants her to feel just how much she means to him, and to be left with the memory of how utterly divine she had felt pressed against him.

“I love you,” he whispers to her, as she cuddles against his chest afterwards.

“And I love you.”

Those simple words cause his throat to tighten, knowing he will never hear her utter them again.

It is for the best, he thinks sadly as he watches her sleep peacefully next to him. She deserves the opportunity to settle down, to get married, to have a family. She deserves everything he will never be able to give her.

He slips out of the bed as dawn breaks, casting a dusky orange glow through the gap in the threadbare curtains. The loss of her warmth is intensified by the knowledge that this is his final time experiencing it, the sensation of parting from her akin to being plunged into icy water. He has to force himself to look away from her in order to gather up his clothes and get dressed, careful not to disturb her.

Hovering by the door, he hesitates a moment, staring at her as she slumbers. If this is the right thing to do, then why does it feel so painful? His love for her is unconditional, however, and he longs for her to find happiness, even if that means he is not a part of it.

He hates the thought of her waking up alone, the inevitable betrayal she will feel when she realises what he has done, and it tempts him to stay, to continue to pretend that he could ever be enough for her. But he knows those feelings will pass for her, and when they do she will meet the man who will marry her and father children with her, a man who does not carry the curse of bastardry.

“There is a woman in the room upstairs,” he tells the innkeeper on his way out, handing him a coin purse containing all of the money that Osferth has to his name. “Please ensure she is well taken care of.”

His hands shake as he saddles up his horse, the void she has left behind seeming as though it will swallow him whole. He is incomplete without her, destined to go through life feeling like half of a person.

Finan raises an eyebrow at Osferth, as he tends to his own mount, eyeing him with suspicion. “She not coming with us?”

Osferth swallows thickly, an attempt to keep the emotion from his voice, as he keeps his eyes focused on the straps he buckles. “No.”

“Yes, I am!” She cries out, hurrying towards them, a bewildered look upon her face. Her hair is still tousled from sleep, suggesting she had dressed in a hurry to catch them up. “Osferth, why did you not wake me?”

His heart sinks, tears prickling his eyes as he turns to look at her, knowing he will now have to have the conversation he had been wanting to avoid all along. Finan clears his throat, looking between the two of them, before moving away towards where Uhtred and Sihtric are readying to leave.

“You are to stay here,” he says in a trembling voice, “I have left coin with the innkeeper to take care of you.”

“For how long?” She asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

He lowers his gaze, guilt pooling in his gut, unsure of how to word his response. There is no kind way to say “forever” in this instance.

“For how long, Osferth?!” She asks again, her voice wavering as it raises an octave.

His eyes are sad and filled with remorse as he looks back up at her, nausea swirling in his stomach as he watches a tear slip down her cheek. His fingers twitch uselessly by his sides with the urge to wipe it away.

“Do you not want me anymore?” 

Her voice is barely above a whisper as she asks this, and it feels as though a dagger has been twisted into Osferth’s heart. How could she possibly ever believe he didn’t want her? She means everything to him.

He shakes his head, the words feeling as though they will choke him as his vision blurs. “I will never stop wanting you,” he confesses, “but that is precisely the problem. You deserve better than the life I can provide for you. I will never be able to give you children, or marry you. I am trying to do what is best for you. I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy, you bloody fool!” She cries, the slightest hint of anger creeping into her tone. “And it is not for you to decide what is best for me. Why did you not tell me that this was how you were feeling?”

“I could not bear to have a conversation that I knew would break both of our hearts. I know that is cowardice, but I knew you would never agree to leave, and I cannot continue to hold you back from the life you deserve.”

He stares miserably at her, feeling the wetness of his tears upon his face as she swipes angrily at her own. This is not how this was supposed to go. He does not want this to be how they remember each other.

“You are right,” she says defiantly, “I would not have agreed to go. If a husband and children were what I wanted then I would have parted ways with you long ago. I am not the scared little girl you found a year ago. I make my own choices.” 

His lips part involuntarily, eyes widening slightly. “How can this possibly be the life that you would choose for yourself? How could I ever be enough?”

She sighs, reaching for his hand, clasping his fingers tightly in his. The gesture spreads warmth from the tips of his toes all the way to the top of his head.

“I love you, Osferth. You are enough for me. The life we have is enough for me. I do not wish to risk my life in childbirth, or spend my days tending to the needs of a husband who views me as something to be possessed. I want a life that is filled with adventure, I want to fall asleep under the stars, and I want to do it all with you at my side.”

A small, yet hopeful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he steps closer, tenderly wiping away the wetness beneath her eyes with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “God brought us together for a reason. All things must end, I know this, but not what we have, just the foolish way in which you perceive it.”

He rests his forehead against hers, relief and embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “I have been so stupid, can you ever forgive me? I do not know how to even begin to apologise.”

She leans in, pressing her lips to his, allowing them to linger for a moment before pulling away with a slight grin. “Save your apologies. You will need them for the innkeeper when you ask for your money back.”

He smiles. There is comfort in knowing that everything ends, because within it they have been given the opportunity to begin again.

#osferth x reader #osferth x you #osferth x y/n #osferth #osferth smut #osferth imagine #osferth angst #osferth fan fiction #osferth fanfiction #osferth fanfic #osferth fan fic #osferth tlk #tlk osferth #the last kingdom #tlk #osferth the last kingdom #the last kingdom osferth #the last kingdom fan fiction #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fan fic #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk smut #tlk angst #ewan mitchell

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Sihtric x fem!reader Masterlists

TLK!Sihtric x fem!reader

Masterlist

SKMD!Sihtric x fem!reader

Masterlist

Modern!Sihtric x fem!reader

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

SpookySeason!Sihtric x fem!reader

Masterlist

NSFW alphabets

Masterlist

Werewolf!Sihtric au

Prologue: The First Shift

Chapter 1: The First Sight

Chapter 2: The First Taste (coming soon)

#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk #sihtric kjartanson #sihtric kjartansson fic #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric kjartansson x reader #tlk x reader #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom fanfic #sihtric fanfic

[barbiedragon]

Sunstede

Pairing: Osferth x fem!reader (The Last Kingdom)

WC: 1.1k

12 Days of Smuff-Handholding and dry humping

A warm day spent gathering wildflowers and herbs leads to a moment of passion.

You shifted around in Osferth’s arms as a slow smile spread across your lips. He looked peaceful as he slept. Despite not yet being married, you oft shared a bed with him, enjoying the feeling of his warm body wrapped around your own. Very gently, you traced a finger down the slope of his nose; his eyelashes fluttered, elegant black webbing against his fair cheeks. Your finger curved around his defined jaw as you contemplated his beauty. How you adored him, not just for his appearance but his incredibly kind heart. He was a nobleman.

“You are awake,” Osferth hummed, voice heavy and thick with sleep as he cupped your cheek.

While you oft marveled at his nose, jaw, and eyes bluer than the seas, it was his hands that held a special place in your heart. They were large and warm, welcoming. and comforting. Whenever he laid them upon you, your heart would flutter or seemingly skip a beat. 

“I did not wish to disturb you,” you whispered, brushing your lips lightly over his.

Those fair cheeks of his turned rosy under your gentle touch while his thumb traced over the curve of your cheek. A pleasant shudder ran through you as you nuzzled into his warm palm. The two of you stayed in the small bed for a bit longer, curled around each other and enjoying the pleasant silence.

The morning sun shone brightly in the sky as the warmth of Midsomer took over, making the days seem longer. A wicker basket was nestled in the crook of your elbow while your other hand entwined with Osferth’s. You were in search of bright wildflowers to bring color to your tiny cottage and sage to keep on hand to treat various maladies. Osferth’s band of Merrymen were prone to scrapes and injuries while illness seemed to loom at Wessex’s door when the Winter Solstice arrived. Your lips brushed over the curve of Osferth’s cheek before you untangled your hand from his. He followed behind you into the fields as you began to gather up the sage from where it grew in thick brushes. You added some nettles to your collection as well.

“I delight in this weather,” you smiled up at him.

“I, as well, my lady. I enjoy the sun’s warmth and how it kisses your skin,” he replied, a soft smile on his face and little crinkles around his eyes.

“We should make the most of this day,” you hummed, feeling warmth spread through you at his small compliment.

You began to pick the wildflowers, reciting their names to Osferth as you placed them in the basket.

“Primrose. Primula vulgaris.” His thumb grazed over the pale yellow petals as he murmured the Latin term proudly.

“Wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble,” you teased him.

His cheeks flushed, head bowing shyly. “Merely expressing my knowledge in all the beauty the Lord offers.”

“I’m simply teasing, Osferth. Oh, foxglove! It only blooms during Midsomer!” you squealed before snatching a handful of purple flowers.

“Tis a beautiful color, my lady. You should have a dress made in similar hue.” A sparkle in his blue eyes made heat flutter deep in your belly.

“Such kind words, Osferth,” you smiled.

Cornflower, honeysuckle, and wood anemone joined your budding, colorful bouquet. Once satisfied, you slipped your hand back into Osferth’s before returning to the cottage. Once you sorted out the sage, storing them away in lidded jars after grinding the leaves with mortar and pestle, you began to knead the dough you had left to rise this morning. You giggled when you felt Osferth’s arms wrap around your waist, then nuzzled the crook of your neck. His hands slipped down your arms to join yours kneading the dough. You became lost in the sweet moment, bliss surging through your veins as the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The heat in your belly blossomed deeper, sending a pulsing need through you as you drew in Osferth’s warmth and scent.

You spun around in his arms, flour-dusted hands cupping his cheeks as you pulled him into a deep kiss. He was startled at first before melting against your lips. You made haste lifting his tunic then your palm pressed against the growing swell in his breeches. You gasped as his strong arms wrapped around your waist before lifting you onto the wobbly table. For a moment, you were frightened it might collapse beneath you, but thankfully, it did not. His breeches were unlaced, hanging low enough on his hips to give you a glimpse of the honey curls, and you bit back a moan.

You gathered up your dress before pulling him between your thighs, both driven by lust. He began to rut against your bare cunt, breeches still intact, yet you could feel his hardness through the fabric. Your fingers splayed across his neck as you drew him closer to rub against him. The tender pearl between your silken folds brushed across the fabric, making you shudder with pleasure. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear as his hips moved faster.

“Oh, Osferth,” you cried, voice warbling as the sweet pleasure burst deep through your lower belly as you reached your peak. Your eyes caught sight of the primrose that had toppled onto the earthen floor. Primula vulgaris. You bit back a giggle.

He groaned against your ear, forehead pressed against yours as he reached his own release. A sticky mess was left in his breeches. He lifted his head to meet your gaze, cheeks flushed a dark pink and a sheepish look in his eyes. You offered him a kind smile before swiping your thumb across a dusting of flour that clung to his cheek.

“That was most enjoyable, Osferth,” you murmured.

“Yet….I did not,” he stammered over his words, and you shook your head.

“Matters not to me. We merely kept our virtue intact, saved for our wedding night.”

The smile broadened across his face. “Indeed, my lady.”

His long fingers splayed over your hips as the moment stood still. How you wished Midsomer would last forever, but soon the cold would set in. The warmth dissipated as red and gold leaves would scatter the ground until snow replaced them. By the time the first flurries came to greet Wessex, you were married to Osferth, and your belly swelled with a babe. The scent of fresh bread and herbs filled your cottage instead of the sweet aroma of wildflowers. Butterflies flapped through you when Osferth placed his hand on your belly.

“I love you, husband,” you whispered.

“As I love you, wife,” he murmured as you watched the snow fall.

#fae's writings #osferth #osferth x fem!reader #osferth x female reader #tlk fanfic #tlk osferth #the last kingdom fanfic #osferth fanfic #osferth smut #tlk smut #tlk fluff #osferth fluff #osferth fic #12 days of smuff

[wackapedia]

Child Labour

Finan x reader Plot: Finan recruits a kid to help him shoot his shot with y/n 🤪 Warnings: None! Just fluff and teasing Wordcount: 811 :) A/N: pls look at little Aethelstan in the pic lollll

"These are for you, lady..." Young Aethelstan runs over to where you were standing, in a hurry to get this errand over with so he can return to his books. His speech sounded flat and somehow rehearsed, but you appreciated the gesture anyway.

"Why, thank you, Aethelstan! These are beautiful. Did you pick these for me?" You asked the little boy.

No, lady, it was Finan who-" The boy realizes his slip-up. "I shouldn't have said that..." He brings his hand to his lips as he laughs at his blunder. You were surprised to hear this new information as you ruffled the boy's hair.

"Tell you what, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear what you've just said so you can safely report to your lord Finan that you succeeded in your mission. Deal?" You offer a high five, and the boy eagerly nods and hits his little palm against yours. Aethelstan then runs off to where Finan was fondly watching your interaction, hiding in a corner. As soon as the Irishman finishes interrogating Aethelstan, the boy is paid one coin and then hurries off to resume his studies.

"You know, you can just hand me the flowers directly..." Your presence startles Finan. "And the coin too!" You laugh as he turns around to face you.

"A-ah, well, the boy named his price..." Finan reasons out, realizing Aethelstan's scam. 'That cheeky bastard,' he thinks.

"It's the third time this week, is it? So that's three pieces of silver?" You laugh, interrogating the flustered Irishman.

"He asked for five coins the first time..." Finan mumbles guiltily. It's such a wonder how the brave and agile Finan is reduced to a shy, bumbling mess in front of you. His adorable cheeks blush under his thick beard as he stands there, lovingly gazing into your eyes. You patiently wait for something—perhaps an offer—but the man remains stunned by your presence.

"Good day, Finan! Thank you for these. They're lovely." You wave the bunch of flowers to him and slowly step away, hoping he'll finally ask you out.

The morning drags on as Rumcofa takes on various tasks throughout the day. Before you know it. The evening rolls upon the town, and children are called back home for supper. Two boys, however, remain in the open field. One plays with his wooden sword, and the other holds up an illustrated book of sword fighting for the other one to follow.

"Boys!" You watch Cynlaef and Aethelstan immediately turn their heads when you call them.

"Do you know where Finan is?" You ask both of them as you fold a sheet of paper.

"Not this again!" Aethelstan complains, but Cynlaef nods affirmatively to your question.

You hand him the folded paper and instruct him to deliver it to Finan and to lead him back to your house if he accepts. Cynlaef nods and runs off while you lead Aethelstan to your house to prepare your supper.

Well, why didn't you ask her out?!" Uhtred exasperatedly responds to Finan after he exposes his dilemma to his best friends. "Maybe he got shy!" Sihtric pokes the Irishman's side, which earns him a smack to the shoulder. The sun was setting as the trio packed up from the pier in Rumcofa. Just then, Cynlaef's little feet patter against the boarded path, and he hands the letter to Finan, patiently waiting for him to finish reading. Once Finan looked up from the sheet, all colour seemed to have drained from his face.

"Do you accept, lord?" Cynlaef asks.

"Accept?!" Finan exclaims a little too loudly, almost scaring the boy. "Accept?! I will propose to her right now if she'd like! Take me to her!"

And this is how Finan finds himself spending his evening. Sitting in front of you, dinner all laid out on a wide table for four because the two orphan boys sit on each side. Conversation finally flows freely between the both of you, mostly because Finan is at the receiving end of Aethelstan's annoyed glaring and Cynlaef's teasing smiles. After the meal, Finan offers to help you clean up, and suddenly the both of you are reaching for the same plate, faces just an inch apart. It stays this way for quite a while, your eyes exploring his, your breath warming his reddened cheeks. You catch his eyes drifting to your lips, wondering how they would feel against his own. Slowly, he moves a little closer, closer, ever closer, and-

"Finan, didn't you say you were going to ask her to marry you?" Cynlaef interrupts the moment, and Aethelstan laughs heartily, also observing the two idiot adults in front of them.

Like opposing magnets, you pull away from each other upon remembering the two boys in the room. The plate crashes and hits the floor. Your faces are as red as tomatoes, avoiding each other's glances.

#finan x reader #finan the agile #finan #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom fanfic

[adragonprinceswhore]

You’re Nothing But A Beast I Osferth x Reader

Smuffy Christmas, December 11th I Masterlist

An anonymous request for some Baby Monk! I'm sorry that this is late, hope you like it! 🖤

Prompt: Grabbing the other's hand without saying anything + Temperature play

Summary: After falling into a river in the middle of winter, Osferth needs to warm up his lady companion.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, depictions of hypothermia, temperature play, water being too hot for comfort, yearning, religious guilt, fingering, praise

Note: The sentences in italics are Osferth's thoughts

Word Count: 2600

---

It all happened too quickly for Osferth to react. 

Under his lord's request, he had been appointed with the important task of delivering a noble lady to her betrothed only two days' journey away. 

But the sudden snowfall that met them merely after half a day's travel left the ground slippery, causing his companion's horse to panic and throw her off and into the river lining their path. 

Osferth hadn’t hesitated when he jumped off his horse and reached into the river to aid her, swiftly dragging her to land as she coughed up the water she’d swallowed in shock. 

He’d pulled the furs adorning his saddle loose and wrapped her in them in a futile attempt at keeping her warm, but to little avail. Shivers continuously erupted from her body so aggressively she could hardly stand still. 

Dread makes Osferths chest tighten as he considers their situation. Only half-way to the inn where they’re set to spend the night, one horse short and snow falling onto their cold bodies, freezing them further. 

He glances at the Lady he’s meant to protect as he ponders their next move. 

Her shaking form leaves him on high alert. She looks like prey; ready to be captured by any predator lurking behind the trees. 

He knows how quickly the chill can claim a person. 

I have failed her. 

“My lady, we need to find heat”, he speaks rapidly, eyes blown wide in panic as one of his hands tenderly rests on her arm. She only shivers in response, mouth unable to utter words as her teeth chatter loudly together. 

Lord Uthred had tasked him with this, a simple delivery, and he is failing him. 

I have failed my lord.

Osferth tries to chase the defeatist thoughts rattling in his brain away. He cannot let this blunder best him, this might be one of God’s trials; a chance for him to prove to the Lord that he is still a good man, despite the depraved acts he’s indulged in as of late. 

He places her in the saddle of his horse, continuing their tracking as he leads them on the narrow path lined with snowclad trees. He cannot help it when his eyes flicker to her. In the corner of his eye, he sees the strange shade her lips have shifted into, the drain of colour on her face. 

When Lord Uthred had informed his men that one of them needed to escort a noble lady on a short trip, he hadn’t even bothered to look Osferths way. Fighting alongside them, offering his loyalty and by consequence, his life, to their cause still did not reflect on how they viewed him; always just a Baby Monk. 

Osferth’s insistent advocating had finally worn his lord down, Uthred’s tone laced with irritation as he agreed to grant the young man his first expedition unaccompanied. 

Looking around the sparse trees next to the path they were trailing, Osferth felt shame consume him like never before. He shouldn’t have been trusted with this; it was as they thought. 

Still just a Baby Monk. 

He sighs in resignation, moving to walk infront of where the lady’s shiver form is sitting so she won’t be able to see his face as the corners of his lips pull down. 

Walking with his head cast down, shoulders tensing up with each step, he suddenly realises that he’s trailed this path before.

In summer, which could explain why he hadn’t recognised the scenery quicker, as it was now coated in a layer of snow. 

The Lord must be on my side. 

“My lady, I know a place nearby that will warm you”, he speaks over his shoulder before he steers his horse towards where he is sure they discovered a natural spring spewing out hot water from the underground last time he walked this wood. 

From the saddle of his horse, she let out a weak hum in reply. 

Osferth’s estimations were correct. There is a source of hot water here; a blessing that God himself had carved out of the side of a rocky hill. Despite the harsh winter chill, it is still warm, judging by the steam oozing from it. 

Could this be witchcraft?

They come to a halt before the water. “Lady, the spring here will warm you”, he explains, turning around to face her. 

She’s stopped shivering, her body now seems stuck in rigidity. Osferth swallows thickly before reaching out to grab her waist to help her down from the horse. His fingers sink into the material of her coat with an unpleasant squelch; her clothes are soaked and freezing cold. 

“You’ll need to remove this before entering”, he mumbles without looking into her eyes. The redness on his cheeks and ears are no longer solely from the harsh cold biting at his skin. 

Before he joined Uthred, Finan and Sithric, he was a god-fearing monk devoted to a life in the service of God. 

But his time with them had led him down a path of deviance; a life filled with swords, fighting and women.

The latter happened to be Osferth’s favourite of his new-found interests.  

If he did not know of the pleasures of the flesh, he might not have found the lady he’s guarding so enchanting. He’d had eyes for her since he first saw her, admiring her soft skin and sparkling eyes. But only from afar. 

Always from a distance. 

A pious lady like her should not be sullied by my impurity, even in thought.

She moves unsteadily, hands stiff and rigid as she unsuccessfully tries to undo the buckles of her winter coat. 

“Allow me”, Osferth offers as he quickly helps her get the coat off. Her thick wool dress underneath is just as soaked as her outer layer and Osferth helps her shed that too. 

Soon, she is left in nothing but her undergarments; a thin, crem-coloured smock. It sticks to her curves like a second skin, giving Osferth a clear view of her perky nipples and the soft curls nestled between her thighs. 

He does not know what to say, afraid his voice will betray his tainted intentions, and chooses to remain silent when he grabs her hand to lead her towards the heated water. He’s determined to help her get in, make sure she does not slip on any icy rocks, and then leave her to bathe herself warm.

Her cold hand holds on to him tightly as she steps into the water, a cry escapes her lips at the contact.

“I-, I cannot enter. It’s too hot”, she whines, stepping back. Osferth moves his hands to hold on to her elbows as he searches for her eyes.

“You must warm up, my lady. The chill could kill you”, he speaks softly. She nods in understanding, again moving her feet back into the scorching water. She hisses at the sting as she brings her second foot in, eyes growing glassy at the sensation.

“Osferth, it burns”, she meekly complains.

“Please, try to relax”, he instructs her. He cannot help but take pity on her, she still looks so weak, the familiar glint in her eyes no longer there. 

She takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself before experimentally lowering her body a bit further. The hot water feels like a thousand needles piercing her skin and she quickly stands to her full height again.

The grip she has on Osferths coat tightens as she stiffly stands in the warm spring, “I cannot-, i- it’s too painful”, she says in a defeated tone.

Osferth feels how cold her body is through her thin smock; sees the odd colouring of her face. She needs to warm her body, even if it’s painful. 

The brief but instructive experience with the women he’d indulged in had earned him some new skills. Perhaps he could utilise that to make her more pliable?

“If I help you overcome the sting, will you stay in the water?”, he inquires with uncertainty, already ashamed of his lewd proposal. 

She looks up at him in curiosity, nodding in response. 

“I know of a way to relax you, if you trust me?”

“I trust you with my life, Osferth”, she gently replies, giving him the courage he needs to show her his debauchery. 

He smiles nervously, allowing his hand to move from her elbow down to her hip. He cannot find the words to explain what he’ll do to her, and decides that it would be better to simply show her. 

His palm travels from her hip, to her thigh, and then towards her centre. She shivers slightly under his touch, but does not stop him, eyes watching him in peculiarity. 

He moves to gently cup her mound, long fingers reaching down to stroke her core over her garment. 

The fabric will shield her from my impurity, if only slightly. 

His face feels hot, his eyes flicker from her face to the snowy setting surrounding them. He tries his best to remain indifferent, but the sweet gasp she releases as he carefully strokes her stirs something awake within him. 

“Focus on the pleasure, my lady”, he instructs her as he moves his fingers to circle her pearl through the wet fabric of her smock. He wonders if she’s ever done this to herself; ever allowed herself to engage in sinful pleasure. 

Her fists are still holding onto the fabric of his coat, her breath heavy as she tries to forget the burning water her feets are submerged in. 

Osferth grows bolder, pressing down a bit harder as his fingers work in steady circles. Her body squirms before him. 

He instantly stops the movements of his hand, eyes filled with worry as he asks, “Am I hurting you?”

“No”, she says with a slight shake of her head. 

“Then let me”, he pleads, picking up the pace of his hand once more, “Please”

She closes her eyes, tiny gasps leaving her stiff mouth. 

“I-, If you.. also touch..”, he cannot finish the sentence, still ashamed of his depravity; the depravity he’s inflicting upon her. 

She must know that he does not mean to besmirch her, his only wish is to help her. 

She surely knows how sullied I am by now. Will she still allow me to guard her as our journey continues for another day? 

“Osferth?”, her voice, close to a moan, brings his thoughts to a halt. 

“Yes, my lady?”

“Is it a sin to kiss?”

Her inquiry leaves his mouth dry, yet he swallows and answers, “I-, I do not know”

“Oh”, she sighs, not in pleasure but more akin to disappointment. 

“I-, I cannot imagine it is!”, he blurts out when he sees her eyes cast down, “Simply an expression of affection. Like between a mother and her babe”, he reasons, voice slightly breathless at the implication. 

“Do you feel affection for me?”, she asks, gaze trailing up to meet his. 

How could he resist her now, when she’s looking at him like that? When the shimmer in her eye has returned? When he can think of nothing else but to swallow the sweet moans that leave her lips?

He ducks his head down to kiss her in reply, the hand not between her thighs coming up to engulf the entirety of her cheek. 

She moans into his mouth when his thumb circles her pearl, and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. Her face and lips are so cold, but her kiss is just as sweet as he’d imagined. 

He comes up for air, still revelling in the feeling of her, “Does it feel more bearable?”

“Yes”, she moans again, the colour now back on her cheeks.

Despite the depraved method, Osferth takes pride in knowing that he’s helping her; warming her up again. 

“Kneel”, he instructs, allowing her to grab onto him as he lowers himself with her, standing on his knees in the snow as she sinks further into the scorching water. 

She hisses at the stinging sensation and Osferth soothes her with another kiss, quietly murmuring, “I’ll make you comfortable, my lady”.

He can feel how cold the smock is against her skin, and without pondering upon it for too long, he moves to rid her of the garment. A voice inside of him tells him it’s to allow the steam from the water to reach her skin. Another voice tells him it’s for his own pleasure, so he may admire her fully. 

Has the devil consumed my senses? 

She is still shivering; from the cold air, the heat of the water, or Osferth’s touch, she does not know. 

He brings one of his hands down into the water, large palm gently scooping up some of the scorching water and letting it slide down the side of her arm. 

“You’re doing so well”, Osferth compliments her, eyes kind and inviting as they seem unable to stray away from hers. 

His hand comes up to cradle the side of her face. She leans into his touch and closes her eyes, focusing on the pleasure, not her stinging flesh.

His other hand moves between her thighs again, but this time he makes contact with her pearl without hindrance and she whimpers at his touch, eyebrows scrunched together in bliss.

Divine.  

His fingers travel down further. Feeling the wetness he created with his touch has his head spinning. 

As he slips a finger inside her tight heat, she grabs onto his shoulders, rocking her hips in tandem with his movements, throwing her head back. He searches for that spot inside her that he knows will make her collapse into his embrace, and when he finds it she rewards his pursuit with another pleasure-thick cry. 

“Use me, my lady. Find your pleasure”, Osferth urges as he places his hand so that the finger inside of her tightness presses at her sweet spot while the heel of his palm pushes down on her pearl. 

Her fists hold onto his shoulders tightly as she rides his hand, mouth gasping as it searches for his to indulge in another sin. He lets her use him; he knows he’s the one responsible for her wanton ways. 

I’ll pray to the Lord for her salvation later. 

Another finger slips inside her, and he feels her tighten harshly as she peaks, falling forward into his embrace. He carefully moves his hand away from her warmth, allowing her a moment to steady her breathing as she rests her head against his chest.  

Though she has found peace and comfort, Osferths body is still on high alert, painfully aware of the closeness between him and her naked form. 

He’s been able to keep his gaze away from her, to offer her the slightest decency, but when she leans back his eyes unabashedly flicker down to watch the steady rise and fall of her breasts. 

She finally sinks into the water, breathing heavily from the intense peak he drew from her. Osferth’s panting as well; cheeks tinted pink and eyes dark with lust. His mouth appears to be salivating as his gaze stays on her. 

She lets out a breathless giggle as she allows the hot water to graze over her skin. 

“You’re nothing but a beast, Osferth” 

Her words wound him, but the playful smile on her face leaves him intrigued. 

“Has the devil got his claws in you?”, she continues to taunt him, though he senses that her intent is not malicious. 

“Consume me too. Show me the depths of your depravity” 

---

A/N: Have I ever been unable to get into a hot spring just because it was so damn hot? Yes.

This is my first Osferth/TLK fic attempt so please be nice! Thank you for reading 🩵

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