#@perfectus-in-morte

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: While the princess hunts, Ivar learns how to be a good husband.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

For a few glorious seconds when she had first woken up she believed she would sit up and be in her quarters with Ivar beside her. Her dream of simply being his wife had been so vivid she felt in her bones it was the reality.

But the seconds only last so long and she feels the ache of sleeping on the hard ground as she opens her eyes to her tiny little shelter lit by rising sun.

She groaned in discomfort as she stood up and looked down at the rocky surface she laid on in distaste.

With what she knew to be a childish temper she walked over to the bloody bag that would have been her blanket and kicked it. She knew the fabric would have provided her little comfort, but it would have been better than nothing.

With a silent apology to the Great and Many she pulled out some more bread and biltong then tried not to glare at the bloody bag again. The lion had not only been unworthy of skinning, it was also unworthy of eating too, she complained silently.

Still, as she ate she knew she needed to do something with the carcass before its scent attracted trouble.

What was the best way to get rid of it alone, she wondered; considering abandoning it a few miles away from the shelter or even trying to burn the remains.

The idea of burning it made the princess feel wasteful, and even a tad bit sorrowful for the lion. It was a very respected animal and it seemed to have had a hard time living as long as it had before you crossed his path. Burning it properly and safely would take hours and every second of sunlight felt precious, and the Spirits would know that this body was wasted and not returned to the soil it was born in.

Soil…land, hunt; water…fishing?

The words had bounced around in her head in a weird procession of word association, soil is on land where you hunt, water is where you fish. What if she tried to fish on land?

(Y/N) quickly shoved the rest of her food in her mouth as she hurried to see how much rope she had left in her sack. It was only about twenty feet of twine, but it would have to be enough.

The next hour was spent preparing to go out and put her plan in motion, putting out the embers of the fire last night and shallowly burying a large portion of the lion's dismembered body a good visible distance away from her shelter and marking the spot with a large fallen branch.

(Y/N) had plans to cut out a widow in one of the walls of her shelter so that she could watch the burial site. If the first plan didn’t work out then she could hope to catch something digging up the free meal.

With that in mind she exited her humble dwelling, rope tied around the largest and best piece of meat the lion had to offer. The poor beast was really in bad shape and finding a piece of meat large enough to lure and entice anything had been ghastly work, but eventually she settled for the left hind leg.

She felt the burning sun above her as she walked towards the waterhole, the bait meat was hanging on her hip, tied tightly around her waist so her hands were free if she needed to fire an arrow.

Luckily, she didn’t run into any trouble on her way, reaching the trees that surrounded the water.

She knew from experience on previous hunts that most animals came to the warterhole to either bathe or drink so the trees were mostly empty. There were mandrills that kept to the denser trees where they had more shade, but she had no intention of getting in their way.

The princess took one large sip of water from her canteen before securing it along with the bow and arrows, the next part was not going to be easy and that excited her in the midst of her unease.

She had no idea if this hunting tactic would work, (Y/N) never even heard of any of the royal hunters attempting something like it.

‘Land fishing.’ she whispered before she began her first attempt at climbing a doum palm tree.

The bark was rough and splintery and the first initial step resulted in two red and raw palms that left her hissing.

She removed as many splinters as she could see, but her hands were still stinging.

The height and uniquely structured rough bark of the great tree were the largest hurdles for the time being, she couldn’t hold onto the leaf scars of the trunk without ripping them off the tree bark entirely.

She walked once around the tree, hoping to see something, anything on the tree that would make climbing it possible before noon.

There was nothing, the tree seemed in much better health than her lion visitor had been yesterday. She looked at her new dilemma and tried to find a new solution, but a sound of rustling leaves quickly distracted her, making her curse securing her weapon.

The sound was actually very far off, over where the mandrills were lounging in the thicker tree branches. The princess’s eyes followed the motion of fallen leaves and saw that a young infant had apparently fallen from a low branch of the tree.

In the next second the mother jumped into the grass to retrieve her screaming babe; (Y/N) made sure that she was not visible to either mother or child, ducking behind the trunk of the tree, and prayed the distance was enough to keep her scent from being noticed.

Mandrills moved in hordes and even as a wealthy princess, (Y/N) couldn’t afford to get their attention right now.

For a few stiff moments the mandrill sat still and searched for something other than her child, like she had caught a scent she didn’t like. The magnificent beast paced around the base of the tree, her head turning as she searched for any movement or sign of a threat.

The princess was as still as stone in her hiding spot.

She watched from behind her unclimbed tree as the mother mandrill placed her young onto her back and began climbing back to their sanctuary in the high branches.

Wide eyed the princess saw how the creature climbed, using the fragile leaf scars as steps rather than handles. Its powerful arms wrapped around the bark and interlocked the fingers so they connected like a belt as it pulled itself up higher until the leaves concealed them once more.

Of course she knew she couldn’t perfectly imitate the primate’s climbing but it had definitely given her an idea.

Carefully she untied the twine around her waist, making sure not to drop anything in case the mandrills were being cautious.

Once the twine was unravelled enough for her to wrap around both the tree and herself she tied it tightly behind her back. Looking again at how thin the twine was she made another loop around the tree and secured a second knot.

‘Please Great and Many, I want to marry that man. Be with me in this hunt and protect me, do not let me fail.’ (Y/N) prayed softly, feeling a breeze and hoping the wind carried your prayer to listening ears.

At last she gathered the strength to make a second attempt.

She leaned back feeling the twine support a large portion of her weight as she wrapped her arms around the trunk and pulled herself up using her arms. Once her feet were off the ground she gently placed them on the leaf scars and found that they held her weight well enough, but she wouldn’t push her luck.

Before the leaf scar could begin to snap under her foot the princess lifted her interlocked hands and pulled her body up higher as she moved her foot to the next scar, only a few inches off the ground but she tried to memorize the position and motion as she did it.

It took a large amount of strength to pull her own body weight along with her supplies and bait, but it also took an unprecedented amount of balance.

After repeating the motion about seven more times Princess (Y/N) found herself out of breath and with another twenty feet at least left to climb. Her arms, legs and abdomen were already beginning to ache and the rough texture of the twine seemed to be rubbing any skin it touched raw.

The sun was not yet fully peaked just yet and the shade the tree provided was heavily appreciated, but she felt drenched in sweat as she continued her strenuous climb.

Higher and higher she climbed, trying to focus on the next step she would take, but already she was not looking forward to doing this backwards on the way down.

As the beloved princess of Tunisia was trying to prove her worth as a valuable wife, Ivar was on his way to learn what it meant to be a good husband in Tunisian culture.

Of course he was genuinely interested in what the markets had to offer, but more than that he wanted to see the people. How they speak to one another, how the men show their affection and what the women found attractive.

Ivar had been truly touched by Princess (Y/N)’s assurances that she would be with only him even if he couldn’t please her, but he wanted to at least give her the best of what he knew he could.

He would learn every marriage custom and be sure he never did anything in ignorance to disrespect her as his wife.

It seemed the servant girl originally assigned the task of escorting them was experiencing her bleeding time and would not be available for a few days. So now Bintu was leading him along with the rest of his family out of the castle to begin the tour of the markets and the heavy mood that had dominated breakfast had mostly subsided.

Though Ivar suspected it was because Aslaug had chosen to stay behind with Queen Aza in court.

‘Your young royals are the ones who take these daily patrols?’ Hvitserk asked as they began their outing.

‘Yes, it is custom. Once they are educated enough, this teaches them what is happening among the people, to communicate it properly and put faces to the complaints.’ the older woman informed.

‘Who has been doing them while Princess (Y/N) was in Kattegat?’ Ivar asked.

‘A rotation of nobles, that way it’s harder for corruption to form. Lies start to fall apart when you involve large amounts of people to coordinate.’

‘I can confirm that, even now I’m King because an old man included the wrong people in his schemes against me.’ Ragnar sighed in reminiscence.

‘Sven told us how you and your magical boat builder overthrew your last King, it was a favorite with our young warriors. I imagine you will be asked to bless a few blades once we reach the market.’ their guide smiled.

‘Magical? Don’t let Floki hear you call him that…it would go right to that bald head of his.’ Ivar laughed.

‘Only a man with magic could build those long ships, even as the journey sickened me I appreciated the craftsmanship.’ Bintu said praisingly as they at last seemed to reach the market.

A large square with randomly placed carts, tables and tents, each accompanied by a merchant who had displayed their goods as intricately as possible to capture the attention of the passersby.

‘Speaking so fondly of other men now Bintu? Are you hoping to provoke me into acting rash next week?’ Sven asked as he approached their group.

He seemed to have been looking at a blacksmith’s cart before he noticed their arrival.

‘If I am? What could you do about it?’ Bintu challenged, but Sven only smiled fondly.

‘Nothing now, but I will remember.’ he said casually, but the look he gave the Tunisian woman was hungry and wanting.

Ragnar looked in amusement between the two, and a knowing smile crept its way onto his wrinkled face.

‘Ah, another union!’ the king teased.

Sven proudly raised his tunic and revealed a bloody bandage on the right side of his ribs.

‘Our Matrimonial Fight is next full moon. It won’t be a large event like Ivar’s but I imagine it will be a good show.’ the old man beamed.

Everyone gave their congratulations, even Bintu couldn’t keep her indifferent facade going in the midst of such celebration.

‘Thank the Gods, thought we’d see you two stumbling out of the boathouses for ages.’ Ubbe joked.

‘Our tour! You are interrupting our tour of the market! Go away, go train…just don’t be here!’ Bintu said quickly, pushing the jolly giant that was Sven back to the blacksmith’s cart before herding Ivar and his family further into the market.

Without the distraction of Sven and Bintu’s courtship Ivar began to look closer at the items on display.

Colorful fabrics with complicated designs and patterns, elegantly beaded jewelry, gold accessories, headdresses, strange spotted and striped furs, vibrant paints, spices, herbs, unfamiliar crops and so much more that Ivar didn’t even know how to describe.

‘What stall would you all like to see first?’ Bintu asked, her eyes still occasionally moving back to the Blacksmith’s cart.

‘I want to see what all you harvest.’ Ragnar answered for them all.

Bintu nodded and began to lead them to a section of carts and tables laid out with what appeared to be vegetables, grains and butchered meat.

The merchants had taken notice of their foreign audience and had begun to advertise their products vigorously.

‘The best biltong you can have!’

‘Fine potatoes and turnips. Perfect for even the most royal of meals!’

‘Palm wine! Honey sweetened and perfectly aged!’

There were so many people speaking Ivar had a hard time translating it all at once, but his family looked more and more excited the louder things got.

Soon their group had been separated despite Bintu’s wishes, everyone wanted to see different things that were scattered too far apart.

Hvitserk was tasting things at every cart, Ubbe was fascinated with the gold accessories on display, Ragnar spoke with a turnip farmer, and Sigurd had purchased what looked like a flute.

Ivar had taken longer than he wanted to reach the stand that interested him the most, his crutches really did slow him down.

‘Stylish cloaks! Perfect for every occasion and life saving in the winter season.’ the old woman said, her weathered hands presenting her collection that was displayed on a table.

There were all types of furs and even some beaded cloaks that Ivar couldn’t help touching as he greeted the woman politely.

‘Hello Elder, may I ask a few questions?’ he asked.

‘Of course, anything for our Prince Consort, many blessings to you and our princess. I’ve asked the Great and Many to guide her home safely for your wedding.’ the woman smiled brightly.

‘I thank you, I wanted to ask you what kind of animals are used in the finest cloaks? I would hate not to know the significance of what she presents to me after she has worked so hard.’

The old woman tutted and came around the table to hold his face, pinching his cheeks firmly.

‘Eh Eh, such a good good husband! Oh that blessed princess to find such a kind strong man! Sweet child, so much work goes into a cloak of any kind, but a warrior woman’s matrimonial cloak…I’ve seen women so determined they stitched full cloaks from rabbits alone.’ the woman spoke openly.

‘Those don’t tend to end well from what I’ve seen.’ she said quietly looking over her shoulder.

‘You didn’t hear it from me, but the salt merchant’s wife presented him with a cloak of rats! He accepted because she was a well sought out beauty, but now…come supper time, you can find her under the docks with all types of urchins!’ she laughed.

Ivar looked over at the salt merchant in amusement, he found the old woman’s presence comforting and warm. She spoke to him the way he imagined a grandmother would if he had one. She, like every other person Ivar had interacted with in Tunisia, said nothing about his legs and didn’t look at him like he had no right to exist.

‘The best animals are the large prey, pack animals and predators. Like this leopard here.’

Ivar looked at the cloak she pointed out and he was amazed by the orange black spotted pattern of the fur, he ran fingers through it.

He imagined what the leopard looked like before it was skinned to be this thick and large cloak in his hands. Then he imagined (Y/N) alone with one out in the desert that surrounded the capital village.

‘There are also gazelle, lion, wild boar, tiger, baboon, zebra, mandrill and hyena. Those are the best! Never seen an unhappy marriage for any couples with those furs, they are difficult to hunt successfully with a full party, it’s dangerous to do alone. Only women who are truly interested in the marriage seek these furs, even fewer have the skill to obtain it.’

‘How dangerous is it to do alone?’ Ivar asked, his worry growing.

‘Do not fret my pale patreon, I have lived in this village many years and I’ve seen Princess (Y/N) grow into such a skilled warrior. I am certain she will have a magnificent cloak to present to you, I will personally be helping her in the skinning tents when she returns.’

‘You are one of the skinners?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, but we all use the tents, and the best way to get the finest furs and leathers for your product is to help make it. It also doesn’t hurt if the skinners love your cooking, but again I did not tell you this.’ she smiled conspiratorially.

Ivar got the message; bribe the skinners with food.

‘Thank you Elder, I hate not to buy anything after taking so much of your time, please take this.’ Ivar took out a few gold coins and the old woman thanked him heavily and insisted he take at the very least a bright beaded bracelet.

‘Ivar, you have to try this fruit!’ Hvitserk called excitedly from a table so far away it made Ivar wince before he even began to approach it.

‘It had better be amazing.’ he mumbled as he finally got within reasonable hearing distance.

‘My brother, try this.’ his brother repeated.

‘Baobab fruit, my visiting friend. A local delicacy here, it dries naturally on the branch so the flesh is always perfectly preserved.’ the merchant advertised eagerly. Still holding the handful of golden coins Hvitserk must have given him.

Ivar looked at the strange fruit that littered the table, it looked more like a root vegetable or an odd type of melon. The merchant took out a knife and kissed the blade before he cut into the mysterious fruit.

‘Why do you…Ah Ivar.’ Hvitserk had started to ask but he seemed to have a hard time finding the correct way to ask his question in Derja, so he looked to Ivar for help.

Ivar sighed in annoyance but he looked to see what his brother was trying to ask; Hvitserk kissed the back of his own hand and pointed at the man’s knife.

‘My brother wants to know why do you kiss the blade?’ he asked.

The man shook his head as he removed the flesh from inside the fruit and placed it in a small clay bowl for Ivar to try.

‘Ahhh, it is a sad custom for widowers.’ the mad said.

Ivar’s hand froze on its way to reach into the bowl and he looked closer at the merchant he was speaking with.

This man was not elderly, nor did he look particularly sick or hard weathered. The Tunisian looked to be maybe a few years older than Ubbe, but his posture had changed after he gave his answer. His shoulders slumped and his head hung low as he seemed to caress the blade now.

‘My late wife’s last family blade…she died in childbirth and there is no child to pass this on to now. So I keep it with me, I ask it and her spirit to watch over me in my remaining years.’ he said softly, not looking at Ivar or Hvitserk, just his knife.

Ivar fought hard not to imagine himself in this man’s shoes; alone with no wife or child, just a knife that never gets to be inherited.

‘I am sorry for your losses,’ he said.

The man nodded in silent thanks before he straightened his composure, and put the knife back into the sheath.

‘No more widower talk, I’m sure you are interested in more positive things with a grand wedding to plan. My congratulations on winning the Matrimonial Fight for our sweet Princess (Y/N) I’m sure she will gift you an extravagant cloak.’ he beamed.

Ivar finally did get to try the Baobab, it was the strangest and sweetest thing he’d ever experienced. The flesh was sweet but dry and the seeds should not ever be thrown out, according to the merchant’s horrified expression when he first did it.

‘The seed can be crushed into powder, roasted or eaten raw.’ the man informed.

‘I’m going to convince father we need to add these to our trade, and I’m buying two barrels if he refuses. One way or another these are coming home with me.’ Hvitserk said, his voice determined.

‘I agree these are delicious.’ Ivar complimented and he gave the man a gold coin and took a few fruits and added them to Hvitserk’s bag.

‘Thank you for your story, may the Great and Many bless you.’ Ivar said before moving on to another cart.

‘Many Blessings, have this coriander for good health.’ said a kind young woman standing by a tent that smelled of fresh spice.

‘Congratulations! Please take these shell beads as my humble wedding gift.’ an old man said, handing Ivar a small rattling sack.

In all his years as a prince, Ivar had never felt so openly accepted. More than simply accepted, he felt as though for the first time he was being revered. No open glares, or cursed laughter when he passed by; all he saw was smiling faces directed at him as he limped along.

More and more people congratulated him as he passed, the merchant’s becoming less skeptical of them as they saw there was no ill intent on the pale unscared faces. And eventually, the young men began to interrupt Ragnar's exploring to nervously ask him to bless their various weapons, just as Bintu had teased.

Ivar soon had to offer seven gold coins for carrying his gifts to a passing young man, but the man refused; he insisted he was at the willing service of the royal family. Confused by the rejection, Ivar asked why.

‘I am not in need of it, the next person you meet might be.’ the man who introduced himself as Dele said as he walked alongside Ivar.

‘Ah! Our lucky man! Come come! I have by far the best wedding gift for any young married couple!’ a man exclaimed enthusiastically from under a tent.

‘Go, that is a tent you cannot afford to miss if you want to please your wife. Trust me.’ Dele urged with a smile.

‘Why?’ Ivar asked curiously as they turned to approach the tent.

‘I may not be married yet, but I can assure no woman has ever been upset seeing their husband coming out of there, look!’ his new companion said, pointing at a man exiting the tent behind the merchant.

He looked like the exact man (Y/N) said she would gladly overlook for Ivar; dark skin, long dreadlocks and a warrior’s physique. He walked over to a woman who smiled brightly as she looked around to see if anyone was watching.

When she noticed Ivar her eyes widened, she quickly hid her face in the man’s chest. He looked confused before he laughed and waved at Ivar happily, Ivar waved back and the woman dragged the cackling man away.

‘Good man, come inside.’ the merchant smiled as he ducked into his small tent.

Ivar followed, greatly appreciating the reprieve from the harsh sun. The tent had the strongest scent Ivar had experienced outside of a few select religious ceremonies.

It made him slightly lightheaded in a pleasant way.

‘Welcome Prince Consort, my congratulations! I have something special for your wedding gift.’ the merchant promised.

‘Thank you Uncle, may I say I am very curious about your trade. It seems infamous.’ Ivar complimented.

‘Ah, the Great and Many push me to be humble, but I must confess I picked a great trade.’ the man smiled as he searched for something in a crate of what looked like organized painted eggs.

‘What is it exactly that you offer?’

‘I offer what everyone needs, a little help.’ the man grinned, and Dele failed to restrain his laughter.

‘Help?’ he asked.

‘Aphrodisiacs! A little bit of the right herbs can help keep even the most mundane of married couples happy. Instead of passionless nights; imagine your wife wanting you so much she loses her senses for hours, then imagine having the stamina to satisfy her fully.’ the man explained.

Ivar’s eyes widened, his brows probably touching his hairline; he could hear Dele laughing outright at his expression but he knew his face wasn’t warming from shame.

‘No need for shyness. The tent gives you privacy, in here we are all people, merely seeking a little…help.’ Dele assured as he placed his arm over Ivar’s shoulder in a friendly way.

Between the overwhelming scent that surrounded him and the unfamiliar friendly faces, the young prince couldn’t help opening up. Speaking freely on one of his deepest secrets in front of total strangers.

‘What if you’ve never…been able.’ he asked in a small voice, waiting for the crude laugh that would rip this fantasy away from him.

No such laughter came, instead the merchant smiled as he went back to searching the eggs.

‘Fear not, I have just the thing for you my friend. I have something for absolutely everything and everyone. Have you never, or do you simply prefer pleasure alone?’ the merchant asked casually.

‘Nothing ever, not even alone…not once.’

The merchant hummed, then his smile widened; to his own surprise Ivar recognized the expression. A challenge had been accepted.

‘A blend I believe will be the best…Grains of Paradise surely yes, and Mondia Whitei for calming nerves and increasing hunger.’ the man muttered as he took out two eggs.

They were simple chicken’s eggs but they were clearly already cracked open and held together by strips of twine turning the potentially scandalous merchandise into eggs into easy to miss in an inventory.

Both were painted in extravagant patterns but they were notably different from each other.

‘Mix equal parts of this into your broth, about a pinch of each, two to three hours before you perform your husbandly duties. My gift to you and the Princess (Y/N), but if you are more interested I offer a variety of things to guarantee you a happy marriage.’

Ivar took the two eggs and studied them in wonder, he could hear the spices rattling inside the shells. He imagined following the instructions and being truly able to satisfy his betrothed on their wedding night.

‘What all do you offer Uncle?’

‘For first timers I strongly suggest burning Duffra incense, they are not overwhelming and slowly erase inhibitions and allow a woman’s desire to increase gradually. Also the scent is unforgettable, every time she burns these incense she will recall that first night.’

Ivar felt as if he were back in the Great Hall as a boy, sitting at Floki’s side and learning about the very first raids. Like it was one of the few Godly things men were capable of doing and he wanted to experience it.

He was unsure of how long he spent in the tent but he knew his gold purse was significantly lighter and Dele was carrying a larger load. Ivar learned everything he could while inside the tent, he asked every question that came to him.

Thankfully, Dele and the Merchant Chu’ Ku were happy to enlighten him, they answered his questions and gave him the societal sub-context he needed to navigate efficiently in public and behind closed doors with his wife.

For instance nudity was an odd concept here, if a person works outdoors they can be naked and it only means it is a hot day. However, being naked indoors is a show of trust with the person you sleep with. It made him feel somehow even better about the nights he lay beside (Y/N), and it made him miss her more.

Looking around the market he could see the crowd had reduced greatly and the sun was beginning to fall. Still a large number of merchant’s remained and he could see his family still wandering, and all of them had volunteers carrying their newly acquired treasures.

‘Good tent?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of no use to any of you my brothers.’ Ivar said quickly.

He didn’t want them to know what he had needed “help” with, and he was certain his brothers had no issues exciting women. So why expose his own private blessing?

Ubbe looked curious for a moment but shrugged it off before moving to another cart. Ivar instructed Dele to take his things to the castle and return, he would ask the merchant’s to hold onto their gifts until the kind helper returned.

With that done Ivar went back to his own browsing, still accepting good wishes from almost every person he passed.

Then he saw something unbelievably recognizable in this strange place.

Crutches.

A whole collection of them leaning against a modest wooden table, a young boy stood by and smiled brightly up at Ivar’s astonished face.

‘Pale Prince, are you looking for new crutches? Mother was hoping to gift you some but she left to help a man home.’ the boy explained eagerly.

‘Dear child, has there been any war in Tunisia.’ Ivar asked.

The boy’s smile fell as confusion took over his expression, he shook his head no.

‘Why does your mother sell crutches?’ Ivar asked as he looked over the craftsmanship. They were wooden, unlike his bronze forged pair; they were taller and meant to hold the user under the arms and the bottoms were flat instead of spiked to stab into rich soil or wooden floors.

‘For the people who can’t walk?’ the boy said, as if it were so obvious it was a little concerning for the Prince to not know.

Ivar notices even smaller crutches that were so short they couldn’t possibly be for an injured warrior or field hand.

‘And are there many people…children who can not walk?’

‘Enough to get us by, but not make us rich; is what my mother says.’

Chike!’ a young woman scolded as she rushed to the child’s side.

‘My deepest apologies Prince Consort, my son has not been bled and doesn’t know the custom yet.’ she said quickly, her face struck with panic.

‘Not necessary, I am also still learning the customs so I do not know how to be offended.’ he soothed.

The woman sighed in relief and sent him a grateful smile.

‘Please, any you would like.’ she said, motioning to the display.

Ivar was fascinated not only by the crutches themselves, but also by the fact that this woman made enough selling them to support her family. That meant there were children like him born here that were never at risk of being left to die.

That Tunisian women did not discard imperfect babes, that (Y/N) would never be told by her friends to reject his children. It explained why none of the Tunisians stared or questioned him as he crawled past them that first meeting in Kattegat, to them he was not strange or wrong,

He found a pair that suited his height comfortably and gave them the same test he had performed on his first pair. These were much better suited for the hard dry soil and his weight was much easier to support while standing, but most importantly he could move noticeably faster.

‘Good choice, I hope my humble work can serve you well.’ the woman smiled, wrapping her arms over her son as she watched the prince.

When she did so Ivar noticed a familiar X shaped scar that had a horizontal line cut through it placed on her left forearm.

‘Tell me, I am so curious about your culture; what is it like to be married?’ he asked openly.

He found that simply was the way Tunisians spoke; openly, the same way they show their scars. No riddles or mind tricks, simply speaking directly and giving honest straightforward answers.

The woman looked down at her arm and smiled fondly at the scar.

‘I can not pretend to know the complexity of a royal union, but…simply being a wife and mother are my greatest joys. Waking up and knowing no matter what happens my husband will be at my side, that he works hard to provide for me and our child and that he would never allow any harm to fall upon us.’ she answered.

Ivar listened, hanging on to her every word, he wanted nothing more than to make (Y/N) feel the way this woman felt with her modest business and lack of status.

Loved.

He spoke with the woman more about the population of people who couldn’t walk, and learned that he could find any number of them in the healers tents on the other side of the market. There were several children born healthy that lost the ability to walk due to illnesses and others like him who were born that way.

These children would be trained in some craft that they could learn to live off of and they were most often taken in at the castle as royal workers where they can work within their limitations while also having their own servants for assistance.

At some point Dele found him again, carrying all the things the merchants had gifted Ivar while he was dropping off the first load.

‘NORTHMEN!’ Bintu called from the entrance of the market.

It seemed that their excursion had come to its end.

Ivar gave the sweet woman the remaining gold coins in his purse, and when she refused to accept he handed it to the child.

‘I do not know the customs…can you accept this favor?’ Ivar asked playfully.

The boy smiled, literally jumping in his excitement as he accepted the money.

‘I also do not know the customs, I will ask father during supper.’ the child grinned before running off.

The woman looked prepared to call her boy back but she saw the grin on Ivar’s face and admitted defeat.

‘Thank you.’ she smiled.

Ivar bid her farewell before joining the others at the entrance trail, where they all took immediate notice of his newest wedding gift.

‘A woman sells them…for all ages.’ he said.

They all again congratulated him and listened as he explained how these compared to his first crutches, and how he was already planning to visit the healers' tents to meet the others.

Ragnar came closer and allowed his son to lean against his side while he studied one of the crutches closely.

‘Better.’ he conceded.

[diejager]

Cougar monster reader in heat with the boys

~🧋

Cw: implied smut, heat/mating cycle, musk/scent kink, teasing, tell me if I missed any.

It had snuck up on them, like a feline in prowl, stalking from the shadows and only making itself known when it pounced, striking with ferocity and danger. The signs were subtle, sneaking under their nose when they were around you. They were easily forgotten, something that went past their heads without so much as an ounce of concern because it could easily be mistaken for another thing. 

The slight change of scent on your skin, sweeter than usual, but unsurprising when your arrival was so turbulent, changing scents crashing over them like waves, switching between sweet and sour, bitter or salty. The perspiration that clung to your skin, smelling of sea salt and musk, was easily mistaken for exhaustion, sweat that collected from your hours spent at the gym, lifting, pressing and sparring. And your fidgeting wasn’t as abnormal as it was, you were a solitary animal and being introduced to a crowded Task Force made you anxious.

It went without any trouble - much trouble, since you were often struggling with how touchy and open they were - for another week before those subtle signs grew, blaring a bright red in their faces. It hit them in the face with a hard slap, shocking them like a bucket of freezing water would, and your change had them struggling and worried.

Your scent was cloying, overly sweet in your frustration, hauntingly seductive and taunting, calling to them with every small sniff of your musk. The perspiration they once chalked up to sweat from exercise was now connected to the heat that brewed in your guts, a boiling fire that caused your temper to flare. Then your fidgeting had grown to affection and noise, you yowled lowly, purrs rumbling out of your throat, small feline sounds that confused most that weren’t familiar with one; and you were touchy, running your hands over their arms, clinging to them with flickering ears and a swaying tail, fluttering your lashes with wide and dilated pupil. 

“You’re in heat, Hunter,” Horangi bemoaned, his nose scrunched up under his mask, willing - and failing - his body to stop reacting to you. He had formed a bond with you, and succumbing to your teasing and obvious signs of courtships would probably break away all the effort he put in to know you, find a way into your heart as much as you did with his mind, body and soul. 

“Need you, ” you mewled, nuzzling the crook of his jaw, nose running down his glands and nipping at him, your wet lips trailing kisses up and down his throat, “It’s too hot. Frustrating.”

Your persistence was cracking his wall. Your small, kitten licks, the gentle nicks of your sharp canines and the rumbling of your purrs where weakening his resolve, coupled with wandering hands and the curl of your tail around his, wrapping himself around you like a snake, he was a prisoner of his own body and needs. He was so close to throwing all his self-restrain out the window, to pin you against the floor and growl in your face, forcing you to bend and fold to his whims in the middle of the TF’s rec room. Horangi wanted to fuck you, his mind running circles with crazed thought of breeding you here and then, filling you up until he leaked out of you and was sure he’d knocked you up.

“Horangi,” you pawed at him, your hot breath hitting his bobbing Adam’s apple, feeling his patience thinning and thinning. 

You would be the death of his restraint and patience. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[karlachismylife]

The Queen of the Clan Masterlist

When you decide to shake up your life a bit and partake in a trip with a documentary crew, you have no idea that meeting an unnaturally friendly hyena and have it mark your backpack would be only the beginning of weird things to come. Whatever will you do when a leaderless clan of four male hyenas chooses you as their matriarch?

CW: hyena shapeshifters 141 au, fem!reader, written with chubby!reader in mind. Will be adding tags as the story progresses.

Part 1: Spotted Your first big animal encounter goes a little bit wrong. Or does it?

Part 1.5: [redacted] Johnny tells the rest.

Part 2: Tough Spot While trying to get over your things being ruined and get back to work, you find a new human friend. And four non-human ones. Which can save your life though?

Part 3: Blind Spot A respectful ghostly guest guards you through an important mission to pee in the middle of the night.

Part 3.5: [redacted] Simon comes back to the den.

Part 4: A Spot of Lunch You forget about your weird feeling for a moment, when two playful furry babies come visit and bring a gift.

Part 5: Spot on the Mark You have an unexpected visitor on a night stakeout.

Part 6: Local Spot A short procedural delay sends you back to your temporary home at the sanctuary, and a friend shows you around.

Part 6.5: [redacted] Coming soon.

Singular spin-offs/AUs to the AU

Hyena Cerberus!Ghost headcanons

It's a Trap!

Tale of Four Danaës Coming soon.

Taglist: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475 @cryingpages @mothsdrabbles @mc-glare-is-king @vixxie22 @aldis-nuts @terraantarctica @henhouse-horrors @blizzivy @perfectus-in-morte @danielle143 @llavalada @yukichan67 @sleepisfortheweakpooh @ilxina @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @misscaller06 @etherealinthewoods @svnh6021 @pleasedontaskme @shadowentity6 @everything-is-awesomesauce

If you want to be tagged in each part of the series, comment under this post! Keep in mind that this series will contain NSFW moments, so minors and ageless blogs DNI!

All headers and dividers used in the series by @saradika-graphics

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part III

Spoilers for MW3 ahead.

1 2 3 4 5 6

Short chapter to keep the writing inspiration going, next one will be longer.<3

''Si?'' You ask softly as you see the brooding figure on the doorframe. He's standing so still you would think it's a cardboard cutout, though the way his chest moves up and down gives him away. He doesn't say anything, simply walks up to you slowly, footsteps oddly quiet for someone his size.

You do nothing but sit up in bed slowly, looking at the familiar figure crouch down next to your bed, the black balaclava still on. You barely manage to see his eyes before he looks down, though you can recognize that haunted look in his eyes easily.

''What happened?'' You ask softly, hand on the back of his masked head as he rests his head on your lap. You see him take a few deep breaths, trying to hold himself together.

''Johnny's gone.'' Is all he can manage to say, voice raspy and weak. You've seen Simon lose comrades throughout the years, but Soap was a brother to him. He was the closest thing to Tommy he ever had, and losing a brother again felt like having his heart ripped out a second time. You hold him closer, hands applying light pressure on his back and he gets the message, climbing in bed with you. It's dark— you can't even see anything other than his outline, but you can feel him.

''I'm sorry, Simon.'' He stays quiet, simply allowing you to hold him close, his masked face seeking shelter on your warm chest, your hand running up and down his back while you console him. He removes his mask, knowing he never has to cover up around you, the feeling of the warm skin of your chest on his face slowly grounding him. You rock him gently, planting a soft kiss on his short hair,

''I'm here.'' He nods weakly, arms wrapping around your waist as he holds you as close to him as possible, fitting so perfectly like a missing puzzle piece. Despite the heartbreak from when he left, your pride is put aside to care for him, holding him in the same motherly way you held your baby when she was born.

''I'm sorry.'' He doesn't have to specify; you know what he's talking about.

''It's okay.'' You both know it's far from okay, but you push it to the back of your mind, for now.

''She awake?'' You shake your head, mumbling a small ''mm-mm'' in reply. He nods, arms wrapping tighter around you. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his little girl, always making sure he was being quiet as Ghost, despite being Simon as soon as he stepped into your house.

After years of knowing Simon— yes, Simon Riley, before he became Ghost, you know better than to ask what happened or press for details. You were there when he lost his family, watching him become Ghost, and you supported him along the way. This isn't any different. The night is spent with both of you holding each other, limbs intertwined. You don't even notice when you start drifting off, head slowly leaning back to the side and eyes growing heavier, though you don't fight it, the mass on top of you heavy and warm enough to feel like a second blanket.

''Hey, big guy.'' You greet tiredly, fingers running through his short blond hair as he looks up at you. The whites of his eyes are now red, veins painfully visible, and it's just a confirmation that he didn't sleep at all, simply focusing on watching you in your sleep and being too into his own head.

''Let me take care of you. I'll be here till you're right, Simon.''

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

taglist: @skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf @yaebaal @thecubanator2 @juliediets @shescabob @kenz-ee @lothiriel9 @dragonstoneshortcake @lunamoonbby @alfie2401 @perfectus-in-morte @mxtokko

[soaps-mohawk]

Taglist Reblog 4:

@strawberrymo @emoprincess9402 @ghost282837732 @panboiiibish @bvxygriimes

@mshope16 @mikeyswifie @angelsincident @nexthyperfix @weegoblin

@chokemelolz @tuttifuckingfruttifriday @z-and-the-batboys @iggy5055 @cumqueen888

@akira-sato14 @sageyxbabey @canyonmooncreations @spookyscaryspoon @nyx129

@dakotakazansky @ssc7514 @yehsehneeah @jadedwoolf @prettygirleli

@tadomikiku @perfectus-in-morte

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 24: The Last First Time

Summary: You and Simon both get what you want.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 15,019 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough sex (it's like straight animalistic y'all), grinding, mutual masturbation, fingering, slightly violent imagery, scratching, biting, hair pulling, dry humping, blood (only a little), slight BDSM vibes, licking, squirting, praise, fluids (so many fluids), choking (only for a second), Simon's oral fixation, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, slight fluff, language, Simon being Simon, excessive use of the word "fuck", it's basically porn with very little plot.

A/N: This...this thing is a beast. It beat me up and stole my lunch money. I may have been a bit ambitious with it, but I've denied the Ghosties long enough and so I'm making up for that. Anyway...this might be one of the most depraved things I've ever written (not really, but you get the point). He'd the warnings, and I don't recommend reading this in public. Or standing. Or in underwear you care about. It's a good thing today is Sunday because y'all are gonna need Jesus after this.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

*This is the gif*

Your teeth sink into your lip as you slowly draw your gaze back to his face. He’s still looking at the bear, and once again, you wish you could see his face so you could guess what was going through his head. 

“I missed you.” You say quickly, ready to explain away the shirt and why you put it on that bear specifically. “A lot.” 

His eyes turn back to you, the intensity in them almost forcing you to take a step back. Any words trying to explain your actions die on your tongue as you hold his dark gaze, your heart thumping in your chest so loud you’re surprised he can’t hear it. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest as he looks at you, his eyes darkening just slightly. He takes a step closer, your head tilting up so you can hold his gaze. 

“Then I best make up for it.” He says, his hand moving to your side. His fingers bunch the fabric of the dress at your hip, lifting the hem a couple of inches. “Yellow sundress?” He asks. 

“Johnny bought it for me.” You say, your voice wavering from the anticipation of his touch. “I-It was nice out today, so I wanted to wear it.” 

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, releasing the fabric to drag his hand up your side, stopping just under your breast. 

You want him to continue, to push his hand higher, to finally touch you. You feel electric, every nerve fiber in your body alive as you stare up at him. Yet, you can see the hesitation, the conflict in his eyes. 

“We don’t have to.” You say, leaving that option open for him. Sure, it might be a little difficult after being so worked up, but the last thing you want is to push him too far. You can always get one of the other members of your pack to help ease that ache. “You just got back. There’s...there’s no need to rush it.” 

His fingers tighten around your side for a moment before he releases you, turning his back to you. You begin to panic, wondering if you pushed too far, made too many assumptions, made him too uncomfortable as he walks to the door. You’ve done it, you’ve messed things up and now it’s all crumbling down around you. 

His hand wraps around the knob, slowly pushing the door closed until it clicks. He stands there with his back to you for a moment before he turns back around. You let out the breath you had been holding, trying to calm the panic. Of course he’d want the door closed. This is just between you and him right now. 

You hold a hand out to him, trying to fight the tremble of your fingers. Your emotions are swirling and you need his reassurance. You need his grounding presence. 

He approaches you again, each step slow and calculated as he reaches out, his fingers brushing your palm before he wraps them around your hand. You close your hand around his as best you can with how big it is. You lift your gaze to his, the temptation to fold under the intensity strong, but you refuse. You need to be strong for him, for both of you. Your gaze doesn’t leave his as you slowly turn, walking backwards towards your bed, leading him by the hand with you. 

Your gaze finally leaves his as you turn to face your bed, stopping dead in your tracks. Simon’s chest brushes your back, obviously not expecting you to stop so suddenly. Something tickles in the back of your mind as you stare at the mess that’s become of your bed. The blankets and pillows are still a bit rumpled and misplaced from your lounging earlier, but something’s wrong. Something’s off, something’s not right. 

“Wait.” You say, dropping Simon’s hand before taking the two steps to the edge of your mattress. 

You move the giant bear to the floor next to the bed before you fix the blankets, smoothing them out and making sure they’re just right. You rearrange your stuffed animals and pillows, the need for them to be perfect taking over your mind. You can’t control it, can’t stop it until everything is perfect. 

You take a step back, staring at the nest you’ve made. 

Nest. 

You’re nesting again. 

You turn to face Simon, blinking up at him as the haze clears. He’s staring at you intensely, hands curled into fists at his side. “Sorry.” You murmur, hands closing around the fabric of your dress nervously. “I-I don’t know what-” 

“Don’t.” He says, the word sharp and biting. “Stop apologizing for your instincts.” 

“Sorry.” You say again, wincing at the instinct to immediately apologize. 

He rolls his eyes, closing the distance between you. You take half a step back, your legs hitting the mattress and you’re ready to sit on it when he grabs your hand, flipping your positions so fast it nearly makes you dizzy. He seats himself on the mattress instead, staring up at you. The look in his eyes takes your breath away as he tugs you to stand between his parted thighs. 

He tugs the bottom of his mask up and you don’t even have to be told, your head immediately lowering to kiss him. You rest your hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath them. His hands close around the back of your thighs, calloused skin biting at the softness of your own. Goosebumps rise on your skin, covering your body from the sensation. It’s nothing new to you, but he’s new to you. You’ve never been in this position before with him, never under these circumstances. 

His kiss is searing, just as the first one had been. He kisses you like a man starved, like he wants to devour you. It’s sloppy and wet, his hands squeezing around your thighs until your lips part in a gasp, and he takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You press closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands begin to crawl up the backs of your thighs, warmth blossoming in your stomach again as they slip under the hem of your dress, continuing higher and higher. 

His fingers brush the skin where your thighs and ass meet, before continuing upwards until they brush the fabric underneath your dress. He groans into your mouth, pulling away from your lips. “Turn around and show me.”  

You shiver at the growl in his voice, turning slowly between his knees until your back is to him. You slowly lift the hem of your dress until it’s bunched around your waist, the cool air in the room brushing your exposed skin. You hear the sharp inhale as he stares at you, his fingers twitching against the sides of your thighs. 

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, his hands gripping the sides of your thighs as you bend over just slightly, causing the fabric to ride up slightly higher. 

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stand there under his critical gaze. You had planned this after Johnny’s hint that you should wear the dress since the weather was going to be nice. You knew there was more to it than that, the subtle hint that Simon would enjoy seeing you in it. The panties had been a deliberate choice just on the off chance that something like this would happen. You’re glad you made that decision now, half bent over with your ass in Simon’s face, showing off the black, skull print fabric adorning your skin. 

Simon curses again, his hands gripping your waist to tug you back into his lap. Your back collides with his chest, but he offers no complaint as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants as you press back against him, the knowledge that he’s turned on by just the sight of your ass in skull print panties sending heat rushing between your own thighs. 

You tilt your head to the side, meeting his lips as you press back against him, his hands hot against your stomach. You need him to lower his hand, press it between your thighs, relieve some of the ache. 

His arms release around you and you turn in his lap, straddling his thick thighs. His hands settle on your own thighs, rocking your body against the prominent bulge in his pants. You continue to kiss him, gasping into his mouth as your clothed slit drags against the rough fabric of his jeans. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin below his mask. You can feel the hair at the nape of his neck, the short strands prickling your fingers. 

Simon pulls away from your lips, releasing his hold on your thighs. You freeze, holding your breath as you wait for what’s going to happen next. You’re worried perhaps you went too far, or perhaps he’s having second thoughts. He drops his head to your chest, pressing his face against your clothed breasts. He holds himself there, taking a shaky breath in. 

“We don’t have to.” The words come spilling out. “We can stop any time.” You rub his upper back, trying to release some of the tension in his shoulders. 

“‘S not fair to you.” He murmurs, his breath hot through the thin fabric of the dress. 

“I’ll be fine.” You say, moving off his lap. 

He lets you, releasing his hold around you. He doesn’t lift his head, still bowed almost in shame. You sit next to him, close enough your arm is pressed against his. 

“Like I said, there’s no rush.” You say, trying to reassure him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, closing his hands into fists. There’s more emotion in his voice than you’ve ever heard before, the sound almost startling compared to the usual gruffness and bite to his words. 

“You won’t.” You shrug. “I can handle Johnny just fine, and John.” You put your hand over one of his. “I would tell you, if you hurt me, or if I got uncomfortable. I’m not as breakable as you think. You’ve thrown me around in training and I’ve been fine.” 

A low sound rumbles in his chest at your words. It sends a shiver down your spine, half of your brain telling you to run, and the other half sending heat between your thighs. He sits up straight, pulling his mask down as he turns to look at you. “Touch yourself.” 

“W-What?” You ask, taken aback.

“Touch yourself for me.” He repeats himself. 

You hesitate for half a second, before you nod. “O-Okay.” You reply, thrilled and nervous at the idea. 

You push yourself up further onto the bed as Simon adjusts himself so he’s against the headboard, lounging in your bed. You ignore the feelings rushing through you at the sight of the big alpha in your nest. It’s almost comical, seeing him in his dark clothes, an imposing figure surrounded by soft blankets and stuffed animals and colorful pillows. You lean against the footboard at the end of your bed, adjusting yourself so your thighs are spread, giving him a perfect view of your fabric covered pussy. You slip your hands under the waistband of your panties, but he stops you. 

“Leave them on.” He growls, eyes glued at the slightly darker patch of fabric between your legs. 

You slowly release your panties, tugging the hem of your dress up higher before you slip your hand into your underwear. You’re soaked, your fingers slipping along the slick skin. You stare at Simon’s face, his eyes glued to the movement of your hand under your panties as you begin to tease your clit. There’s an obvious tent in his pants, a painful looking bulge in his jeans. 

A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you circle your clit slowly, spreading your legs even further, draping one over his. His hands settle on his stomach as he watches, his breathing slow and even. 

Your breathing has picked up as you continue to tease your clit. Between the moment shared with him and the intensity of his gaze on your clothed pussy, it’s almost too much. You could cum just like this, barely touched, shivering under the gaze of your pack’s second alpha. It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with him, and you’re not even naked. 

You slip your fingers lower, gathering slick on them before pressing two into your throbbing pussy. You moan softly at the slight stretch, your eyes focusing on his hands and where they rest on his stomach. How full you’d be on his fingers. Yours are nothing compared to his. The depths he could reach, the delicious stretch of them. You sink your teeth into your lip, biting back a moan as you begin to thrust your fingers in and out of you. 

His scent is intensifying, growing muskier in his arousal as he watches you. For once he doesn’t complain about the sweetness of your scent, the two mixing in the air, the perfect blend of alpha and omega. 

“A mixture someone could get drunk off of.” 

That’s what John had said. You want to, let it flow straight into your brain and numb your senses until there’s nothing but the two of you. Until you’re full of giddy happiness and warmth as your limbs go lax and all tension and stress leaves your body. Until you forget where you are, lost in some far away land where there’s nothing but you and the overwhelming scent of alpha, of Simon. 

A shudder wracks through your body, your scent intensifying as pleasure begins to sear through your veins. Simon’s nose twitches beneath his mask, his pupils dilating as your scent goes straight to his brain. You wonder what kind of iron grip he’s keeping on himself, how he’s managing to hold himself back. You’d jump his bones right now if he hadn’t set this boundary between you. Perhaps it’s that boundary keeping him still on the bed. There certainly wouldn’t be any complains from you if he crossed that boundary, ripped your hand from your panties and fucked you until you couldn’t move. 

“Fuck.” He growls, almost as if he could read your thoughts, as if there was some sort of telepathic link between the two of you giving him a glimpse into your mind. It would explain how in tune he is with you, how he always seems to know, how easily he can read you. 

Your movements falter as he slides his hand down his stomach, tugging at the button on his jeans. You watch, enraptured as he slips his own hand into his pants, palming at his bulge. Your mouth waters at the thought of finally seeing him, of getting a glimpse of what lies beneath. He’s big, you know he has to be. Alphas generally are, thick and long to match their build.

Your pussy clenches at the thought of the stretch, how he’ll have to open you up with his fingers first so it doesn’t hurt. He’ll take good care of you, making sure you’re nice and slick and ready for him before he sinks into you, still stretching you with his cock. 

A needy moan falls from your lips as slick gushes around your fingers, increasing the wet squelch of them with every thrust. Simon’s hand slips under his briefs, wrapping around his cock. You keep your gaze on the movement of his hand beneath the fabric as he pumps his length in time with the movements of your hand. 

Your free hand grips the sheets under you as you adjust the position of your fingers, pressing your palm against your throbbing clit. The coil in your stomach is tightening, your thighs beginning to shake as you get closer and closer to the edge. 

“Gonna cum?” He rasps, his hand pumping his cock faster as he chases his own high. “Gonna cum for me?” 

“Yes!” You gasp out, curling your fingers against that spongy spot inside you. “Yes!” 

He curses, the word a drawn out rumble in his chest as your thighs close, squeezing around your hand as you cum around your fingers. Your back arches as you nearly spasm from the pleasure, working yourself through the orgasm as he grunts in pleasure from his own approaching orgasm. 

Your body settles, still shaking slightly as you withdraw your fingers from your underwear. They’re shiny with slick and your cum and you lift them to your mouth, letting your tongue dart out to lick at your own juices. 

The sound Simon lets out is nearly animalistic, the pace of his hand frantic as his head tilts back, his hips jerking. You watch him cum, the muscles in his arms flexing as he spills into his underwear. It’s beautiful, the sight of him lost in pleasure. You wish you could see his face, see the way he looks in this moment, but you can’t. Instead you focus on the way his eyes flutter, those long blonde lashes golden in the light from your lamp. 

His breaths are heavy, chest heaving as he comes down from his own high. Your own breathing has settled as you lay there lax at the end of your bed. It’s quiet between you for a moment, his gaze locked on yours. How far things have come just from a couple weeks of distance from each other. It’s impossible not to wonder if something happened, if there was a close call that caused him to think of all the things he’d regret not doing. Or perhaps it was just the distance, the realization that holding himself back was foolish and pointless. You’d welcome him with open arms, just as you had when he walked down the ramp and onto the tarmac. 

He had been the one to make that first move, kissing you when you least expected it. What had gone through his head to cause such a reaction? Had he panicked just as much as you would have, overthinking it until he convinced himself you wouldn't want it? Did the emotions of the moment take over and he couldn’t stop himself from giving in to those desires? Or had he simply faced those fears head on and did it because he wanted to? 

He knows how you feel. The kiss in the car had confirmed that, and you inviting him into your space was the gavel strike that sealed your fates. You don’t want to turn back, you wouldn’t turn back, not after everything. 

Simon moves first, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of your bed. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking, what’s going on in his head. He doesn’t regret this decision, does he? You’ve leaped over the boundaries he’d once set, sharing such an intimate, vulnerable moment with each other. You’d let him go if he wanted to leave, no matter how desperately you’d want to cling to him and beg him to stay. 

He pushes himself up to stand, jeans still unbuttoned as he turns to face you. “Be right back.” He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your head through the mask before he heads into your bathroom, closing the door. 

You let out a quiet breath, sitting there for a moment before you get up, tugging your sundress off. It’s late, the others likely in bed already, or heading that way. You wonder if he’ll be permitted a day off tomorrow, or if he’ll even want to take one. You know how strictly he likes to keep to his schedule, even when he has to be utterly exhausted. 

You’re tempted to pull his shirt off the bear and wear it as you stand there in nothing but your panties, but you’re not sure if that will be pushing too much at once. You decide against it, instead digging out a baggy shirt from your dresser, pulling it over your head. 

You rearrange your nest as water runs in the bathroom, pushing most of the pillows and stuffed animals to the end of the bed before you turn down the blankets, climbing in. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you lay down, unable to stop yourself as you press your face into your pillow and inhale deeply. Your tongue darts out, pressing against the fabric before you can stop it. It’s musky and slightly tangy, making your mouth water. You want to lick it from the source, wrap your teeth around Simon’s scent gland and devour him. 

Your mind is hazy as you push yourself away from the pillow, blinking away the animalistic thoughts seeping to the front of your brain as the bathroom door opens. Simon steps out, taking a couple slow steps to the middle of your room. He stands there like he’s unsure of what to do next. Should he offer to leave, or ask to join you in bed? You can see the hesitation, the conflict as he tries to decide which is okay, which one might be the best decision. 

“You could join me, if you want.” You say, giving him an offer, a chance at a decision. You wouldn’t be upset if he left, well, not entirely. He’s shown a lot of vulnerability tonight, and you wouldn’t blame him if he wanted space to think over things. You don’t want him to leave, but you’d understand if he did. 

“Is that what you want?” He asks, shifting on his feet. 

“I did offer.” You shrug. “It’s up to you. I can always cuddle the bear.” 

His gaze drops to the bear seated on the floor next to the bed, still wearing his black t-shirt. His hands curl into fists before he looks back up at you. “Move over.” 

You try to hide your grin as you press yourself back against the wall, watching as he unbuttons his jeans again. He pulls them off, folding them in half before draping them over your footboard. This is the most exposed he’s been in front of you, the most skin you’ve seen at one time. You can’t help but stare at his legs, thick thighs dusted with dark blonde hair and covered in scars. They’re not surprising to you, not after seeing the others, though he has the most by far. Small lines, pink and white speckling the skin. There’s a puckered scar on one calf, a bullet wound you now know. There’s a long, thick scar on the other thigh cutting from the side of his knee, up his thigh until it disappears under his briefs. 

You quickly avert your gaze as you realize he’s standing there, watching you. He quickly crawls under the blankets, a nervous sweat starting to form across your back. You don’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but it’s hard not to stare. You want to know, you want every story that explains every scar. You can’t even begin to imagine the horror of the big one on his leg. So far John has been the only one to tell you about all of his scars, as much as he could at least. Johnny had relayed a couple dramatic stories about his, and Kyle has told you about a couple when you’ve asked. You’re not even sure you could ask Simon, much less how you would go about it. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you’re suddenly yanked down against Simon’s chest, his arm wrapped around your back. 

“You’re thinking too much.” He says, shifting just slightly to get comfortable on the small bed. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you, forcing you to nearly lay half on top of him. You’ve never wanted that dream of a bigger bed to be more true than in this moment. 

“Sorry.” You say, wincing at your instinct to apologize again. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Not uncomfortable.” He says, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Just not used to it yet.” 

“Is that why you keep yourself covered as much as possible? The scars?” You ask, biting your lip as soon as the question comes out. You hadn’t meant to ask it out loud, but you can’t stop your curiosity. 

“Partly.” He says, his thumb stroking your back. “People like to stare, they like to talk.” 

“I don’t care about the scars.” You say quietly. “You all have them. Just...makes me worried thinking about the things that caused them.” 

He hums quietly, the sound vibrating in your ear. “Some scars are symbols of survival. Things that almost killed us, that should have. Some are old wounds the body won’t let go of.” 

“That’s very poetic.” You murmur. 

His hand squeezes your side. “Don’t tell Johnny. He’ll never let me live it down.” 

A sleepy smile tugs at your lips, the exhaustion of the day and the bliss from the events of the last hour begin to drag your mind into the realm of sleep. Simon reaches for your lamp, shutting it off, bathing the room in near darkness.The dark doesn’t scare you anymore, not with Simon here. His violence and brutality should scare you, but instead, it only makes you feel safe. He’d make anyone who dared to try and hurt you pay. 

“Sweet dreams, Simon.” You murmur, a quiet purr rumbling in your chest, content as you drift off to sleep. 

It’s light out, the first rays of sunlight streaming through your window. You rub your eyes from the offending light, reaching for your sheets to tug them over your head but they’re caught around something. Your elbow knocks against something solid as you try and pull them up, a quiet grunt sounding beside you. 

Arms wrap around you, pinning you against a solid warmth. “Stop movin’.” Simon grumbles, tossing a leg over you to keep you still. 

You’ve traded places with him in the night, his back against the wall as you lay stretched out on your back. A quiet purr starts rumbling in your chest as the memories from last night begin to seep through your half-awake brain. He stayed the whole night with you. You had half expected him to get up, to leave, to wake up early, stick to his normal routine. Instead he’d stayed, even far later than he usually would. 

You turn your attention to the arm wrapped around you, your eyes trailing his tattoos. You’ve never seen them this close, able to make out the details of them now. Your fingers begin to trace his tattoos, working your way up his arm until you reach his sleeve, pushing it up as you continue to follow the tattoos all the way up to his shoulder. It’s when you get there you see something familiar. You hold his sleeve out of the way as you trace over the three images. 

“You got a tattoo for each member of the pack.” You say quietly. 

“Almost.” He says, tightening his hold around you. “Missing one.” 

You turn as best you can to look up at him, the meaning of his words not lost on you. His eyes are still closed, and had you not known better, you might have guessed he was still sleeping. His breaths are slow and even, his body still and relaxed. 

“What are you going to get?” You ask. 

“Haven’t decided yet.” He says simply. 

You turn in his grasp, managing to free one of your legs so you can toss it over his hip as you snuggle in close to him. “You could get a kitten, since that’s what Johnny calls me.” 

He snorts. “Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” You say. “A fluffy little kitten would be cute!” 

“It would throw off the aesthetic.” He says, squishing you up against his chest. 

“Can I go with you when you get it?” You ask. 

“We’ll see.” He sighs, adjusting his leg between yours. 

You bite your lip as it presses against your mound. How easy it would be to press your hips down, grind against him. There’s still a warm electric current thrumming through you from the events of last night. Things have moved fast between you. You’ve gone from thinking he hates you to masturbating in front of each other in a matter of weeks. The leaps you’ve made between the two weeks he was gone almost seem surreal. Does he regret last night? Will he change his mind, retreat back into himself once the reality sets in? You had thought there was no going back once he stepped into your room, but in reality, he could decide to pull back, he could decide this isn’t what he wants after all. 

You’d let him. You’d watch him revert back into himself, face the pain of rejection and acknowledge that what you wanted turned out to be nothing but a dream. His comfort matters more than your needs. You’d fight to cling to the fraying bonds for nothing else besides the sanity and stability of your pack. His rejection would slice clean through those supposedly indestructible bonds, disrupting the dynamic of the pack. It would fracture, crumbling like a building with a structural failure. The bonds that they built with each other, the bonds they’ve built with you will snap leaving decaying waste with you and Johnny caught right in the middle of it all. 

You’ll do everything in your power to cling to those decaying edges, frantically gluing them back together like omegas are supposed to. Fight to hold the pack together while the betas desperately try to resolve the tension and keep everyone sane. It will be the end of the pack, the initiative will be a failure. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have pushed so much. It’s all going to go down in flames because of you. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” 

The quiet rumble of Simon’s voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. It drags you back to reality, back into your body from the quickly deepening hole of worry and fear in your mind. Your eyelids flutter as you take a deep breath, the musky scent of alpha clearing away the haze that had come over your mind. You’re still laying in Simon’s arms, pressed up against his chest, his thigh pressed between your legs. 

“How do you always know?” You murmur, snaking your arm around his side. 

“You have tells. You freeze, staying so still even the best snipers in the world would be impressed. You get this glazed over look in your eyes, and your scent changes depending on what you’re thinking about.” He says, tightening his hold around you. 

“You notice all of that?” You ask in amazement and embarrassment that he can read you so easily. You’re still not used to it, his uncanny ability to just know things when it comes to you. 

“‘S part of my job,” He says, shifting slightly closer to you. “What makes me so good at it.” His face presses against the top of your head as his thigh shifts between your legs, putting even more pressure against your clothed pussy. “You’re overthinking this, aren't you.” 

“I just...” You let out a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “I need to know if you regret last night.” 

A low grumble vibrates through his chest before you find yourself suddenly on your back under him. It happened so fast your brain can’t even register it completely, his hand is gripping your thigh, the one you had thrown over his waist, keeping it hooked over his hip. He’s pressed between your legs, body slotted against yours like he was made to fit there perfectly. Hard edges pressed against your soft curves. 

“Does this feel like regret to you?” He says, voice rumbling deep in his chest as he presses his hips into yours. 

You can feel him...all of him through his briefs as he presses against you, nothing but thin fabric separating you. He’s just as big as you imagined, long and thick and throbbing. He drags his hips along your covered slit, closer than he’s ever been to you. The electrifying moment during training is almost nothing compared to the feeling of him pressed against you. 

“No.” You squeak out, wrapping your arms around his back as he continues to grid against you. You can feel every inch of him against your quickly dampening underwear, the fabric sticking to you and providing delicious friction with every roll of his hips. 

Your hands slip under his shirt, your palms pressing against the warm skin of his lower back. A shudder runs through him, dragging a low growl from his lips. He releases you just long enough to tug his mask up over his mouth before he descends on your neck, your head tilting to the side to give him room. 

The front of his briefs are quickly getting wet from the slick coating your thighs and his precum. Your nails sink into his skin as his teeth scrape across your throat, his tongue following to ease the sensitive, stinging skin. 

“Simon,” You whimper, pressing your hips up against him, desperately seeking relief from the ache building in your core. 

He lifts his face from your throat, your lips clashing against his in a mix of teeth and tongue. His hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. He uses his hold on you for leverage as the drag of his hips becomes almost violent. You can imagine it, the feeling of his cock thrusting into you, reaching so deep you can feel him in your stomach, the way you’ll ache for days after he’s done with you. 

“Simon, fuck...” You whine against his lips, your legs shaking as you get closer and closer to the edge. “Please!” 

His grunts and moans have turned into growls, low and deep in his chest. It sends a shiver up your spine, your omega rolling in your mind, scratching to be free. You sink your teeth into his lower lip until you taste blood, the air between you quickly becoming primal. His hand tugs on your hair, pulling your head back until your throat is bared to him. He sinks his teeth into the skin, biting until you yelp. He eases back, dragging his tongue over the sore spot. 

Your moans get louder as you get closer and closer to the edge, every sharp bite of his teeth into your neck sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to where his cock drags against your clit. You feel alive, your vision getting sharper as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“Simon....Simon please.” You whine, clutching him to you so tightly it almost hurts. “I need you. Need you to rearrange my guts, fuck me until I can’t stand. Make me hurt, remind me that I’m yours.” 

A low growl reverberates in his chest, vibrating through your entire body. Your thighs squeeze around his hips, hanging onto him for dear life as he ruts against you like an animal. “Say it again.” He growls, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin of your ear. 

“I’m yours.” You gasp, your back arching. “Have been since the first day.”

“Fucking hell.” He grunts, grinding his hips against yours with so much force the headboard bangs against the wall. 

You cum almost instantly, soaking your underwear and his briefs. He shoves his face into your throat, inhaling deeply against your scent gland. His hand grips the pillow next to your head, his body tensing as his hips jerk against yours. Warmth coats his briefs as he spills into them for a second time in the last day, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as he nearly goes limp on top of you. 

Both of you lay there, shaking and twitching in the aftershocks of your orgasms. It’s hot and stuffy in the room, the heat from Simon’s body not helping any. For a moment you wonder if he’s fallen asleep again from how still and relaxed he is, but the twitch of his body as you soothe your hands over the marks you’ve left on his back says otherwise. 

“Simon?” You speak his name quietly in the sudden stillness of the room. 

“Soon.” He says, slowly beginning to untangle himself from you. “I’ll give you what you need soon.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, shockingly soft compared to what had just transpired. 

He slips a hand around your back, flipping the two of you again as he flops on his back on your bed. You fall against his chest, resting your head over his heart. Despite the exertion, it’s thumping steadily and evenly. Your pussy clenches at the thought of his stamina, how long he’ll be able to go. You’ll tire before him, nothing but a boneless, babbling omega as he fucks you blind and unconscious. 

The moment is ruined by the knock at the door, both of you tensing for a moment. 

“If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss breakfast.” John’s voice sounds from the other side. 

Your cheeks warm at the idea of him hearing what had just transpired. How long has he been standing out there, waiting for you to finish? Does he think Simon was just fucking you, or does he somehow know you had just been rutting away like two eager pups? You can picture the tent in his pants, the way he adjusts the painful bulge at the thought of you being taken by his second alpha. He’s been waiting for this, for the walls to finally come down, for you and Simon to finally release that pent up energy and remove the weight that has been hovering over everyone’s heads. 

“Come on,” Simon says, sitting up with you in his arms. “Need to get some food in you.” He stands, still holding you like it’s nothing to him. It probably isn’t, but the thought has your face nearly bursting into flames. 

He sets you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your sides. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in the beautiful brown irises. He holds your gaze for a moment before delivering a sharp swat to your ass. 

“Get yourself cleaned up, then we’ll go.” He pulls away from you, grabbing his jeans off the end of your bed. 

You stare at his ass as he bends over to pull them on, an idea popping in your head. “Wait,” You say before he can leave, pulling off your panties. You tuck them into his back pocket, giving it a firm pat. “Keep them.” You stand up on your toes, kissing his cheek before scurrying off to the bathroom before you get distracted again. 

You’re still shaking as you tug your shirt over your head. You look like you’ve been mauled by an animal as you stare at yourself in the mirror. There’s marks across your neck from Simon’s teeth, and your hair is a tangled mess from his hands. Your thighs are trembling a bit as you stand there, your slick drying uncomfortably on your thighs. Your lips feel bruised as you quickly brush your teeth before stepping into the shower. 

The excited tremble of your hands makes holding the body wash a struggle. You still feel electric, your mind rushing from not one but two very intimate moments between you and Simon. If this is how you feel now, you can only imagine how you’ll feel after actually having sex.

You feel a bit sore as you get dressed, doing your best to hide the scattering of marks across your skin. You don’t really have to hide them. Everyone knows you fuck the members of the 141. The images that must flash through their minds when you walk around with them. Do they think you take all of them at once? On your knees as they stand around you, being a good omega for them like in some cheesy porn video? Or bent over, presented for them as they make a mess of your pussy, fucking each other’s cum into you until you can’t hold anymore and it seeps out, leaving you laying in a puddle of it?

Your pussy clenches at the thought, warmth starting to pool in your stomach again. 

“Down girl.” You say, talking to yourself as you slip on your shoes. “We’re not there,” You straighten back up, smoothing your hands over your shirt. “Yet.” 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the excited thrumming between your legs as you step out into the hallway. Simon is waiting for you, having changed clothes, or at least you think so. He’s in a black t-shirt and jeans still, his most common uniform when he’s not in training. 

“Come on, let’s go.” He says, motioning towards the door with his head. 

He didn’t change his shirt. 

The overwhelming scent of alpha and sex and you is wafting off of him. He might as well be wearing a bright neon sign declaring what you were up to this morning. Your omega purrs at the idea of him being coated in your scent, staking your claim over him. Maybe you shouldn’t have showered after all, wanting to wear a matching scent projecting his own claim over you. 

The mess is sparsely occupied this late in the morning, something you’re silently grateful for. Had you walked in during the peak breakfast time, you might have died on the spot. Most don’t pass a glance your way, only those you pass by directly giving you both a second look. 

Simon yanks your tray from your hands as you grab one, setting it down on the counter next to his. He begins spooning food onto it, adding the things you like. You stare at your tray wide-eyed as he fills it, your omega practically preening. 

He doesn’t even let you carry it to the table, setting it down next to his. You beam up at him as he stares down at you, unable to hide your smile. 

“What?” He asks, his eyes scanning your face. 

Your smile widens. “Thanks for making my tray.” 

He glances down at your full tray before looking back at you. “Sit down and start eating.” 

You can’t stop smiling as you sit on the bench, Simon going to get you something to drink. The activities this morning have left you hungry, hungry enough that the mess food looks appetizing. Simon returns quickly, setting a cup of tea down in front of you. 

“Tea?” You ask, staring at it.

“Yeah. ‘S good for you.” He says, starting in on his own breakfast. “Better than that sugary milk you call coffee.” 

“But you put sugar and milk in your tea.” You say, looking up at him. 

He turns to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Anyone ever tell you you’re annoying?” 

“Yeah. All the time.” You say, taking a bite out of the sausage on your fork. 

“Little shit.” He murmurs under his breath, turning back to his own tray. 

You both eat in comfortable silence, no awkward or tentative energy between you like you had worried there would be after the events that transpired over the last few hours. There’s no dancing around each other anymore, the forced distance dispersed between you. It makes you happy, your omega satisfied as your pack now feels complete. 

You almost feel like skipping as Simon leads you back to the barracks. You slip your hand into his, swinging your arms back and forth. He doesn’t pull away or even complain at your actions, letting you have your moment. Who knew he was such a big softie underneath all that armor? 

Well, you sort of knew the whole time. He could have been mean. He could have been nasty towards you, forcing you into a corner made up of only you, John, and Kyle. He could have kept Johnny from you, drawing that line in the pack and keeping you on one side. He could have let you face the consequences of punching that alpha on your own. So many times he could have left you on your own, been rough with you, let things escalate until he was violent, let his anger win and use it against you as many alphas do. 

But he didn’t. 

Even in his early avoidance of you, he was never a bad alpha towards you. He might not have liked you at first, or approved of your presence, but he never took it out on you. He put up with you because he had to, until his hesitant tolerance grew into more. You had wiggled your way in without even knowing it, long before you started trying, long before you became determined to win his approval for your sake, as well as the rest of the pack’s. 

Look at you now, holding his hand after he made you orgasm an hour ago. You would have never thought you’d get to this place with him back then. You’ve surpassed the point you wanted to get to, but you’re certainly not going to complain. You’ve gotten what you wanted, and from the sounds of it, so has he. 

It’s been two days since Simon’s return, and he has yet to fuck you. The marks on your neck have begun to fade, and you wonder if he’s waiting until they’re gone so he can make new ones. He certainly hasn’t been ignoring you, no he’s been quite clingy. He sits close to you, holds your hand every chance he can. He’s been filling your trays at meals when he takes you to the mess, something John is content to let him do. 

Your omega is satisfied, still preening at the idea of him courting you. You certainly won’t complain, nor will you try to stop him. He could claim you too, if he wanted. He could have claimed you from the start and you would have let him. Back then it would have been because it was your duty to do what your pack wanted. Now it would be because you want him to. You want to be his, just as much as you’re John’s. 

You won’t tell him that, though. Not yet. You don’t want to push him, to seem like you’re trying to move too quickly. You don’t want to scare him off now after making so much progress. That can be a conversation for later, once the two of you have adjusted to this new development in your relationship. 

An excited shiver trails down your spine as you stand outside the door. It’s early, but the world outside is grey with the coming dawn. Your heart jumps as the door in front of you opens, Simon pausing as he exits his room. He blinks down at you as you grin up at him, obviously not expecting you to be up and ready before him. 

“Ready to go?” You say, bouncing excitedly on your toes. 

He rolls his eyes at you, pulling his door closed behind him. “You’re in far too good a mood for 4:30 in the morning.” 

“I’m excited.” You say, taking his arm as you walk down the hallway. 

“And far too happy.” He says as you step out into the cool morning air. 

“I am happy.” You say, leaning your head against his arm. “You make me happy.” 

He lets out a sigh, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at you. “Don’t make me regret this.” 

You pause outside the door to the gym, looking up at him. “You don’t, do you?” 

He stares down at you for a long moment, your heart beating in your ears. You don’t want to scare him off with your happiness, the glee you can’t control at the relief of finally being accepted by him, of finally feeling like your pack is complete. 

“No.” He says, opening the door for you. “Now get your ass inside.” 

Relief floods through you, a smile tugging at your lips as you step into the gym. It’s quiet inside, quieter than normal even for 4 AM. 

“Most of them are out running drills today.” Simon says as he leads you down the hallway to the training room. “Base will be quiet.” 

“Won’t catch me complaining.” You say as you step into the training room. 

Simon locks the door behind you, setting his things on the bench and kicking off his shoes. You stare at him shamelessly as you follow him onto the mat, unsure whether you should thank or curse the grey sweatpants hugging his ass. 

He turns to face you and you decide to curse them, warmth flooding through you. Your mind flashes back to the morning after his return, the feeling of his cock grinding against you, his teeth sinking into your skin, leaving marks all over you. 

Fuck this is going to be a long training session. 

You’re half distracted as he runs you through combinations, most of your punches missing, your kicks almost half-hearted as most of your energy is pulsing between your legs. You keep messing up, punching at the wrong time, the order getting messed up in your mind. Agreeing to train today was probably a bad idea, given the uncontrollable lust that’s been plaguing you. Being so close to Simon and his scent isn’t helping either. 

You mess up another combo, half distracted, half dazed as you throw a punch, missing the mitt entirely. Simon lets out a frustrated growl, moving before you can even think to block yourself as he drives his shoulder into the center of your chest. You fall flat on your back, the air leaving your lungs with a sharp gasp. 

You lay there, coughing and gasping as he comes to stand over you, staring down at you disappointedly. “You’re distracted.” 

“Yeah,” You cough out, trying to catch your breath. “You keep fucking with my head.” 

“Half of fighting an alpha is a mind game. They’re going to fuck with you, because it will work.” He says, lowering himself to his knees over you. 

“Yeah, but this is different.” You say, your breathing finally returning back to normal. 

Or it was. Your inhale catches in your throat as he leans over you, his hands settling on either side of your head. “How?” He asks, his voice rougher than it had been. 

You take a deep breath as you stare up at him, feeling very small in this position, but you know he’s doing it on purpose. “I don’t want you to fuck with my head,” You say, trying to gain the upper hand. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Your words stun him for a moment, and you take the opportunity to try and reverse your positions. You swing your fist towards his side, aiming for the spot below his ribs. He recovers faster than you thought he might, catching your hand before you can make contact. He pins it to the mat beside your head, pinning your other hand on the other side. You try to use your knees to hit him, but he settles his weight over you, effectively pinning you to the mat. 

The position is reminiscent of the morning after he returned, his body pressed into yours, clinging to you as you both chased your orgasms. It sends a shiver down your spine, your body shuddering under him. His grip around your wrists shifts, pulling your hands over your head. He holds them with one of his own hands, keeping them pinned to the mat. A thrill shoots through you as you stare up at him, his body shifting to the side. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He growls, lifting his mask up to his nose. “Want me to take you right here where anyone walking by could hear you screaming my name? Where they could stand at the door jerking themselves off like needy pups, hoping to get just a whiff of your scent?” 

You would let him. He could take you right now on this mat and you wouldn’t care. Heat is pulsing between your legs, slick soaking your underwear and quickly beginning to seep through to your leggings. 

“Yes!” You whine, clenching your thighs together, seeking out any kind of friction you can get. “Please!” 

His free hand grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks to force your mouth open. He leans over you, holding your gaze as he spits into your mouth. Your whine is cut off as two of his fingers follow, pressing against your tongue. They taste salty from the sweat on his hands, yet you don’t care, licking the sweat from his skin. The pulsing of your pussy is starting to get to be too much, your thighs rubbing together in a desperate attempt to ease the ache. 

You moan around his fingers, laving your tongue over them as he shifts his gaze to your legs, watching you squirm and writhe. You can hardly stand it, his scent getting thicker and thicker in the air as he begins to get aroused as well. You nip at his fingers, trying to get him to pull them from your mouth. 

“Please!” You gasp as soon as your mouth is free. “Fucking touch me, Simon!” 

It’s like he had been waiting for your permission as his hand slips between your clenched thighs, cupping you over your leggings. You press your hips into his hand, grinding against him in desperate need for release. 

“What, you want this?” He says, rubbing his hand along your clothed slit. 

“Yes!” You almost sob, squeezing your thighs around his hand. “Please, Simon! Please!”

You lift your head as he slides his hand up your pelvis until it’s resting right at the waistband of your leggings. His eyes are on your face as he slowly pushes his fingers under the fabric, trailing lower and lower until he reaches the top of your mound. Your breath hitches in anticipation, lips parted as your chest heaves with every breath. So close. You’re so close to finally being touched by him. So close to getting relief. 

Your head falls back against the mat, a loud moan slipping from your lips as he finally slides his fingers lower, the rough pads brushing over your clit. “Fuck...” You whine, letting your legs fall open as he begins to circle the sensitive bud. 

It’s more than you could have imagined, better than you would have ever thought, and all he’s done is rub a few circles over your clit. His touch is electric, lighting a fire in you again, sending shocks straight through your nervous system and into your brain. You push against the hand holding your wrists but he doesn’t relent, not letting you touch him like you so desperately want to. 

His fingers leave your clit, sliding lower until they’re pressed against your hole. You shift your hips against his hand, trying to get even some relief from the ache that’s been throbbing between your legs for two days. You’ve avoided even touching yourself, wanting to make sure you were still sensitive and ready for when Simon decided he was ready. You’re glad for that now as Simon presses two of his fingers into you, your walls clamping down around them tightly. 

“C’mon,” He groans in your ear, his tongue darting out to lick at the sweat dampening your face. “Relax for me.” 

You breathe deeply, trying to get yourself to relax as he pushes his fingers further into you. His fingers are so long and thick, his knuckles catching at your entrance. 

“This tight around my fingers, how are you gonna take my cock?” He groans, thrusting his fingers gently to try and open you up for him. 

“I can take it.” You pant, bucking your hips against his hand to take his fingers deeper into you. 

“Been a while since someone fucked you, huh?” He says, beginning to thrust his fingers in and out of you. 

“Weeks.” You whine, your pussy fluttering around his fingers in relief. “Not since before you left.” 

“Oh?” His brows raise in surprise. 

“Missed you too much.” You gasp as he speeds up the movements of his fingers. “Didn’t want to.” 

“You were hoping I’d fuck you when I got back, huh.” He says, curling his fingers inside you. “Give this poor neglected cunt some attention.” 

You let out a moan that’s almost a sob as he finds that spongy spot inside you, directing the movements of his fingers directly against it. Your hands close into fists, pushing against his but he doesn’t let you go, starting to nearly pound his fingers against that spot. 

It’s too much and not enough all at once, your body starting to shake almost violently as pressure builds in your stomach. You’re being loud but you don’t care, unable to hold anything back as pleasure ripples through you, nearly blacking out your vision. You writhe on the mat, legs shaking as your feet plant on the floor, lifting your hips up against his hand. 

“That’s it.” He groans, the wet squelch of his fingers obscene in the quiet training room. 

Your body writhes from the intensity of your pleasure, tears leaking from your eyes uncontrollably. You can’t tell if you’re moaning or sobbing or both as pleasure cuts like a knife through you, toes curling and uncurling in your shoes. It’s like you’ve lost all control, your body given over to the pleasure as his fingers are pushed out of you from the force of your orgasm, fluid soaking your underwear.

You’re shuddering and shaking under him as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing it harshly. It’s almost too much, your pussy contracting almost painfully. A second orgasm is forced out of you, your thighs clamping together, your leggings soaked with fluid between your thighs. 

Simon finally relents, pulling his fingers from your pants. They’re soaked, shiny and slick with your release. You’re gasping for air, body still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” Simon praises you, wiping his hand on his sweatpants as he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It’s strange, the tenderness after what he had just done to your body. 

And that was only with his fingers. 

He eases you up to sit, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You’re not sure how you’re even supposed to stand on them, much less walk. There’s an uncomfortable wetness between your legs, your panties and leggings sticking to your skin. 

“Easy.” He says, supporting your body as you try to rise to your feet. 

There’s a small puddle where you were laying, the outline of your body in sweat on the mat and then more fluid beneath where your ass had been. Simon lifts you into his arms, carrying you over to the bench before sitting you down. He wipes down the mat, cleaning up the mess you left before he approaches you again. 

“What was that?” You ask, shifting uncomfortably in your wet underwear. 

Simon smirks, slipping his phone and keys as well as your phone into his pockets. “Made you squirt, love.” 

Your mouth falls open, your thighs subconsciously clenching together. “You-what?” You blink in surprise. “Didn’t know I could do that.” 

He chuckles, lifting you into his arms again. “Gotta know what you’re doing to make it happen.” 

Warmth floods your cheeks as the double meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. You’re glad for the cool air outside as he carries you back towards the barracks, your legs still trembling a bit from the intense orgasm he had just given you. You’re glad the base is mostly empty, the thought of others knowing what he had just done to you is almost too much. 

“What happened?” Johnny asks as soon as Simon enters the door of the barracks, his eyes flickering back and forth between you. “Didnae hurt her, did ye?” He asks, getting defensive. 

“Quite the opposite.” Simon says, walking past him towards your door. “Taught her a little party trick.” 

Johnny’s nostrils flare as your scent finally hits him, his eyes going wide. “Fucking christ, Simon.” 

He starts towards your door as Simon sets you on your feet, but the alpha pushes him back, keeping him from entering your room. “Easy, mutt. She’s had enough this morning. Let’s get some food and liquids into her first.” 

Your pussy clenches in anticipation at his words and you quickly close the door before you, or they, change their minds. 

You’re not quite sure what to do as you stand in front of the open door, peering into a space you’ve never been in before. It almost feels wrong to take the step, to enter into sacred ground you’ve been kept out of until now. The space is plain and laid out not entirely unlike your own. There’s books lining the back of the desk, a box with what looks like records sitting on the floor next to it, and what looks like a painting hanging on the wall. The wardrobe is exactly where yours is, and you can assume there’s a dresser behind the door. 

“You going to come in or do I have to drag you?” 

You startle at the voice, lifting your gaze to Simon’s. He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at you as you hesitate in the doorway. You swallow the lump in your throat, taking a step into the room, and then another. 

All feelings of plainness go out the window as you step further in. His bed is the same as yours, sheets blue instead of black like you might have assumed. There’s a nightstand next to the bed with a lamp and his phone, but that’s not what’s surprising to you. 

Across the wall behind his bed is a black and white mural of skulls stretching wall to wall, ceiling to floor. You stare at it in awe, taking in all the details, the shading, the realism. 

“Johnny did it for me.” Simon says, stepping up next to you. “Not long after I claimed him.” 

“It’s incredible.” You say. “Very fitting.” 

“Might need to commission him for another piece, one of the ones he’s done of you.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, very aware of Johnny’s stash of drawings of you from pictures he’s snapped while you weren’t looking, and some while you were. You’d flipped through his sketchbook, just happening upon a rather detailed drawing of your tits when he’d grabbed it and quickly shoved it on top of his wardrobe. 

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what filled the rest of the pages in that book. 

“I’m sure he’d be happy to do one for you.” You say, turning to face him. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I could be convinced to do a custom reference for him.” 

His eyes darken as he stares at you, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare up at him, refusing to look away despite the strong musky scent rolling off of him. You stand your ground, pushing back against his attempts to make you yield, to make you submit. 

A shiver runs down your spine as he takes a step closer, and then another. You can feel the warmth of his body as he looms over you, his hand lifting to settle on your waist. His thumb brushes your side through your shirt, the heat of his palm radiating through the fabric. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He asks, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. 

“Yes, sir.” You respond. 

His hand tightens around your waist, his scent intensifying at your words. “Fuck,” He hisses, the front of his pants suddenly getting tighter. “Brazen little shit.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. “You love it.” 

“Mmm, you seem so sure of that.” He says, tugging the bottom of his mask up. 

“Because I am.” You say, lifting yourself up onto your toes. 

He bends down, meeting you halfway. Your lips clash in a fiery kiss, your hands lifting to grip his shoulders. His own slide down your sides to grip your thighs, lifting you into his arms. He walks backwards, kicking his door closed before pressing you up against it. 

You moan as your back hits the door, Simon’s tongue sliding into your mouth as soon as your lips part. The kiss is messy and rough, his fingers digging into your thighs as he pins you against his door. It’s finally happening, what you’ve been waiting for. Two long days you’ve been waiting and wishing for this moment. Simon’s bruising grip on your thighs, and the low rumbling growl echoing in his chest speak volumes of his own desire. 

His grip tightens on you, almost becoming painful as his teeth sink into your lip. You let out a surprised yelp as he breaks the skin, the coppery tang of blood filling your mouth. 

You nearly hit the floor as Simon wrenches himself away from you, stumbling back a couple of steps. He wipes the blood from his lip and you quickly purse your own lips to try and hide the blood. He turns his back to you, his shoulders tensed and slightly hunched. 

“Simon?” You take half a step forward, but he lifts his hand, making you pause. 

You stay where you are, staring at his back. You don’t want this to ruin things, to push him away from you. A little blood hasn’t stopped you so far, nor has a little pain. You can tell he’s nervous, though, on edge, and you know exactly why. 

“Simon?” You say quietly, approaching him slowly. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, repeating the words he’s said over and over the last few weeks. It’s almost like a mantra now, and you can imagine it echoing over and over in his head. He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder as you reach him. 

“You won’t.” You say, putting your hands on his back, turning him slowly. “You haven’t so far. His eyes flicker between the healing marks on your neck, and your bleeding lip. “I trust you, Simon.” 

“You shouldn’t.” He says, his hands closing into fists. 

“Don’t be stupid.” You say, rolling your eyes. “We both want this. Denying it isn’t going to make anything better. I trust your ability to control yourself, and you have to trust that I’ll tell you if you go too far.” 

“What if I can’t stop?” 

“Johnny’s next door, and John is across the hall.” You say simply. “If nothing else, I’ll scream. They’ll know the difference.” You take his face in your hands, pulling him down slightly so you can look him in the eyes easier. “Let me be in control if you’re so worried.” 

A rumble vibrates deep in his chest at your words, his eyes flashing. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks, ghosting over his five-o’clock shadow. 

“The mask can stay on, hell all of your clothes can stay on.” You shrug. “I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” 

He stares down into your eyes for a moment before leaning forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s softer this time, less heated and animalistic than before. 

Simon releases you, taking a step back. He unbuttons his pants, letting them drop to the floor, leaving him in just his briefs. He picks them up, folding them like he did two nights ago, draping them over the back of his desk chair. He hesitates for a moment so you take the lead, pulling your shirt up over your head. You drop your shorts as well, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. 

Simon’s eyes scan your body and you fight the urge to cover yourself under his intense gaze. He steps forward, his fingers reaching for you. They’re surprisingly soft as they trail up your arm, goosebumps forming on your skin. His eyes follow the path of his fingers before they reach the strap of your bra. He slips his fingers underneath, pulling it up before he releases it, letting it snap against your skin. 

“Take it off.” He says, a subtle growl underneath his voice. 

It sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps forming all over your skin. “Thought I was in charge, Mr. Big Alpha Man.” 

“Little shit.” He breathes, letting out a long sigh. 

You reach behind you anyway, undoing your bra and letting it fall to the floor. 

“Christ.” He breathes, his eyes glued right on your tits. 

“Understanding all the hype now?” You smirk. “You can touch them if you’d like.” 

He curses under his breath but lifts his hands anyway, cupping your breasts. You bite your lip as he squeezes them gently, his eyes glued to your chest. 

“Didn’t take you for a tits guy.” You say, biting back a moan as his thumb brushes over your nipple. 

“I'm just full of surprises.” He says, earning a surprised yelp as he tugs harshly on your nipple. 

He leans down, dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin to soothe it. You let out a soft moan at the sensation, your hands lifting to grip his biceps. 

“Fuck,” He groans against your skin, straightening back up. “On the bed.” He says, motioning with his head. 

“Thought I was in charge.” You sass. 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you.” He retorts. 

You open your mouth to argue but you can't. You know he's right, so instead you make your way to the bed, crawling onto the mattress, making sure he can see the damp spot on your underwear as you do. 

You pause when you hear crinkling, running your hand over the sheet. “A heat liner?” 

“Gotta protect the mattress.” He shrugs, approaching the bed. 

Your eyes widen as your face warms, the implications not lost on you. You think back to earlier in the gym, your face only warming even more. “Oh.”

He grips the back of your knees, tugging you to the edge of the bed, pushing your knees up. You're spread open in front of him, the damp spot on your panties only getting bigger as he stares down at the only barrier left between you. 

“You could take a picture.” You say as he stands there, frozen. “Something to remember me by.”

“Little shit.” He says under his breath, his hands sliding up your inner thighs until they reach your hips. 

His fingers curl under the waistband of the lacy black fabric, slowly dragging them down over your ass and then down your legs. He tosses the fabric behind him before parting your legs again. He's shamelessly staring at your glistening pussy, bare and spread open for him. 

A moment passes as he stands there frozen, and for a second you wonder if he's ever seen a pussy before, much less a naked woman. Obviously he has, based on what happened earlier. He’s experienced, and you try not to let the thought bother you, jealousy rising at the thought of his hands on another woman. Did she get to see his face? How vulnerable was he with her. 

You bring your attention back to Simon as he stands there frozen. “You okay?” You ask, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. 

He nods, eyes still glued to your pussy. 

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at his mask-covered face. “Why don't you show me what you did in the gym earlier.” You suggest, finally getting him to react.

His eyes flash up to your face, his grip on your legs loosening. He stares at you for a second before letting them go completely. “Wait here.” He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before he comes out carrying a towel. 

He lays it on the floor beside the bed, looking between you and the towel for a moment before nodding in approval. You watch him as he grabs a pillow, slipping it behind you to prop you up before sinking onto the mattress next to you. He pulls one of your legs over his lap, and you hook an arm around the other one, getting the idea. 

Your eyes are glued to his hand as he drags it across your stomach, letting his blunt nails scrape across your skin. You shiver in response, goosebumps covering your skin again. His hand slips through your folds, gathering some of your slick on his fingers before he returns to your clit, circling it like he had earlier. You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the pillow as he teases the sensitive bud. 

Simon leans closer to you, pressing gentle kisses to your jaw. “Fucking beautiful omega.” He praises you, his teeth scraping your skin gently. “Been working me up for weeks, laying in here listening to you fuck the others, those sweet little sounds coming from you.” He groans into your skin, his fingers applying more pressure to your clit. “Had me in here wanking like some needy teenager, imagining it was me making you scream like that, like it was your hand on my cock.” 

His words make you shiver. You know he’s heard you, it was impossible not to, but you had always pictured him with ear plugs in or headphones on, trying to drown out the noise. Or maybe he always chose those moments to shower, trying to drown you out with the water. 

You hadn't considered that he'd be in here masturbating to the sound of you being fucked by the others. You certainly wouldn’t have guessed it was you he was jerking off to. You would have assumed his focus was on the others and the sounds of their pleasure. Your pussy clenches at the mental image of him in bed, fisting his cock, trying not to cum until you do. He knows what you sound like when you cum, he'd have figured that out quickly. He'd use that knowledge, edging himself until you came so he could cum with you. 

“Fuck...” You moan, slick dribbling out of you at the thoughts flashing through your mind. 

“Nearly blacked out when you let Johnny fuck you from behind the first time.” He groans, circling your clit faster. “Imagining you bent over his bed, split open around his cock,” He shakes his head. “Wanted to be in there, bend him over you and fuck him into you, get both of you desperate and needy, begging me for release.”

Your head tilts back, your legs shaking as his words nearly send you over the edge. The mental images are almost too much, the possibilities now that you've opened this door. 

You whine as his hand leaves your clit, his fingers closing around your jaw and pulling your head back up. “Keep your head up.” He says. “Want you to watch.”

You whimper as he returns to your pussy, dragging his fingers down your slit before pressing two into your slick hole. They slide in easier than they did this morning, your body opening to him in anticipation. He thrusts his fingers slowly, teasing you as he continues to work you up. 

“Wanna fuck you so full of cum you're almost bursting then let Kyle eat it out of you. Might let him fuck you after just to see the two prettiest members of the pack together.” He continues. 

You squeeze around his fingers, a loud moan leaving your lips. You could cum from his words alone and the mental images flashing through your mind. All the possibilities, all the opportunities that are now in front of you. 

He curls his fingers, finding that spongy spot again. You know what's coming, the anticipation building in your stomach as he begins to thrust his fingers against that spot. 

“Want Price to bend you over my desk, watch as he fucks you until you're a crying mess, and then it will be my turn.” He growls, pounding his fingers against that spot. “Make you forget your name, forget how to do anything but whine in pleasure.

You desperately keep your eyes on his hand as that overwhelming pressure begins in your stomach again, your moans getting sharper and sharper the more it builds. Your hips jerk uncontrollably as you nearly black out again, fluid squirting from you and into the air. Simon's fingers are forced out of you from the intensity of the orgasm, but he's not done as he begins frantically rubbing at your clit. Another orgasm is forced out of you from the hypersensitivity as you squirt again, soaking your pussy and the side of the bed. 

You let your head fall back as you gasp for air, your body shuddering uncontrollably in the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm. Simon leans down, kissing you like he wants to devour you as he slips his fingers back inside your spasming pussy. It’s almost painful, the sensations too much as he stretches you open again. 

“One more.” He groans against your lips as he starts bullying that spot inside you with his fingers again. “Give me one more.”

“Simon,” you grip the front of his shirt, the feeling almost too much as it builds faster this time. “Simon!” You let out a high pitched shriek, squirting again all over his hand and the floor. 

“That's it.” He groans, finally relenting as his wet hand comes to rest on your clenching stomach. 

Tears blur your vision as you lay there shaking, nearly having an out of body experience from the pleasure. It's painful, but not in a bad way. 

His hand slides up your body until he's gripping your jaw, turning your face to his. He kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue past your lips as he holds you there, your release dripping from your pussy onto the sheets. His kiss is all tongue and teeth, bordering on the animalistic violence that had almost taken over you both two days ago. It had thrilled and terrified you, how easily both of you got lost in the moment. 

You hadn't even been naked then. 

You don't ponder on it long as he pulls away from you delivering a slap to your pussy before he stands, watching the way you jerk from the sharp sting on the sensitive skin. You nearly cum from it, pussy clenching from how sensitive you are. 

He reaches into the top drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a bottle. He moves to stand between your legs again, letting them fall to the sides for a moment. You're limp as you stare up at him, not sure you could move your body at all if you had to. You're beginning to understand why he was so worried.

He palms at the very prominent bulge in his briefs, an excited thrill running through you as he slips his hands under the waistband, slowly sliding it lower and lower. You lick your lips as more skin is revealed to you, a trail of light hair leading to the thick shaft of his cock. It keeps going and going as he lowers his briefs, thick and long and an angry red color as the fabric finally drops out of sight. 

“Fuck...” You breathe as you stare at it, looking big even in his large hand. 

He moves closer, lifting your legs from where they're hanging over the side of the bed, pushing them up as close to your chest as they can get, essentially folding you in half. His cock drags through your folds, the head catching on your clit. It makes you twitch with every pass of his hips, your lips parting in anticipation. You could cum like this, your pussy still oversensitive from your three orgasms already. Four, if you count the one in the gym earlier. 

“You said you could take it.” He teases, his hands keeping your legs pressed back. 

You nod. “Uh huh.”

“Having second thoughts?” He smirks. 

You're not sure if it's your ego or your pride or just sheer determination that has you shaking your head. “Nope.” 

His smirk widens as he reaches for the bottle, popping the cap before squirting some lube on his cock and onto your hole. He tosses the bottle back onto the bed before rubbing the lube on his cock, dragging the head through your slick folds, spreading the cold lube against the heated skin. “Good girl.”

You shiver from the praise, your breath catching in your throat as he begins to press into you. The burning stretch is almost too much for your oversensitive walls despite the preparation he had given you. His fingers were nothing compared to his cock, and for a moment you regret not fucking one of the others in the two weeks he was gone. 

Your breaths are coming in high pitched gasps, broken by moans as he sinks into you, your legs shaking and he hasn't even fucked you yet. You could cum just like this, just from the stretch. You can feel all of him, every inch of his length, every inch of his circumference as your pussy gapes around him. 

“Wait,” You grip his wrists, his movements pausing. “Fuck, gimme a second.” 

His eyes are on you as you lay there, trying to relax around him, fighting desperately not to cum like this. He might as well be in your guts, and you're beginning to think you had been right in asking him to rearrange them for you. You lift your head, staring down between your legs. A low groan of astonishment leaves your lips. He's only halfway in. 

You let out a keening moan before you nod. “Okay, okay. Keep going.” 

If his cock is this big, you can't even imagine taking his knot. 

He sinks even deeper, moving slowly as he watches your face. Your eyes are on the ceiling, the stretch seeming almost endless as it keeps going and going. 

Finally he's seated inside you, practically snuggled up against your cervix, or at least that's what it feels like. You could cum just like this, laying here with your knees by your ears, stuffed full of Simon's cock. He wouldn’t even have to move, just stand there as you flutter around him, soaking his cock with your release. 

“Fucking hell.” He groans as you squeeze around him, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath in. 

“Can't help it,” You moan, squeezing around him again. “So big.” 

He lets out a low groan, his hips twitching. “Tell me I can move. Let me fuck you.”

You're half tempted to stay silent, to lay here and see how long he lasts, how long he'll let you hold control before he takes over. A battle of wills, just as everything seems to become between you. Alpha versus omega, instinct versus instinct, willpower versus willpower. Just like every battle, though, you find yourself bowing, giving in, unable to fight the power he holds over you. It’s for a different reason this time, though, your desperation and neediness is just as strong as his. You’ve both been waiting for this, neglecting yourselves for far too long. 

“Fuck me, Simon.” You breathe, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life. “Fuck me till I can't remember anything but your name.” 

He lets out a low growl as he pulls back, drawing his cock out halfway before snapping his hips forward until they slap against yours. You yelp as your body rocks from the force of his thrust, not expecting it. He pulls his hips back slowly again before he repeats the motion, practically slamming into you. It hurts, stealing your breath away, but it leaves you feeling almost electric, pleasure bubbling under your skin.  

Slowly his thrusts get shorter, but they lose none of their force as he fucks into you roughly. You're creating quite the cacophony of sounds from skin slapping skin and the obscene squelch of your pussy to your high pitched keening moans and his deep growls. His eyes are glued to your face, watching the pleasure glaze over your eyes as you stare at the bulge in your stomach from his cock. 

He moves the pillow out from behind you, pushing you flat on your back as he folds his body over yours. He releases your legs, letting them drape over his shoulders as he continues to pound into you. There's a wild look in his eyes, your omega beginning to stir as your brain registers the shifting scents, the heavy musk in the room. 

Sweat has slicked your skin and Simon's, mixing where your skin is pressed together. He turns his head, licking the skin of your thigh, tasting the salty sweat. Your mouth feels dry as you stare up at him, wanting to sink your teeth into him and chew on him. You want to make him bleed, have him howling in pain as he stuffs you so full you'll be leaking for a week. 

You grip his forearms, your nails digging into his skin, making him hiss out a curse. A wild look flashes behind his eyes as he sinks his teeth into your thigh, clamping down as you continue to dig your nails into his arms, neither of you relenting. He shifts his hips just slightly, hitting a different angle that has you releasing his arms as pleasure wracks through you. He releases your thigh with a satisfied grin, fucking into at the new angle like a wild animal. 

Your body shudders, your moans muffling as he presses two of his fingers into your mouth again, pushing on your tongue. You choke around them, fighting every urge to sink your teeth into his skin until he releases you or you taste blood. 

“That’s it.” He grunts as you whimper desperately around his fingers. “You can take it.” 

Drool seeps out from around his fingers as he fucks you until you’re almost cross-eyed, your pussy spasming around him as every thrust brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

You can’t stop it as you sink your teeth into his fingers, your legs squeezing together as your body seizes, your release gushing around his cock as you cum. Your eyes roll back, blood on your tongue as he wrenches his fingers from your mouth. Your head tilts back, back arching as he doesn’t stop, undeterred by your orgasm. 

“Fucking hell.” He grunts, the clenching of your pussy almost painful as he continues to fuck you. “Fucking tight around me.” 

“Please, please, Simon!” You whine, the only two words you can pull from your brain, and even they begin to mesh together into mindless babble as you grip his sheets, nearly pulling them off the edges of the mattress. 

Tears leak from your eyes as he fucks into you so hard the frame shakes, knocking into the wall. He leans his head down, his teeth sinking into the skin over your collarbone until you bleed. Droplets of blood mix with the sweat dripping down your chest, Simon’s eyes following them as they disappear between your breasts. 

“Gonna cum for me again?” He growls, blood staining his lips red. He looks like a ghoul, wild eyed and bloody mouthed, feasting on your flesh. An incubus sucking the life out of you as he brings you endless pleasure. 

“Simon!” You squeal, eyes squeezing closed as you’re thrown into another orgasm, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you clench around him, almost as if your body is trying to suck his cock in deeper. 

He continues to fuck you, every curse word known to man spilling from his lips as you tighten around him, dragging his own orgasm from him. He slams his hips into yours, letting out a feral growl as he spills into you. Warmth fills your belly as he spurts his hot cum into you, filling you up. Your legs are shaking where they’re tossed over his shoulders, clenching around his neck. His skin is flushed red from the bottom of his mask to the collar of his shirt. 

You can’t move as you lay there, shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm. You want to take a break, tap out, ask for five minutes and a glass of water, but from the look in Simon’s eyes you know it’s not over yet. There’s no taking a break, not that he’s gotten a taste of your pussy. 

He releases your legs, letting them drop off the side of the bed. He pulls away long enough to flip you over, bending you over the side of the bed. You whine as he presses his cock back into you, ignoring the squeeze of your sensitive walls as he splits you open around him again. He bends over you, pressing his chest to your back as his hips press flush to your ass. 

“Simon.” You whine, your hands gripping the sheets as his hand snakes around you, wrapping around your throat.

He growls low and dangerous, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. You squeeze around him, a chill running through you, your instincts telling you to run or roll over in submission to him. Your omega claws at your mind, desperate to meet him toe to toe, one for one. You begin to push your hips back into him, fucking yourself on his cock as his teeth sink into the skin on the back of your shoulder. The tables have turned, the control has shifted. 

He’s not Simon anymore. 

Your lips part in a gasp as he thrusts into you, meeting your own movements on his cock, reminding you who’s in charge, who holds the reigns in this position. The word comes tumbling from your lips, brainlessly and unconsciously, no thoughts there to stop it, your hands too busy clinging to the sheets for dear life to even prevent it from slipping out. 

“Alpha!” 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites

@kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos

@konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13

@anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry

@red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving

@slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164

@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp

[whenimaunicorn]

Splash - The Last Kingdom Smut

Uhtred x OFC, Ragnar the Younger x OFC, Three-way in the pool, Frat Boy AU

A/N: maybe it’s silly that I took a break from writing one frat bro AU to bang out a different one, but here we are… This is so self-indulgent. I know these are not the most popular guys in the fandom, but here’s your chance to see them through my eyes. It started as a Reader fic but I wasn’t kidding anyone; this one has to be written in first-person. I wasn’t trying to please anyone but myself but I hope you enjoy the ride!

Content Warnings: choking kink, exhibitionism, anyone could walk in, ass slapping, face slapping, tit slapping, rough sex; consent attended to but some assumptions are being made.

Word Count: 7620

Taglist: I made an effort to remove people that I know aren’t into smut. If I included you here and this sort of thing is not your cup of tea, please don’t be mad and you certainly don’t have to read it. @things0425​  @ceridwenofwales​ @oddsnendsfanfics​@laketaj24​  @geekandbooknerd​ @therealcalicali​ @tiyetiye​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​@titty-teetee​  @savismith​ @ariellostatci​ @perfectus-in-morte​ @axiseeu12 @kingofshadowalkers @glitta-killa​ @just-random-obsessions​ @volvaaslaug​

���Come on, just a kiss,” Uhtred is crooning into my ear. He had convinced me to get back into the pool with him, when the rest of the party had moved inside after the sun had gone down and the pizza order arrived. I do consider it for a moment. It’s almost too cold to be back in the water, and stealing some of his body heat now might be nice.

Problem is, Uhtred is a known fuckboy. He hasn’t gotten in my pants yet for good reason. I’m just the right amount of tipsy for his plush lips to be looking tempting out here in the still moonlight, (so tempting), but I’ve seen enough results of Uhtred’s womanizing behaviors to make me wary.

Besides, it’s kind of nice to have such a gorgeous guy wrapped so securely around one’s finger. I lay my palm on his well-planed chest and push him away, then duck my head and swim like a mermaid away from him.

He’s right behind me as I reach the wall at the deep end of the frat house’s in-ground pool. I hang from it with one hand, letting the rest of my body melt into the soft buoyancy of the water, and Uhtred dangles off the wall right there next to me.

“Actually,” I say to him without opening my eyes, “I’m thinking I might bounce.” There’s really just one stupid little reason I came out to this party, and I think that I’m about done torturing myself with it.

“No,” Uhtred says, cupping his body softly around mine under the water, “don’t do that.” I don’t recoil when his hips bump against mine, when our legs slide softly together. It feels good. He feels good. Maybe I can just give into simple pleasure while I nurse my disappointment.

I hear the water stir on the other side of the pool, and open my eyes to see Ragnar Ragnarsson lowering his oversized frame into the cool water. His eyes are mostly closed as he savors the sensation.

I can barely believe it. Guy’s always right at the center of these parties, with his infectious laughs and his instigating little suggestions. What’s he doing out here alone?

Uhtred’s lips are brushing the back of my neck. “Why would you go home alone, when you could come back up to my room?”

It’s not Uhtred’s room I wanted to end the night in. He should be an easy second choice, but I just can’t make myself do it. “I have a crush on someone else,” I confess.

As annoying as he can be when he tries to turn up the charm on me, Uhtred is also my friend. “Oh?” The interested noise he makes vibrates the shell of my ear. “Do tell.” His arm comes around me snugly; I let him hold my back against his chest so I can float completely in the water and just let all my pretenses go.

“I like Ragnar,” I say in defeat. “I hope I get over it soon, but right now it’s a bitch of a crush, and it’s not letting me focus on anything else.”

“And why,” Uhtred’s amused voice says behind my ear, “is that something you need to get over.”

“Because he has Brida?” I sigh. “Badass, totally awesome, and completely terrifying Brida.” I look up to her, really I do. I wouldn’t dream of stealing her man.

“She’s not here,” Uhtred says, like I’m being silly. “Her team’s traveling this weekend.”

I look across the pool at Ragnar, his arms spread wide and inviting over the lip of the pool, holding the rest of his body suspended in the water. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone, but definitely not to her.”

Uhtred says my name flatly, almost chiding. “They have an open relationship. You don’t know that?”

I turn inside Uhtred’s arm, reaching out to the side of the pool to steady my own self and searching for the lie in his earnest face. “No.”

“Yes.” He smiles down on me, using the shift as an excuse to wrap both arms around my middle and hold me closer to him as we bob together in the water. He’s smirking down at me as if we’re not discussing another man right now. “You want me to introduce you?”

“He knows who I am,” I say bitterly. At least, I think he does. We have some classes together. But after seeing how cute, and passionate, he and Brida looked together on the Quad, I stopped trying to catch his attention.

“How could he not,” Uhtred intones. He drops a little kiss on my cheek, right in front of my ear. “You’re quite bewitching.” I jerk my head in a tiny movement, dodging his next peck. “He’s probably watching you right now. And I am totally cockblocking.” I hear the impending laugh in the back of his throat, curling his words.

“Ugh.” I twist out of Uhtred’s grip and make some space between our bodies, just on the extremely unlikely chance that’s true, and Ragnar is really looking, and wondering about me. “Why would Brida be okay with that? She doesn’t at all seem like the type.”

Uhtred shrugs, in that little motion that means he knows everything rather than nothing. “There are . . .” he glances around, like he really needs to make sure there isn’t anyone that can overhear. “Things that Ragnar wants, that she can’t do for him.”

My eyebrows climb. “Like what?”

Uhtred smirks. “Kinky things.” His eyebrows waggle, and I remember that he knows way too much about me in that department already. He and I kind of met at the college’s BDSM support and information club. “Tell me, do you think Brida is any kind of submissive in the bedroom?” He barks a little laugh, answering his own question. “That crazy bitch outsources the kind of sex she doesn’t like.”

I guess he would know; she is his ex. “Oh.” I steal one more glance at Ragnar, but look away quickly when his face appears to be pointed in my direction. It’s hard to tell where his eyes are focused, in the dim light of the landscaping lamps that line the walkway across the pool from his position. “Then how come I haven’t seen him at the kinkster club? Gotta be the easiest way to pick up a casual play partner.”

“I keep telling him to come, man.”

Wow. What do I even do with this information? I can feel my body vibrating a little. But I take a deep breath and push that energy down. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have any game, anyway. No way I could pull a guy like that. I wouldn’t even know how to go up to him.”

“Like I said,” Uhtred coaxes, “I’ll introduce you.” His palms run around my bare torso, just a little under my bikini cups. “All I ask is that you not leave me out.”

My breath comes out a little shaky. I let him hold me close while we float in the water, our bodies anchored only by my hand on the wall. “A three-way? With your frat brother?”

Uhtred nips at my ear. “Now you’re catching on.”

I consider it. I mean, how could I not? Uhtred passes the time while I’m thinking by pressing soft kisses along my jaw. There’s no way we don’t already look like a couple from Ragnar’s view across the pool. So I probably don’t have any other play than this one tonight.

It wouldn’t be too bad to share the love, would it? Honestly, as I imagine being pressed between both their bodies, I find the image even sexier than any fantasy I’ve had about bedding Ragnar by myself. Why not get a little crazy?

“Okay,” I say, and Uhtred’s eyes sparkle two inches away from mine and then he’s kissing me, oh Lord he’s kissing me full on the mouth and he Knows What He Is Doing. I forget to keep hanging on to the side of the pool, and we both go under.

We’re both laughing when we come up.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I sputter.

“You’re the one that let go!” He swims closer and gooses me under the water.

“This is getting dangerous,” I gasp, lifting my chin to try and keep my face above water as Uhtred’s groping hands make it hard for me to stay afloat. “Let’s—take it—to the shallow end.”

Where Ragnar is still chilling. He can’t be doing anything besides blatantly watching us, at this point. We’ve been making quite the spectacle of ourselves. I close half the distance between us before I chicken out, turning back toward Uhtred as soon as my foot touches the gently sloping bottom and I can stand in the middle of the pool.

Uhtred scoops me up in his arms once he’s able to stand too, his smile both mocking and gentle as he reads the reason for my reluctance. “You have nothing to be nervous about,” he whispers above my ear. “But you can stop me if you ever feel uncomfortable.”

I nod, quickly. “I know.”

“Come on.” We half-swim, half walk together to the shallow end of the pool. Uhtred’s arm stays around me. “Ragnar. Look who I found.”

Deep-set eyes glimmer in the lights reflected from the surface of the water. He says my name, warmly. My heart stops. He does know who I am.

“She was just telling me something that I think you’ll find very interesting.”

My nerve endings crackle. Is he seriously just going to jump right into this?

Ragnar inclines his head in a slow, regal gesture, indicating reserved interested. My nervousness doubles.

“This sweet little thing was just about to go home alone.”

“That would be a shame.” I shiver under his heavy regard. “Even the legendary Uhtred’s game not working for you?”

I shake my head, shyly. Uhtred wraps his arms around me a little tighter. “There is nothing wrong with my game. But she is after something else tonight.” He nips softly at my ear. “Someone else.”

Ragnar continues to sit there, waiting for the answer to be revealed to him.

Is Uhtred waiting for me to jump in and say something? Because I’ve definitely got nothing. No game here, that’s for sure.

“She told me that she came here tonight only because she was hoping to get with you.”

Ragnar’s interest sharpens. “Is that so.”

“Mhmm,” Uhtred rumbles above my ear, while I silently nod and try not to self-immolate in embarrassment. “And of course, once I learned that, I couldn’t sit back and hold out on you. What kind of frat brother would I be.”

Ragnar nods, sagely. As if it’s normal for these guys to be passing women around to each other. Although Uhtred has definitely not passed me along just yet.

“Just look at her, bro.” His fingers slip under the straps that hold my bikini top on. “I think you should definitely get to know her better.” He pulls the straps away from my body and wiggles his fingers just a little. A clear sign to me of his intentions, and a chance to tell him to stop.

I don’t.

Uhtred’s seen my checklist. He knows my kinks. Exhibitionism and objectification are definitely both on that list. His strong hands slide down the inside of the swimsuit, pulling the cups away from my skin and then sliding each one to the side so that my breasts spill out between them.

I think we all look down to watch them fall out.

My nipples harden instantly, as much from the mood as the contact with the air. It’s so easy to get naked at a pool party. There’s just so little separating civilization from our animal natures. The moonlight is just bright enough to show Uhtred’s hands coming up to cup my tits as he squares himself behind me, his fingers plucking gently at one pebbled nipple, then the other.

Ragnar leans forward. His elbows are still propped on the edge of the pool behind him, but he’s definitely moving toward me. His eyes are flitting between my chest and Uhtred’s face. Probably wondering what the hell his bro is up to. “She can come sit in my lap.”

“I haven’t even told you the best part,” Uhtred says, continuing to hold on to me and ignoring Ragnar’s last statement. His right hand runs up the center of my chest, fingers tracing my collarbones. “She is extremely freaky.”

That hand comes up to engulf my throat. He tightens it in just the right places, closing off my windpipe only softly. Did I mention that a recent topic at the club had been breath play, and that Uhtred had been my partner in trying out the safe techniques for choking that the presenter had been demonstrating?

Yeah, I can’t believe I never went to bed with him before, either.

I watch Ragnar watching my face as the gentle choke hold electrifies my body and sends my mind rocketing into subspace. My body arcs back against Uhtred’s and I clutch his thigh since I can’t actually make a sound.

He releases immediately. That’s reassuring. My breath comes back in a rush, and a little bit of a moan comes with it.

Ragnar leans in, so our faces are more level. “You’d let me do that, too?”

The bottom drops out on my pussy. “Uh huh.”

His arms coax me as he leans back into his watery throne. “Come onto my lap,” he repeats.

Uhtred’s hands trail off my body as I step forward and straddle Ragnar on the underwater bench. I steady the motion with one palm on the top of his broad shoulder, the other pressed to the center of his sizable pec. His hands dip under the water and grasp around my waist. His grip is huge and makes my waist feel tiny.

“Does this gift come with a price?” Ragnar asks over my shoulder as I settle in.

Uhtred moves in behind me. “No gift,” he replies. I can hear the smile that must be plastered across his face. “We are sharing.”

“Very generous. Seeing as you just told me she was going to go home before you brought her over here.”

“If you two want me to go…” Uhtred replies, seemingly sincere.

Ragnar looks at me. His face is not leading me to any specific answer. So I tell the truth. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.”

Ragnar grins. He thinks I’m funny; that makes my heart swell. He cups the side of my face, dragging his thumb along my cheekbone.  “Then I won’t, either.”

He kisses me. That soft grip on my face guides me down to his lips, his eyes watching my reactions carefully all the way up until our lips meet. His kiss may not have the finesse of Uhtred’s, but his genuine eagerness is enough. I’m kissing Ragnar right now. I’m half naked in his lap. Ragnar Ragnarsson wants me. My head is spinning in all the best ways.

His hands move across my body. The water comes up to my waist in this position, and his warm, wet palms enhance the contrast of the air against my bare skin as they drag new moisture up my sides and over my tits.

And there’s more hands than just Ragnar’s. Uhtred is floating behind me, and helping himself to my ass.

The overstimulation escalates fast. I break the kiss with Ragnar just to catch my breath, the sheer eroticism of what we’re doing setting my heart pounding. He shifts his hips beneath me; I don’t know how restrictive his swim trunks are but I guess he’s feeling the magic, too.

I feel Uhtred weave his fingers through my hair and he tugs my head back, hard. “Don’t think that you need to be too gentle with this one.”

“Oh no?” Ragnar glances over my shoulder, meeting Uhtred’s eyes. His fingers dig into the tops of my thighs. “She likes a little pain?”

“A little,” I admit.

His hands spill up over my breasts, and Ragnar gives both of my nipples a firm tweak. I arch my back and moan, which bumps my pubic bone against a tell-tale hardness in his shorts. Just the thought of Ragnar’s ready dick drives me even more crazy. He repeats the gesture, a little harder, and even though I’m wailing I flinch, too.

He reads it, right away, his palms smoothing and soothing. “I can be nice,” he says, leaning forward to salve my nipple with his tongue. He sucks just a little, enjoying himself with one, then the other. “Although I do want to slap these tits a few times.”

I make an amenable noise.

Not loud enough for Ragnar, however. He reaches up for a fistful of my hair, controlling my head just as Uhtred had done while making me look him right in the eyes. “Do you want that?” he asks, the commanding tone of a sexual dominant creeping into his voice. “For me to use you roughly?”

I nod against his grip.

He slaps my cheek, quick and barely hard enough to sting. He must see the arousal that floods my eyes faster than the heat that comes up in my cheek, because he does it again with a little smirk, and harder the second time. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” I gasp, not sure how I could get any more turned on than this, and I feel Uhtred sliding the snug elastic of my bikini bottoms down off my hips.

Ragnar kisses me again, then draws me to sit up tall and straight while Uhtred’s fingers do dances between my thighs under the water. “Do you like being naked out here?” he asks next. “Or should we take this somewhere more private?”

“Not yet,” I say. I wouldn’t want to be caught full-on fucking in the pool, but the idea that someone at this party could come out at any moment and catch me with my tits out riding Ragnar’s thigh is definitely doing it for me.

“Naughty girl.”

I flash Ragnar my most winning smile.

He slaps at my tit, and it feels better than I thought it would. It fills the side of my breast with the same erotic heat that flooded my cheek, and his next open hand comes downward, squarely on my nipple. An explosion of tingles has me gasping, and lifting my chest for more.

“You seeing this, Uhtred?”

My instigating little friend curls his own body in a little closer. “Oh, yes,” he says, while twisting around me for an even better view.

Ragnar gives me another smack, one that sets my tits bouncing together, but he stops after five or six, and Uhtred leans his head in to soothe them with his tongue.

I arch backwards, letting the water hold me up in an otherwise impossible angle with my arms stretching back over my head. Uhtred holds me, making sure I don’t sink beneath the water. His lips and teeth devour my chest, neck, and face.

Ragnar takes the opening to slide his hand down along my belly. He plays with the fabric that only barely still covers my mound, but not for long. When I thrust my hips at him in a consenting gesture, his fingers plunge beneath it.

He finds my clit quickly, minimizing the friction that can be less than pleasant when one is completely submerged in water. Heat blooms through my aching core as his rocking little circles provide a focus for all that tingling lust.

Uhtred’s hands come down around my asscheeks. I sit up again, giving him more access, and kiss Ragnar some more as he keeps up his careful work.

Fingers dive between my cheeks from behind, Uhtred finding his way under the tight fabric of swimsuit bottoms already stretched out to fit Ragnar’s hand. He plunges easily inside my pussy and I throw my face up to the sky, swallowing a moan sure to attract too much attention back here.

“Do you want to cum out here,” Ragnar asks, “where anyone could see?”

My face is hot. My mouth barely feels like it would be able to form coherent words. These boys have me panting and about ready to explode out of my skin. Especially if they keep talking this way. “Yes,” I eke out, and Uhtred starts fingerfucking me faster.

My arms are around Ragnar’s neck. I clutch at his half-shaved scalp almost frantically, as the purposeful movements of his steady finger on my clit provide a counterpoint to Uhtred’s deeper thrusting.

Uhtred bites my shoulder. Ragnar sucks a nipple into his mouth. “I’m close,” I whisper, and feel Uhtred smile against my skin.

Ragnar lifts his head, considering my face, and then brings his big hand to wrap around my neck.

“Yes,” I gasp, and then he closes off my ability to say anything else.

Somehow, the pleasure doubles when I don’t have any breath. I’ve never been able to say why, but it hardly matters when giving up that last bit of control ignites the conflagration that’s been building since I spread my legs wide over Ragnar’s lap. My legs clench up as I come, my body feeling like a hollow vessel for the pleasure that rebounds off every inner wall without any exhale to exit on. And so my orgasm just keeps going. And going.

Ragnar finally releases my throat and I gasp deep, and only when I breathe out does the pleasure even begin to crest and fade. He keeps his fingertips lightly upon my throat as I writhe and sigh, not letting me forget his control while I gradually come back to my senses.

“I have to fuck you,” Uhtred growls into my ear. “Come upstairs with us.”

My legs are barely responding, but the boys help me up and steady my way out of the pool. Ragnar’s eyes sparkle as he wraps a towel around my body. “Are you going to make it, or should I carry you?”

While the thought of the big Dane throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me off to ravage me is quite delightful, I’m less thrilled at the implication that everyone inside the party will know exactly what we’re about to get up to. He and Brida may have an open relationship, but I don’t want to be flagrantly disrespectful. “I can make it,” I say, taking a careful step.

Uhtred, of course, can’t keep his hands off me as we get walking.

“I left my clothes over here,” I say, veering off to the glorified shed that they call the poolhouse. After changing into my swimsuit at the beginning of the party, I had stashed my backpack just around the corner of the little outbuilding.

Leading Uhtred down the little side path might have been a mistake, however. As soon as I bend over to pick up my stuff, he’s on me, conforming his hips to the swell of my ass and making it obvious that the slight interruption in the action hasn’t softened his hard-on for me at all. I straighten up with a smile, but before I can say anything he’s backing me up against the wall, putting the building between us and the party. He’s got that smarmy grin again, but I don’t find it as annoying as usual. “I can’t wait,” he murmurs, eyes flitting all over my face, and down to the towel that’s not covering much. He grasps each one of my wrists and lifts my arms, pinning them against the wood paneling. The towel is lost.

Too easy to get naked at a pool party; too easy to fuck at a pool party. All Uhtred has to do is push a little fabric to the side. I briefly consider whether I’d rather be comfortable in a bed, but how do you turn down a sordid little scene like this one?

I turn to look at Ragnar, looming at the corner of the shed. He lifts an amicable eyebrow. “I’ll keep watch,” he assures us. “Nobody interrupting but me.”

My breath rate is increasing again, especially as I watch Ragnar’s eyes travel appreciatively over every inch of my exposed skin. Uhtred buries his face in the crook of my neck, doing something halfway between kissing and biting as he waits for me to decide what happens next.

There’s only one thought holding me back from what my body is already aching for. I look straight at Ragnar and give it voice. “Don’t mean to give you sloppy seconds. I came here for you.” In a moment of rare sass, I look sideways at Uhtred, who pulled his head up as I started talking. “Uhtred, I could have any time.”

“Are you so certain?” he teases back, picking up the strap of my suit and snapping it against my skin. “Maybe I’ve just been leading you on all this time.”

I raise a skeptical brow, using my newly-freed hand to rub down his lower belly and into his shorts. I give him time to pull back if I’m calling his bluff. Instead, he leans into it, and I contact a gorgeous hardness, wrapping my fingers around its silky skin. Uhtred’s eyes just about roll back into his head.

“How about this,” Ragnar says, leaning in close to my face. “Ride him first. Otherwise he will just be too annoying.” He pauses to give his frat brother an affectionate grin. Then his eyes return to mine, deadly serious. “And the better I see you fuck him, the better I will fuck you, after.”

That . . . is all the motivation I need. Even just the idea that Ragnar cares how well I fuck his bro makes the whole thing insanely hotter. That he’ll be watching the whole time, evaluating, even. I tug on Uhtred’s cock a bit harder, to make sure he makes a face that Ragnar can see. “It’s a deal,” I say, my mouth gone a little dry.

I look down.

“But I don’t suppose anyone has a condom out here?”

 We make it as quickly as we can to Ragnar’s bedroom. He’s got the biggest room in the frat house, which fits the biggest bed. I am tossed onto it before I get a chance to take a good look at anything else. Uhtred is on me, pushing my belly into the mattress, spooning my hips as he unties all my bikini strings.

Ragnar retrieves a condom from a drawer, handing it over with an amused smile. I intercept it, giving him a shy grin in return before I turn back to Uhtred. “Let me.”

He rolls onto his back, propping leaning on his elbows while he watches me take off his shorts. We’re both fully naked now, and his cock is standing straight up, entirely defying gravity with its readiness. I trace my fingers along the length of it.

Uhtred rolls his neck and moans. “Don’t tease me any more. I want to feel you ride me.”

“But you’re so fun to tease,” I reply. “And Ragnar wants a show.” I glance at his looming, watchful face as I lean down to lick a circle around the head of Uhtred’s cock. I definitely have his attention.

“Get that condom on me and we’ll give him a show,” Uhtred promises. “I want to make you bounce.”

I slide the rubber over him carefully, teasing his balls a little, making him buck up impatiently into my hand. I’m not usually so confident, but knowing that Ragnar is watching just electrifies me. I climb up over Uhtred’s hips. It’s supposed to be a dominant position, to be on top, but I don’t feel like a top when I look into Uhtred’s hungry eyes, nor when Ragnar nods at me to get on with it. I feel like a lamb delivering itself to the slaughter.

Uhtred’s hands creep up my thighs. I spit into my fingers to make sure that I’m wet enough for this to go smoothly. Uhtred clearly appreciates watching me touch myself, so I linger a little, swirling over my clit and letting him see the heat in my eyes.

He takes matters into his own hands, grasping himself around the base and lining his tip up with my entrance.

“Say please,” I purr, keeping my hips high. I say this knowing that I have seen Uhtred’s checklist too, and that he likes it when submissives get bratty.

“What?” he asks, voice dropping like I’m in trouble, sending just the right shiver through my body. “There’s no way I heard you say” —he smacks the side of my ass, hard— “what I think you just said.”

“Say please,” I repeat, with a little less confidence. I keep playing with my pussy.

“Are you really going to stop being a good girl for us right now?” he leans his head, to look around me toward Ragnar. “How disappointing.”

I meet his gaze as his eyes come back to mine, arrogant, waiting for my response. I’m not sure what to say. I don’t actually want Uhtred to cave, I don’t need to hear him say it, but now I feel like I can’t back down either.

“I think you want me to remind you who is in control, here.” He smacks my ass again, then grasps onto both my hips and pulls me in closer. “Do you want to fuck me?” he asks.

I nod eagerly.

“Then fuck me,” he replies, lip curling with all his usual arrogance. “I do not beg.”

I stare into the steel of his eyes as I let my body sink down over his. I take his head easily enough, but I definitely feel every inch going in, and we sigh together as we finally experience the moment we’ve both been dancing around for months.

“There’s a good girl,” Ragnar rumbles behind me. My body breaks out into tingles all over again.

I rock my hips, slowly, testing how it feels. Uhtred’s hitting me deep, and even the tiniest shifts in angle make a big impact. I don’t have to exaggerate to give Ragnar his show, my breaths already coming shallow and quick, my face tight against the deep stretch of Uhtred’s cock inside me.

“Relax,” Uhtred breathes up at me. I open my eyes to see his sparkling up at me. “We’re only just getting started. Or do I need to be gentle.”

“No,” I say quickly, not wanting this to turn too sweet. “I won’t break.”

Uhtred grins. “That’s my girl.” He bumps his hips suddenly, making me gasp. It’s been a little while since I’ve done this. I’m gonna need to be opened up all over again. Uhtred seems amused by my reaction, and gyrates his hips a little more.

“Oh, fuck,” I curse, holding onto his cut shoulders and steadying myself against the intensity.

He finds a rhythm, a steady slide in and out of my braced hips that slowly melts that pressure into pure, languid pleasure. We start breathing in tandem, and when I open my eyes again I can’t close them, captivated by the look in Uhtred’s wide, heavily-lashed eyes.

Ragnar is a harsh master, however. “I thought I told you to ride him. Looks like Uhtred is doing all the work.”

Uhtred’s eyes sparkle, reassuring me that he is happy with the way things are proceeding. But I have a greater mission, don’t I. I lift my chest and sit up straight atop Uhtred’s cock. The harder I work for Uhtred now, the harder Ragnar is going to work me over later.

My inner muscles have relaxed and opened enough now that I can comfortably take all of him. I settle in, like a cowgirl riding a bull, and start to swirl my hips.

Uhtred makes a sound between a sigh and a giggle. He can’t even keep his eyes open as I roll my body over his.

“That’s it,” Ragnar says approvingly, and when I toss my hair over my shoulder to glance back at him, he’s settled into a chair and is fondling himself idly through his clothes. “Gonna fuck you so good after you make him blow.”

And with that threat fixed in my head, I really put my back into it. Uhtred more than meets me halfway, until we’re fucking wilder and harder than probably ever would have happened if I had let him convince me to go back to his own room an hour ago. He is certainly benefiting from the situation that he orchestrated.

We grunt and groan in unison. I arch my back, letting him rub against the most sensitive spot inside me, then lean forward, until every thrust of his bumps my clit. Every time I buck my hips against his I feel more frantic, his deep impacts pushing me toward a second orgasm surprisingly quickly.

Uhtred is close too. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he babbles, staring up at me with that half-amazed look of a man about to lose everything to pleasure. “I knew you’d be wild, but I had no idea—” he cuts himself off with a crease in his brow. The rhythm in his hips stutters. His breathing changes, fingers close hard around my hips, and in a series of tight little thrusts Uhtred is coming, hard, inside me.

It’s euphoric, to watch a man overcome like that, by me, and by what my body can do for him. It’s also a bit disappointing, as the orgasm that I myself had been chasing starts to fade with his waning rhythm.

But tonight, the fun’s not over just because one dick is spent. Another prods against my backside, ready to carry me through to round two. “You ride well,” Ragnar says, purring above my ear and running hands down my shoulders and back. “Let’s see how much more you can handle.”

This is it. Exactly how I was hoping to end up tonight. Ragnar pulls me off Uhtred and turns me around. He has stripped off his own wet swimsuit, and has already taken the liberty of slipping on a rubber.

He’s big. Like, doubletake big. I suddenly realize it was a favor to Uhtred in more ways than one, to let him go first. And probably to me, too. That thing is going to make me sore.

He must see something of the apprehension in my eyes when I look back up at him, because he leans in and kisses me before making good on any more threats. A sweet kiss in an enveloping embrace that promises we’ll be taking our time getting into this, despite those words, and despite the full erection digging into my thigh.

He pushes me down to the bed. Uhtred is still lounging there, but he’s pulled himself up toward one edge. Plenty of room left on the king-sized mattress for Ragnar and I to roll around. He settles in on top of me. Uhtred has caught one of my hands, and his fingers curl through mine.

I feel almost smothered under Ragnar’s bulk. I like it that way. I wrap my legs around his thigh and rub myself against him, too keyed up from Uhtred to let time slow down now.

“Is this what you’ve been after?” Ragnar rumbles, reaching down to grasp his cock around the base.

“Yes,” I mewl, opening myself beneath him, inviting him to ravage me.

He hovers above me, cock lined up but not yet thrusting in. His teeth scrape along the side of my neck. Uhtred lets my hand go.

“How long have you wanted me?” Ragnar murmurs above my ear. “Tell me. Indulge my ego.” His big hand strokes up and down my side.

“Since,” I swallow. It’s a little embarrassing, but I’m happy to reveal myself for him. “Pretty much since the beginning of the semester.” His eyes sparkle. His hand travels to my breast, playing with my nipple, but he keeps looking at me like he’s waiting for more. “You’re—” I shrug. “It’s just something about the way that you carry yourself. Like you’ve got the biggest dick in the room.”

He chuckles. “That’s because I do.”

My eyebrows go up. I have to give him that one. “Soon as you walked into that lecture hall, I started dreaming about what it would be like to be underneath you.”

“And am I measuring up to the fantasy?”

“Let’s find out.” I angle my hips again, presenting my pussy for him.

His eyes follow the movement, then his fingers. He presses one inside me. “You don’t need any more warming.”

“No,” I agree, “I don’t.” But still I spit into my hand and make sure my lower lips are fully lubricated.  Doesn’t matter how wet I am, that hog Ragnar’s got is going to stretch me.

His tip is against my entrance. I throw my arms around his shoulders and look up into the face I’ve been dreaming of for months as I feel him start to slide inside.

Fuck, I’m being impaled. My eyes widen and then I have to close them and let the delicious pressure overwhelm me. Under other circumstances it might be uncomfortable, but right now it’s just so fucking satisfying to feel this, my capacity being stretched to its absolute limit.

“Ragnar, what are you doing to her?” Uhtred teases, and I realize that I started squealing.

“Giving her what she wants,” he replies with confidence, but he also slows down, and grasps my jaw with gentle fingers so that I’ll look up at him. “Yes?”

“Yes,” I sigh, nodding at his check-in and squeezing my legs around him. “Yes, keep going.”

I feel impossibly full before he bottoms out. I’m almost afraid to move, left gasping and staring up at his bearded chin, and the tattoos that weave across his chest. He brings his face in close, palm stroking along my cheek. And then the thrusting begins.

He’s gentle at first, and still I can’t focus on anything but letting my body relax. I see a battle in his eyes, between smug confidence at how he’s affecting me, and compassion for my plight.

I bet Brida takes him like a champ.

The sudden thought makes me feel small, but in the most delicious way. I’m not here to compete with Brida, am I. I’m here to be exactly what I am, a meek little submissive ready to be overwhelmed by this dick, and I’m doing them both a favor by doing it. Hell, I bet he wants me to squirm and cry, to let him see how much I’m struggling just to take it for him.

I try to let this understanding show through my desperate eyes as I open myself up and take him deeper. I let my face go slack and overwhelmed, even as I angle my hips up for more. He closes his own eyes and savors me, pulling himself slowly out before pushing back all the way in. By the third one I can’t decide if he’s trying to go easy on me or to torture me more.

“Sure you can take it, little girl?”

“Fuck,” I say, high-pitched and desperate. “I’m doing my best!”

“Yeah you are,” he purrs. “I see how hard you’re working to take me. Such a good girl.” He shifts into a pushup position, driving himself into me quicker now, and harder.

I can’t do anything but throw my head back and wail. It feels impossibly good, pleasure so deep it’s indistinguishable from pain, just short of intolerable either way. Who cares what it’s called, I just want to feel more of it. “Hollow me out,” I say, voice breathy and punctuated by each one of his thrusts. “I can feel you in my throat.”

With almost a roar, he pulls one of my legs up, braces his knee against the bed, and just starts to annihilate me.

I’m helpless beneath him. I’m probably screaming. There’s no room in my awareness for self-consciousness, or propriety, now. Ragnar is hitting me so satisfyingly deep that I feel like I’m about to lose my sanity. He pushes my knees up higher, setting my feet on his shoulders, and the new angle bumps my clit until I’m spiraling up toward an extremely sudden climax.

The orgasm hits me almost by surprise. It’s like it’s been building through all of this, but I wasn’t able to notice until my body truly adjusted to his size. All of a sudden my wailing changes tones, and a tidal wave of pure pleasure crashes over the place where our bodies meet and sweeps up everything else in its path.

I’m anchored by his cock. Dear lord, the space is so tight in there, the muscles already stretched so close to their limit, that I can feel the clenching of my walls all around him while the waves toss the awareness of the rest of my body into chaos.

I shudder beneath him. As the orgasm recedes I feel oversensitive enough to start pushing him away, just a little. Ragnar responds by slowing his pace and grasping my chin again. He waits for me to open my eyes.

I smile at him, ferocious and raw. I don’t really want him off of me, I just needed him to slow down, so I could catch my breath. He answers my smile with a proud grin of his own. Carefully, he lowers my legs down off his shoulders, without pulling away. The motion makes it obvious that he’s still hard inside me.

Ragnar’s not done. He plants one fervent kiss on my lips and then flips me over. Although my legs are a little shaky I get up on my hands and knees, eager to please. I groan as he presses back into me from behind. No one will ever be used to the size of that thing. Still, I don’t retreat, even throw my hips back a little over it. My inner walls are still fluttering from coming so hard. I gasp at the intensity that his renewed thrusting brings.

“You make the most gorgeous sounds,” Ragnar rumbles.

“She really does,” Uhtred interjects. I hadn’t forgotten he was there, really, I promise. He rolls his head closer to mine, amused by the way that I’ve dropped my head into the pillows while my hips remain high in Ragnar’s grasp. I’m just trying to make it through this onslaught, and every shimmering aftershock of my own orgasm.

I turn my face toward Uhtred’s and let him see everything that I’m feeling.

“Unf,” Ragnar groans, voice dropping even deeper in his arousal, “you look so fucking good.” He smacks my ass as he grinds himself deep into me. “So fucking good like this.”

“And she loves it,” Uhtred informs him, reading my face. “Smack her again like that.”

Fuck. The sting just enhances the already wild ride. I don’t think I could come any more, but my consciousness is spiraling; everything about this is feeling absolutely incredible. Could we do this again? Tomorrow? Ever? Would they both like to share me, or is this just a once-in-a-lifetime experience?

“I’m keeping her,” Ragnar grunts, thrusting hard and heavy into me now. Evidently he’s thinking along the same lines as me.

Uhtred arches one lazy brow. “I might have something to say about that.” His hand comes to my cheek while he stares his frat brother down, even as I’m still bouncing underneath him.

I can’t see Ragnar’s face, but I imagine from his tone that he’s smiling. “She seems alright with sharing.”

“Mmf,” I cry. That was supposed to be a word; it doesn’t come out as one. “Yes!”

Uhtred beams at me. We stare at each other while Ragnar pounds into me from behind, his pace subtly increasing. He’s still cupping my face, and his thumb trails down to my mouth. I suck on the tip of his thumb as Ragnar comes inside me. Loudly.

The force of his release drives my hips down into the bed, with the bulk of his upper body collapsing down to cover me as he lets it all go. I close my eyes and laugh a little at the joy of it. Even being smooshed underneath him feels good.

“Spend the night,” Ragnar murmurs.

“Ok,” I sigh, content.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, shifting his weight so that he is no longer directly flattening me into the mattress.

“Hmm.” I close my eyes, take inventory of my wrecked body. “Some water.”

“Uhtred. You’re the most composed right now. Can you get us some waters?”

Uhtred sits up. “I suppose. As long as you’re not trying to get rid of me.”

“Of course not, brother.” He looks down at me. “Come back and we’ll all cuddle. Watch a movie.” He nods towards the TV past the foot of the giant bed.

I smirk. “Netflix and chill, but backwards?”

Ragnar grins back. “Exactly.”

“Maybe some snacks, too, then,” I call after Uhtred, who’s shaking his head on his way out the door.

“Uhtred’s got the advantage on me, right now. You two are already friends.” Ragnar pulls himself up in the bed, and lifts his arm for me to snuggle in underneath. “I need to get to know you better, too. You’re not the only one that’s been watching. And wondering.”

He pulls me in tight, and I spend the rest of the night sandwiched between two warm bodies. I fall asleep listening to the boys trade jokes over my head. Best. Party. Ever.

[ivymarquis]

@perfectus-in-morte

See!!! You get it!!

Also yes re the checking in she and simon discussed it ahead of time and they have a nonverbal check in and if anything happens that she’s not cool with/changes her mind on the whole thing (wont happen in the actual fic, but they have a very frank conversation so are prepared in case that happens) then Simon’s willing to step in like it’s his idea to stop.

And yes the girlies become friends who enjoy tormenting the boys together 💕

Did I tell y’all that Im working on a “Price’s wife fucks Ghost’s girlfriend” thing or not yet

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

‘I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

[diejager]

if you’re still writing for the monster 141, what about a bay hybrid reader, who is just on the edges on going into hibernation because the base is in a colder area/remote snowy location

I’m gonna assume you mean bear?

Cw: bear hybrid!readr, hibernation, binge eating, hoarding, tell me if I missed any.

Winter was creeping closer and closer by each day, your instinctual need to sleep away the cold calling to you louder than the prior days. There was a bone-deep exhaustion that clung to you, the heaviness that cold weather brought to you was a constant and nagging feeling that urged you deeper in the nest you’d built yourself in your dark room. Your curtains drawn, lights often closed and locks installed, you’d spent the weeks preparing, hoarding soft pillows, thick blankets and clothes from people you were familiar with. 

They were surprised when you brought it up, blinking tiredly and occasionally yawning in the afternoon, stumbling between everyone’s rooms with a small plea on the tip of your tongue. You took whatever they were willing to give you: a blanket from Price and Rudolfo, a shirt from König and Gaz, a jacket from Ghost and Horangi, and a pillow from Soap and Alejandro. As long as it smelled like them, a lingering reminder that you weren’t alone in your humid room, their musk grounding and safety. You wouldn’t be alone.

Price had known you were - like most bears - prone to hibernation, taking between one to three month of your year sleeping away the cold, sinking into your mountain of fabric and sleeping off the coldest months. Your time depended on the year, the warmer it was, the less you slept, and the colder it was, the longer you slept. It might’ve been a bother in people’s eyes - humans - but it was instinctual, a primal part of your brain that still clung to your ancestors who strayed from the path of being normal bears. You couldn’t ignore the pull, the call to sleep, it wasn’t possible for a bear like you, and you were fortunate to have such accommodating teammates.

You grew hungrier, your stomach becoming an endless pit, an abyss that kept taking dish after dish, stocking up in fat and calories that you’d burn during your sleep, keeping you sustained and alive without having to wake up. You ate whatever you that was within your reach, the cold bread, the warm milk, the leftover of two days ago or Soap’s surprisingly good cooking, nothing was safe when you were a big and grumpy and hungry bear near hibernation. Ever supportive and helpful, Soap and Alejandro would jump in to cook for you, hooking Gaz and Rudolfo into being their sous-chef whenever they were free. It was the delicious scent of home cooked and warm meals that brought you to the kitchen, if it wasn’t a call for fixing up someone, it was the smell of good food. 

You were ravenous, gulping down the many, many plates the duo - occasionally quartet - placed on the table, their chests puffed up pridefully at your quick eating, you were practically breathing them in. Your constant eating helped you pack some weight, your skin stretched to accommodate your growing amount of fat that would ultimately burn over the months. And when the day came, you were low on energy, grumpy and easy to anger, your patience running paper thin, bidding your goodbyes and see you soon, wrapping your arms around them and teasing them about missing you during your lockdown. 

You’d sleep through the cold winter months and wake up to a warmer and busier time, to a welcoming and excited team that had spent the better half of winter waiting impatiently for the TF’s medic to wake up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[laketaj24]

Le Trio Mortel Ch. 2

This is a collaboration fic with @grungyblonde and the lovely @ivarsshieldmadien. I literally just stole the taglist from the previous post! If you would like to be removed or added please let us know! 

Warnings: A little violence 

Prologue

Chapter 1

Louis.

I stare at the man before me, remove the skinny jeans, the ball cap and there was my Louis. I shuffle from behind the small table clasping my hands together waiting for them to state their reason for being here. I clear my throat. “Are you here for a tour perhaps?” I smile. Melli keeps taking deep breaths circling the thick sideburn one like he was fresh meat, while Marie was starstruck gazing at the strong jaw man like he was god.

He steps forward. “I mean do you have food?” Melli smiles and literally leaps from the ground with a slight clap and a giggle. He raises an eyebrow to her.

“I can make you something, and then we can give you a tour.” She places her hands on his shoulders pushing I’m through the house.

Marie’s nervous, it’s a first for her for certain. She steps forward clearing her throat. “Maybe you were drawn here by the garden out back. I’m told it has that affect on people?”

He looks mesmerized. He would follow her to hell if that’s where she lead him. “Sure.”

Louis.

“So uh…” the doppelganger says looking around. “Should I head out to the garden or better yet, do you have a line?”

A line?

“Of coke?” He smiles tapping the edge of his nose. “I usually don’t do this but when in Rome.”

He was in New Orleans? Louis’ face fades from my mind and I stare at him. “Uh, I was in the process of crushing herbs. Did you know that sage is said to cleanse the soul?”

“And rid the place of ghost.” He adds with an assured head shake and a point.

I scoff. Ghosts. “Where are you from?” I ask.

“Kattegat, my brother booked this trip dragging us here because of a fucking urge, he’s a weirdo. But I got a free trip and it’s not so bad. Have you been to Bourbon Street? Man, you can score some good shit there.”

“So I’ve heard.” His incessant talking irritated me. I start back crushing my herbs and the idea pops into my head.

I hand the blonde the tea. I mixed with herbs that will knock him down for some hours. “Here you are.” I smile. “Darling.”

“I’m not really a tea guy.”

“I beg your pardon handsome, it’s rude to deny the hosts refreshments.”

“It’s just it’s 86 degrees out and you gave me tea.” He pushes it across the table and I feel my anger rising as he slides the little device out and starts to tap the fluorescent screen.

“Would you like some ice?”

He shifts agitated and impatiently. “Have you seen my brothers?” Avoiding my question completely.

“Drink.” I pause and smile removing the edge from my voice. “The tea and I’ll go find them.”

“Look lady, I’m not thir-.”

My hand reacts before I can smacking him of the head with tea kettle. He for certain wasn’t my Louis. Rude mongrel. He falls slump to his side unconscious and I find myself cackling. “The fun begins now handsome.” I smirk.

 I will never forget that Saturday in June. The air was thick and muggy but the crowd was light. They only threw these Quadroon Balls once every six months. I pin my hair in a bun fixing the corset on my dress hoping that Jeanne was dressed and ready to walk out of the door.

The streets were busy. Jeanne and I navigate out of our homes down to Bourbon street, the ballroom was already booming with people, energy and a surge of conversation. WE enter, separating at the door. I’d never been one for crowds so I found myself flush against the wall watching the dances, admiring the men as they feasted their eyes upon the woman in their visions and staked their claim.

Jeanne was swept off her feet as soon as she hit the floor by Monsieur Raphael Broduer, he was a lanky gentleman, thick curly hair and a smile that charmed even the most stone faced woman. Jeanette stood no chance.

“Bonjou.” The deep voice says behind me. I turn to him and I stare. There has never been a man before that literally took my breath away. None but Louis.

“Bonswa.” I chuckle.

“It is rather late,” he responds in his sweet charming manner, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes were alight. “Have you attended such things?”

“I have twice.” I smile.

“Bel fanm tankou ou?” A beautiful woman like you.

My heart flutters at his small attempts to flirt with me. “How many have attended mesye?”

“Three.”

My face teams with heat as I replicate his attempt. “You nonm bel tankou ou?” A handsome man like you.

He chuckles and steps closer. “Well, we should both be the remedy to the problems at hand, may I have this dance?”

I could still hear the violins start and feel the thud of my heart trying to break free from my chest as he took my hand. We started the first dance following the directions of the dance, stepping forward and then back and then to the side of one another, but his eyes never left me and neither did that smile. That smile could stop wars, heal the sick and woo me to a life I never thought was possible.

We never touched that night, other than our hands and a stern handshake once he walked me to my front steps. We never touched but I remember every single aspect of it, every breath, every step even the moments of silence.

  He lay in my bed moaning grabbing at his blonde hair. I sat at the edge of the bed and noticed him waking. I face him and every look I’m praying for the Gentleman Louis to reveal himself, but there was nothing of him in this scoundrel. I was not a fan of the new age of dating. Tinder? POF? How about a conversation and a kiss on the first date? How about asking my father for permission to wed, not ourting me using acronyms. What in the hell was DTF?

He wakes clawing at the manacles on his ankles, I kept them for good measure. “Look woman, I’m not going to hit you because I don’t do that shit. But you better let me up, or I swear my brother, Ivar, who doesn’t have too much gall will deck you?”

“I have no time for your flagrant display of entitlement.” I pause and lift my hand and he stills. Those blue eyes widen, and I have him hooked. *** “I call upon the gods to summon and manifest a desire for me in him.” His breath is taken away. “Remove the disdain, fill him with lust, respect and undying love for me.” He falls back on the bed once again unconscious and I smile knowing that when he rises again he will be 100% mine and ignoramus free.

The hour passes quickly and he stirs to life immediately rubbing his hand down the side of my arm. “Miss Charlot.” He hums peppering kisses down my neck.

“Ubbe, you should go get changed, my love. We have places to be.”

 taglist:

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[akamaiden]

Griffenholm Confessionals: The Insane Party

Need to catch up? Do it here.

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me so long for posting this. 

Warnings: Mentions of death, knife play, blood kink, etc. Nothing triggering, I hope. 

Words: 1,395.

“There you go, drink it,” Mia said.

“What's this?” Aurora asked picking the cup from Mia's hands.

“Don't you trust me, sweet Aurora?” Mia asked pouting, caressing Aurora's waist.

No. Aurora thought, but this girl was the closest to a friend that she ever had.

“Yes, I do but-”

“Just open your mouth and drink this,” Mia commanded interrupting Aurora.

“Okay,” Aurora said concluding that was pointless discussing with Mia.

She looked to the cup, still thinking about her mother's words: Don't you ever accept any cup from anyone, okay? If you want to drink something, serve yourself a cup.

Sorry mom, she thought and took a sip from the cup. It was sour, bitter and cold. But it wasn't that bad, she could get used to the taste.

“This is beer?” Aurora asked.

“Yes, baby!” Mia said smiling.

“I can get used to it,” Aurora said sounding more confident that she really was.

“Hell yes, that's my girl,” Mia said. “Come, I know that Hvitty will love to see you,” she said guiding Aurora to "their" room.

Hvitserk was laying on the bed while he was smoking.

“Oh I see now why you took so long, princess,” he said licking his lips when he saw Aurora.

“I saved our sweet girl from the boredom outside this door,” Mia said while she come closer to Hvitserk crawling on the bed.

Aurora gulped loudly watching Mia's moves, she was wearing a really short skirt, what allowed Aurora to see her small lace panties.

“See something you like, Aurora?” Hvitserk asked.

“I-i...” Aurora stuttered. What she could say? That she was admiring Mia's body? She would never say that out loud.

“What are you guys talking about?” Mia said blowing the smoke.

“Nothing,” Aurora said quickly.

“She was looking to your ass, princess,” Hvitserk said slapping playfully Mia's ass.

“Come here, sit with us,” Mia said.

Aurora move uncertain about what would happen next but she sat on the bed anyways, she made sure to sit carefully to not show them that she wasn't wearing any panties.

“So you were really looking at my body, baby girl?” Mia asked running her long red nails through Aurora's arms. “Or should I say my ass?” Mia continued.

Mia's words and her delicated touch were enough to make Aurora's skin crawl.

“I'm sorry,” Aurora confessed lowly.

“No need to be sorry, we're all friends, right?” Mia said touching Aurora's thighs, feeling her soft skin.

“Right,” Aurora said with a trembling voice.

“I think I defeated all of you hungry wolves,” Mia said to Hvitserk.

“What?” Aurora asked without understanding a thing.

“Shhh,” Mia said silencing the girl, putting one of her fingers on Aurora's plump pinky lips.

“We'll have so much fun together, my sweet girl,” Mia said, now face to face to Aurora.

“I can't wait for it,” Aurora said totally lost in the beautiful green eyes that Mia had.

Mia guided her hands to Aurora's waist, caressing her lightly.

“You're so beautiful,” Mia said caressing Aurora's face, her eyebrows, her cheek bone, her chin, her nose, and when she finally reached for her lips, the door was open.

“I hate to spoil the fun, but I need to talk to Aurora,” Ivar said.

“You've got to be kidding me, Ivar!” Mia said angrily.

“Sorry,” he said shrugging. He almost dragged Aurora out of the room without saying a word.

“Hey, I don't even know you! What exactly do you have to talk to me?” Aurora said trying to get rid from his grip in her wrist.

But Ivar just ignored her and guided her to the same room where he was before, the same room where he had sex with Kelly, Kate, whatever was her name and where he killed her.

He will kill me. He knows I saw the whole thing and now he brought me here to kill me, just like he did to her. Aurora thought.

“So you definitely like watching me, right?” he said.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I don't even know you,” she said.

“Do you think you can make me a fool?” he said.

“No, I would never think such a thing,” Aurora said quickly.

“Then stop lying,” he said while he guided her to the couch.

“I didn't want to... I-i am sorry,” Aurora said lowering her head, blushing lightly.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She looked at Ivar immediately. He came even closer to her and started caressing her chin.

“So to obedient, just like a little lamb. A lamb surrounded by hungry wolves,” he said touching her plump lips.

Aurora closed her eyes feeling the goosebumps running through her whole body.

“What should I do to you?” he whispered next to her ear.

“Don't kill me, please,” she begged.

“Kill you?” he laughed. “Why do such a thing when we can have some fun together, hm?” he said and reached for the same knife that he used to kill Kate.

Aurora's heart hammer her chest so damn loud that she's sure that Ivar is hearing as well.

“Please,” she cried.

He brought the knife to her face, traced form her cheek bone until the corner of her lips, marking her with the fresh blood, and then he simply licked her clean.

When his tongue was on the corner of her lips, he couldn't avoid and brought the knife back again. He wet her lips with blood and then started licked her lips, surprising her.

“Ivar,” she said with a trembling voice.

“Stay still,” he said and continued to licking her lips clean.

Once he was done, he bit her bottom lip earning a low moan from her that made him groan.

Desperate for more, she guided her hands to his neck, locking him in place when she pressured her lips on his own.

He pulled her even closer, holding her by her waist, while he pressed the knife on her throat.

It was a kinky, dirty and filthy kiss. Their tongues danced around for what seemed an eternity before he started sucking her tongue into his mouth, making her a moaning mess.

Aurora climbed up his lap and with her shaking hands, she started scratching the back of his neck.

He groaned on her mouth and his free hand started roaming over her body, pinched her nipples through the clothes, and when he reached for her ass he broke the kiss noticing that she wasn't wearing any panties.

“Did I do something wrong?” she almost cried.

“No, little lamb, relax. I'm just wondering if you left your panties in your room,” he said smirking and squeezing her ass.

“Oh, this... Actually, my panties is on your brother's pocket,” she said blushing.

Ivar dropped the knife immediately, he couldn't believe that any of his brothers made their way to her panties faster than him.

“I know that this sounds strange but, Ubbe caught me here and I-i...” she blushed wildly incapable of saying that she was touching herself and that was why Ubbe had her panties.

“Say it,” he said caressing her cheek.

“I was touching myself while I looked at you and that girl,” she said hiding her face in her hands.

“Ubbe came and took you out of here, right?” he asked gently taking her hands on his, kissing her knuckles.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“I guess you're not that innocent then, little lamb,” he said while he was caressing her thighs. “Can I touch you?” he asked already caressing her inner thighs.

“Yes,” she didn't think twice before answering.

He smiled and started rubbing her slick folds. “So wet for me,” he said.

“Ivar,” she moaned his name in anticipation.

“Shh, I'll take care of you,” he said reaching her swollen nub, circling it slowly.

“God,” she moaned throwing her head back.

And then the door opened and Ubbe came closer to them, interrupting them.

“I suppose you're not missing this, right?” he said catching their attention.

Aurora blushed wildly seeing Ubbe spinning her panties on his finger. She quickly made her way to Ubbe picking her panties and wearing it once again. Too ashamed to continue there, she simply ran away looking for Mia.

“I was so close to win this bet, you really had to came?” Ivar said grumpily.

“Where's the fun if it's that easy brother?” Ubbe said playing with Ivar's hair.

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Summary: Things after your heat begin to go back to normal...but you know better than to think that will last long.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,708 words

Warnings: Suggestive content, kissing, the reader's daddy kink showing itself briefly, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, anxiety, reader has a panic attack, grief, kneeling, angst, fluff, massive time jumps, brief paranoia, my bad attempts at Scottish slang, angst

A/N: So we're covering a lot of ground with this one in favor of getting to the good stuff. I've put references when there's time jumps relative to the reader's most recent heat. So, for example, "six weeks after" is six weeks post the reader's heat. This was originally going to be two chapters, but then I decided to just smash it into one to avoid dragging things out further. So yeah. Get your tissues, get your ice cream and settle in for this wonderful ride.

ALSO, This will be the last time I'm using the taglist, follow HERE if you'd like to get notifications for new posts

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A Few Days After

You’re like two pups, huddled together under a pile of blankets. The muscle relaxer kicked in an hour ago and you’ve been softly snoring since. Johnny’s arm is tossed over your back, keeping you pinned to his chest as he snores against your head. He’s probably drooling on your hair, but after this last week, it’s probably not the worst thing you’ve been covered in. 

You’ve both just showered, your hair still damp against your pillow. Johnny’s mohawk is plastered against his head, strands sticking to his forehead. It needs a trim again.

John lets out a quiet sigh, shifting in your desk chair as he adjusts the ice pack between his legs. He’s sore, more sore than he had been the first time. You’d put them all through the wringer the week before your pre-heat started, and you’d put him through the wringer during the week of your heat. Maybe Kyle was right, maybe he is getting old. 

He shakes the thought away, staring at the slow and steady rise and fall of your side as you breathe. You’d cried for longer this time, the tears still streaming as he fed you small bites of mash and mushy peas. He had been worried you might choke as your inhales caught and shuddered, but you ate albeit begrudgingly. The next few days you spent in an exhaustion and muscle relaxer induced haze. You woke long enough to eat and use the bathroom, but then you crawled back into bed and napped. Johnny has been a constant presence in your room, having crawled into your nest after they got you settled the first day to cuddle. 

This morning you had been awake for longer, downing some porridge before the ache settled in and John gave you another muscle relaxer. He’d gotten you to down another electrolyte drink before the muscle relaxer kicked in, and before Johnny joined you so the two of you could cuddle up like a couple of pups to nap. 

“You should take a break.” Simon says softly where he’s leaning up against your closet. “Get some rest yourself.” 

John grunts quietly, sinking down further in the chair. He should, yet he can’t bring himself to step away. Things do feel different this time, though he’s not sure if that’s normal, or if Kyle’s participation had shifted things slightly. Did their reactions to your heat change depending on the heat? Did your own symptoms change heat to heat? He has half a mind to call Dr. Keller, get her opinion and ask for her advice. You don’t seem different, aside from the lingering symptoms. He feels different though, and Kyle had lingered a bit longer than he needed to. 

“She’ll be fine.” Simon says, John’s body tensing as his second alpha places a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed Simon’s approach, not that he was all that far away to begin with. “I’ll stay with them.” 

John knows Simon won’t let anything happen to you. Logically he knows Simon would do everything in his power to keep you safe, and physically he’d be more capable. Yet John finds himself hesitating, still watching the rise and fall of your body as you breathe. 

“You know I’ll alert you if anything happens.” Simon says, trying to reassure him. 

It’s nothing personal. John just can’t seem to bring himself to move. 

“I know.” He says quietly, finally pulling his gaze from you. “Things...feel different now.” 

“Could just be the exhaustion.” Simon offers, trying to think up an explanation for John’s obvious inner conflict. “Go take a nap. You need it.” Simon squeezes his shoulder gently, massaging his thumb into John’s tense muscles. He could use a good massage. Maybe another hot bath too. 

“Perhaps you’re right.” John murmurs, pulling the ice pack from his aching balls before standing. “You’ll wake me?” He asks, turning to face Simon. 

“Course.” Simon nods, giving him as much of a reassuring look as he can manage. 

John takes one last look at you, sleeping peacefully tucked in Johnny’s arms, the blankets wrapped around you both. You’ll be warm enough, with Johnny’s puppy-like warmth, and nothing will happen under Simon’s watchful gaze. Kyle will be back in soon after his own nap. Maybe he should crawl in with Kyle for a bit. Maybe that will help ease his mind. 

John forces himself to look away, not even bothering to take the ice pack back to the rec room before slipping into Kyle’s room. 

Simon turns the pages quietly, being careful not to disrupt either of you as you nap. He’d pulled a book off your desk to mind the time while he lets Price sleep. His fellow alpha needs it after the last week. He’s no good to anyone, much less you if he’s exhausted. God forbid they get called into something in the next few days. 

Simon will gladly play babysitter if it gets Price to rest. 

He’s tempted to text Kyle and tell him to keep Price in bed as long as possible, but he knows Price will be mad if he sleeps too much. Simon isn’t sure how Price keeps going for so long. He admires his strength and determination, but he can see how tired he gets, the hunch of his shoulders as he begins to feel the weight he carries, the dark circles under his eyes, how sluggish his movements get. He knows Price secretly dreads your heats, when he’s put out of commission completely, 

As a man of action, he doesn't do well laying low. The few times Simon has seen Price get hurt, he’s always disobeyed orders for bedrest, even for just taking it easy. The man never stops, and Simon was hoping you would change that. 

Price will want to be at his best at all times to ensure you’re well cared for, even if that means sacrificing taking breaks himself. Simon knows he’s struggling. That need to ensure he’s able to take care of his omega combating his need to push through and do his duty. The job comes first. That’s what had been driven like a nail into their brains since they found out they’d be getting an omega. 

How silly they were to think they could uphold that. 

Simon glances up as you move, wiggling your way onto your other side. You settle with a sigh, your back now to Johnny. You’re still gripping your bear, arms wrapped around it tightly. He stares at it for a moment, something prickling in the back of his mind as he stares into the beady eyes. It’s almost like they’re staring back at him, cogniscient and aware. 

He shakes his head, going back to his book. The isolation of the last week must be getting to him finally. 

It’s been an hour since Price left, an hour he’s hopefully spent sleeping. Simon is still dutifully keeping watch, halfway through the book he’d grabbed off your desk. You and Johnny are still sleeping peacefully, Johnny snoring into your pillow with an arm thrown over your side. 

The door opens quietly, Kyle sticking his head in. He glances at the bed before entering the room, padding over to Simon quietly. 

“Still out?” He asks, speaking quietly. 

“Sleeping like pups.” Simon answers. 

“You need a break?” Kyle rubs his eyes, still a bit bleary from his own nap. 

“I’m good.” Simon responds, holding up the book. “You keep Price from doing too much.” 

“You got it, boss.” Kyle smirks, patting his shoulder before leaving the room. 

Simon returns to his book, trusting Kyle to do his duty diligently, even if it means keeping Price in a headlock. He doesn’t doubt they’ve been in that position at least once before, and not during training. 

Another hour passes before you let out a quiet groan. Simon glances at you, watching the frown start to pull at your eyebrows. One arm untangles from around the bear, reaching out to the nightstand. Your fingers find the top, your arm stretching as far as it can, fingers sliding along the surface in search of something. 

Simon marks his place in the book, setting it on the chair before he moves to the bed, kneeling down. He takes your hand, holding it still in an effort not to startle you. “What do you need?” He asks quietly. 

“Water.” You croak, licking your lips. 

Simon grabs one of the electrolyte drinks, screwing the top off before he helps you sit up a little bit. He holds the bottom of the bottle as you grab it, keeping it steady so you don’t dump it all over yourself as you drink. Your eyes are half open, your hair in quite the interesting shape after laying down with it still damp. 

You drink half the bottle before he makes you stop, pulling it away. Soft pants leave your lips as he screws the cap back on the bottle, setting it on the nightstand. 

“Better?” He asks, leaning his arm on his knee. 

You nod, licking the remainder of the drink off your lips before you flop back against the mattress. He watches you for a second before getting back up, taking his spot on the chair once more. 

If you fall back asleep, it’s not for very long. You shift closer to the edge of the bed, the bear falling onto the floor. You let it, laying there with your arm dangling off the side. 

“Simon?” You murmur, staring at him sleepily. 

He grunts, glancing up from the book. Johnny is still fast asleep, almost on his stomach taking up the space you’ve vacated, his arm still tossed over you. 

“What does your mom smell like?” 

The question takes him by surprise. He blinks at you for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. It’s an odd question for a time like this, and he almost writes it off as a half-asleep rambling, but your eyes are fully open now, a bit glossy from sleep, but you’re wide awake.

“Flowers.” He finally answers, drawing forward the memories of her scent as he closes the book resting it on his lap. “Fresh flowers on a warm spring day.” 

You hum quietly, tucking your hand beneath your cheek. “My mom smelled like warm sugar cookies fresh out of the oven.” You say. “And vanilla.” 

So that’s where that soft undertone beneath your scent comes from. He doesn’t say anything, sensing you have more to say. 

“After her heats, when we’d come back from the care facility, the house always smelled like sugar cookies.” You swallow thickly. “Every time after her heat, when she was able to, she’d make us cookies. It was like she was apologizing for what we returned to. Most of us didn’t understand until we were older. My brothers never said anything.” A tear slides down your cheek and you hastily wipe it away. “I’m glad they didn’t.” 

Simon feels a lump starting to form in his throat, threatening to choke him. He doesn’t miss the meaning behind your words. He knows exactly what you mean. He remembers those times, sleeping in the living room with Tommy, pillows over their ears so they didn’t have to listen. The few times they escaped to friends' houses, they returned to angry fists and blood on the floor. His mother never stepped in during those times because she couldn’t. She’d already endured a week of him. She couldn’t take any more. 

Simon didn’t understand it either until he was older. The pain, the suffering, the things mothers try to do to ease the unsettling energy pups endure during heats, or in your case return home to. 

He rises from the chair, setting the book down as he frantically blinks back the tears threatening to cloud his vision. He lets out a breath before moving to the bed, kneeling on the floor again. He tosses the bear across the room, almost like it might listen in, learn some secret it shouldn’t know. 

He reaches out, brushing the hair from your forehead. Johnny shifts slightly behind you, almost like he can sense your emotions in his sleep. Simon isn’t sure what to say as his fingers brush your cheek, wiping away the tear that slides down your face. 

“I miss her.” You whisper, your voice crackling slightly. 

“I know.” Simon says, continuing to wipe the tears as they fall. “If I could find her, if it was safe enough, I would. Though, I’d have to beat the living shit out of your father first.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips. “He deserves it.” You sniffle. “Though, I suppose deep down I don’t hate him completely for his decision. If he hadn’t sent me to the institute, I would have never wound up here.” 

Simon lets out a breath, his fingers faltering against your skin. He hadn’t thought of it that way. If things hadn’t happened as they had, they would have never had you as part of their pack. They wouldn’t have ever known you existed, and you might have wound up somewhere worse. Though things weren’t ideal for how they played out, he supposes the outcome wasn’t that terrible for any of you. 

He is glad things happened this way too, even if he still wants to beat the shit out of your dad. 

“Do you want me to make you cookies?” He asks, his thumb still brushing your cheek. 

“No, that’s okay.” You say, attempting to pull the blanket up further, but Johnny’s weight is hogging it. “I’m more of a brownie person anyway.” 

“Do you want brownies, then?” He asks, shoving Johnny to the side to pull the blanket up. He lets out a snore, mumbling in his sleep before pulling his arm from your waist to tuck it up against his chest. 

“If it’s not too much trouble.” You say, blinking up at him as he tucks the blanket around you. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead through the mask. 

An hour later you're wrapped in a blanket, reclined on the rec room couch with a plate of warm brownies on your chest. Your fingers are sticky with chocolate as you half watch whatever daytime TV is playing, content in your cocoon with your sweet treat. 

“You really make those brownies?” Kyle asks, leaning against the wall across the hall. 

“Nah, bribed one of the chefs to do it.” Simon says, standing next to him. 

“Bribed, or threatened?” Kyle smirks. 

“I asked nicely this time.” Simon says, crossing his arms. “Said it was life or death.”

Kyle's brows raise. “Might be next time with how she's downing them. This will become a thing now.”

Simon shrugs. “Makes her happy after everything. I'll threaten - I mean ask, whatever chef I need to each time.” 

“John is going to worry about her getting cavities.” Kyle watches as you shove an entire brownie into your mouth at once. “Or diabetes.” 

Simon shrugs. “We’ll force some protein in her later. Maybe another vegetable.” 

Johnny turns the corner rubbing his eyes. “Smells fuckin’ braw down here. Like chocolate.” 

“No.” Simon says, grabbing him by the nape and turning him around. “You’re not taking that risk. Last time you tried she drew blood.” He walks Johnny back down the hall. “Might lose a finger this time.” 

Kyle watches them, shaking his head. Johnny had paid for trying to steal your popcorn before your heat started. You caught him on the shoulder with your teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood. That had been an interesting trip to the med center. The best part was you didn’t even look guilty. He’d found you eating the last pieces of popcorn up off the floor. 

He pushes off the wall, entering the rec room. You turn to look at him, giving him a grin with your chocolate stained lips. It’s all over your face but you don’t seem to care as you shove the second to last brownie into your mouth. 

“Taste good?” He asks, sitting on the edge of the couch next to you. 

You nod, licking chocolate off your fingers. It doesn’t do much good, only smearing it further. “Very good.” 

“Stomach hurt yet?” He gives you a look. 

You shake your head. “Nope. Just my pussy.” 

He nearly chokes at your words, having to cover his mouth to hide his laugh, but he’s only partially successful. He takes a couple deep breaths, running his hand down his face to try and keep his composure. You seem to lose your filter in the week before and after your heat. It’s like it removes that last layer of uncertainty that keeps your personality from shining through all the time. 

“It’s almost time for another dose of muscle relaxers.” He says, still trying not to laugh. “If you want another one.” 

You nod, taking a bite out of the last brownie this time. “Mhm.” You nod in agreement, chewing slowly like you’re trying to savor it. Like you couldn’t convince them to get you anything you wanted at any time. “Feel like I was in a helicopter crash.” 

Kyle snorts quietly. “I can imagine.” 

You stop chewing for a moment, blinking at him. “You’ve been in one before?” The words come out around the brownie still in your mouth, barely intelligible but he understands them perfectly. 

“A couple times.” He shrugs. “Fell out of one once too.” 

Your mouth hangs open, the last piece of brownie centimeters from your lips. “Huh?” 

He grins, pushing the brownie so it’s touching your lips. “That’s a story for another time. Finish your brownie then you can take your medication.” 

You shove the last piece into your mouth, staring down at your hands as you chew. Kyle moves the plate from your chest, setting it on the coffee table. You hold your hands out to him. “Sticky.” 

He wraps his fingers around your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth. He wraps his lips around your finger, swirling his tongue around it to clean off the sweet chocolate. You stare at him wide eyed, mouth slightly parted as he moves to the next finger. He cleans the chocolate off of one hand before moving it out of the way as he leans in. He kisses you, licking the chocolate off of your lips. You whine against his mouth, his other hand catching your other wrist before it can touch him and cover him in chocolate. 

He pulls away, leaving you panting. You pout, chocolate still stuck to your face and hands. “That’s not fair.” 

He smirks, licking the sticky sweetness of his lips. “Almost as sweet as your slick.” 

You stare at him wide eyed, hands still in the air as your mouth hangs open. “Huh?” 

“I’ll go get a rag, clean you up.” He pats your leg before standing. 

“You can’t just leave me with that!” You yell as he heads for the bathroom across the hall. 

He’ll tell you, of course. He might just wait until you’re feeling less sore, though.

2 Weeks After

Two weeks pass and so does the pain in your pelvis. It had dulled to a slight throb by the end of the first week, only rearing its ugly head if you sat on a hard surface. You were back for the most part to your normal routine. Waking up early some mornings for training or running, more like jogging right now, on the other days, then breakfast, then stretching for a bit while the guys go to their own training, or your weekly visits with Dr. Keller. Then lunch, then your free time until dinner, then the guys’ free time before bed. 

It feels good, being back in a semi-normal routine. It makes your omega purr in delight being able to predict and plan around a set schedule. Maybe you are perfect for this lifestyle. 

Maybe Kate had been right in choosing you for this. Maybe the initiative was a good idea. Omegas thrive around routine and schedules and predictability. It’s not hard to understand why omegas aren’t allowed in the military, but perhaps integrating them into packs wouldn’t be as bad of an idea as you once thought. Though, you do wish the food was better sometimes. 

That might just be British food in general, though. 

You do miss America. Even after months away, you still feel that yearning for what you thought of as home. Or maybe you were just yearning for your family, the way things were before you committed a sin in your fathers eyes. It wasn’t hard to tell he wished you were never born, or maybe if you had been another son you wouldn’t have disappointed him. Your brothers didn’t disappoint him, so why did you have to be the one to do it? 

Your half asleep conversation with Simon hasn’t left your mind. You do miss your family, your parents. Despite all his faults and failures, you do miss your dad too. He wasn’t all bad, there were good moments in there, though you don’t think you could ever fully forgive him for forcing you away in shame over something you couldn’t control. If it hadn’t happened, though, you would have never wound up here. Though it wasn’t ideal, you wouldn’t trade your pack for anything. 

That doesn’t stop the subtle ache in your chest at the thought of your mother. Though you know the chances are slim that you would ever get to see her again, you just want to know that she’s alright. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” 

Simon’s words ring in your ears, bringing you back to reality again. The plastic around your wrists snaps off before he stands, holstering his knife quickly.

“Good to know even in these situations you’ll dissociate your way through it.” He says, lifting you right out of the chair and tossing you over his shoulder in one movement. 

“It’s called a coping mechanism.” You yell as he races out of the building and over the finish line. 

He lowers you down off of his shoulder, your legs nearly giving out as your feet hit the concrete floor of the warehouse. You take a deep breath, feeling like your diaphragm has been compressed by the edge of your own tactical vest. 

“Three minutes and fifteen seconds.” John says, writing the time down on his sheet. 

“Not bad, LT.” Johnny says, punching Simon’s shoulder. 

“Let’s see if you can do better.” Simon says, punching his shoulder back, only harder. 

Johnny winces, rubbing his shoulder as Simon steps away. 

“Gimme minute.” You gasp out, leaning against a crate so you can catch your breath. “These vests are not comfortable.” 

“Be worse if it was full gear.” Johnny says. 

You make a face. “Don’t you guys carry like 100 pounds of gear or something?” 

“41 kilos at the most, usually.” Kyle shrugs. 

You blink at him, trying to do the math in your head. You’ve gotten used to trying to convert, though you utilize your phone for it more than anything. Of course you don’t have that right now. It’s tucked away in John’s pocket. 

“Roughly 90 pounds in freedom units.” Johnny says. 

“Ah.” You nod, choosing to ignore his comment for now. “That’s still a lot. I couldn’t carry that.” 

“Luckily you don’t have to.” John says, stepping up to you. “Come on, one more.” He motions with his head. 

You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. At least in this exercise you don’t have to do anything but sit there. You adjust your vest as you follow him into the makeshift house, heading into the room with the chair for the third time. You were playing hostage again, this time in a timed test. Get in, take out the fake targets and then rescue the hostage. They’re firing blanks, but they don’t know what room you’re in so there’s a slight chance you could take a shot still, if they get a bit trigger happy under pressure. 

You plop down in the chair again, holding your hands behind your back. John holds your wrists in one hand, the other securing the zip tie around them. It sends a shiver up your spine, the thoughts of what he could do with a set of ropes flashing through your mind. 

“Alright?” He asks, slipping a finger between your wrists and the zip tie. You could slip out of them easily if you had to. 

“Yeah.” You breathe, leaning your cheek against his hand as he puts it on your shoulder. 

“One more, then we can get lunch.” He squeezes your shoulder gently. 

“Mhm.” You hum before sitting up straight in the chair. 

He leaves you there, closing the door and you wait patiently for the beep of the timer. Your feet tap expectantly as you listen to the door fly open, the crack of blanks being fired. The first round with Kyle had been nerve wracking, your muscles tensing with every loud noise. The three minutes and ten seconds had felt like a lifetime as you waited for the door to fly open and him to rescue you. 

By the second round you knew what to expect, and had even managed to drift off into your thoughts. Of course it had been during Simon’s turn. It was like your brain just automatically drifted off as soon as it realized he was coming. A pavlovian response to his presence. 

The time passing feels like an age as you wait, and you wonder how long it’s really taking Johnny. You had tried counting seconds but had lost count after about a minute. Simon and Johnny were in constant battle for second place, bumping each other up and down the list. Kyle remained in first place in almost all the training you’ve seen or heard about, fast and efficient and forever taunting the competitive Johnny. 

You flinch when the door flies open, Johnny quickly lowering his rifle. “Hi kitten.” He grins as he pulls out his knife, popping the plastic zip tie off your wrists. “Yer hero is here tae save the day.” 

He lifts you over his shoulder before racing out of the crudely built house, your vest digging into your stomach again. It’s making you almost nauseous, the bounce from Johnny running not helping any. 

He sets you on your feet after he crosses the line and you nearly fall backwards from the sudden rush of blood to your head. 

“Three minutes and twelve seconds.” John says, writing the time down. 

“Ha! I did it again!” Johnny says, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Not bad, Sergeant.” Simon says. 

“Not the fastest, though.” Kyle smirks, Johnny just two seconds below his time. 

“I’ll get there.” Johnny says, puffing his chest. “Ye just wait.” 

You tug at the velcro restraints on the vest, managing to get one side undone before pulling it off of you. You let it drop to the floor, breathing out a sigh of relief as you cup your breasts. “My poor tits. They were being compressed.” 

Johnny grins, completely switching mindsets from the previous conversation in the blink of an eye. “Ye need me tae massage them back to life?” He asks, reaching out towards you. 

Simon slaps his hands away, pushing him back. “Not in public you won’t.” 

Johnny pouts, but you give him a grin. “Later.” You wink at him before cantering after John. 

You slip your hand into his, leaning against his side as you and your pack leave the warehouse to head to lunch. You’re hungry after such an exciting morning, the ache in your stomach easing after removing the vest. You don’t know how they wear them all the time, but then again they’re men and don’t have boobs to worry about. Well, except for maybe Simon and his massive pecs. He has to get sore after a while. 

John pulls away from you as you near the mess, giving you a soft pat on the ass. “Go on. I’ll join you shortly.” 

You grin at him before latching on to Kyle, wrapping your fingers around his hand as he leads you into the mess. It’s busy as usual during prime meal time, alive and bustling with soldiers and conversations. You stick close to Kyle, Simon and Johnny walking behind the two of you like threatening shadows, the passing soldiers giving you the usual wide berth. 

Simon yanks the tray out of your hands before you can set it on the tray slide, putting it down next to his before he begins putting food on it for you. You beam up at him, giving him a giddy smile. “Don’t.” He warns, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll make you eat mushy peas again.” 

You make a disgusted face, but you still can’t hide your happiness as Simon makes your tray for you, carrying it over to the table. You plop down next to him, sitting as close as you can. He stares down at you for a long moment before sighing, resting his arm on the table and pushing you to the side just slightly to give himself more room. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face as you eat, Simon having put all your favorites on the tray. Your scent is sweet in the air, filled with contentment and happiness. Your feet even tap under the table, making up some random rhythm. Even being surrounded by unknown alphas and betas, you feel comfortable and safe with your pack around you. 

“Someone got bit by the happy bug.” Johnny says, glancing at you as John joins you at the table. 

“I am happy.” You shrug. “We’re all together and everyone is fine and content. Makes my omega happy.” 

John smiles at you across the table. “I’m glad you feel that way, sweetheart.” 

“Aye, just a crouse wee omega.” Johnny says, patting your head. 

You turn to him blinking. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“I think it’s a compliment.” Kyle says. 

“Aye.” Johnny says, pulling you close to kiss the side of your head. “Wouldnae be mean to ye. These dunderheid’s though...” 

Simon reaches over you, smacking the back of Johnny’s head. “We know what that means, you wanker.” 

You can’t help but giggle, even as your table gets some looks for the sudden rambunctious energy. 

3 Weeks After

Another week passes, same as it always does. 

Your routine stays steady, waking up early some mornings for training or running, breakfast, then stretching for a bit while the guys go to their own training, or your weekly visits to Dr. Keller. Then lunch, then your free time until dinner, then the guys free time before bed. Your life is back to a predictable cycle, and where some might consider it boring, it’s far from it. 

Mostly because you have free time to look forward to. 

Tonight you’re spending it in the living room with Kyle, both of you scrolling on your phones. The TV is on, playing some game show that neither of you are paying attention to. You’re far too busy on your phone, scrolling through websites. You’ve started to run low on panties again, and you’d rather not subject the poor, innocent shoppers of the lingerie store to another scent overload if Simon went with you. Not after the developments between the two of you. 

You might not be able to stop him from getting a bit...handsy. 

So instead you’re looking online, finding far more options than in the store, and so many possibilities. You’re having trouble making up your mind.

“Kyle?” You pat his arm lightly, trying to decide between colors. You want his input, and you’d prefer not to get Johnny involved. You’ll wind up forgetting all about your attempts to fill your dwindling underwear drawer. “Kyle?” You pat his arm a little harder. 

“Hm?” He hums, still looking at his phone. 

“Kyle?” You shake him, but he’s locked in on whatever he’s looking at. An idea comes to mind, something that might get his attention. You sigh, turning to face him. “Daddy?” 

He hums again, turning to glance at you for a second before his head whips around, turning to stare at you wide eyed. “Huh?” 

“I need your help choosing a color.” You say, scooting closer to him, pretending like you didn’t just call him ‘daddy.’

“What did you just call me?” He’s bewildered, not even looking at your phone as you hold it out to him. 

“I need your help.” You say, pointing at your phone. 

“No, first we’re gonna cover this.” He says, pulling your phone out of your hand. “Did you just call me ‘daddy?’” He asks in disbelief, a grin pulling at the sides of his lips. 

“Yeah.” You deadpan, staring up at him. “I needed your attention.” 

“So you chose ‘daddy?’” He laughs. 

“Well, it worked didn’t it?” You shrug. 

“You fucking-” He breathes as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap. “What are we going to do with you?” 

You shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I dunno, thought you’d keep me around since I’m kinda funny and nice to look at.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. “I love you.” 

You grin, shifting closer to him. “You do?” 

“Mhm.” He nods, wrapping his arms around you. “Hard not to.” 

You smile down at him, getting lost in those big brown eyes for a moment. They’re so soft and tender as they look at you, and you can almost feel the affection radiating off of him. “I love you too.” You say, leaning down to kiss him. 

He meets your lips eagerly, kissing you deeply. It conveys his love and the deep feelings he has for you, his arms tightening to pull you tight against his chest. 

He presses one last kiss to your lips before pulling away, smiling softly up at you. You want to kiss him again with that look on his face. You’ve never doubted that any of them love you, well, except maybe Simon but he’s a special case. He at least likes you now. 

“What was it you wanted to ask me?” He says, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Huh?” You blink at him, coming out of your stupor. “Oh!” You grab your phone from where he’d set it on the couch, pulling up the webpage again. “Which color?” 

You hold it up to his face, flicking between the two shades of blue you can’t decide on. He stares at the screen for a moment, his hands trailing down your back. 

“I think I quite prefer no panties.” He says, slipping his hands under your sweatpants. 

“Kyle, pay attention. This is important.” You say, continuing to flip between the two colors. 

He hums, his hands cupping your ass. “Get them both. John is gonna rip them both off you anyway.” He says, leaning forward to nip at your bottom lip. 

You hum, pushing your ass back into his hands as you sit back. “You’re right. Between him and Simon, my stash is getting smaller faster than it had been before. Would help if Johnny quit stealing them too.” 

Kyle pulls your phone from your hand, dropping it onto the couch again. His eyes are dark, his scent thicker in the air. A shiver runs down your spine at the musky edge to it, his hands pulling you close against his chest again. You can feel the bulge under his pants as your arms wrap around his neck again. 

“Worry about that later.” He murmurs, pressing his face into your neck. His lips brush the delicate skin, drawing a quiet sound from your lips. “Right now, I need to show you just how much I love you.” 

He presses a kiss to your pulse before he shifts on the couch, using his grip on you to lift you before moving you onto your back. He hovers over you for a moment before moving back to kneel between your legs. His fingers slip under your shirt, trailing the skin above your sweatpants. 

“Oh.” You say, knowing exactly where this is going. 

He smirks. “Hope you don’t have plans tonight.” His fingers slip under your waistband, starting to tug your pants down. “We’re gonna be here for a while.” 

You're rudely woken after falling asleep quite contently. The arms around you are moving, the chest against your back shifting. It's far too early in the morning, you can tell just by how crusty your eyes feel. The movement behind you stops, and you crack your eyes open in curiosity. 

There's a phone in front of you, screen facing towards you with the camera open. You quickly close your eyes, pretending to be asleep and the quiet click of the camera sounds a couple times. You open your eyes again as the arm under you flexes, the quiet click of the keyboard making you curious. 

Kyle has the group chat open, the one you're not a part of. You've been curious about it since Johnny mentioned it, the need to see what's in it eating you alive. You had tried John's phone but he keeps it locked like they all do. You really should start paying better attention so you can learn their passwords and lock patterns. Would have come in handy in this situation. 

He's posting the picture of you sleeping, and you wait until he's hit send before you strike. You fling the blankets back, grabbing the phone from his hands as you escape his grip. You have his surprise on your side as you just escape his hands grabbing you as you race for the door. You fling it open, running down the hall towards the rec room, victorious giggles leaving your lips. Kyle is on your heels, but your bare feet give you traction as you fake left before heading straight into the laundry room. You manage to get in the door and get it locked seconds before he slams against it. 

You grin victoriously as you push yourself up to sit on a washing machine, finally feeding your curiosity. You ignore the sounds at the door as you scroll through the photos of you, most of them of you sleeping in various positions with many heart eyes from Johnny following. There's texts about you and your training, how impressed they are with your progress, complaints about their dicks hurting and a photo of Johnny's asking if it looks normal or not. 

A photo of Johnny's drawing of you giving him head is next, then a photo of you, tits out and mouth open, your face a picture of bliss sent by Simon. When he had even taken that, you're not sure. There's texts from Kyle giving out advice on eating you out, a few texts from John about positions, as well as a few boring texts talking about your favorite foods, or at least what you pick most often, as well as a short debate about the never ending tea vs coffee argument. 

You've just gotten to the interesting texts about your earlier days with the pack when the door handle falls to the floor with a clang. The door flies open as Kyle shoulders his way through, reaching you in two strides and pulling his phone from your hands. 

“Hey!” You complain, but you don't get much of a chance to continue before Kyle is tossing you over his shoulder, leaving the laundry room. 

“This little sneak was scrolling through the group chat.” Kyle says, setting you on your feet in the concourse. John, Johnny, and Simon are waiting there and you wind up in the middle of the circle. 

“I was just curious. It's only fair considering it's about me.” You pout. 

“How'd you find out about it?” Simon asks, crossing his arms. You turn to look at Johnny, their gazes following. “Fucking hell.” Simon breathes. 

“What?” Johnny asks, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. “She was gonnae find out eventually.” 

“Yeah.” You cross your arms pouting more. “Taking pictures of me in my sleep.” You murmur. 

“Can't help it, love.” Kyle says. “Not when you're just so cute.”

You grumble under your breath before looking up at Simon. “How did you get that picture of me cumming?” 

He snorts quietly. “You're not very aware when you're orgasming, love.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as they all step closer, closing in around you. You gulp, looking between Simon and Johnny who are in front of you. 

“We all appreciated that one.” John says, his voice raspier than normal. 

“Bout had a circle jerk to it.” Kyle says. 

You gulp again, the mental image of kneeling in the middle of them, cocks out as they cum all over you sending a thrilled shiver down your spine. Your scent thickens in the air, your eyes meeting Simon's as they press in even closer around you. You can almost feel John and Kyle pressed up against your back, their scents mixing into an alluring cocktail around you. 

“Maybe soon we won't need that group chat.” John says, dragging a knuckle down your spine. 

A shiver wracks through you, your nipples hardening and poking through the baggy shirt. Johnny curses, the toothbrush falling from his mouth as he stares right at your tits. 

“Would you like that, baby girl?” Kyle asks, leaning down towards you. “Think you can take all four of us?”

Your mouth waters as the many images you've conjured up of the five of you together flash through your mind. 

You let out a quiet sound as John's hand smacks against your ass, pushing you forward towards Simon and Johnny. “You haven't answered the question.”

“Yeah.” You breathe, eyes locked on Simon's hand as it lifts.

He grips your chin, lifting your face up so you're looking him in the eyes. “Want to try that again, omega?” The low rumble of his voice and your status coming from him has another shiver trailing down your spine, heading straight between your legs. 

Your scent thickens in the air, your breathing picking up as you swallow thickly. “Yes, sir.” 

A pleased growl rumbles in Simon's chest, Johnny groaning in response. “Good omega.”

You nearly fall to your knees right there, ready to take all four of their dicks at once, but you manage to keep your legs under you as Simon releases your chin. You're ready for it, that moment that the bonds open completely between the five of you and you allow yourselves that vulnerability with each other. Your pussy has been clenching in anticipation of seeing Simon and Kyle together. The image of Johnny's head between John's thighs had been plaguing you for weeks now. Even the image of John and Simon, hands on each other's cocks, has your head spinning. 

Warmth presses against your back, hot breath fanning against your ear as you tremble in anticipation. John's tongue darts out, licking the shell of your ear before he nearly purrs his promise.  

“Soon.” 

4 Weeks After

It’s a Friday evening. 

They’re always rough, the transition between the schedule of the weekdays and the unknown of the weekend always has your head spinning a bit. You feel a bit uneasy as you stand in the doorway to your room, staring into the darkness lit only by your nightlight on your desk. It casts a shadow over your bed, and for a moment you feel as if something is standing there, hidden in the shadows as it stares at you. You’re afraid to turn the light on, afraid to reveal what might be lingering in the darkness. 

You quietly close your door before hurrying down the hallway, nearly knocking your shoulder against the corner as you turn. You take a moment once you’re in front of the door before knocking quietly. You try to steady the rapid beat of your heart as you wait, your fingers trembling around the handle as you get the call to enter. 

The door clicks shut behind you, John’s eyes on you as you turn around. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, his brows furrowing slightly. 

You nod, stepping up to his desk. “Yeah, just...feeling a bit on edge.” You swallow your nerves, trying to calm yourself. “Can I...can I kneel for you?” 

“Of course.” He says, pushing his rolling chair to the side to give you room. 

It’s been a while since you knelt for him. Not since the week after your heat ended. Your knees had hurt, but you’d quickly forgotten after he eased you into that blissful state where your mind becomes unaware and your worries begin to float away. 

You need that right now. 

You kneel down on the floor beside him, sitting back on your feet. Your breath shakes as he runs a hand over your head, moving your hair out of the way. Your hands curl into the fabric of your shirt as you relax, trying to calm the stress from just a few moments ago. Soon it will be over. Soon it will be behind you as your alpha helps you calm those thoughts. You wait for it, the warmth of his hand around the back of your neck, for the gentle press of his fingers against those pressure points in your neck. 

You’ve been working with Dr. Keller on your instincts, on how to get better control over them. She hasn’t graduated you to those pressure points yet, the most sensitive in your entire body. The ones that draw the thin line between kneeling and scruffing. You’re glad she hasn’t pushed that far yet. You’re not quite sure you could handle it. 

A quiet breath leaves your lips as you relax your shoulders, eyes fluttering closed as he begins to apply the gentle pressure, your mind quieting into a hum. You begin to float away, all awareness of the office you’re enclosed in drifting into the distance. All there is, is you and your alpha and the gentle pressure of his fingers guiding your brain into peace and quiet. All the worry, all the stress, all the fear you had been feeling even as recently as a few minutes ago, begin to ease away into nothing. The worry and grief you’ve been feeling around your mother begins to quiet, drifting away for the moment. It’s relieving, your mind calming into a quiet buzz, finally easing away all the swirling emotions from the last few weeks. 

Time seems to still, sounds muffling as you kneel there, being supported by your alpha. He’s always there, always ready to give you what you need. You trust him, even in your most vulnerable moments. He’ll always be there to support you, to catch you when you fall. He’ll never leave you, never betray you. 

6 Weeks After

Things feel strange when you wake. It’s later than you usually nap, the sun not quite as bright as it usually is in your window. It’s quiet in the barracks, the usual sound of boots on the tile floor absent, the shuffling of bodies as they return from training. Even the fullness in the air, the energy of their presence is missing. The barracks feel empty. 

They’re still gone. 

You lift your phone, blinking away the sleep as you stare at the bright screen. It’s just past 11:30 in the morning, and there’s a text from John. 

‘Training late. One of us will take you to lunch.’ 

You let out a quiet groan, setting your phone back on the nightstand. You roll over, tugging a bear against your chest. You trace your fingers along the bear’s back, running your fingers absentmindedly over the soft fur. You’re groggy with sleep, not meaning to sleep so early. You’ve been taking afternoon naps lately to make up for your early mornings. It’s not that unusual for you to nap, but you’ve been tired more than normal lately. 

Ever since your heat, there’s been a nagging at the back of your brain, some kind of warning going off, yet you can’t quite figure out what it is. The feeling of being watched is back, but you searched every inch of your room and there were no more cameras. There wouldn’t have been a time where someone could have entered the barracks unseen. Someone would have seen. Someone would have noticed and alerted John, right? 

Unless they’re all in on it. 

You’re yanked out of your paranoid thoughts as your fingers brush a raised part of the seam on the bear’s back. You’ve never noticed it before, the small bump almost like there’s a hole starting. You’ll have to ask Johnny if he can patch it later. 

You pull the bear away from your chest, staring at it for a moment. You look into its eyes, into the blank, plastic black holes that stare right back at you. Something tickles down your spine, your hackles raising. Danger! Your mind screams, your fingers starting to shake the longer you stare into those eyes. 

Maybe you are starting to go crazy. 

You set the bear down on the bed, facing towards your room as you get up, stretching your arms over your head. You pull the baggy shirt you’d changed into over your head, pulling on the bra you’d ditched earlier and the clothes you’d taken off in favor of something more comfortable to nap in. 

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you head for the bathroom, letting out a quiet curse as you hit your knee against the open cupboard door. You kick it closed before standing at the sink, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You let out a sigh, dragging your fingers through your hair before walking back out to your room, sitting down on the edge of your bed. The bear falls forward but you don’t bother picking it up, grabbing your phone as you wait for whoever it is that’s going to pick you up. 

That familiar tickling in the back of your brain picks up again, your eyes darting around the room. There’s nothing. You’ve checked before. You’ve checked several times when you were alone, tearing apart your room and putting it back together. You’ve learned Simon’s organization system, memorized it to put almost everything back almost exactly as he had it. You always leave at least one thing out of place, just to make it seem less perfect. 

Perfection from you would raise suspicions. 

How strange it is that at one time you yearned for perfection, drove yourself to tears of shame trying to be the perfect omega. There’s no such thing as a perfect omega, because perfect people don’t exist. You may look perfect on paper, but in reality you’re far from it. Your pack doesn't care. They never cared. John never cared about your scores, the many essays you poured hours into at the institute. He never cared about what the CIA had to say, their own remarks on your aptitude, your ability to learn and adapt, your drive for success that was almost a fatal flaw. 

He always cared about you. They all only cared about you and what makes you a person, an individual. Not just an omega, but an actual living, breathing human being. 

The thought brings tears to your eyes. How many hours you stressed and the things you hid to try and come across as perfect when they were never interested in perfection. Would they have cared, had you been allowed in the military? Would they have cared about perfection if you weren’t just a part of the pack, but also a part of the team?

You’re not, though. You’re an omega, you’re their omega. You don’t know things because they have to keep you safe. 

If only you had been honest with them. 

It’s been almost four months since you discovered the cameras, since they left and you made the stupid decision to break the rules, to go against everything they drilled into your head. Don’t talk to any strangers. Don’t leave the barracks alone. Tell us, or Dr. Keller if anything happens.

You failed all three of those in a matter of hours. You’ve continued to fail one of them. 

They can’t ever know. It’s going to be a secret you take to your grave. 

They have their secrets, so why can’t you have yours? 

The uneasy feeling continues to grow, a shiver running down your spine as you sit there. You can’t take it anymore. You have to get out. You grab your phone, slipping on a pair of shoes before slipping out your door, pulling it closed. 

You let out a shriek as you turn, a looming figure standing right in front of you. 

“Simon!” You shout, putting a hand on your chest, your heart beating rapidly under your palm. You take deep breaths, trying to calm your panic. “Scared the shit out of me.” 

“Jumpy today.” He rumbles, staring at you as you try to stop yourself from having a heart attack. 

“Not my fault you’re like a ghost.” You stand up, driving your fist into his chest. It hits his pec, and you’re sure it hurts you more than it does him. “You can’t just go sneaking up on people like that! Fuck.” You take a deep breath, leaning against the wall for a moment. 

“I think you’ll live.” He says, stepping up closer to you. You tilt your head up, staring at his face. He’s wearing his eye black today, meaning they were doing training training. It makes something stir in your stomach, the sight of him in his gear, eye black on to hide his face further. How he looks in the field. Even now with his gear removed, you still feel warmth in your stomach. It’s exciting, the difference between Simon and Ghost. Though he has tried to keep you under the tender touch of Simon, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost began to show himself occasionally. You’d let him bend you over a crate in the warehouse, fuck you in full gear where anyone could walk in and see. The mental image of him, covered in blood, smearing it on your skin as he takes that post-fight adrenaline out on you...

You try to calm the rush of arousal straight between your legs. 

“I don’t know.” You pout. “Think I might need a kiss to make it better.” 

He stares at you for a moment before shifting so he’s hovering over you, pressing his hand against the wall above your head. He continues to stare down at you, his eyes boring into yours. “Well?” He asks, his voice low. “Are you going to get your kiss?” 

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare up at him. You hesitate, unsure if you’re supposed to cross this boundary, if he’s really opening this door. He’s always been the one to move the mask, to lift it before leaning down. Instead this time he’s allowing you to do it, to lift the mask, to reach up to him. 

He doesn’t move as you lift your hands, your fingers trembling as they close around the edge of his mask. You slowly lift it up, rolling it up over the tip of his nose. You stop there, unsure if you should continue. If he wanted you to take it off completely, he would have made that clear. You doubt he’d do it here, in the hallway. It feels like far too intimate of a moment to be done in the hallway. 

Your fingers trace his lips, sliding down to brush over the scar on his chin, his stubble tickling your fingers. You drop your hands to his shoulders, using them as leverage to lift up on your toes. You wrap your arms around his neck and he lets you pull him down slightly so you can press your lips to his. 

He kisses you deeply, pushing you back up against the wall, crowding into your space. You don’t mind it, his presence comforting, encompassing. It wraps you in a cloak of safety and security. Nothing can hurt you while you’re close to him. 

You know that, so why can’t he ease the prickling fear lingering in the back of your mind? Something is off, something not even Simon can protect you from. 

That thought makes your stomach clench, and not in a good way. 

Simon’s other hand falls to your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he kisses you like he’s trying to devour you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moan quietly, pressing your tongue against his. His muscles are tense and you can tell he’s fighting the urge to lift you up, carry you to his room and fuck your brains out. He has a mission though, he’s been sent here for a reason. 

“One of us will take you to lunch.”

He pulls away from your lips, pressing one last soft peck to them before stepping away. You’re panting softly for a different reason now, your heart thudding in your chest from the raw energy that Simon exudes. It makes your omega stir in the back of your mind, prickling down your spine. It mixes with the paranoia, the tickling of danger creating an almost toxic cocktail of sensations. It puts you on edge, your body seeking out Simon’s, and you’re not sure if you want him to hold you or fuck you. 

He tugs his mask back down, lowering his head to stare at you. “C’mon. Let’s get food in you before you get grumpy.” 

“I don’t get grumpy.” You pout, pushing yourself off the wall. 

He gives you a look of disbelief. 

“Okay, fine, I get a little grumpy.” You say, following him out of the barracks. 

You walk with him, slipping your arm around his. The uncomfortable prickling sensation doesn’t ease up any as you walk towards the mess, your fingers wrapping around the sleeve of his sweatshirt. It’s a path you’ve followed many times, so often you’re surprised there’s no footprints worn into the asphalt and gravel. 

You let go of his arm as you enter the mess. It’s prime meal time again, meaning it’s full of soldiers getting their second meal of the day. The back of your mind is tickling again, your metaphorical hackles raising. Your eyes dart around the tables as you pause, your feet gluing themselves to the floor, rendering you unable to move. That feeling is back, the feeling like someone is watching you, someone who shouldn’t be. 

They’re all staring at you. They all shouldn’t. Nothing can stop that. You’re in a public place. They’re going to stare, they’re going to assess. That’s what they’re trained to do. 

It could be any of them. 

The thought makes you sick. Any of them could have put the cameras in your room. Any of them could have violated your space, set up invisible eyes to watch and record you and everything you do, everything you say. They could have watched you with the others, watched your heat. They would have seen you in your most vulnerable moments, the amount of times you’ve changed in your room, come out of the shower in nothing but a towel. 

The blood is pulsing in your ears, the sounds simultaneously too loud and too quiet. You stand there, frozen, your chest rising and falling quickly as you begin to hyperventilate. They’re staring at you, curiously and cautiously. You know you’re projecting, your body trying to keep you safe from whatever threat is causing this reaction, even if it’s just in your mind. 

You let out a yelp as hands grab you, more of them turning to look at you. Your head snaps to the side, the hand that had curled into a fist instinctively relaxing as you recognize Simon staring down at you. He doesn’t have to say anything as he pushes you towards the door, your feet freeing themselves from the glue that held them down automatically, moving before you even realize it. 

You gulp down breaths of fresh air as you step outside, your feet stumbling in the gravel. Your hands are going numb, twisting into fists as adrenaline pumps through you. Simon keeps you steady, moving you away from the door. He takes you around the side of the mess to where there’s tables set up, the place you’ve seen most often used as a smoking area. Thankfully it’s empty right now, Simon pushing you to sit on the bench. He sits on the bench on the other side of the table, leaning on his arms as he stares at you. 

Your breathing is starting to relax now that you’re no longer confined in that space, surrounded by soldiers and alphas, ones that might hurt you. Simon doesn’t say anything for a while, eyes analyzing and observing as you work to calm yourself. Your hands slowly relax, uncurling as you take deep breaths, calming the adrenaline. Your eyes are burning, tears of embarrassment and fear stinging your waterline. 

“You want to tell me what happened in there?” Simon finally asks, leaning slightly closer to you.  

You know he doesn’t mean to, but his tone sounds almost accusing, prying and interrogating you for some logical explanation as to why you just had a panic attack in the mess. He could probably sense the nervous energy coming off of you in waves since he first stepped into the barracks, something not even a kiss from him could push away. You desperately want to sink into him, to hold him until you’ve become one, safe and secure where no one can hurt you. 

Where no one would dare watch you. 

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers twisting together nervously on the table. “I-I don’t know. It’s just...it’s all so much and it feels like everything is wrong.” The words come spilling out before you can stop them, bearing your inner thoughts to the alpha in front of you. “I-I’m going insane. Between the fear and the paranoia and the worry, I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t feel safe anymore, and ever since I found the cameras I feel like I’ve been silently spiraling out of control-” 

The words cut off as you realize what you just said. It had slipped out before you could even stop it. Maybe it was the yearning for some kind of relief, for the weight of your secret to finally be removed from your shoulders. Maybe it was the safety you felt around Simon urging you to confess, urging you to seek out that safety once more. 

Or maybe everything has become too much, and you’re at the risk of spiraling to a place you can’t come back from, and your omega is desperately pushing everything out in an attempt to save you. The paranoia of earlier in your room, the creeping feeling that you missed something, that someone is watching you, the thought that it could be anyone in the mess right now, anyone on base. It makes you sick thinking about it, and perhaps this was a last ditch effort to avoid it scaring you permanently. 

Simon’s back straightens as he stares at you, and for a moment you hope he didn’t hear it, that he might shrug it off as something he misheard. You’re gaslighting yourself, attempting to ease the panic that’s rising in you again. You know he heard it. He’s far too attentive, far too aware to miss something like that. There’s no going back now, there’s no playing it off. You can’t lie again. You’re not even trying to make up a story, an excuse as you wait for his response, for the inevitable question. 

His eyes are piercing into you, all the softness he had been looking at you with before gone. His voice is low, dangerous, not offering up a chance to lie your way out of this again, but telling you, you can’t lie. He knows. You’ve spilled it and there’s no going back now. 

“You want to repeat that?” 

Fuck.

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[ivars-snowflake]

The Little Witch of Kattegat - Part XIII

Pairing: Ivar & Ase

Wordcount: 1096

Warnings: Child loss!

Okay, I’m very sorry, and I broke my own heart while breaking Ase’s.

The good thing though, her and Ivar reunite.

Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated!  

You can read the previous parts here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve

And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat

I tried to find the sound

But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,

So darkness I became

(Florence&The Machine - Cosmic Love)

**

It was quiet when Ase woke up. She looked around, but she was alone, and she couldn’t recognize the room she was in. There was a familiar, sweet smell of fresh herbs lingering in the air around her and it made her head spin and she felt dazedly in general. She tried to recall the events that took place the evening before, tried to remember how she got here and where she in fact was. Memories came to her as puzzle pieces, putting in front of her the challenge of connecting it all together.

All she remembered was Margrethe, the pain in her head, the dark emptiness of her hut that night, then the terrified look in Ubbe’s eyes, and blood-soaked sheets of her bed. The blood-soaked sheets of her bed…oh gods. She started sobbing, remembering faintly how Ubbe carried her to the healer, remembering the pain in her loins and her lower back, remembering the empty feeling inside of her, eating a part of her heart and leaving just an empty, black hole behind. She remembered the hate she felt, the desperation, and putting her hands on her empty stomach, she screamed.

The healer, a wrinkled old lady, came running to the room, trying to calm Ase down, but all her efforts were fruitless. She kicked and screamed, trying to get up but the pain wouldn’t let her. It was a heartbreaking sight, a woman who was about to become a mother being robed of that without a warning, without even a possibility to say goodbye to her unborn child. And then she stopped, and her face changed. It changed to cold and emotionless, as she finally agreed to lay back and calm down. The healer spoke to her, but the words just didn’t reach her mind, they got lost in the chaos of her thoughts, as she stared into the ceiling, her hands tightly squeezed on her chest, singing a lullaby.

She found herself in the dark, left alone and broken, rotten and in pieces. The feeling of guilt was eating her up. She felt guilty for not leaving with Harald, she felt guilty for leaving Ivar, she felt guilty for coming to Kattegat, for underestimating Margrethe. For everything she has ever done to protect the man she loved, she felt guilty now. She allowed a single tear to escape her eyes at the thought of Ivar, at the thought that he lost his baby and never even knew he was about to become a father. He never knew, he should never know. What he doesn’t know, can’t hurt him. If he knows, he will burn their world down, he will destroy them. But Ase wouldn’t allow for that to happen, for it was her, and her only, who will do that. She will burn them down, she will ruin them. They will talk tales of Ivar the Boneless, but it will be Ase the Witch, they will sing songs off, songs about her alone, destroying many. For that she will do. But not just now, now the pain will block the power, now the desperation and loneliness will make her weak. Once she manages to shut her emotions down, leaving her with anger and vengeance alone, it is then that she will strike, it is then that she will make them pay. All of them, for they all carry their amount of responsibility, all of them are guilty, she didn’t care how much.

And then it hit her, and she woke up from her personal hell.

“Ivar!” she mumbled, “The battle! How long have I been here? Where’s Ivar?”

“We won the battle,” the old healer said, “He lost. I believe they’re setting terms right now.”

“Take me there!” Ase demanded, grabbing the woman by her wrist.

“Ase, I don’t think you can walk…”

“I don’t care, I said take me!” Ase growled, and the woman had no choice but to obey.

 **

 As they came closer to the crowd assembled on the meadow, she could hear Ivar's roaring voice. It made her eyes fill with tears, and it made her heart skip a beat, as if a tiny bit of it just came back to life.

“Of course, I’m going to kill her” She heard him growl.

She could hear the sound of his voice - she could hear him hiss at Ubbe, shout at Lagertha…he was there, he was finally there. He was late.

“Ivar!” she shouted, remembering how it felt when his name would leave her lips. Remembering how she would whisper it while she was half asleep, how she would moan it while he made her shiver, how she would scream, while he made her break. Remembering how much she missed him.

“Ase…” he stopped in his tracks, turning towards her, repeating her name like a prayer. “Ase…!” he whispered to himself as he limped towards her and saw her slowly walking towards him. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale and tormented, the gorgeous chaos of fire red hair that he remembers was cut short, her dress was a bloody mess, and her voice a broken chant. What have they done to his Ase?

“What did you do to her?!” he roared, turning back to Lagertha, and not waiting for an answer, he turned back to Ase, asking her the same thing – “What have they done to you?”

He released a shaky breath, once he finally put his hands on her soft skin, cupping her face. She was pale and skinny, her eyes were full of remorse and regret, full of anger, pain. “What have they done to you?” He repeated his question, but she just kept sobbing, holding onto him, her grip strong, desperate not to lose him ever again. “I will kill them all” He whispered, pulling her closer, kissing her salty cheeks.

“I will kill you all!” he then roared at them, his breathing ragged and his voice filled with rage.

 “No,” she stopped him, “I will kill them all.” Her eyes went shut, and her whispers brought the clouds, they brought thunder. As Thor raged above them, she made her promise of hunting down anyone who has ever hurt any of the people she loved. She will hunt them down, she will kill her monsters. None of that will ever bring her little one back, but it will bring justice, it will give her back her peace of mind, her sleep, her love of life.

Now, more then ever before, she understood Ivar’s rage, Ivar’s darkness, while she sunk into her own.

**

tags: @starfox-92 @funmadnessandbadassvikings @red608, @onjacks-blog @romanchronicles, @oddsnendsfanfics , @kenzieam , @didiintheblog @thx4nothingatall  @ivarswickedqueen  @captstefanbrandt  @perfectus-in-morte

[whenimaunicorn]

Sihtric - TLK-tober

I rolled Sihtric, witch, forest/wilderness, cute. This time I went for cute ending. 1079 words; no warnings other than a shippy vibe... you can imagine the girl is Eahlswith or an OC. Prompt list here.

The girl kept stealing glances, as they walked together through the forest. Sihtric was a man of few words, so even though he walked beside her, she had little other than her own curious thoughts to keep her company. His eyes met hers occasionally, each time with a small smile plucking at his lips before his gaze darted away. He wasn’t like the other men she knew from the alehouse. He didn’t act like he had anything to prove, and he never, ever did anything to make her nervous.

A copse of beech trees, he had said. That was the proper place to bury the charm, so that’s where they were going. The other girls were more nervous about him than anyone else, Lord Uhtred’s pet Dane, but they were all fools. She looked down at the thing he had helped her make. A bundle of cloth, wrapped ‘round three times with a ribbon she used to wear in her hair as a girl. It crunched inside between her fingers. He hadn’t told her exactly which herbs he had filled it with to set the spell.

It was witchcraft; that’s what the priests told them on Sundays. But her mother had called it seiðr, and before she died she had spoken of it as a blessed skill, something to aid men and women as they struggled with the cruelties of fate. And Sihtric, the quiet, unassuming warrior that now led her through the woods, was a seiðmann, and happy to help her intercede with the old gods for her father’s life.

Kindness. That’s what she saw in Sihtric’s eyes whenever they met hers. Everyone she knew in Winchester was afraid of him, a Dane in their midst. But he treated her better than just about every Saxon man she knew.

“Here,” he said, nodding his head up toward the top of the ridge, where a stand of giant trees created a midday darkness, blotting out the sky entirely with the leaves of their thick branches.

“Why must it be beech trees?” she inquired as they entered the grove, happy to have finally thought of something to engage him in conversation over.

Sihtric looked up, a considering look creasing his dark brow. “Beech trees grow tall, and strong. Their canopy shelters the animals.” His gaze dropped to her, captivating her eyes entirely. “These are the qualities we need to send to your father. Strength, stamina, protection.”

She couldn’t quite describe the way she felt when he looked at her like that. But it was a good feeling. Like he was somehow offering these things to her, too. And that he had the power to give them. His clear, two-toned eyes focused on her and nothing else. She nodded and, impulsively, took his hand.

He was surprised, she could feel that in his grip, but he did not reject her affection. With another one of those slow smiles, he used their entwined fingers to lead her up to the heart of the grove. At the base of the largest tree, they sank to their knees together. “We’ll bury it here.” He let go of her hand, regretfully, she thought, as he took out a knife to break the ground. He closed his eyes and murmured a few words before striking downwards, too low for her to hear. “It doesn’t have to be deep, but your hands need to dig it. Think of your father while you do.”

Love poured from her heart as the girl scrambled her fingers through the soil, making a hole large enough to bury the charm. Sihtric started humming, something low and deep in his chest that sounded nothing like church hymns but warmed her twice as well.

She set the bundle into the earth. Sihtric said a few words she couldn’t understand, and then took both of her hands between his own. He drew them out, pushing them into the dirt piled to either side and guiding her to smooth it back in with him. He pressed her palms to the little mound they’d made. She could feel him exhale against her cheek, they were so close together, but she dared not look up to his face. The moment felt too important for that kind of distraction.

“It’s done,” he said, after a long, silent moment. He released her hands from the earth. “Your father is as protected as we can make him.”

“Thank you, Sihtric,” she said, savoring his name on her tongue. She hadn’t said it often, but with her heart swelling now under these trees, she thought she might like to say it every day.

“It’s nothing,” he said, then: “I hope it helps.”

They brushed their hands off and he helped her rise. “Let’s stay a while,” she said when his feet turned back down the ridge. “I like how it feels, here.”

Sihtric turned back to her with a smile, less guarded than the ones he’d given her before. “I feel it too.” His eyes dances between the branches above them. “It bodes well.”

They wandered the cozy little space under the copse of trees for a time. Sihtric was silent as ever, though she thought he was stealing as many glances at her as she was at him.

“Where did you learn this magic?” she ventured.

“My mother.”

He looked sad as he said it. She wondered if it was her place to press for more.

“Among my people, it’s mostly a skill taught to women.” His gaze slid off her, sheepish again, and she wondered why he was even revealing this to her, when she didn’t really know any better.

She took his hand again. “Could you teach me?”

His eyes widened, and he regarded her for a long moment. They faced each other under the boughs of the ancient trees. His head dipped, and his confidence returned. “Yes.”

She smiled up at him, not sure what to say next. Just a little bit lost in admiration of his cheekbones.

His eyes traveled over her face too. Lifting his hand, he cupped her face, thumb sliding across the apple of her cheek. “Just a smudge of dirt on your face.”

“Oh.”

The wind shimmered through the trees, but they did not hear it. His hand remained on her cheek, fingers cupping her jaw, and all it took was the slightest lifting of her chin for him to kiss her. A different kind of magic bloomed in this forest grove.

More of my work here

TLK Taglist:  @ceridwenofwales​ @oddsnendsfanfics​@laketaj24​ @thewildbeauty @geekandbooknerd​ @therealcalicali​ @tiyetiye​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​@goldentailedmermaids​ @sifshoney​ @titty-teetee​  @savismith​ @ariellostatci​ @perfectus-in-morte​ @axiseeu12 @kingofshadowalkers @glitta-killa​ @just-random-obsessions​ @volvaaslaug​

[ivarswickedqueen]

Fever - part 15

Hi guys, I finally managed to write a new chapter of Fever. This is maybe the last time when I am able to post it here on Tumblr so enjoy it. And please if you can, reblog it, because my posts are not showing in the tags for some reason...  I also created an AO3 account and I will move all of my fics there very soon. I would prefer to keep posting them here on tumblr, but we will see if the written word will be a problem for tumblr stuff after December 17th...  Enough talking, here it is ;)  Previous chapters:  Masterlist  And I recommand you to read this little drabble ;) 

Paring: Alex x reader x Marco Warnings: Explicit content, choking kink, daddy kink, oral sex (female and male receiving), little spoilers for Kriger (Warrior) series Word account: cca 4000 Tags: @akamaiden @missrobyn81 @starfox-92 @kikuthestrange @heathen-whore @cbouvier23 @kerouacsroad@ivars-snowflake @alicedopey @mblaqgi @gwilson937@steadypiepsychicflower @perfectus-in-morte @minarawr @vikingsandetc @proudcoiler88@ilvebeenabad @titty-teetee @ivarsshieldmadien@kuollut-talven @ivarsrideordie @atequilahead @lol-haha-joke @applesaucers @ethereallysimple@itharley @kaani14sc @itsgreatperson @captstefanbrandt@isabellarose5150, @florenceivy, @mockinghijack,  @93generation@lisinfleur, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @tephi101, @holydream @youcancallmeladyjoker @tgrrose @naaladareia

*****************************************************************************************

You came to the Marco's and Alex's home, tired from work and frowned when you noticed that your boys weren’t home, you started unpacking groceries. You were almost done when you heard that someone unlocked the front door. “Hi, Y/N,” Alex mumbled and disappeared in his bedroom. You frowned and followed him inside. He was lying on his bed, with a pillow over his face. “Are you OK, Alex?” you asked, worried about him. Alex was almost always in a good mood, so something bad had to happen to him. “I’m fine, Y/N. Just tired, please leave me alone,” he growled and didn’t even open his eyes. “As you wish, babe. I’ll be in the kitchen, making a dinner. In case you need something just let me know”. Two hours later the dinner was done and you gently knocked on his door. “Alex, dinner is ready,” you said softly and he shouted that he will be there in few minutes. You ate the dinner and chat a little with Alex, but it was obvious that he wasn’t in mood to chat. “Thanks for the dinner, Y/N,” he said and kissed your cheek softly, placed the plates into the dishwasher and went to the living room. You sighed and cleaned up the kitchen and took a quick shower. You walked into the living room and saw Alex watching something in Danish. “What are you watching, babe?” you asked him softly. “Kriger. It’s a Danish TV series,” he said shortly. “Isn’t it the one with Marco?” you asked with a big smile. “Yeah,” he growled. “Can I watch it with you?” you asked him excitedly. “It’s in Danish, you won’t understand a word. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to spend some time with you, please Alex!” you pouted. “All right, come here. But be quiet,” he said grumpily and you quickly cuddled up to him. Alex changed into grey sweatpants and grey hoodie, it was casual clothes, but he still looked delicious. His hoodie was as comfy as it looked. You placed your head on his shoulder and sighed happily. Alex wrapped his strong arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Has Marco shown up yet?” you asked him quickly when the actors stopped talking for a second. “No, he hasn't, you have to wait, but they were talking about his character Mads, so I guess that he will be there very soon” he said.   “There he is,” you squealed excitedly, when Marco’s character Mads appeared on the screen and Alex rolled his eyes. “Awww, isn’t he adorable?” you chuckled and Alex shushed you. “I told you to be quiet,” he hummed and you apologized quietly. But when you saw Mads doing something silly on the screen you couldn’t help yourself and said: “He is such an adorable dork!” “Jeez, Y/N, stop drooling over him, now I have to re-watch the scene, because I have no idea what they were talking about,” he fussed. “I don’t mind to see it again,” you provoked him, and enjoyed the pissed off look on his face. You knew that provoking grumpy Alex wasn’t a good idea, but you couldn’t help yourself. You managed to stay silent for few minutes, but then you had to make another comment. “Awww, he has a preggo wife? That’s so sweet. She is so sweet and small,” and that was the last drop for Alex. His movement was quick and before you knew it, you had his big hand wrapped around your neck. “I think I told you, to be quiet, Y/N! Keep your praises for Marco to yourself or go back to his room and wait for him to come back home from his tour de pub!” he growled, his voice dangerously low, his eyes shining with anger. It made you wet in seconds. “I'm so sorry, Alex. I won’t say a word, I promise,” you gulped and sighed in relief when he let you go and went back to watching the TV. You were wondering what happened to him that made him so pissed and grumpy. You managed to be quiet for a while, but you were horny and Alex wasn’t helping you. You could still feel his hand on your neck and the sound of his angry voice echoed through your ears. You glanced at him and he was watching the second episode in which Mads was playing football. That caught your interest, especially when the football game turned into fight. Marco was throwing punches and kicking the guy who was lying on the floor and you felt a warm heat growing in your stomach. The pressure in your pussy was almost unbearable; you had to do something about it. You glanced at him again and caught him sleeping with his mouth open. You hesitated for a second and then you slowly slid your hand into your shorts and panties and sighed soundlessly, when your cold finger touched your aching clit. You glanced at Alex again and he was still sleeping. You started circling your index and middle fingers around your clit slowly, biting your lips to not moan and catch Alex’s attention. You shifted slightly and added more pressure to your clit. You half-closed your eyes, imagining Alex’s fingers on your body, when you slid your fingers inside your wet entrance. You were so wet, that they slid in easily. You could smell Alex’s cologne and felt the warmth of his body next to you, you closed your eyes completely and your brain almost let you think that it were really Alex’s fingers inside your needy pussy. You found the perfect rhythm between rubbing your clit and slipping your fingers inside your pussy. You felt that familiar feeling growing in the pit of your stomach, few more strokes and you were on the edge of an orgasm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Y/N?” Alex growled into your ear and you quickly opened your eyes, staring right into his blue ones. “I… I was… I wasn’t. I am sorry, but I had to!” you apologized but kept pushing your fingers in and out of yourself. “I told you to let me watch this series peacefully and all you can do is misbehaving!” he groaned but watched your hand hungrily. “I’m so sorry for being such a bad girl,” you pouted. “Daddy,” you added and saw the lust in Alex’s eyes, when you called him daddy again. He smacked your hand away, ignoring your whines and protests. He grabbed your hand and took your fingers inside his warm mouth, sucking your juices from them. “You taste so sweet and delicious for such a dirty little girl,” he said and placed you over his lap. He quickly pulled down your shorts and panties and hissed when he saw your dripping wet pussy. “Fuck, baby girl. Are you so wet just because you saw Marco on TV?” he growled darkly and run his fingers over your pussy lips, making your shiver and moan desperately. “No, I’m so wet because I fingered myself while thinking about you! You were sitting next to me, but you ignored me,” you pouted and yelped, when the first slaps hit your ass cheeks. “You are daddy’s needy little whore, aren’t you?!” you felt his hand rub your pained ass cheeks, soothing it, getting it ready for another slap. You hummed, but Alex wanted to hear your voice. “I asked you a question, baby girl,” another two slaps hit each of your ass cheeks. “Yes daddy, I'm your needy little whore,” you whined loudly, feeling your juices running down your thighs. “Look at yourself, baby girl, so wet and desperate. You should take a cold shower and go to sleep!” he chuckled, his big hands kneading your flesh in a way that made you greedy for more. “You wouldn't be so cruel, Alex!” you whimpered and wiggled your ass, making him groan because you were bouncing on his growing erection. He hissed and grabbed your hair into his fist, pulling your ear close to his mouth. “Don’t test me, baby girl!” “I'm sorry daddy,” you whined and bit your lip slowly, while looking into his blue eyes, which were almost black now. “Oh, fuck babe, why are you so hot and irresistible, when daddy wants to punish you?” he sighed and made you straddle his waist. Alex didn’t wait for your answer and took your lips in a hard and bruising kiss, his tongue as demanding as his touch, his kiss was urgent and you surrendered willingly to his domination.  You quickly kissed him back, your hands tangled into his long hair, you took off his hair band, his long hair fell on his shoulders. Alex wanted to take off his glasses, but you stopped him. “Please don’t, I want you to fuck me, wearing nothing else than those glasses,” you begged him, while licking your lips slowly. “Please daddy, do this for me! I’ll be a good girl for the rest of the night, I promise,” you pouted and Alex nodded, already defeated. He quickly took off your sleeping shirt, smirking smugly when he saw that you are naked underneath it. Alex drew patterns with his fingers over your ribcage and belly, his fingers skimmed the underside of your breasts, moving the pads of his fingers lightly over your swollen nipples and you started panting. “Daddy, touch me, please!” Alex’s cock throbbed at your request. He used the tip of his tongue, tracing circles around your areola, enjoying the way how your nipples tightened under his actions. He did the same thing with your other nipple before he finally wrapped his lips around the hard peak and harshly drew your nipple into his hot mouth. Your fingers sung into his hair, pulling him closer to your chest, needing more of his delicious mouth. You gasped and arched into him, when his teeth closed around your hardened peak and his tongue darted across the tip. Your nails dug into his forearm as he sent jolts of pleasure through your body with his tongue and teeth. His calloused fingers brushed over your other nipple, circling and pinching the hardened peak, making your breath come in small, shallow gasps. His other hand traveled down your body, as his mouth closed around your nipple again, tongue circling and sucking as his fingers moved between your bodies, two fingers stroked down the center of your pussy, rubbing against your wetness.      Your head dropped back and you moaned with pleasure as Alex stroked you, the large digits finding your eager hole and pushing in. His long fingers were spreading you open. Your body convulsed as he thumbed your clit. His mouth left your chest and placed opened mouth kisses on your neck, stopping at your ear. “Look at you baby girl. So responsive. So wet for me. So eager to cum around my fingers! You have been such a bad girl tonight, I shouldn’t let you cum. But it seems that daddy can’t say no to you tonight, baby girl” he smirked when you wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face on his shoulder. “Alex, please!” you pleaded and placed open mouth kisses on his jaw as Alex started pumping his fingers in and out of you, his palm pressing against your clit. Your nails dug into his nape, your teeth biting onto his shoulder, his name rolling off your tongue in a desperate moan. Alex's breath hot against your skin as he nibbled on your earlobe, whispering in your ear, that you are his little needy whore. You felt your walls tightening around his fingers when he whispered those dirty words into your ear. “Will you cum for me baby girl? Will you cum for daddy?” he asked you and you were impossibly close to your orgasm, when his fingers stopped moving inside you. “Daddy, please!” you whined shamelessly, looking Alex straight in the eye. Your mouth hung open when he added third finger, a loud moan escaped your lips as he settled on a quick pace, fucking you with his fingers almost as hard as he would do with his cock. “Fucking hell, daddy,” you whimpered, biting your lip so hard, that you felt the metallic taste of your own blood on your tongue. Alex watched the drop of blood forming on your bottom lip, his fingers sliding in and out of you, leaning over, kissing you hard, licking the blood off your lip, while curling up his fingers inside you, brushing against your g-spot with every stroke of his hand. You came hard around his fingers, screaming his name inside his mouth, digging your nails into his shoulders, leaving behind a trail of red lines. Alex’s movements slowed down, helping you ride out your orgasm. “So, baby girl, do you still think that I'm ignoring you?” he smirked and withdrew his fingers from your wet hole. “No, daddy, you have been so good to me, let me return the favor,” you smirked and took off his gray hoodie along with his white shirt. You sighed happily when you saw his muscled chest. He truly was a masterpiece. He worked hard to have a body like this, and you were determined to show him how much you appreciate that. You slowly covered his chest with soft, nibbling kisses and the warm strokes of your tongue. You moved your hands over his body, while looking into his intense eyes. He was observing your every move, obviously enjoying your attention. You reached his sweatpants and had to bite your lips, when you saw his bulge. You slowly took them off, freeing his cock, Alex was so rigidly hard, his cock slapped against his stomach. “I see you want me as much as I want you, daddy,” you smirked and slowly licked him from the base to the tip, still staring into his eyes. “Stop teasing me, baby girl, and put your pretty mouth to work!” Alex said darkly and watched you taking his cock into your small hand, stroking him firmly, before taking him into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the head and slid down his length, hollowing your cheeks and taking as much of him as you could into your mouth. You started bobbing your head up and down, your mouth sliding over his length while sucking him. “Look at you my little slut, sucking daddy’s cock so eagerly, get daddy's cock nice and hard so he can fuck you with it,” Alex growled and you felt yourself getting wetter than you already were. Placing one hand behind your head, Alex began to gently move your head up and down his cock, slowly fucking your mouth. His head hid the back of your throat making you gag around him.   “Such a pretty noises are coming out of your mouth, baby girl. That's it, choke on my cock, you little slut,” a moan escaped you as you took him in deeper. You rode his length with your mouth, your hand fisting the base of his cock. You felt him being close, when he grabbed your ponytail and pulled you up. “Turn around, baby girl!“ Alex commanded and you obeyed him without hesitating. He pulled you down, guiding his hard dick to your dripping entrance. You let out a loud and long moan, when he stretched your pussy. “Oh my god!“ you yelled and he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you to his strong chest. “Do you like it, Y/N? Do you like it when daddy is stretching your tight little pussy with his big dick?” he groaned into your ear as his arm slid down your body to your clit. “Yes daddy, you make me feel so fucking good and full,” you managed to say between moans and gasps, when his fingers started rubbing your clit slowly. “You are finally acting like a good little girl, taking daddy's cock so well. Will you cum for me again, little one?” Alex whispered into your ear and his fingers began spanking your clit quickly. You were squirming on his lap, overwhelmed with all the pleasure he was giving you. “Alex, daddy, please don't stop, please, I will explode soon. Shit, your fingers are magical, daddy please harder, fuck me harder!” you were begging, almost crying, feeling overwhelmed with all the delicious feelings. You felt his teeth sinking into your shoulder, while his other hand wrapped around your throat, choking you slightly, making you roll your eyes, riding him harder and fastest, your walls clamped around his cock and he let go of your neck, letting you scream his name loudly, when your orgasm hit you. Alex came at the same time as you, filling you up with his hot seed. You slowly opened your eyes, feeling dizzy and exhausted and nearly screamed when you noticed Marco standing in front of you, hungrily observing your naked body. “Damn it Marco, you walk around silently like a ghost” you said still out of breath. “No I'm not, but you are too loud to hear me, kitten. I am surprised that our neighbors didn't file a noise complaint yet," he smirked and didn't stop staring at your breasts. “See something you like, buddy?” Alex smirked and started playing with your full breasts. “Y/N is very naughty tonight. Right, baby girl?“ he added and rolled your nipples between his fingers. “Yeah” you moaned and arched your back. “Since when are you calling her a baby girl, Alex?“ Marco asked and licked his lips hungrily. “You didn't tell him, baby girl?” Alex asked you and bit your lip gently. “Not yet, I didn't find the courage,” you admitted and turned your head, meeting Alex’s lips in slow, sensual kiss. “You should tell him, he will love it! Alex suggested, his teeth nipping on the delicate flesh of your bottom lip, his tongue meeting yours in fevered battle again. “Tell me what kitten?” Marco asked and you blushed, trying to find the right words how to tell him. “It's easy, Y/N. Just open your mouth and tell him about your little kink I discovered recently,” Alex encouraged you, but you still felt uneasy about it. “Hey, kitten you don't have to tell me anything if you feel uncomfortable about it,” Marco assured you, kissing your hand softly, his warm green eyes admiring you. “I don't feel uncomfortable, babe. I'm just kind of shy to tell you, “ you bit your lips, looking at him through your eyelashes. “In that case I should do something to make you feel more at ease to tell me, kitten. Move Alex!” he said and Alex moved to the other side of the couch. “Lay down, kitten,” Marco ordered you and you rested your back on Alex’s chest. Marco knelt in front of you. “Spread your legs for me, kitten,” Marco commanded and you gladly obeyed. “I missed this view all day,” Marco smiled and lean in, licking you slowly. “Marco!” you moaned his name softly, when his tongue touched your sensitive clit. “Did you miss me, kitten?” Marco smirked and wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking your it gently into his mouth. “Yes I did,” you whined. “Fuck babe, I missed your skilled tongue so much,” you moaned and dug your fingers into Alex’s arms. Alex was still playing with your breasts, while kissing your throat. “Go for it, baby girl, don't be shy. Say it, he will love it, I swear,” Alex encouraged you, grazing your neck with his sharp teeth. “Will you come for me, kitten? I'm still kind of thirsty,” Marco smirked and slid two fingers into you, gently biting your clit, looking into your eyes, looking so hot and sinful, that you gave up and finally said it. “Yes daddy,” you bit your lip, whining when he stopped moving his fingers inside you.  Oh shit, he thinks that I am freak! You thought to yourself when he froze. But when you looked into his green eyes you only saw awe, which quickly turned into pure lust. “What did you say, kitten?” Marco said, his voice dropping an octave. “I said yes, daddy!” you smirked and closed your eyes when Marco moved his fingers again, hitting your G-spot, making you open your mouth, gasping for air. “So my dirty little kitten likes it, when daddy is fingering her tight little cunt?” Marco smiled smugly and kept hitting our G-spot perfectly. “I fucking love it daddy,” you whimpered. “But you know what I love even more, daddy? When you eat me out with that delicious mouth of yours. My pussy misses your mouth,” you purred and Marco pulled his fingers out of your pussy, replacing them with his tongue. He was tongue fucking you while his thumb made powerful circles on your clit. You felt another orgasm coming quickly. “He sucks you so well, isn’t he?” Alex said into your ear, while squeezing your nipples. “He is the best,” you nodded and let out another throaty moan when Marco quickened the movements of his tongue. “Daddy,” you moaned and rolled your eyes when Alex wrapped his hand around your throat again, helping you to magnify your orgasm. You came hard, your hips moving on their own accord, nearly suffocating Marco with your juices. You came down from your high and Marco crawled on top of you, kissing you deeply and slowly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He ended the kiss with gentle nibble on your bottom lip. He smiled softly at you, looking at you like if you just fulfilled his biggest desire. Alex gently turned your head, kissing you passionately, wanting to feel your taste which was still lingering on your tongue. “I suggest that we should move into the bedroom, because let’s say it, you two are kind of crushing my bones,” Alex joked and you giggled. “Look who isn’t grumpy anymore,” you teased him and kissed his cheek. “Alex was grumpy?” Marco asked and gave his best friend a questioning look. “Yes he was, he was grumpy, he didn’t talk to me, and he was angry at me, because I was commenting on your acting in Kriger,” you pouted and Marco chuckled. “You watched Kriger with her?” he laughed. “Yep, you have a number one fan here,” Alex joked and nudged your side. “Is it true, kitten?” Marco asked and kissed your shoulder. “Yes it is, I am already in love with Mads, but stop changing the topic Alex. Why were you so grumpy?” you insisted and Alex sighed. “I had a very unpleasant interview and I don’t want to talk about it!” “With that rude interviewer which was asking you about your personal life and she was really persistent to get any information from you?” Marco asked with raised eyebrow. “Yes, did you talk to her too?” Alex wrapped his hands around you and placed his chin on the crook of your neck. “Yes, she was rude, and I ended the interview after five minutes,” Marco nodded and put his head on your belly. “What a bitch, I will fuck murder her for making you this upset!” you shouted, ready to press charges against that unknown woman. “Look at her Marco, our little kitten has sharp claws!” Alex chuckled and kissed your jaw teasingly. “You should save your energy to the bedroom, because we are not finished with you yet, kitten,” Marco smirked and bit your inner thigh playfully. “Marco is right, baby girl. Forget about that bitch and move to the bedroom, you two are seriously crushing me! Especially Marco, he had too much sushi tonight!” Alex complained and Marco got up, chuckling happily, helping you onto your trembling feet. “Let’s take a shower first, what do you say boys?” you suggested and they both agreed following you into the shower room.

[andvys]

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Love will tear us apart // part eighteen

Warnings: angst, violence, physical fights, mentions of abuse & parental abuse

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader // mentions of Steve Harrington x fem!reader

series masterlist 

previous part 

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The loud knocking on your door startled both you and Eddie. You looked at each other with wide eyes, a nervous feeling settling in your chest. Steve has a key and the other’s would come with him if anything, so you know for sure that it’s someone else, not to mention that they were all at the old Creel house right now.

“Who’s that,” Eddie whispers with a nervous look in his eyes. His grip tightens on your hand.

You shake your head, shrugging.

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