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saiyanprincessswanie · 3 months ago

Text

Rekindled Love

Pairing: Biker Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2255

Summary: You end up hurt by a drunk customer and your ex Bucky is none too happy about it. Bucky makes sure you’re okay in more ways than one.

Warnings: Brief violence, Smut, P in V, unprotected sex

A/N: @avengers-assemble-bingo for James Buchanan Barnes - 108th Birthday. The square filled “Ex’s Hooking Up." (card #4B 024)

A/N 2: Thank you to my betas @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @nekoannie-chan Thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for the header. Thank you to @whimsicalrogers for the divider

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. It has been stolen if you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics 🚫🚫

It was just another night at the local bar where you worked as a bartender. It was a small crowd for the middle of the week. You had a couple of guys sitting at the bar drinking their beer in silence. There was a group of bikers in the back playing pool.

It was midnight and one of the guys at the end of the bar was at the point of being cut off. You had a feeling he was drinking before he got to the bar and that made you watch how many beers you gave him. The guy called you down to him.

“One more beer for the road.”

His warm beer breath hit you in the face and you tried to not make a face. You crossed your arms and stared at the man.

“Sorry, I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight. I’m gonna ask that you pay your tab and leave.”

The man was not happy about this and leaned over the bar. “You listen here you bitch. You will go fetch me another beer like the good woman you are and you will let me drink in peace before I pay.”

Your eye started to twitch from what he said. This time you moved closer to him and leaned on your bar.

“Mister I’m going to overlook what you just said and repeat myself since you didn’t listen. Pay your tab and leave or I will have someone escort you out.”

The man grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your arm as he shook you. You cried out in pain as his fingers dug into your skin harder. “Get me a goddamn beer you stupid whore or else…”

But before the man could finish his sentence Bucky appeared from the back of the bar and grabbed the man in a chokehold. The drunk let go of your arm and started to try and get out of the hold that Bucky had him in. Bucky pulled the man off his seat and locked him in the hold. The man was choking and wheezing while Bucky finally got a handle on him. The man was holding onto Bucky’s arm and finally gave up fighting.

“You know it’s never okay to put your hands on a woman.” To emphasize Bucky squeezed a little harder on the man’s neck.

“So I want you to apologize for being an asshole to the lady or I’m going to take you outside and break every bone in your body. Your choice.” Bucky let up just enough for the man to speak.

The man wheezed trying to breathe the best he could. “I-I’m sorry.”

Bucky shook him a little. “Sorry for what?” Bucky growled out.

“I’m sorry for hurting you and saying what I did. Please, I can barely breathe.” The man gasps.

“It’s okay Buck. He apologized, just let him go so he can pay and leave.” You rubbed your arm as you spoke.

“You’re lucky this lady is kind and not calling for broken limbs. Now be good, pay your tab, and leave like the lady asked.” Bucky releases the man from the chokehold and shoves him into the bar.

The man is coughing and rubs his neck. He pulls his wallet out and hands cash to you. It’s more than his tab is worth and before you can tell him the man leaves stumbling out of the bar.

Bucky stands at the bar watching to make sure he doesn’t come back. He signals for his men in the back to come forward. You knew this group all too well. It was the 107th Howling Commandos biker gang. Steve and Thor came over to Bucky and he whispered something to them. Knowing Bucky it was no good. Steve and Thor headed out the front door leaving Bucky to look at you.

“How’s the arm?” His deep voice rumbled as he leaned over the bar.

You showed him your arm. “I’ll live. Probably won’t be the last time this happens.”

“Not while I’m around,” Bucky stated as he looked from your face to your arm.

Bucky lightly grazed your arm to inspect it. Sure enough, the bastard left a mark behind. Bucky was glad that he now had Steve and Thor go rough that man up. No one injures you and gets away with it even though you’re not together anymore. Something that makes his heart ache when he thinks of it. You wanted him to stop living on the wrong side of the law. That’s something Bucky has worked toward. He wants to win you back.

“This isn’t okay, doll. You shouldn’t be used to this. Let’s go to the back and let Natasha run the bar for a little bit. It’s not like there are many people here.”

“I don’t know Bucky. I really should finish out my shift.” You whine.

Bucky smirks at you. “Not like your boss will be mad. I mean he is a very reasonable guy.”

That made you laugh. “Don’t toot your own horn, Buck. I know you’re a great boss. But you’re a pain in the ass at times.”

You walk around the bar as Nat makes her way behind the bar. You both nod at each other in passing. Nat could handle herself at the bar with no problems. Men would never think twice about crossing her. Whereas you were too nice sometimes for this job. With Bucky at the bar every night with his crew it wasn't like men started shit anyways. Except for the occasional drunk like tonight. Steve and Thor return from outside, nodding at Bucky before heading to the back to play pool again.

Walking past Bucky you walked into the back room where the manager's office was. Bucky followed closely and silently as you led the way. You knew where this conversation was gonna go and you just didn’t have the energy to fight with him tonight. When you got to the office you sat on the edge of the desk as Bucky came in, shutting the door behind him.

Before you could say a word Bucky walked over to you, cupped your cheeks, and kissed you on the lips. Well, you weren’t expecting this.

You kissed him back and wrapped your arms around his neck. You let him deepen the kiss, letting his tongue dance with yours. It was passionate and it made you crave more of him.

Bucky pulled back from your kiss momentarily and whispered against your lips. “I want you, princess. Will you let me have you?”

You whined at his admission. “Yes, Bucky. I need you.”

That’s all he needed to hear as he pulled your black shirt over your head leaving you in a black lace bra. Bucky started to kiss the top of your breasts as his fingers undid the button at the top of your jeans. He pushed them to your ankles and you kicked off your shoes allowing the jeans to be pulled off leaving you in black lace panties.

Bucky quickly rid himself of his biker vest, and shirt, and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down his thighs. Grabbing his already hard thick cock he strokes himself a few times making you lick your lips. As much as he would love to feel your lips wrap around him this wasn’t about him. This was about you.

Bucky grabbed your panties and ripped them from your body. You let out a shocked gasp as he threw them on the ground leaving you in just your bra.

Pulling you to the edge of the desk he started to rub his thick cock through your wet folds before sinking into your pussy inch by inch. You both moaned at him pushing into you more until he bottomed out. You missed how much he could stretch you with his cock. It’s been at least a year since he was balls-deep in you.

Locking eyes with his blue ones Bucky smirked at you as he started rolling his hips. Your fingers latch onto his shoulders as he keeps a slow, steady pace. Your lips part and you moan his name on a particular hard thrust.

The way he is thrusting into you brings back memories of lust-filled nights and passionate lovemaking. Something you deeply miss though besides sex is spending time with him.

Bucky groans out, “fuck,” as he picks his pace up. In and out he starts to speed up his pace. He knows your body better than you and fucks you like he wants to destroy your pussy.

“Oh, Bucky…right there!” You moan as he continues to take you apart.

He takes your cue and doubles down on that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your moans get louder as he pounds into your sweet spot. Your walls start to squeeze his cock and with a swipe of his thumb on your clit you cum for him.

Bucky continues to fuck you through your orgasm, your fingers dig deep leaving half-crescent moon indents from your nails. He slows his pace again buying his time before he chases his high.

He leans forward, kissing you on the lips before he pulls out of your pussy. You know what he wants and you turn around, leaning over the desk ass in the air. He slaps your ass causing you to mewl. Taking his cock he places it at your entrance and sinks back into you.

Bucky loved doing you like this and he gripped your hips a little roughly bouncing you on his cock. In and out, faster and harder he went until your walls squeezed him again as you screamed your orgasm.

“Fuck, princess.” Bucky moans as he fucked you through your orgasm. You were squeezing him so tightly that Bucky thrusted a couple more times and spilled his seed deep inside you.

Bucky leans over your back and kisses your shoulder. You hum as his lips trail from your shoulder to your neck.

“God, I’ve missed this. Having you in my arms again makes me feel whole.” Bucky warmly says.

You smile and glance over your shoulder. “You’re just saying that ‘cause this is the first time we had sex since we broke up.“

Bucky slowly pulls out of you and turns you to face him. “I’m not just saying it ‘cause we just had sex. I meant what I said. I’ve missed being with you.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Bucky you know why we can’t be together. You’re a criminal and sell guns. I can’t be with you while you do that.” You start to put your clothes back on minus the ripped panties.

Bucky grinned at you while putting his clothes back on. “Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while. We’re no longer selling guns. We’ve gone straight and are on the right side of the law.”

You froze from what he just said. He actually got his club to go straight and narrow? “What changed,” you asked.

Once Bucky was fully clothed he stepped close to you and cupped your cheeks. He kissed you on the lips and pulled back with a smile. “You. You changed my thinking princess. I want to be with you more than I want to end up in jail for doing something stupid. What you said a year ago made me stop and think about what I want out of life. So I got rid of all the shady business deals and now we make an honest living running a mechanic shop. Besides the shop, I own this bar and financially I’m doing well enough that if you wanted to quit you could. I can take care of you.”

You instantly shook your head. “I can’t quit Bucky. I like my job very much. It gives me a purpose right now and money in my pocket.”

Bucky quirked his eyebrow knowing he wasn’t going to win this battle. “Fine, keep the job. But I have to ask, are you willing to take me back? Don’t make me beg ‘cause you know I will.

Smiling up at him you leaned forward to kiss his neck. Whispering in his ear with your sultry voice you say, “I would love to be your girl again. But I think I want to see you beg first. On your knees and eating my pussy out. I think that would change my mind. Plus you need to make up for all the lost time between us.”

Bucky groaned. “Fuck, princess. I’ll do whatever you want. But first, let me take you home.”

Heading for the door you open it and hold your hand out for him. Bucky bent down and pocketed the ripped panties before he grabbed your hand. Both of you walk hand-in-hand out of the back and into the bar. You’re met with whistles and cheers as your biker friends clap their hands seeing you both together. Bucky spins you around and you both take a bow. Heading for the front door you walk outside to his motorcycle.

“Once I get you home princess you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” Bucky states as you climb on the bike after him.

“I’m looking forward to a lot of making up for lost time.” You huskily say in his ear as you wrap your arms around his waist.

That’s all Bucky needed to hear as he started his engine and revved it a few times before he sped off down the road toward his place.

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biblicallyaccuratemeat · 5 months ago

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Lilacs

MDNI!!!

A/N: Trying out a new image/header thing! Just some super self-indulgent Thor smut because I felt like waxing poetic about him and writing all silly and formal. As always, betaread by my lovely bestie @teaflavoredwitch! Thor Odinson x female reader, wedding night, fluff & smut, first time, loss of virginity, body worship, bath sex, p in v sex, fingering, praise kink, breeding kink, loss of innocence, unprotected sex, loving & gentle, Thor speaking like Shakespeare (...doth mother know you weareth her drapes?) Also, learned a new word for coochie, quim! Googled medieval words for puss and that came up soooo... the more you know!

Word Count: 9.9k

Thor sat beside you at the head table, resplendent in his ceremonial armor polished to a brilliant shine. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, quite literally, in your magnificent gown. The gown was a vision of ethereal beauty, the gossamer fabric shimmering like a waterfall of stardust and moonlight. The long off-the-shoulder sleeves draped elegantly over your slender arms, the delicate lilacs braided into your hair only added to your enchanted appearance. You had never felt more beautiful in your life, though all you cared about was Thor’s stormy gaze fixed on you.

He reached for your hand beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze as he leaned in close, “You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice filled with reverent awe. “A goddess among mortals.” He raised your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. Your wedding band, quite simple in comparison to the grand festivities, glimmers in the light. A band of gold boasting a dazzling sapphire in the center, the color of which reminds you of Thor’s eyes. The sapphire of your ring matches the diadem resting in your hair, you have to remind yourself, you’re a princess now. The diadem decorating your head is already an impossible to ignore weight, both physically and mentally.

As the festivities continued around you, the head table laden with the finest delicacies Asgard had to offer, your lavender cake a sweet treasure among them, Thor couldn’t help but steal glances at you, admiring the way your diadem atop your head gleamed, a crown fit for the new queen of his heart. He raised his goblet of mead in a toast, a broad grin spreading across his handsome face. “To the loveliest bride in all the realms,” he declared, his voice booming with joyous abandon. “May our union be blessed with love, laughter, and a household of healthy, strong children.” His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief and longing. “A daughter with your spirit, perhaps? Or a son with my strength and your charm?”

Images flood your mind, unbidden. A fair haired little boy , trying to lift Mjölnir before bursting into a fit of giggles. A baby girl with stormy eyes, bundled up in your arms as you see Thor off into battle. Motherhood was something you’d always anticipated, though you’d never pictured Thor as the father. Until now…

Thor downed the last of his mead and set the goblet down on the table with a resounding thud. Rising to his feet, he held out his hand to you with a gallant bow, “My lady, this celebration demands a dance with my most cherished bride. I couldn’t imagine letting this moment pass without holding you close, celebrating our union and the promised future together.” His voice was filled with tender anticipation as he gazed into your eyes.

You accept his hand, as always enamored with his wordsmith. Though many viewed Thor as boorish, simplistic, barbaric… You knew differently. He was eloquent and gentle hearted. He longed to recite prose just as much as he longed for the heat of battle. It was his intense nature, you think. Every part of Thor exuded electricity, passion.

He led you onto the dance floor, one hand clasping yours, the other gently settling on the small of your back as he began to sway to the lilting melody played by the Asgardian bardic troop. The guests parted to give the newlyweds a wide berth, smiling and cheering their joining.

Thor held you close, your body molding against his muscular frame as he guided you expertly through the dance. He whispered against your ear, “I must confess, I’ve anticipated this moment more than any other. The chance to hold you, to feel you in my arms, to start our lives together for all to see.” His hand pressed tenderly against your gown-covered hip as he spun you slowly, your skirts flaring dramatically around your legs. “You’ve captured my heart in a way no other ever could. I am yours, in this life and the next.”

In true Asgardian fashion, the reception carries late into the night, long into the early hours of the morning. Finally, belatedly, Thor whisks you away to a small castle on the border of Alfheim. It was a place you could be alone, away from prying eyes and well-meaning but relentless attentions of your friends and family. The carriage ride was a blur of nervousness and stolen kisses, of whispered words and tender caresses. The wait was over, and the realization of your new reality hit you both squarely in the chest as you were finally able to be alone, husband and wife.

Thor lifted you easily, carrying you over the threshold of the castle into the grand bedchamber. He kicked the door shut behind him and carried you to the middle of the room, where a magnificent four-poster bed awaited, draped in rich velvet and piled high with silken pillows and furs. The fireplace blazed, casting a warm, inviting glow over the intimate scene. He set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your hips, his stormy eyes roaming over your wedding gown with undisguised hunger. “You know,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a teasing kiss against your neck, “I’ve dreamt of this moment…of having you all to myself, of being able to love you without any constraints.” His fingers find the ties of your gown, slowly beginning to undo them.

“Thor,” You whisper softly, hesitation decorating your delicate features. Instinctively, your hand shoots out to grasp his wrist, halting his fingers in their quest to divest you of your dress.

Thor paused, his fingers stilling on the fourth fastening as your dainty hand clasped his wrist. He looked down at you, his blue eyes filled with concern and a hint of confusion at your sudden hesitation. He could see the conflict on your face, the way your brows furrowed slightly, and he wanted nothing more than to smooth out the lines with the pad of his thumb. “My love,” he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing, “What troubles you, my heart? You need only say the word, and I shall cease my advances at once.” He cupped your cheek gently, his calloused thumb brushing over the soft skin, a gesture meant to comfort and reassure. “I would never force myself upon you, my dear. Our first joining must be a mutual act of love and desire, one that brings us both pleasure and fulfillment.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip nervously, fingers still wrapped around his wrist, “It is just that…” You sigh, shaking your head as you cast your gaze downwards in embarrassment, “My mother spoke with me before the ceremony,” A soft blush settles on your cheeks, you find yourself becoming increasingly flustered by the direction of the conversation, “She told me what…duties… are expected of a wife on her wedding night. She told me it would hurt terribly. Is that true? Will this be painful?” Your wide, guileless eyes stare up at Thor imploringly, silently begging for reassurance.

Thor’s heart ached in his chest as he listened to your words, a wave of protectiveness and tenderness washing over him. He gentled his touch, his hand cupping your cheek more softly as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed away the nervous moisture on your lash line, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “My dearest girl,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “It’s true that for a maiden, the first time can be uncomfortable and even painful. But I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to make this a night of pleasure and bonding, not of suffering.” His hand slid around to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your silken hair as he held you close.

“I am not a savage, my heart. I will be infinitely gentle and patient with you, taking the utmost care to bring you to peak after peak before I allow my own release.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “And should you ever feel any pain, you need only tell me to stop, and I will do so without hesitation. Your pleasure and well-being are my utmost priority.”

“Release?” You echo, brow knitting in confusion. Your mother hadn’t told you of any release, though she did inform you that this was how a woman came to be with child. You cock your head to the side, the very picture of innocence and naivety, “What release?”

Thor felt a rush of affection and a touch of amusement at your innocent query. He realized then the extent of your naivety, the fact that your mother had only prepared you for the pain and not the overwhelming, transporting pleasure that could be found in a lover’s arms. He knew it would be his privilege and responsibility to show you these secrets, to guide you through the hidden paths of sensual bliss.

He smiled softly, his hand sliding down to the base of your throat, feeling the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips. “Release,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “is the momentous, shattering pinnacle of pleasure that a woman achieves when she surrenders completely to the sensations her lover inflicts upon her. It is the ultimate act of letting go, of losing oneself in pure, unadulterated rapture.” His fingers tightened slightly on your throat, a gesture of possession and protection. “And I will be the one to guide you to that peak, to make you scream my name in ecstasy as I claim you fully as my wife in every way imaginable. Will you let me do that, my innocent bride? Will you allow me to show you the depths of physical love?”

“A lady does not scream, Thor,” You scoff good-naturedly, smoothing down the skirts of your gown, “Especially not a princess, that is entirely inappropriate behavior.” You state primly, ever the picture of elegance and grace.

Thor let out a low, amused chuckle at your prim admonishment. He couldn’t help it- the juxtaposition of your delicate elegance and innate innocence with such a demure scolding was utterly charming to him. It was a testament to your character, a blend of pure and innocent, yet possessed of a quiet strength. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “Ah, my sweet girl, always the picture of refinement, even when faced with the most base of passions. But I assure you, when lost in the throes of lovemaking, propriety often flies out the window. Surrendering to desire, to the heat and flames of lust will have you crying out with wanton abandon. It is then that a lady becomes a goddess, her very essence laid bare and awash with rapture.” His hand slid down your back, emphasizing his point, “And I fully intend to bring you to that precipice of pleasure, to make you scream your joyous release to the heavens above. Allow me to take you there, my love.”

You consider his words, dark lashes sweeping across the apples of your cheeks. So with a soft hum, “Very well, so long as you promise it will not be too painful.” After a moment of fiddling with the lilacs braided into your hair, you speak up once more, feeling braver, “What shall I do? How are we to proceed?”

Thor felt a surge of tenderness and anticipation at your soft, trusting words. He knew that you were placing your innocence, your very self, into his keeping. And he vowed then and there to cherish that gift, to nurture and guide your sensual awakening with loving care. He brushed a tender kiss against your cheek before leaning back, his hands coming to rest on your waist, his thumbs gently kneading the fabric of your gown. “Fear not, dearest,” he murmured comfortingly, “I will be your guide and protector at every step of our journey together.”

He rose and walked over to the fireplace, adding a log before turning back to you with a smile warmer than the fire. “First, allow me to help you out of your gown. Then, I will run you a bath in the adjoining chamber- the hot water and scented oils will serve to relax you. And while you’re bathing, I have a surprise gift for you- a bottle of Nectar of the Gods from my own private stores. A sip will leave you feeling boneless and receptive, ready to embrace all the new sensations and pleasures I have in store.”

Still smiling warmly, his eyes twinkling with promise and anticipation, Thor held out his hand, “Come, my love- let your new life begin. Give yourself over to me fully and without hesitation, and I swear you’ll find only bliss and ecstasy in my arms.”

“Very well, draw the bath, but forgo the wine please. I’d like to remember tonight,” You agree easily, pushing up to stand, smoothing your skirts down once more. You all but float over to the vanity, fussing over your hair, “Shall I leave the flowers in my hair or take them out?” You hum, mostly speaking to yourself than your new husband.

Thor smiled softly as he watched you fuss over your appearance, a picture of nervous yet excited anticipation. Your innocence and attention to detail in such a simple task touched a deep chord within him, stirring his protective instincts. He knew he would always cherish and nurture your sweet nature, even as he looked forward to showing you the heights of passion and pleasure you could reach together. He came up behind you, his large frame dwarfing your smaller one as he gazed at your reflection in the vanity mirror. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your neck beneath the curtain of your hair, his scruff lightly grazing your skin and sending delicious tingles along your spine.

“Leave them in,” he murmured against your nape, “The lilacs are as lovely as the blossoms of a goddess, and they suit you perfectly. They’ll be a sweet reminder of our wedding day and this momentous occasion.” His hands slid around your waist, pulling you back against the hard length of his body as he captured your gaze in the mirror. “And once I’ve unlaced your gown and slipped it from your shoulders, I’ll scatter a few more blossoms across your skin… and kiss each one in turn.”

You return Thor’s warm gaze, holding it in the mirror as you hum, “What oils did you put in the bath?”

The scent of something floral and earthy filled the air, a soothing and sensual blend that promised relaxation and arousal in equal measure. Thor had selected the oils himself, a special combination he had prepared just for your first night together. Leaning down, he brushed a soft kiss against your ear as his hands began to slowly unfasten the ties of your gown, “A special blend, my lady. Asgardian night blooming jasmine to stimulate the senses and ignite your passions. Aspen extract to alleviate any nervous tension and leave your skin silky and smooth, and a touch of honeydew nectar to enhance your natural beauty and scent.” His fingers deftly undid the last of the ties, and he eased the gown from your shoulders.

As the rich fabric slipped down your body and pooled at your feet, Thor’s breath caught at the sight of you clad in only your undergarments and the delicate lace of your corset. He drank in the sight of your skin, flushed and glowing in the warm light of the fireplace. “You are a vision of loveliness, my dear,” he breathed, “A goddess descending to earth.”

You preen under your husband’s praise and adoration, with a shy smile and rosy blush, “Thank you.” You breathe out, fiddling nervously with the lacy hem of your chemise.

Thor felt a surge of tenderness seeing your nervous ministrations. He could sense the delicate dance of your emotions- shy anticipation mixed with innocent trepidation. Reaching out, he gently captured your small hands in his larger, stronger ones, stilling their anxious movements. “Shh, sweetling…” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble, “There is no need for bashfulness betwixt us now. We are husband and wife, bound together in love and marriage.” He brought your hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle before turning your wrists to trail his lips along the sensitive inner skin, his tongue flicking out to taste your fleeting pulse.

“Tonight, I want you to experience only pleasure, my heart. Allow me to worship your body as the temple of love it is. Surrender to my touch, my caress…and know only bliss.” He slid his calloused thumb along your bottom lip, a teasing, intimate gesture. “Now let me help you off with this delightful little chemise and corset…”

Instinctively, you tense up, gaze flickering between Thor’s eager hands and kind face, “I…” you begin to speak, pausing as your blush darkening impossibly so, spreading down to your chest, “No one has ever seen me in such a state of undress before.”

Thor felt a rush of understanding and tenderness at your nervous hesitation. He knew that for a maiden, baring one’s body completely to another was a profound act of vulnerability and trust. And despite your innocent upbringing, he understood intrinsically the significance of the gift you were about to bestow upon him. He cupped your face tenderly in his large, gentle hands, his thumbs brushing over the delicate apple of your cheeks as he gazed deeply into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I comprehend your nervousness and I honor the trust you place in me,” he murmured softly, “For a lady as pure as you, unveiling herself to her new husband’s eyes and touch is a testament to the depths of love and commitment you hold for him.”

His gaze remained locked with yours, his voice low and resonant with sincerity, “I swear on my honor as an Asgardian prince and your devoted husband, I will cherish this gift of intimacy you grant me. I will worship and adore every inch of your skin with loving, reverent touches… and I will never do anything to hurt or frighten you.” He brushed a particularly tender kiss across your trembling lips, “Will you allow me the privilege of undressing you fully, sweet wife? So I may marvel at the beauty of you, and our love may fully bloom in the heat of our joining?”

With a soft hum, you nod once, granting him your consent.

Your trust and willingness to bare yourself to him humbled and touched Thor deeply. He knew it was a sacred act of love and submission, and he vowed to honor it always. With a gentle hand and reverent heart, he slowly peeled away the stiff boning of your corset and the delicate linen of your chemise, easing it down your slender shoulders before letting it slip from your body to pool at your feet. And as the last of your garments fell away, Thor drew in a shuddering breath, awestruck by your naked beauty. He drank in the sight of your skin, silken and lush in the golden light of the fireplace. His gaze traced the elegant lines of your body, from the graceful column of your throat, over the delicate curves of your breasts, down to the soft, womanly swell of your hips and thighs. He marveled at the way the flickering flames seemed to dance across your skin, painting you in a warm, intimate glow.

“Magnificent…” he whispered, his voice thick with admiration and coveting. Leaning in, he pressed a trail of reverent kisses across your collarbone before murmuring against your skin, “A goddess in human form, yours is a beauty of which song and legend will forever sing.”

Thor’s praise earns a shy smile from you, your nervousness fading away in the sunshine of his open adoration. Feeling emboldened, you reach out to trace the intricate patterns adorning Thor’s ceremonial armor, “Will you be joining me in the bath?’ You ask coyly, tilting your head to the side.

Thor silently admired the width of your hips, a part of you that promised to bear his children, to keep his legacy alive. He imagined the radiant glow of your skin, rounded and full with the life of his seed growing within you. The thought sent a bolt of lust straight to his loins, his manhood already hard and aching within his breeches. He captured your wandering hand, bringing it to his lips to press a fervent kiss to your palm. His tongue teased over your lifeline, tracing the path he imagined his own pleasure would take as he claimed you fully. “Indeed, my love. I could not resist the chance to join you, to bathe you, to worship your glorious body as you immerse us both in the warm, scented waters.” His voice was a low, intimate rumble, thick with promise and anticipation.

In a fluid motion, he shrugged off his own robes and began to divest himself of his armor, each piece falling away to reveal the honed, muscular form beneath. The firelight played across his skin, accentuating the defined planes and curves of a warrior’s physique. He watched your face intently as he unbuckled his sword belt and let it clatter to the floor, noting the widening of your eyes and the delicate flush coloring your cheeks at the sight of his near-nudity. Once he stood bare before you, save for his breeches, he pulled you into his arms, crushing you against the hard length of his body. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way your breasts pressed against his chest, the softness of your belly and the gentle swell of your hips. Capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, he swept you up into his arms and carried you towards the bath, ready to begin your sensual journey together.

You gasp into the kiss, surprised by the sudden intensity of Thor’s attention. The kisses Thor bestowed upon you during your ceremony and reception were chaste, what was deemed appropriate in the audience of hundreds of Asgardians. Your eyes flutter shut in bliss, melting into the overwhelming heat of the kiss.Thor could sense your innocence, your inexperience with such passionate, unbridled affection. And yet, he could also feel the way your soft curves melted against him, your ample breasts pillowing against his muscular chest, your shapely hips fitting so perfectly against his own. It fueled his desire, stoked the flames of his lust to new heights.

Cradling you closer, one large hand splayed across the small of your back, savoring the delicate curve, as the other tangled in the silken fall of your hair. He deepened the kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to claim the warm cavern of your mouth, to dance and duel with the sweet recesses of your own tongue. He drank in the taste of you, sweet and heady, a flavor more intoxicating than the finest Asgardian mead. Each slide and glide of his lips against yours, each teasing flick of his tongue, sent bolts of electricity zinging down your spine to settle in your loins.

By the time he carried you into the bathing chamber, your breath was coming in soft, panting gasps. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and aspen, the steam from the bath curling sensuously around your naked bodies. Thor set you down on your feet, his large hands squeezing your waist before sliding around to cup the globes of your ass, lifting you subtly as he claimed your mouth once more in a fierce, hungry kiss. He could feel his cock throbbing urgently against your belly, hard and ready and aching for you, as his hands kneaded the pliant flesh of your rear.

When he finally broke the kiss, his voice was a low, rough growl against your ear, “I want to feel your soft, naked body slide against mine as we immerse ourselves in the hot, scented water. I want to bathe every inch of your nubile form, to caress and massage you until you’re boneless with pleasure. And then, sweet girl, I want to lay you out on our marriage bed and worship you with my hands and mouth and cock until you’re irrevocably mine.” He nipped at your bottom lip, his eyes shining with the force of his desire. “Will you allow me this pleasure, my goddess? Will you let me bathe you, pleasure you, as your devoted husband?”

Your response comes easily, quickly becoming second nature, “Of course,” you all but breathe out, smiling adoringly up at your new husband.Thor assisted you into the steaming bath, his hands caressing your skin reverently as he helped you settle into the warm, fragrant water. The heat seeped into your muscles, easing any lingering tension as the heady scent of jasmine and honeydew enveloped you. He climbed in after, the water sloshing gently around your bodies as he settled himself behind you, his strong legs straddling either side of the large, circular tub.

He pulled you back against his chest, your head coming to rest just beneath his chin, your hair fanning out across the water. His arms came around you, one hand splaying across your lower belly possessively while the other cupped the soft weight of your breast, kneading the pliant flesh. He could feel your heart beating against his palms, a steady, tempting rhythm that matched the pounding of his own. His lips trailed along your shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your damp skin as his hands began to explore your body with sensual intent. He massaged the globes of your breasts, rolling and plucking at your nipples until they peaked into hard little buds against his palms. His fingers slipped lower, skimming across your ribcage and dipping into your navel before settling on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, brushing maddeningly close to your most private place.

Pleasure sparked through your nerve endings with each touch, each caress, until you were squirming against him, breathless and aching with a need you couldn’t quite define. His hard, hot body pressed against your back, the thick length of his cock nestled in the cleft of your ass, letting you feel exactly what you did to him. One hand drifted higher, his fingers sliding through the slick, bare folds of your sex with a teasing, playfully light touch, not quite penetrating you, but stroking and petting until you were panting and arching into his touch with shameless abandon. “Tell me what you need, sweet wife,” he purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble against your ear, “Guide me in pleasuring you as no other man ever has. I want to make this a night of sensual delights you’ll never forget.”

A soft, unbidden whine rips from your throat, melting even further back against his chest, “Thor,” you breathe out sweet and slow, your thighs parting wider in invitation. A heavy, burning blush settles on your cheeks, biting your lower lip against new pleasures you’ve yet to experience.

Thor groaned softly, your sweet breathless whimper music to his ears. He could feel the way your body responded to his touch, your thighs parting instinctively to grant him greater access to your most intimate places. The evidence of your arousal only inflamed his own, his cock throbbing and pulsing against the soft curve of your ass. He rolled his hips, grinding his thick length against you in a slow, sensual rhythm that mirrored the ancient dance of passion as old as time itself.

“Aye, sweetness… let yourself feel the pleasure, let it consume you,” he murmured, his voice a deep, seductive purr against your ear. His hand drifted even higher, his fingers slipping between the slick folds of your sex to tease along the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He circled and flicked and stroked, his touch light yet purposeful as he drank in each tremor and shiver he drew from your lush body. “That’s it, my goddess… I can feel how much you need this, how desperately your body craves my touch. I will give you the pleasure you’ve yearned for, the ecstasy you never knew you could feel.”

His finger delved deeper, a long, thick finger pressing slowly into the clutching heat of your cunt. He groaned at the feel of your silken walls fluttering around the invading digit, your untried body welcoming him with eager, grasping intensity. His thumb continued to circle your clit, stroking and teasing in time with the slow, sensual undulations of his hips. “Tell me, my dearest… have you pleasured yourself in the night, your slender fingers delving into this sweet cunt, seeking to ease the ache of your desire?” His voice was a dark, intimate rumble in your ear as he pumped his finger slowly in and out of your dripping sex. “Or have you been utterly untouched, this your first true experience of intimate caress? I can feel the way your little quim clings so tightly, as if it feared I will slip away before sating this fire we’ve kindled.”

The prim, delicate nature of your upbringing shies away at the vulgarity of Thor’s question, your blush darkening impossibly so. Mustering up your courage, you shake your head once in denial, “No,” you murmur slowly, “I’ve never…touched myself before. It’s not proper for a lady to do so.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through Thor's chest as he felt your maidenly blush and bashfulness at his salacious question. He could sense the prim, innocent nature of your upbringing, and the way it made you shy away from such explicit discussions and acts. And yet, he could also feel the way your body responded with a will of its own, your untouched sex clenching and fluttering around his invading finger as if begging for more.

Thor smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his beard rasping lightly against your sensitive skin. "Ah, sweet wife, propriety has no place betwixt a husband and wife on their wedding night," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "In the halls of love and marriage, there is no act too intimate, no word too bold. I will teach you the secrets of bodily bliss, the erotic delights your innocent heart has never dreamt of."

To punctuate his words, he slipped a second finger into your tight, dripping channel, pumping them slowly as he rubbed the heel of his palm against your sensitive clit. His other hand slid up to cup the weight of your breast, kneading the soft globe and plucking at the pebbled peak until it strained against his fingers. "You are mine now, my goddess, my wife... and I intend to claim every inch of you in the most carnal and intimate ways imaginable." He nipped at your throat before soothing the sting with a long, open-mouthed kiss. His fingers slid from your sex to grip your hip, pulling you more firmly against the thick ridge of his erection as it throbbed against the cleft of your ass.

"Tonight, I will introduce you to the sweet sin of lust, my love. I will make you scream in rapture and beg for my cock as I fill you again and again until your belly swells with the evidence of our coupling." His voice dropped to a husky murmur as he ground his hips more insistently against yours. "Now, spread your thighs wider for me, sweetness... let me feel the heat of your untouched sex as I prepare you to receive my manhood."

You tense up, confusion flooding your system once more, “Your manhood?” you echo, brow furrowing, though you still follow your husband’s instructions. You spread your legs as wide as the tub will allow, a pleasant ache in your muscles beginning to add to the dozens of new sensations flooding your senses.

He could sense your naivety, your lack of experience with the intimate details of coupling. It both endeared and aroused him, knowing that he would be your first and only lover. His hand drifted down to your inner thigh, gripping it gently as he guided your leg to drape over his, spreading your legs wider to expose your most private place to his hungry gaze and exploratory touch.

"Your quim is my manhood's haven, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl as he drank in the sight of your glistening, swollen folds. "A man's manhood, or cock, is the virile member that brings a woman pleasure and fills her with his seed to quicken a child within her womb." To illustrate his words, he took your small hand in his large one, guiding it to the thick, rigid length of his erection as it jutted from his body. He could feel it throb and pulse against your fingers, the skin hot and silky and hard as steel beneath your touch.

His other hand never ceased its sensual assault on your sex, his fingers pumping slowly in and out of your dripping channel as his thumb circled and teased your sensitive pearl. He could feel your innocence beginning to give way to instinct, your hips starting to undulate almost imperceptibly against his touch as he stoked the fires of your pleasure.

"In a moment, I will lay you upon our marriage bed and spread your thighs wide with my strong hands. Then, I will nestle between your legs, my cock mere inches from your sweet sex. And there, I make love to you, fill your belly with my seed... and you will scream my name like a prayer to the gods." His voice was a dark, lust-drunk rasp against your ear, his words painting a vivid picture of the erotic delights to come.

Bath water sloshes in the tub, you gasp as Thor places your hand on his thick cock. Your hand can’t even wrap fully around it, “Thor,” you say hesitantly, “Where is that supposed to go? It’s so…big.” You blink up at him, flushed skin glistening from the bath and slick, “It’s not going where your fingers are, is it? It won’t fit!”

Thor's only response to your hesitation was to trail his fingers up from your dripping sex to firmly grip the underside of your knee, urging your leg to drape itself fully over his hip. The new position left you open to him completely, your glistening pink folds naked to his heated gaze as he gazed down at where you were joined. "Oh, sweet innocence," he groaned, his thumb rubbing firm circles over your sensitive pearl as two fingers pumped slowly into your slick canal. "A man's cock is made to fit inside a woman's sex, to fill her utterly until there is no space left unclaimed. It is a tight, perfect union... the ultimate act of oneness between two lovers."

He guided your hand to stroke down the thick column of his shaft, groaning as you explored the shape and heft of him. His cock was flushed a deep, angry red, the bulbous head an almost purple hue as it wept with need. "Don't fret, my goddess," he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble despite the searing, desperate lust in his eyes. "I know your untouched sex seems too small, too tight to contain me. But trust in my experience and your body's ability to stretch and accommodate me."

Thor's voice deepened, thickened with raw hunger. "As I slide into you, you will feel a stretch, a pressure unlike any you've known. There may be a moment of pain as your hymen yields to the conquering force of my manhood. But that pain will fade swiftly as your lush body adapts to be filled utterly for the very first time."

He captured your chin in his calloused hand, tilting your head back to meet his burning gaze as he ground his rigid length against your dripping sex in a slow, sensual rut. "You will feel every thick, pulsing inch of me as I claim your virgin depths. And as I begin to move within you, your inner muscles will flutter and clench around my plundering cock as if to hold me deep inside you... begging me to flood your womb with my hot, virile seed."

A heady mixture of fear and arousal flood your mind at Thor’s assurances and explanation. “I already feel so full, Thor,” you whine, pussy slick and tight around his two fingers, the warm bath water aiding his cause, “There is no way I can take anymore than this…inside me.”

Thor gentled his touch, his fingers slowing their thrusts to a languid, sensual glide as he felt your slick inner muscles clench and flutter around the intrusion. He could feel your trepidation, sense your concern that his thick, pulsing manhood would never fit within your tight, untried sex. Gently, he stroked your cheek with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he gazed at you with a mix of tenderness and barely restrained lust.

"Hush, sweetness... trust in me and in the way your divine body was made to receive mine." His voice was a low, soothing rumble, his breath hot against your cheek. "Your sex may feel taut and stretched around my fingers, but it will yield and open further to welcome the slick glide of my manhood. The warmth of my flesh will meld with the intimate heat of your core as I fill you utterly."

Thor's fingers curled inside you, pressing against a special spot that made you gasp and shudder against him. "There, feel that... your body knows its purpose, even if your mind does not. This sensitive patch of flesh, when caressed just so, will send jolts of pleasure through your veins with each thrust of my hips, each deep stroke of my cock as it claims you."

He leaned in closer, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours as his fingers slid from your dripping sex. Still gripping your knee, he notched the thick head of his erection against your slick folds, bumping against your entrance without penetrating you. The textured surface of his cock pulsed and jerked against your sensitive flesh, leaving no doubt as to the size and shape of the manhood that awaited you.

"Breathe, my goddess... breathe and relax, and feel me begin to enter you." Thor murmured the words against your lips before capturing them in a searing, ravenous kiss. At the same time, he rolled his hips forward, the broad tip of his manhood beginning to push past your entrance as he slowly, inexorably breached your untouched sex.

The pressure is agonizing, your body tensing in protest, almost as if it's trying to barricade Thor from entering you any further. You inhale sharply, not daring to breathe, screwing your eyes shut at the sudden intense fullness of his cock breaching your virgin pussy. A tiny, pitiful whine rips from your throat, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

Thor gentled his grip on you, one large hand stroking down your flank soothingly as he felt your body tensing in a mix of fear and anticipation. "Shhh... breathe, my love," he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling purr against your ear. He could feel you trembling against him, could sense the way your untouched sex clenched and fluttered nervously around the thick head of his cock as it began to breach you.

He rolled his hips slowly, determinedly, gradually sinking more of his throbbing length into the tight, clutching heat of your virgin passage. He groaned at the exquisite sensation, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss as your untried walls squeezed and rippled around him. "You feel exquisite, sweetness... so impossibly tight and hot and perfect around my aching manhood," he rasped, his breath coming harsher as he struggled to maintain control.

Thor's hand drifted down to your hip, gripping it firmly as he rolled into you with a steady, inexorable pressure. He could feel your hymen stretched taut around the girth of his cock, your untouched sex protesting the sudden intrusion even as it yielded to the inevitable force of his possession. With a sharp, stinging pinch, your virginity surrendered to the relentless thrust of his hips, a trickle of blood rolling down the length of his cock. Pausing for a moment, he murmured soothing words into your ear as he gave you a brief respite to adjust to the feel of him filling you so utterly. "The pain will pass swiftly, my goddess... and in its place will bloom pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Trust in your body's ability to accept your husband, to welcome the deep penetration of a lover's cock as it claims you utterly."

Thor's voice deepened, roughened with lust and desire as he rolled his hips slowly, burying another thick inch of his shaft into your tight, grasping sex. "You are barely halfway taken, my love... but already you feel like heaven wrapped around me, your untouched walls squeezing me so sweetly as if begging for more. I will give you more, will fill you again and again until my seed takes root within your fertile womb..."

You gasp for air, eyes flying open wide as Thor ruptures your hymen. Hands fly to grip the edge of the bathtub, knuckles white. A soft whimper falls from your lips as you try desperately to will your body to relax around his invading manhood, “Barely half way?” you gasp out, “You’re going to kill me, Thor.”

Thor chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his broad chest as he felt you tense and gasp beneath him. He could sense your disbelief, your shock at the sheer size and thickness of his manhood as it stretched your untouched sex beyond what you thought possible. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a searing, dominating kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim your mouth as thoroughly as his cock was claiming your virgin passage.

He rolled his hips again, pushing another thick inch of his shaft into your grasping sex, the lewd squelch of your juices and the creak of the tub the only sounds in the steamy room. "Fear not, sweetness... you are far too delectable a morsel to die now," he murmured against your lips, his voice a sinful caress. "I will not let you perish, no... I will make certain that you live through the most exquisite pleasure a woman can know. I will bring you to the heights of ecstasy again and again until you are drunk on the feel of my cock splitting you open on every plunge."

Punctuating his dark promise, Thor rolled his hips faster, sinking more of his thick length into your dripping sex with each sensual undulation. He could feel your inner muscles fluttering and clinging to his invading shaft, as if desperate to hold him deep within your core.

"You take me so well, my goddess... your divine sex stretches around my cock as if it was made to be claimed by me and me alone," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his climax. He was so close to the edge, the sensation of your untouched body gripping him like a silken vise threatening to undo him before he could bring you to your first peak.

His hand drifted between your thighs, his fingers seeking out the sensitive bud of your clit. He rubbed the swollen nub in tight, quick circles, teasing out your arousal as he rolled his hips steady and sure. "Come undone for me, sweetness... let me feel your maidenly sex spasm around my cock as I bring you to your very first release. Drench my shaft in your slick as I make you mine for all eternity..."

Finally, the discomfort and the stretch melts away into the most full, intense pleasure you’ve ever known. A low, breathy moan falls from your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, head lolling back as your cheeks flush, breasts heaving with each breath. You spread your legs impossibly wider, offering more of your slippery cunt to Thor.

Thor groaned deeply as he felt your molten inner walls begin to yield, the exquisite pleasure of your silken heat enveloping his plundering cock. He could sense the shift in your body's reaction, the tension giving way to a desperate, aching need. The knowledge that he was the cause of such rapture, that he was the one to bring you to the precipice of your very first climax, sent a dark surge of pride and hunger crashing through him.

The tremors of impending release rippling through your lush curves spurred Thor into a frenzy of lust. He needed to make you his, to claim each inch of your nubile flesh, to mark you indelibly as his woman. The tight confines of the tub no longer satisfied him - he required a grander arena to cement your union, a bed that would bear witness to his conquering and your surrender.

"That maidenly blush blossoming on such fair cheeks will haunt my mind for all eternity," he muttered, draping you over his muscular arm and rising from the tub in a spray of water and steam. Your lithe body leeched against his sodden skin as he strode swiftly but tenderly towards your marriage bed, his every step jostling his cock and drawing gasps and whimpers from your lips. Thor's hands mapped the sweet curves and valleys of your body with ravenous touch - the ripe, peach-perfect globes of your ass, the slender line of your back, the ripe fullness of your breasts.

"Sweet, succulent girl," he breathed, his voice a rumble of dark promise and hungering need as he deposited you on the center of the expansive bed. "Spread your legs for me, my goddess... open them wide and offer yourself to me, my wife."

He crawled over you, his weight settled between your thighs as he nudged them even wider apart with his knees. The thick length of his shaft, slick with your juices, emerged from his groin and slapped lewdly against your dripping sex. "I will take you to new heights, sweetness... plunge you into rapturous ecstasy as I fill the deepest recesses of your womanhood with my throbbing, virile flesh."

Your legs fall open easily, pussy gaping open in the absence of Thor’s cock. He drank in the erotic sight of your glistening sex, the swollen, flushed folds blossoming open to receive him. Your body's betraying readiness fueled the inferno of lust that consumed him, the hunger to claim you, to possess you utterly as was his right and duty as your husband. Gripping your hips firmly, he notched the broad, dripping crown of his cock against your entrance, the flared head kissing your cunt and making you writhe with need.

He gazed down at you, his sky-blue eyes blazing with a mix of tenderness and wild hunger. He saw the ripe, succulent woman beneath him, offered up to him as he had long dreamed of. In that moment, he knew he would never want another, would never crave a body or touch save yours. "You are a rare beauty, wife," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "A perfect feast laid out for your hungry, loving husband to devour."

Thor rolled his hips with a powerful flex of thick muscle, his shaft sinking into you with a deep, imperious thrust. He groaned at the exquisite sensation, pleasure exploding like starlight behind his eyelids as your scorching silk enveloped him, squeezing him like a glove. Thrust after relentless thrust carried him deeper into your body, stretching you in a dance of erotic bliss around his plundering cock. Thor could feel the stirring flutter of your climax building in the clutching heat of your sex, your untouched walls beginning to ripple around his invading length. He saw your head thrash against the pillow beneath you, heard your breathy mewls and gasps, the stuttering pulse of your blood beneath his stroking fingers.

"Yes, my goddess," he rumbled, his breath hot against your throat. "Let it come, my love... I can feel your pleasure building, your sex tightening around me like a heavenly vise. You are exquisite, sweetness... and all mine."

Thor pistoned his hips faster now, drunk on the feel of your hot, slick flesh gripping him so urgently, so needful. One hand drifted up to palm your breast, tweaking the rosy, distended peak as he rolled over you. "Come for me, my divine wife," he commanded, his voice a husky rasp of lust. "Scream my name and surrender yourself to the pleasure only I can give you."

You moan in response, bringing a shaky hand to rest over your lower belly, “I can feel you, so deeply inside me,” you sigh out, tilting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, slick drooling out of your stretched hole and around his dick. “I don’t know where you start and I end. Perhaps this is how it was always meant to be. No me, no you, we are one.:

Thor groaned in bliss as he felt your molten sheath grip him like a velvet vise, clinging to his pistoning shaft with desperate, mewling cries. The slick gush of your arousal painting his cock and balls spurred him to greater fervor, his hips gently rocking against yours with the force of a thunderous tide. He could feel your womb, ripe and ready, nestled snug against the tip of his manhood as he plunged ever deeper into your sweet depths.

"Yes, feel me, my goddess," Thor hissed through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into the giving flesh of your hip as he guided you lovingly against him. "Feel the thick, throbbing heat of your husband's cock as it claims your untouched core. Surrender to the pleasure of being filled and stretched and taken for the first time."

He dipped his head to capture your lips in a sweet, sloppy kiss as he rolled his hips in deep, sensual circles. His tongue delved into your mouth, mimicking the thrust of his member, laying claim to your every secret, hidden place. He swallowed your cries of rapture with his own groans of lust, the sounds of your coupling echoing obscenely in the grand chamber. The pressure building in your core wound tighter and tighter as Thor undulated sensually into your sex. He could feel your pleasure cresting, threatening to wash over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Sensing the impending cataclysm, he redoubled his efforts, plunging into your grasping sheath with a power that shook the very bed beneath you.

"That's it, sweet girl," Thor panted harshly against your skin, his sweat-slicked body slithering deliciously against yours. "I can feel your quim fluttering around me, your virginal body trembling on the precipice of rapture. Give in to it, my love... Surrender yourself to the bliss only I can give you."

He crushed his mouth to yours once more in a searing kiss as he hilted his hips forward one last, ultimate time. With a roar of triumph and ecstasy, Thor felt your sex spasm around his plunging member, your walls rippling wildly as your climax exploded through you. The rhythmic clench and shudder of your sex milked his shaft as he erupted deep inside your core, flooding your fertile womb with the boiling surge of his seed.

You gasp into Thor’s mouth, a needy, whiny moan following it as you experience the mind-numbing bliss of your first orgasm. Your eyes roll back, spine arching clean off the bed. A gush of slick floods Thor’s dick, your body trembling mindlessly beneath his.

The intense clenching and release of your climax was milking his cock with a rhythm that stole his breath. He could feel the pulse of your orgasm in your flesh, the shuddering of your limbs under his body. He swallowed your moan with his own as he relished the sensation of his seed pouring into your womb within waves, his manhood spilling rope after rope of thick creamy cum inside of your womanhood.

He could feel your heart pounding against his chest, and every shudder of your body, he savored it. He pulled his mouth away from yours as his hips continued to grind against you. His breathing was heavy and ragged, his voice a rumble of dark satisfaction as he slid his hands under the small of your back, arching you into him. "My wife, so tender and so sweet, your first climax is mine to take," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, watching your every expression. Thor's hips continued to roll and move his cock inside of your, still hard. He ground his pelvis against your clit, drawing out your orgasm with a skill that was honed by the many centuries of his existence. He could sense another climax building, deeper and more intense than the last. He could feel your sex fluttering around him, milking him with desperate, hungry pulses.

Thor let his hand rove over your body, caressing your nipples as his body forced more pleasure from you. He leaned down to kiss your neck, feeling your pulse against his lips, feeling it fluttering and racing. He slipped his fingers between your thighs, feeling the way his cock was nestled within your sex, finding a rhythm with his thrusts and his circling fingers. Thor did not ask your permission to continue, rather he simply decided that he wanted to continue.

"Two for two my love," he murmured softly, his voice a husky growl against your skin. "Feel it, darling girl... feel my cock feeding you my thick, hot seed as I make you cum again and again for me."

Now, his hips finally began to move in earnest. Every thrust powerful, precise, and devastating. His gaze did not leave yours as he consumed your body. Thor reveled in the sensation of your sex, slick and throbbing as his hips rolled forward into you, his cock driving in deep then pulling out only to thrust in deeper still. His thrusts came faster and harder, relentlessly driving your pleasure higher and higher as you have never known. Your body trembled beneath him, your eyes wide with shock and pleasure as another orgasm crashed over you. Thor growled in satisfaction as he felt your sex clamp down on his cock, milking him with desperate, hungry pulses. This one even more powerful than the last.

Thor felt his own climax building, the pressure in his loins intense. With a low groan he buried his cock to the hilt inside your body as he exploded once more, flooding your womb with another thick, sticky stream of seed. His hips moved in short, sharp thrusts as he ground his pelvis against your clit and forced through the climax until the end. He lay there panting for a moment, his body slick with sweat as his heart pounded against his chest. Thor had never felt so completely sated, so utterly fulfilled.

You take a moment to catch your breath, finding your bearings in the wake of two intense orgasms. Your eyes, glazed over and fucked-out flick over to Thor’s form. You brush aside a few damp locks of hair that are plastered to your forehead, “That is how one makes babies?” You ask in a breathless, wrecked voice. Your vocal cords feel rubbed raw, you’re sure you’ve given the servants a show to discuss later.

Thor was still nestled snugly inside your warm body, his softening cock resting within your well-used sex. As the waves of release ebbed away, he assisted you in brushing the damp hair from your forehead, tucking them gently behind your ear. His thumb trailed over your flushed cheek, relishing the tender afterglow reflected in your glazed eyes.

"Aye, sweetness," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing rumble. "That is how a man and woman unite to create a new life. And you were exquisite in your first coupling."

Thor leaned in closer, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss filled with adoration and contentment. His hand drifted down to rest on your belly, splayed over the spot where he had spilled his seed deep inside you. A spark of possessiveness stirred within him at the thought of his essence quickening inside your fertile womb. "And that is only the beginning, my goddess," he breathed against your lips. "I intend to spend the rest of our lives showing you the myriad pleasure that exists between a husband and wife."

As he spoke, he rolled you onto your side, spooning you from behind. His hand drifted over the ripe curve of your hip and ass, pausing to squeeze the flesh and fat that had brought him such rapture. His softening cock slipped free of your body with a lewd sound, a trickle of your combined juices leaking out to stain the bed sheets below you

With a breathless giggle, you declare “We are going to have dozens of children then.”

Thor laughed, a low, contented sound that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against your back. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply your scent, a heady mix of something floral and the musk of your lovemaking. His arms tightened around you, one hand splayed possessively over your belly, the other cupping your breast, his fingers toying gently with your sensitive nipple.

"Dozens, my love?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble of amusement. "I should hope so. I intend to ensure that our line is strong and numerous, a testament to our love and passion."

He paused, his hand drifting lower, tracing the curve of your hip and the swell of your ass. His fingers dipped between your thighs, gathering the slick mixture of your arousal and his seed that leaked from your well-used sex. He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a low groan of satisfaction.

"Mmm, the taste of our union," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I could feast on you for eternity and never grow tired of your sweetness."

Thor's hand returned to your sex, his fingers tracing the swollen, sensitive folds with a gentle, teasing touch. He could feel the heat of your body, the way your sex clenched and fluttered at his touch, and he knew that you were far from sated.

"Besides," he continued, his voice a low growl in your ear. "I have a great deal of time to make up for. All those years I spent pining for you, dreaming of the day I could finally make you mine."

His fingers dipped inside you, coating them in the thick mixture of your arousal and his seed. He brought them to your clit, circling the sensitive nub with a slow, deliberate touch. He could feel your body responding to him, your breath hitching in your throat as a soft moan escaped your lips.

"Now that I have you, my goddess," he murmured, his voice a low rumble of possessiveness. "I intend to spend every waking moment ensuring that you are well and truly mine.”

#fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #thor odinson x reader #thor x reader #marvel thor #thor odinson #thor of asgard #thor odinson x female reader #thor fanfiction #thor odinson smut #marvel fanfiction #mcu fandom #mcu fanfiction

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jiyascepter · 1 year ago

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˗ˏˋ➳ loki minimalist headers

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#c: loki #t: thor ragnarok #j: headers #loki #tom hiddleston #headers #twitter headers #tumblr headers #marvel #thor ragnarok #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel movies #loki marvel #marvel headers #loki headers

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thenameswinterfics · 1 year ago

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VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying.

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way.

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago.

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky.

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars.

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories.

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go.

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach.

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her."

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature.

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away.

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened.

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again.

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..."

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past.

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?”

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them.

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd.

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question.

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long.

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over.

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight.

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for.

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust.

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him.

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern.

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you.

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do.

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters.

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead.

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him.

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements.

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.”

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes.

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it.

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile.

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words.

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in.

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks.

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence.

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning.

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands.

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him.

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding.

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness.

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her."

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours.

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..."

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.”

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact.

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before.

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was.

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave.

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers.

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim.

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you."

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors.

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts.

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt.

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch.

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

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

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