#ivar oneshot

[gwen-novella]

Ivar Ragnarsson - Nsfw Alphabet

Pairing: Ivar x female reader

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut (18+ !!!), it's a nsfw alphabet so expect all things sex, all kinds of kinks, no use of y/n

Summary: A nsfw alphabet for our favorite boy that's only soft for you. Can be read as part of TPAW.

Author’s note: I have reappeared from my hiatus. I decided to finally try my hand at writing fanfics again and thought I'd start off with something short and easy - ended up writing 3.5K words anyways. Mission failed successfully. Please excuse if my writing is a little rusty.

Please consider commenting or reblogging - it really makes my day!

(*) smár brandr = little blade

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Anyone that knows Ivar and has seen the two of you together will notice that he is uncharacteristically open, affectionate, and kind to you. Whenever this is pointed out to you, you always struggle to hide an amused snicker behind a bashful smile. If only they knew. 

The two of you lay entangled on the bed. Your left leg is thrown over Ivars midsection and your arm traces invisible shapes on his chest. Ivar is laying on his back, his left arm lays underneath your body and is stroking up and down your back. Both of your breathing has calmed by now and with the gentle hum of satisfaction in your veins you’d be perfectly content to stay like this forever. 

The almost meditative state you’re in is broken when your left hand is halted in its movements, now gently held in Ivars right. Tilting your head up to look at him, you meet Ivars gaze and the intensity in his eyes almost makes you shy away. "I treasure you, smár brandr." (*)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ivar doesn’t give much thought to his body. For quite obvious reasons he avoids it as much as possible. He does like his hands though. He’s quite good at using them, whether that be spinning a dagger or wrapping them around your throat. 

Ivar has also become more accepting of the rest of his body as your relationship progresses. How could he not, when you hold his face in your hands, your delicate fingers tracing his features, when you constantly compliment his strong arms and back and when you don’t even bat an eye at the sight of his legs.

When it comes to you, there isn’t a part of your body that Ivar doesn’t like. Though he has a strange fascination with your neck. Kissing it, biting it, but especially wrapping his hand around it. It’s not so much the choking itself that turns him on - but the trust you show him when you allow his fingers to slowly tighten around your throat. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Further elaborated under K = Kink, but Ivars favorite place to cum is deep inside you. "Where I belong", he’d once told you, caressing your lower stomach. However, when the night is still young and he plans to make the both of you cum several times, Ivar enjoys watching you swallow his cum.

Ivar’s sat, fully clothed, at the edge of his bed, his unfocused eyes gazing down at your kneeling form on the ground, your sweet lips wrapped around his cock. You’re sat between his legs, one hand stroking along the length that doesn’t fit in your mouth, the other underneath your skirt, drawing circles over your clit. 

You can tell Ivar is close, his breathing labored as his cock throbs against your eager tongue. His arms move from their place at his side and you’re certain he’ll pull you off him and toss you on the bed, as he does so often, but his hands find their way into your hair, gripping tightly and aiding your movements. 

"I’ll cum down your throat", he raps, sending a bolt of arousal through you, "and you won’t dare swallow until I tell you to."

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When you and Ivar first slept together it was you who took the lead to begin with. And even though his touches became more confident and urgent throughout, they were clearly still laced with inexperience until they weren’t. 

"Your eyes snap open as you feel a finger drawing circles on your clit, looking down to see Ivar has taken one of his hands off your hips and is instead circling your sensitive nub with his thumb. How he knows to do this, you do not know, but you are thankful for it, already feeling the coil in your stomach tightening."

Ivar would rather spend the rest of his days locked in a shed with an ever-singing Sigurd than admit that he knows those things because he had watched some of his brothers with Margrethe. Looking back, he is deeply embarrassed. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. Well, that is if you don’t count his horrid encounter with Margrethe (which you don’t). You were the first woman he ever slept with. 

Don’t worry though, Ivar is very quick learner. Whether that includes learning alongside you, if you’re equally inexperienced, or learning from you, if you’re more experienced. If the latter is the case, expect your prior partners to have some less than pleasant encounters with Ivar.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It very much depends on his mood. If he wants you to take charge: cowgirl. 

He’ll either sit back against the headboard or lay down flat on his back to watch you bounce and circle your hips above him. Don’t think him to be a passive participant though. Much like his eyes, his mouth and hands won’t stop wandering. His lips find their way to your neck, leaving evidence of the nights activities on your skin for all to see, sucking and biting on your nipples until they’re sore and whispering the filthiest of commands and praises.

Every tilt of your hips grinds your clit against his pubic hair, sending sparks up your spine. So caught up in your pleasure you don’t notice Ivars hand moving until it’s slipped its way around your throat, making your eyes flutter open once more. When had they even closed? 

"Look at you", Ivar groans, "riding me so well, smár brandr." Using his hand to tilt your head down to look at him, Ivar fixes you with his piercing gaze. "Mhm", he hums, "Like a goddess… or a whore." The hand around your throat tightens. 

If Ivar is in the mood to watch you squirm underneath him (which is often) he’ll take you from behind, pressing you flat on your belly and draping himself along your back. 

If anyone has given him reason to be possessive, or jealous, expect to wobble your way around Kattegat the next day. Instead of gripping your throat, like usual, his hand will grip your hair in a makeshift pony tail, either pressing your head into the pillow, or raising your ear to his lips, making sure to tell you who you belong to.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your muffled moans against the furs. Ivars hips pound into yours so deeply, you’re sure that you won’t be able to sit properly tomorrow. Suddenly your head is yanked from the pillows and you feel Ivars breath against the side of your face. 

"You’re mine", he hisses. "Mine to love, mine to kiss, mine to fuck." Nibbling along your shoulder Ivar promises darkly: "Tomorrow, when you’re not able to leave this bed, I’ll kill Earl Leif… Perhaps I’ll bring him here first. Would you like that, hm? Make him watch how good only I can make you feel?" 

You don’t even remember what the foreign Earl had done to anger Ivar, your brain not absorbing anything that isn’t the drag of Ivars cock along your walls.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ivar is a very passionate lover. As such he does really immerse himself into the act. It’s not so much that you’d call him serious in those moments, it’s just that he’s so zeroed in on you - the rest of the world could burn around him for all he cares. 

Sex is also a very vulnerable thing for Ivar. In your chambers, when it’s just you and him, he’s a very different man than the one most perceive him to be. Most people know not to intrude upon your little safe haven, at least if they want to keep all their limbs. 

Hvitserk learned this the hard way one night when in a drunken state he mistook Ivars room for his own. He had barely stepped a foot over the threshold when a dagger had already planted itself into the wooden frame next to his head.

In the afterglow of it all Ivar is probably at his most vulnerable and most relaxed. The two of you will cuddle, talk about everything or nothing at all and sometimes that includes laughing together.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As explained above Ivar tries to avoid thinking too much about his body. As such he doesn’t groom. His medical condition however has lead to him having impeccable personal hygiene, since his legs often need to be washed, moisturized and bandaged.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, Ivar is a very passionate and devoted lover. Most times this will express itself in a raw, sort of untamed way. Some may label this rough - the way his hands firmly grip your hips, the firm snap of his hips and the incessant way he kisses and bites anywhere he can reach can certainly feel like it. Everything he does though is born from love, from devotion.

Occasionally, he slows. Ivars passion become gentle and sweet, drawn out like strings of honey - seeking comfort in you.

You can feel the warmth of his release coat your walls, a pleasant hum of satisfaction in your veins, not as pulsing and exhausting as you’re used to. You make to raise yourself from Ivars cock, from his lap, to cuddle up beside him, when his hands that so softly caress your hips tighten for a split second. 

"Don’t move", Ivar whispers, the first words he’s spoken since he’s entered your heat. "I want to stay like this for a while." You don’t decline.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Since Ivars relationship with sex started off the way it did, sex isn’t really about "getting off" itself. Don’t get him wrong, Ivar enjoys having sex, enjoys cumming, as much as any man. It’s just that he doesn’t crave for it, if it is not with you. 

Ivar doesn’t need sex - he needs sex with you. Ivar doesn’t need release - he needs release with you. If he can’t have you he doesn’t bother.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding Kink

Ivar never thought he’d be able to have kids. He didn’t even think he’d be able to fuck. When one fateful night with you led him to discover that he could in fact please a woman, sex was the only thing on his mind. For weeks you spent every night in Ivars bed, his head in between your thighs, your mouth around his length and his cock deep in your cunt. It was a comment from one of his brothers over breakfast that planted an even deeper desire into his heart. 

Ivar had teased Hvitserk for looking so tired, knowing full well his room was right next to Ivars and that Hvitserk had probably been kept awake by your squealing the night prior. It was then that Ubbe, in an attempt to prevent a fight, almost mindlessly commented: "Don’t fret Hvitserk. Not much longer and he’ll have put a babe in her belly. Then Ivars tiny room will no longer suffice and we’ll be rid of them."

Trust Kink (?)

Hear me out. Ivar’s never really had anyone he could trust completely, some he’s comfortable being vulnerable around. Likewise, he’s also never had anyone that trusted him, that willingly was vulnerable around him. And whilst it took a long time for your relationship to progress to this state, now that it has Ivar cannot get enough of it - this feeling of safety and belonging. 

As such, everything that reminds him of this, anything that is proof of this precious trust is an instant turn on for him. His hand around your throat, him caging you under his body, restraining your hands above your head, cutting your clothes from your body using his dagger… 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As explained, Ivar does not take kindly to his time with you being interrupted. Therefore his room it is.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Short answer: You. Long answer: Also you. 

As explained above, once Ivar realized he could have sex, there wasn’t a lot of holding back on his side. He was insatiable. Though, the thing that gets him going more than anything else is the realization that not only could he fuck you, but you wanted him to.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurting you.

Anything beyond reddish handprints in the places he grabs you, love bites across your throat and chest and the wobble in your step the next morning is a hard no. Ivar cherishes the trust you two share - he’d never think of doing something to break it.

Sharing.

Even though, when possessive or jealous, Ivar sometimes talks about showing off how well he pleases you, it is all talk. He’d never consider someone intruding in such a vulnerable situation. Besides, you’re for his eyes only.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

"I can show you that there are other ways to please a woman too, if you so wish."

Ivar remembers you whispering those words against his lips the first time you were intimate together, gently reassuring him. After the first few times following that day, when his eagerness to feel your walls wrapped around his cock as fast as possible had slowly calmed from a raging fire to a steady flame, those words of yours kept echoing in his mind. You’d proposed it as an alternative, so technically there was no need for that now, but Ivars curiosity was peaked.

His breath is fanning over your lower stomach, Ivars blue eyes are looking up at you for guidance, between placing kisses on and nipping at your skin. 

"You told me you’d show me. I do not know how to make you feel good like this." A breathless laugh falls from your lips. "I promise to tell you if something does not feel good." 

Ivar huffs but relents nonetheless, his nips and kisses moving lower, a few of them straying to the inside of your thighs, before his tongue suddenly licks a broad stripe up your cunt. Something between a whimper and a moan tears from your throat and Ivar decides right then and there that he wants to hear that sound over and over and over again.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

As explained under I = Intimacy, Ivars love making is usually very passionate. If not fast, his thrusts will at the very least be hard and deep, hands firm on whichever part of your body he chooses to grab, his love bites just on that fine line between pleasure and pain.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn’t exactly opposed to the idea, it’s just that your circumstances don’t really allow for them. Between the daily bustle of Kattegat, your respective duties throughout the day and Ivars reluctance to have sex outside the safety of his chambers there aren’t really opportunities for quickies. 

It’s fine by the both of you though, you prefer to take your time anyways, especially the calm and intimacy afterwards is treasured by the both of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ivar is ever learning, he’s willing to try most everything you’d approach him with, so long as it doesn’t fall under his hard no’s. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

In the beginning Ivar was insatiable. Once he got you into bed you could expect not to leave it or go to sleep for quite a while. 

That is still the case, though the way you spend your time in bed has changed. The two of you used to go as many rounds as either of you could take until sleep took you.

As your relationship blossomed, it became less about sex itself and more about being intimately connected - whether that be foreplay, sex, or basking in the afterglow of it all. Rounds became fewer, but more drawn out. On the days Ivar seeks comfort, the intimacy of you laying on his chest afterwards, warming his cock, both of you speaking in hushed whispers have become his favorite part.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Since it’s the early 800s … there are no toys. The closest thing would be his daggers, perhaps some rope.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ivar has no patience to actually tease you in terms of withholding his physical affections. He excels at making your squirm with his verbal teasing though.

You’re circling your hips above him, eyes screwed shut, clearly focused on chasing your release, but slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure all the same. A sudden pressure makes you moan out and look down to where Ivar has placed his hand against the little bulge in your lower stomach. 

"Look at that", he grins, "Look at me all the way inside you. Such a little thing, can barely fit me." A frustrated whine bubbles up in you. Ivars face morphs into one of mock concern, "What’s the matter sweet thing?" "Please..", you whimper. "Please what, hm?" 

When his question goes unanswered, the rock of your hips only growing more frantic, Ivar sits up, the sudden shift of the angle of his cock making you gasp. "Can’t even make yourself cum, is that it? Poor, dumb little thing" A quick, filthy kiss is planted on your lips, and you don’t even have the time to reciprocate before your world spins and you’re suddenly on your back.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

"I don’t growl." Ivar halfheartedly glowers down at you, you grin in return. "Oh, you definitely do."

"I do not."

Your grin grows mischievous, "Mhm, fine. I do suppose it was far more interesting how you whimpered when I li-"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You joined Ivar in his bed every single night, following the day you first laid together. After a while your monthly bleeding made its appearance one morning. You thought this would surely put a temporary stop to your shared nights of passion, but Ivar surprised you. 

As soon as you sit down on the edge of the bed you’re ambushed. Giggling you let Ivar lay you down on your back and eagerly welcome him into your arms once he dips down to kiss you.

As always the kiss deepens and your hands wander - yours to his hair, combing your fingers through his silky strands, whilst Ivars hands caress your sides. When his fingers slip under the hem of your dress, you draw back from the kiss and halt his hand on your thigh. Immediately Ivars face furrows and his hand lifts to hold the side of your face. 

"My moon blood started this morning", you answer his unspoken question. Ivars eyes widen and he props himself up on his hands, lifting his hips off of yours. For a second you think he’s disgusted, but your worries disappear as soon as they come. "Oh fuck - am I hurting you, smár brandr?"

Pulling his body down onto yours again, his weight and warmth actually comforting, you shake your head. "No", you reassure him, "I’m just bloody. Some women say release eases their discomfort, but it’s not exactly… appealing to most men."

To your surprise Ivar barks out a laugh. "Some Vikings we have in Kattegat then, hm? Bothered by a little blood." Shaking his head, his hand makes his way under your dress once more.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

To quote TPAW:

"Looking down at what you have just undressed, you are surprised a second time this night. For all the burdens the Gods have made Ivar carry, they sure have blessed him with a gorgeous cock. Its head is flushed a lovely shade of red, and with a length and girth that promises a delicious stretch once inside you, it was simply perfect … and hard - very much so."

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. That’s all I am going to say. Sometimes the gods can see it all the way from Asgard.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re usually asleep before Ivar is. He very much treasures just laying with you. Tracing shapes on your back, enjoying the warmth of your body next to his and watching your pleased face lowly morph into the relaxed expression he associates with you sleeping.. this is probably the most peaceful time of his day. 

Please consider commenting or reblogging - it really makes my day!

(*) smár brandr = little blade

[underscorewriting]

Don’t hate me, love

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Warnings: Angst but ends in fluff

1324 Words

Ruby red blood was dripping from her cheek. Her heart beating faster as her breath sped up. Her eyes were fully closed, trying to ignore the pain on her side. She was alive, she was okay, yet she heard everyone else scream around her. The voices started to get blurry, her head was spinning as she tried to stay awake. "You will stay here, Save!" "I will not!" Ivar never screamed at her, but he was worried and she wanted to stay by his side, even at times when she couldn't.

She was ready to die fighting for what Ivar wanted to accomplish, she believed in him and in his vision. But he wanted to keep her save, keep her at the hide out with Helga, but she knew something could happen there as well and if she would die, she would die by his side. The sounds were blurred as his face was in her mind. He was her only focus and she was happy, happy that if she would die he would be her last thought, his smile. The one he reserved for her, the one that meant he was utterly happy.

They won. Ivar was filled with ecstasy. His plan was taking form, everything would be the way he wanted it to be with just- His eyes wandered around the field. His smile dropped. Where is she? "Where the fuck is she?!" Ivar was panicking, looking around. Each body was someone he knew, but he couldn't find the will to care. Hvitserk walked to his brother placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ubbe found her, Ivar. He's taking care of her wounds right now..." Ivar pushed his hand away and tried to walk as quickly as he can to him.

His mind was on her, her smile in front of him. He would be lost if something happened to her, if she would die because of his incapability of protecting her. When he saw her he felt his heart ache, she looked small. So fragile. As he heard her wince, he was ready to tackle Ubbe down. His knuckles turning white around his crutch. "Ivar.." Her voice was husky, her eyes barely open. His breath hitched, maybe right now she wasn't, but she's going to be okay.

His lungs filled with air, he could breath again. Putting his crutches away he started crawling towards her, his hand finding it's way to hers, giving a soft squeeze. "I'm here, my love." His lips met her forehead. His voice just barely audible as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear leaning his forehead against her cheek. Her blood coloring his cheek the most beautiful shade of red. "I'm sorry, Ivar..." Her voice was quiet, but he heard her pain.

Ivars eyes closed tightly. His mind was telling him to scream at her, to tell her what a fool she is, that she should've got hurt worse to learn her lesson, but he couldn't. He could barely keep it together. "Don't worry about it, you need to rest." He shot Hvitserk and Ubbe a look, quietly telling them to pick her up as he crawled to his crutch. "No..." Her voice was panicky, the fight having more of a tool on her than she wanted to admit.

She wanted to be held by Ivar, just as much as he wanted to hold her, How he wish he could carry her. "Hvitserk, make sure he's okay..." she whispered tugging on his sleeve, leaning more into Ubbes chest feeling weaker each passing second. Ubbe placed a hand on her forehead feeling her temperature, pulling her closer. She was like family for them, growing onto them each passing day. "Am I going to die, Ubbe?" Her voice was more quiet than before, not wanting Ivar to hear them. Ubbe laughed softly smiling slightly down at her. "You're not gonna die that fast, you're just getting pampered because you're Ivars fiance." Her eyes shot up to him with confusion in them. "Finace?"

"Calm down, Ivar. She's okay, you've seen people being worse than her and-" Ivar tried controlling himself. "But it's her!" Taking a deep breath he watched her and Ubbe while walking to their hide out. "This isn't some man fighting by my side." Both of them walked in silence. Hvitserk understood his brother and he understood the worry he was feeling. Ivar just wanted to lay down with her, to see that she's okay when he locks eyes with her.

"Oh dear what happened to you?" Helga quickly ran up to them, seeing the young girl in Ubbes arms before he placed her onto some fur that her and Ivar slept on. The girl smiled up weakly at them trying to sit up. "Don't you dare even think about it." Ivars voice was demanding and she knew he wanted her to lay and rest, but she didn't feel like it. So she sat up fully, keeping her eyes trained on Ivars.

A breath of relief escaped him seeing color come back to her face slowly and the spark returning to her eyes. He almost couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips. Almost. As everyone left them alone Ivar looked down at her with anger. "What were you thinking?! I told you to stay close, to not leave my fucking side! And what did you do? You did just that! I told you to be careful! You know what?! I told you to stay in the fucking hide out! God you act like such a-" He was about to continue before seeing her small smile and the playfulness in her eyes.

"I act like what, huh?" The teasing smile made the boy weak in his knees as he tried to stay angry. "Do I act like your fiance?" A smirk played at the corner of her mouth, the pain was weaker now, she realized how dramatic she might've been earlier thinking she'd die. Ivar looked at her even more angry. "I'm going to fucking kill Ubbe." He was about to turn around and walk away before she shuffled around trying to get close to his hand. "Ivar... sit with me, my love... please?" Her eyes met his as she gave him her best doe eyes.

Cursing Ivar sat down pulling her closer. "How are you feeling, honestly?" He whispered after some time, his fingers opening her braids as gentle as possible making her lean into him. "Better... I think I was just scared...scared to not fulfill my destiny if I die." Her eyes closed leaning into his chest as he kissed her forehead softly.

„You're destiny?" His voice was filled with curiosity, filled with so much gentleness. Ivar hated screaming at her, he hated letting her feel his anger but sometimes he couldn't help it. He loved her, he was very much sure of it, but with loving there come so much other emotions that he isn't able to deal with as easily.

„My destiny to give you children, Ivar. I know it's my destiny, as it is my destiny to make sure you live without any regrets as you pass to Valhalla one day..." Her voice were spoken slowly and with lot of care. „Become my wife, my love? The thought of you dying on me today made me realize it more than before. I told Ubbe I would ask you before the fight but you were too busy fighting about coming with me. But now I know I need you by my side."

Her lips found his in an instant, ignoring some burning on her side as she kissed him with as much love and passion she can make him feel. „I would love that, Ivar... a lot..." she muttered against his lips trying not to let a girlish giggle escape her lips. He pulled her closer again kissing her deeply.

„You will be mine until we dine with the gods in Valhalla."

[axxl-rose]

Told You

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 2431

Warnings: mature language, explicit sexual content.

Groans and cries boomed throughout the hut, a woman begging for more as a man encouraged her to take it like a 'good girl'. The sounds from Ivar's room were pure filth, the splintering of the wooden bed accompanied by a shriek to Odin. Yet, the room's typical tenant sat outside the door, gritting his teeth with blue eyes ablaze.

Footsteps approached, the noise getting closer and closer, but the man did not shift from his twitchy state, back against the cold wall and legs spread uselessly in front of him. "Ivar Lothbrok, you dirty pervert!" Elli bellowed, appearing before the young prince, shocking him from his murderous stupor. "Listening to your brother as he makes love to his woman! Absolutely shameful!" She chided, taking a seat beside him, their shoulders brushing.

Ivar listened to the constant swearing and whining behind the door, shaking his head. "Nothing about that sounds like love," He snorted. "Besides, where am I to go? My room is clearly occupied." He tapped the closed door, but no response came.

Rolling her eyes, Elli shoved her friend's shoulder, leaning in close. "Why not find your own woman and take her to Hvitserk's room for a bit of revenge?" Elli whispered, giggling at her master plan, ignoring his blank face.

The pair had been friends since childhood, with Elli being the only juvenile to overlook Ivar's legs and persevere through his temper tantrums. Although Elli did not enjoy the activities Ivar did, war and violence, they grew to be inseparable, the girl all but adopted into the Ragnarsson family and adored by all of Kattegat. While Ivar was a scorching wildfire, prepared to obliterate everything in his path, Elli was the morning sea, gentle and welcoming.

Clapping his hands, Ivar exhaled. "Oh, my innocent Elli, your master plan is flawless." The sarcasm flowed from his tongue. Holding up one figure, he wagged it in front of her tracking eyes before tapping her cold nose, jostling her. "The problem, however, is that I cannot have a woman." He spat.

Elli's face twisted, her lips pursed and nose scrunched. "What do you m– oh…" Her face dropped. Ivar clenched his jaw, humming and averting his eyes away from her. "Surely that is not the case!" She exclaimed, grabbing Ivar's chin and forcing his downcast eyes to meet her bright ones. Pulling out of her grip, Ivar sent her a pointed glare. Elli just shrugged. "Well, were you relaxed?"

"Of course, I was." He declared, finding the filthy floor more interesting than her raised brow. Rolling his eyes, Ivar sighed. "No," he grumbled, flicking dirt off his trousers.

Elli cheered, throwing her arms in the air. "That is your problem! You need to find somebody you can be comfortable around." She tutted. "You are far too concerned about how people will perceive your legs to relax in a situation like that; fear will scare your manhood away!"

Ivar choked. "And how would you know anything about that?!" he demanded, wondering what experience his angelic friend had and how he didn't know about it.  

Elli huffed, crossing her arms. "I listen to woman talk, Ivar."

Clearing his throat, Ivar accepted her answer and moved on, yet it continued to dwell in his mind. "Where do you suggest I find someone like that? In case you have forgotten, I am not close with many people."

Elli paused, observing Ivar's dejected frame, before shrugging. "Well, why don't we just do it together?"

Suddenly, the obnoxious noises from Ivar's room faded into the background. A ringing echoed in his ears, and he could feel the blood drain from his face, his hands becoming sweaty. Licking his lips, Ivar stuttered, "Ar–are you sure? This cannot be taken back."

Elli smiled softly. "Yes, but doing it with you makes sense. I want this to happen." She stated plainly, ignoring the rapid blinking of the Ragnarsson beside her. Standing up, Elli brushed off the dust from her dress and began to walk away. Realising the cripple had not started to follow her, she paused, turning back to see his gobsmacked face. "Well, are you coming or not?" She questioned. Elli did not wait for his response as she sauntered away, but the tell-tale sound of rapid dragging followed her footsteps.

†

Laying back on the bed, the woollen fleece itched and irritated his bare skin, but he ignored it in favour of staring at the woman perched on top of him, naked as the day she was born. Her trembling thighs rested atop of his, the silence surrounding them.

The two gawked at each other, the flickering fire illuminating their bodies and casting shadows around the room. Exhaling, Ivar lay there, not touching her. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He muttered, his hands twitching by his sides, desperate to touch her. Swallowing heavily, Elli nodded rapidly. Ivar chuckled lowly, his quaking hand trailing up her soft thigh, causing the woman to shudder. "I need to hear your words, Elli."

Elli leant down, her hair covering her bare breasts as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "I want this, Ivar," she rasped. "I want you."

Nodding to himself, Ivar saw the honesty glistening in her eyes. Licking his lips, the young prince pushed onto his forearms, bringing his face close to hers.

Elli could feel his rushed breath on her face and shuddered, worried he could hear the hurried beating of her heart. Leaning down, the young woman closed her eyes as their lips met. It was a firm but gentle kiss, unsure and tentative. Yet, it was comfortable... right. As the pair grew more confident, Ivar's shaking hand left her thigh and moved to her waist, gripping her tightly. His hand blindly reached up and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her close, their bodies pressed against one another in a warm embrace.

Elli's toes curled; his face grasped between her hands. She wanted more. She needed it. Instinctually, her body ground down on him, searching for relief. Ivar pulled away with a groan, throwing his head back. Elli did not let go of his face, but her eyes widened. Between her damp folds rested a hard, rigid penis. Raising a brow, she carefully rolled her hips. "Elli!" He moaned.

Elli smirked as Ivar paused, huffing and puffing. His eyes were blown wide, staring at the dim ceiling as he realised what had happened, what he thought would never happen. He had an erection.

As Ivar lay there, stunned, Elli began trailing her way down his stomach, leaving kisses and nibbles as a footprint of her path, licking stripes in the dips of his abdomen as roads. Ivar was knocked out of his daze and let out unsteady breaths as Elli became face-to-face with Ivar's member. It was engorged and larger than she had expected, a pretty pink tip atop a thick, veiny cock. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs.

Taking a deep breath, Elli leant down, running the flat of her tongue across his leaking tip. Ivar squirmed, hissing in pleasure. However, groans and gasps followed as Elli's tongue explored his throbbing length, stroking and sucking with her wet mouth, paying special attention to the thick vein that ran up his cock.

Elli rubbed her thighs together as her hand joined her mouth, her thumb caressing a slow circle around the head as she took languid, long strokes with her tongue, making his hips jerk and twitch.

Nodding to herself, Elli finally took Ivar's member in her mouth, both of them whimpering at the feeling. Ivar's head fell back, his parted mouth hung open, and eyes screwed shut as Elli's warm, wet mouth moved up and down his shaft. Elli tried to take all of him in her mouth but could not, gagging due to his considerable size, so her hand aided her, pumping up and down as she swirled her tongue around him.

Ivar cursed above her, digging his fingers into the damp fleece as grunts and shaky breaths emitted from him. Sneaking a glance down at Elli, he whimpered, seeing wide pupils already locked on him. The sight of her beautiful lips wrapped around his throbbing cock drove him wild. "Fuck," he groaned.  

Yet, he swallowed the whine that threatened to escape him when she pulled away, a line of saliva still attached to his cock connecting to her mouth. Yet, a moan erupts when Elli begins to softly tug at his penis, rubbing it up and down. "I want to ride you now…" Elli whispered, eyes intently watching Ivar's reactions, how he whined and ground his hips in search of release; it made wetness drip from her folds and onto the bed.

Clearing his throat, Ivar stared into her eyes. "Well, if you are sure, what are you waiting for?"

Without another word, Elli climbed on Ivar, her body moving up his thighs, causing Ivar to bite his lip as he felt her moistness drag against him. Pushing her hips flush against his, Elli began to grind, circling her hips back and forth, searching for friction. The pair mewled, pawing at each other as she guided his cock through her slick folds, coating himself in her arousal. As Elli ground on Ivar's cock, it nudged her clit every time, making her whimper and whine. The sound was intoxicating to Ivar. He reached up, gripping at her chest, tweaking one of her nipples and taking the other in his mouth, swirling his tongue.

Rasping, Elli reached down between them and grasped his dick, propping herself up and preparing to sink down on it. "Wait, wait..." Ivar whispered against her breast, holding her hips in place. "Are you sure?" Icy blue eyes peered up at her, a vulnerability in them that Elli had never seen before.

"Of course, I am sure." Elli declared as she sank down on Ivar's cock. Elli cried, for although she was wet and wanting, she had never been penetrated before, so an intense burning overtook her. However, Ivar had never felt something so tight, so warm wrapped around him. He wanted to thrust, chase that feeling, yet seeing tears leaking from Elli's eyes made him pause.

"No, no..." Ivar brushed the tears away, Elli sniffling as he grasped her face between his hands. He caressed her cheek, leaving kisses. "This will pass." He promised.

A watery chuckle left Elli. "And how do you know this?"

Smirking, Ivar trailed a hand up Elli's quivering thigh. "While you listen to women talk..." His hand etched closer to her sex, where he was still paused deep within her. "I listen to men talk."

A keening moan escaped her lips, high-pitched and breathless, as Ivar's thumb pressed on her clit. Rolling his fingers around, Elli quivered and squirmed. Slowly, Ivar moved his hips in time, matching her pace and never quicker. Soon, with patience and passion, the burn faded into a pleasurable stretch.

Elli pushed Ivar back onto the bed, removing his hand from her clit. Holding his shoulders, Elli began to bounce up and down, using his shoulders as an anchor to help her thighs, unsure with the new movement. The two friends locked eyes as Ivar lifted his glistening hand to his mouth, licking the moisture from in and around his fingers. Sighing, Ivar relished in the tangy taste, spurring him on and began to pound into her, grunting at the exertion and the feeling.

"Oh, Ivar," she whimpered, throwing her head back and exposing her glistening chest as she rocked her hips, chasing a feeling she had never felt before.

Ivar's hands kneaded her thighs, encouraging her to meet his fast pace as he pounded into her from below. "You're doing such a good job, Elli." He praised, grinding his throbbing erection deep inside her, loving how she mewled and bounced faster at his approval.

"Ivar, I– Ivar, I can't…" Her thighs burned, the steady up-and-down motion slowing as her legs trembled. She sobbed, her trembling fingers tracing her clammy abdomen and clutching her breasts, twisting her stiff nipples and whimpering.

Growling, Ivar released his bruising grip from the supple flesh of her hips. Grasping the back of her clammy neck, Ivar jerked her close, dragging their bare chests together as he latched onto the delicate skin of her throat, littering kisses and bruises. His cock slammed into her soaking core, squelching reverberating off the walls as Elli squealed. Her quivering arms collapsed, and she lay flat on Ivar, mumbling nonsense as Ivar huffed into her ear. "Fuck, you are such a good girl. Taking all of me so good," he babbled, licking a long stroke up her salty neck, his hips never slowing.  

Tears welled in Elli's eyes as she reached a shaking hand between their sticky bodies to rub her throbbing clit. Weeping in relief, Elli moved her slim fingers furiously, feeling something building in her lower belly, setting every nerve in her body on fire.

Eyes locked on Elli's movements, her fingers drumming fast and her wetness leaking onto his shaking thighs, Ivar groaned. Tilting his hips off the bed, Ivar ploughed into Elli, gripping her wild hair and forcing her lips on his, their tongues dancing. "fuck–fuck–FUCK IVAR!" Elli screamed, the coil that had built inside of her finally snapping. Her pussy tingled, gushing wetness all over Ivar's pounding cock. Collapsing on top of the young Prince, Elli saw stars, her body twitching in the aftermath. Feeling her completion, tugging, and milking Ivar's solid erection, Ivar roared, his seed coating her convulsing inner walls. Elli mewled at the feeling, her cunt squeezing him, draining him of every last drop.

Sticky and sweaty, the young pair struggled to catch their breath, huffing and puffing.

While Elli was dazed, her body still quivering with aftershocks, Ivar stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. His hands stroked up her saturated back as he struggled to find words. Blinking away tears, the prince gazed down at his only friend. Shaking his head, Ivar planted a solid kiss on the forehead, wrapping his arms around her. Sighing, Elli snuggled into his muscular arms.

"Told you." Elli croaked, her throat dry and voice muffled in Ivar's grip.

Ivar just laughed, throwing his head back against the pillows. "Yes, my not-so-innocent Elli, you were correct." Stroking her cheek, Ivar raised her droopy head and was greeted with a lazy smile. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered.

Giggling, Elli pouted her lips, too weak to lift herself up. Leaning down towards Elli, Ivar barely met her lips when the door was flung open, slamming against the wall with a bang! "OH MY FUCKING ODIN!" Hvitserk yelled, shirt torn open, and jaw dropped.

[literaryuppsala]

You kept me like a secret (But I kept you like an oath)

Title: All too well (10 min version) Taylor’s Version by Taylor Swift.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader (fem) 

Summary: You and Ivar had a secret relationship. 

Words: 3997

Warnings: Here we go again fellas, into the unknown beautiful world of erotica, an ocean of pining in anticipation and sexual tension, two idiots (probably) in love, smut (p in v), unprotected cause it’s 825AC (if you’re living in 2022, buy a condom you moron), there’s oral (f receiving), there’s face riding and ab riding too, dirty talk (sort of), subby!Ivar (he’s a warning too). And I guess that’s all, either way proceed with caution. 

A/N: Won’t repeat the other notes, just know I deleted my other account (stylinsonliving) and all my works will be reposted here, any doubt send me an ask. My asks are always open, feedback is always welcome and my mistakes are always mine.  

Filth below the cut, enjoy ♥:

***

Queen Aslaug was known for her abilities to throw memorable feasts. The stories of these celebrations crossed the borders of Kattegat and flew around all Norway; she was the gods’ favorite, known to be the one Queen who never displeased any of them, honoring their names and sacrificing for their own sake. 

So, when Ragnar and Lagertha came back victorious from another raid in the kingdom of Frankia, the Queen did what she was expected to do: a feast to honor the gods and thank them for that victory, a celebration of gratitude because her lovers and children came back to her unharmed. 

The night was just starting when all of the people of Kattegat gathered around inside the great hall and as the blazing flames danced around casting abstract shadows on the walls, you walked through the tables filling their cups with good mead, giving the remaining survivors your best, empathetic smile, because you knew they had lost so much and you unconsciously wanted to give them comfort. 

For the first time in months the eight main chairs in the hall were all occupied. Queen Aslaug was glowing, smiling through her eyes while Queen Lagertha whispered something unintelligible into the shell of her ear. King Ragnar chatted excitedly with his men, laughing out loud at some of their terrible jokes. Their sons were there too, sitting side by side and surrounded by girls, the Ragnarssons were all smiles. The young princes; Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar; had all the attention they wanted and basked in their fame, using to their own advantage when It came to having a warm body to warm up their beds. 

“Hey, thrall-” A familiar voice cut through the fog of thoughts in your brains, catching your attention immediately and making your eyes wander back to the thrones, back to where the voice came. “Fill my cup.” He ordered raising his cup, looking at you with a smug smile plastered on his face. 

Ivar was the youngest of the Ragnarssons, the most difficult one, or so they said. His dark blue irises locked with yours after he gave you his order, a cocked eyebrow showed his impatience to you having your body shivering in response. 

“Yes, my prince.” You mouthed, slowly approaching the throne with your head down.

It wasn’t unknown for you how your body seemed to be drawn to Ivar’s like a moth to a flame and you knew that the closer you got, the dangerous it got, but, just like the moth that died in the fire, you couldn’t get away from his grip, nor even wanted to.

You kept your gaze down as you filled his cup, avoiding eye contact even If every fiber in your skin ached under his stare, you just didn’t want to lose any more of your control over your own body, not in front of everyone in Kattegat. 

“I am sure she has a name, brother.” Hvitserk growled, looking at you, his features showing his true concern with your feelings, even though he, himself, probably did not know your name either. 

“And I am sure it’s a stupid, thrall name.” He mocked taking a sip from his cup and then cleaning his lips with the back of his hand. “But we can always find a new, more fun, nickname for her.” 

“Ivar…” Ubbe growled, using his dark, deep tone to warn his little brother. 

You moved away shyly and went back to your previous activity: serving ale to the other men around the great hall, only this time you had their full attention on you. Once Ivar picked someone to harass, the poor soul wouldn’t have peace ‘til the end of the night, and that night he decided to choose you. His beautiful, dark blue irises crossed the great hall following your every move almost like he didn’t want to lose sight of you. 

“Little bird.” He yelled after a while. “Her voice is so soft, almost like a little peep from a tiny bird.” 

“Stop tormenting the poor girl, Ivar.” Ubbe said, this time his tone was more stern. 

“You keep having soft spots for the servants, brother. That’s why you ended up fooled by one.” He teased, taking the cup to his lips one more time, his gaze discreetly back on you again. 

The discussion started, the ragnarssons could never share a table without diving into an argument that would never lead them anywhere. At that point, their fights became a type of entertainment to everyone in Kattegat, really. 

Ivar’s smart mouth would always have the final blow, too good at spilling poison against his brothers, using their weakness against themselves, truly getting under their skin to the point they would just stand up and leave. It wasn’t different that night, eventually all of them left, but the youngest Lothbrok stayed, a cocky smile on his lips after he ‘won’ another fight against his brothers. 

But you knew better. Under that hard cover, behind that cocky smile, you knew the real him. A secret you guarded with your own life, meaning: If you ever let that spread, you would be a dead woman. Either way the danger of the situation seemed to only increase your excitement, you were never scared. 

As the great hall started to get empty, your heart started to hammer against your rib cage so loud you feared it could be heard by the drunk men remaining at the tables. But you kept cleaning, grooming, everything to ease your mind. 

“Little bird.” Ivar finally called you, making you stop and look at him. “Leave it and go wait for me in my chambers.” 

You only nodded, the other thralls looking at each other as you left the wet cloth you had on your hands on one of the wooden tables and walked towards Ivar’s bedroom. 

The rumors about Ivar’s ‘problem with women’ spreaded around very fast just like a wildfire in a forest. So they didn’t quite understand what could possibly happen between the two of you behind those walls. But you? You were never the type of woman who believed in rumors anyway.

You sat on his bed and waited patiently until you could hear his crutches on the floor, a smirk creeping on your face immediately. Ivar pushed the door open, his eyes finding yours as he carefully entered, closing the door behind him, making sure that would stay locked. 

“What took you so long, my prince?” You asked carefully.

“The fact that I'm a cripple?” He cocked an eyebrow, an angry look on his face as he stared at you sternly, uselessly trying to intimidate you. 

“That’s not how you answer me, is it?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Shut up and help me with my crutches.” He growled as he walked towards the bed and sat by your side. 

“No.” You answered quickly as you got up. “If you wanna act like a big boy, you can take them by yourself.” You walked towards the door, but before you could open you heard his voice, a whisper this time. 

“Please.” 

“Someone remembered his manners.” You stopped on your tracks and turned, walking back towards him. As you stood still in front of Ivar, he looked up at you, leaning into your touch when your hands met the side of his beautiful face. “How do you say it?” 

“Please, my queen, can you help me with my crutches?” He repeated softly. His eyes had a sparkling blue saved for these moments only, saved for you only. 

“Do you think you deserve my help after what you’ve done earlier at the great hall?” You asked sternly. 

“I- I had to.” He stuttered. “Sigurd…” 

“I am not interested in your stupid fights with your brothers, my prince.” You kneeled in front of him, taking your place between his legs. Your hands quickly grabbed at his thighs. “You know the rules.” 

“But…” You raised your hand and he stopped talking, his eyes widened a bit when you started to untie the straps that tied his crutches to his legs. 

“I am a good queen. I want my people to be as happy and healthy as possible.” You started to carefully move the crutches away. “But when they need to learn a lesson, I must be prepared to teach them, right?” 

One tiny whimper slipped through Ivar’s lips when the crutches were finally out, the pain would make him start screaming to anyone else, but not at you, never at you. He bit his lower lip, his cheeks getting flushed as soon as you started to untie his pants. It didn’t matter how many times you’ve done this, he would always feel embarrassed under your scrutiny. 

Your gaze followed the movements of your hands when you started to slide his pants down his legs, Ivar lifted his hips just enough to help you, his cock still flaccid between his thighs. He gulped when you got up and started to do the same with his tunic. 

“I am sorry.” He whispered under his breath.

“Yes, my prince, I know. And I’m going to let you show me how sorry you are.”

You made him raise his arms so you could take his tunic off, leaving him completely bare to you. His hands quickly found their way to your hips, but you slapped them away and, with a small nod, you silently told Ivar to hop up on the bed, until he leaned his head on the pillows. Without taking off your dress, you climbed into bed too, slowly crawling until you sat on your calves right next to him. 

“Won’t you…” He started, looking at your body still dressed, nervously squirming, self conscious about his own vulnerability, his naked body and his exposed legs. 

“Not yet…” You caressed his face, hand slipping down his chest ‘til his muscled abs that twitched under your palm. “My poor prince, are you nervous?” 

“You’re still dressed.” He grunted. 

“You’re not hard yet, why do you want me naked then?” 

He growled. “I wanna see you.” 

“What a needy little prince.” You mouthed, leaning down until your lips met with his. He responded instantly, clashing his mouth against yours, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You quickly moved away just to watch him chasing your kiss with parted lips and a broken moan. He cried and whined at the loss of your warm mouth. 

“Please, please…” Ivar begged looking at you. 

“What do you want, little prince?” You teased, fingers dangerously close to his cock head. 

“Do something. Touch me.” He moaned, his eyes following the movements on your arm, lips parting at the sight of your forefinger tracing the one popped vein on the side of his cock, from the head to the base. His head fell back on the pillows, he moaned long and loud. “I’ll never know how you do It.” He murmured. 

You smiled, your chest filling with pride knowing you were the only one to ever see him that way. His cock started to stiff as you slowly dragged your finger up and down. You grabbed at his balls and his hips bucked up, another broken moan slipping through his now kiss swollen lips, you started to massage them, laying down beside him as your free hand found the crown of his head, lips touching his already sweaty temple. 

You kissed his cheek as you started to stroke Ivar’s cock, your other hand caressing his hair. Dragged your lips down his face ‘til his jaw, then his ear lobe where you sucked harshly. He started to drip between your fingers making your palm slide more easily. His mouth hung open as he freely moaned, eyes wide shut, hips bucking up against your hand. 

“Kiss me, please.” He begged again, turning his head so he could claim your lips, and you let him. A needy, already drunk on desire, kiss. Wet and messy, just the way he liked. 

When you felt his cock twitch on your hand, you knew he reached the edge, so you stopped everything. He looked at you in shock. 

“Why did you stop?” He whispered/yelled at you.

“No cumming for you yet, my prince.” You answered softly and he whined, laying his head back down on the pillows.

His eyes followed when you brought the hand that once stroked him next to your lips, with a smirk you gave it a long lick, feeling his taste on your taste buds and moaning at the salty flavor. You hummed in satisfaction, Ivar’s little whimpers sending tiny shocks all over your body, wetness starting to pool between your legs. 

Deep blue irises looked eagerly at you, silently begging for the kind of relief only you could provide. You almost gave in, almost. Changing your position, you straddled his hips, his cock nested between your naked pussy lips as you started to grind down, spreading your slick all over his length. 

“I’m going to take what I need from you and you're going to wait until I’m completely satisfied. Only then you’ll cum.” You ordered as you stopped all movements, making him whine again as he nodded. 

The look he gave you was one of pure reverence, he worshiped you like no one ever did and you knew you had that big, grumpy puppy wrapped around your fingers. He would say yes to anything you’d ask, so you bit your lower lip thinking about a little dream of yours. Riding his abs.

Every time you saw him training or every time you gave him a nice, hot bath, you got a little too caught up by the way his abs twitched. Crawling everywhere since he was a kid, Ivar got his torso and arms so muscular it was impossible not to drool over it. You sighed as you moved up a bit until your bare pussy was pressed against his torso, his hands landed on your hips and pressed you down. Slowly, you started to grind over the firm muscles underneath you, your clit dragging deliciously over the rough skin. 

“Oh… That feels so good.” You whined, eyes closed and head thrown back. 

You covered Ivar’s hands with yours, moving your hips a little faster. The feeling was torturously good but nothing could compare to the small sounds slipping through Ivar’s lips. As you opened your eyes you met with your prince hooded look, the familiar sparkling blue, adoring you like you were Freyja herself. 

“Gods you’re so beautiful.” He whispered, making you smirk. 

“Feel how wet you made me, prince Ivar.” You huffed, knowing exactly what to say to make him forget all the mean whispers he was forced to hear every time he was out. “You’re gonna make me cum, my prince, and you barely touched me.” You moaned, your hips speeding up. 

“Please, my queen, cum on me.” He whined, eyes trained on your hips still covered by your dress. 

“You wanna watch It?” You asked breathlessly and he nodded eagerly. 

It didn’t take long for you to finally take off your gown and throw it somewhere in that bedroom. Your body now on full display for his eyes, his hands slowly going up your tummy ‘til he touched your breasts. Kneading at the flesh as your hard nipples poked his palm. You shivered as you re-started your grinding on his hard ridges of muscle, quickly finding the right pace. 

Ivar’s hands slid down your sides until he grabbed your hips again, pressing his digits on your skin in a way you knew you’d have marks the next day, not that you  cared. Little shockwaves of pleasure climbed your spine and you closed your eyes, resting your hands on his chest for balance and your tits started bouncing in front of his hungry gaze. 

It was messy. Messy and wet and filthy. Ivar’s hands kept caressing your skin from your hips, to the bottom of your back, to the sides of your ass and your lower abdomen, lower lip stuck in between his teeth as he watched in awe the way your pussy slid easily through his abs. 

Tiny little moans escaped through your lips as you were chasing desperately your own high, pleasure building in your tummy so quickly from how perfect his body felt under you, the coil forming on your lower abdomen, long mewls slipping through your lips uncontrollably until that knot snapped inside you, an insanely powerful orgasm hitting you like a storm.

You missed the way his eyes blown with lust as your pussy soaked his chest even more, too fucked out to open your own eyes. Your legs were shaking and your hips still spasmed over him while you tried to come down. 

“Look at that.” Ivar mewled, thumb quickly finding the space between his body and your pussy, touching your abused, swollen clit and making you squirm away over sensitivity. Your hand quickly met the side of his face on a hard slap. 

“Didn’t say you could touch me there.” You warned a very horny Ivar. “Clean up this mess and I’ll think about letting you fuck me.” 

You didn’t have to say it twice, without further notice he lifted your hips and sat you on his face. You gulped at the suddenness, but didn’t take long for that man to drag you over the edge one more time on his tongue, eating you out like his life depended on it. You had to hold on the wall for balance as you kept grinding on his mouth, feeling as he tongue fucked you hard. 

Ivar groaned at your desperate sounds, his tongue leaving your tight walls to sloppy lick your juices until his lips wrapped up and sucked on your swollen clit. He lapped side to side between your pussy, biting softly once or twice and diving his tongue back inside you. You were gushing all over his face, the wet sounds coming from your core were filling up the whole room, but as he wrapped his hands on your thighs he didn’t seem to bother. 

“Ivar…” You managed to moan gripping at his hair with one of your hands, forehead against the wall, eyes fluttering shut as you felt another orgasm start to build inside you again. “Ivar!” You moaned, the second orgasm hitting faster than the first, making you soak the prince’s mouth the same way you did on his chest. 

Your whole body was trembling, your thighs were twitching and your hips moved softly as you rode down your high. When he felt you come down a bit, he lifted you up again, his face wet with your slick as he put you down his body, over his painfully hard cock.  

“Please.” He begged again, bucking his hips up, his cock head teasing your entrance. “Please, please, p- oh…”

You took him in easily, both of you groaning at the feeling, your body opening up to accommodate his thickness, the stretch always difficult, even after all that time. 

“Gods…” He mewled, hands firm on your waist making you circle your hips on his lap, his cock trapped inside your walls. 

“F-feels so good.” You stuttered, barely more than a whisper. Ivar looked up at you, as he shot into a sitting position, his wet chest pressing against your breasts as you circled your hips feeling his cock twitch inside you. Your arms hugging his neck tightly, hands grabbing at his braids while his mouth found your neck, his low moan rumbled against your skin. 

“Your cunt is already squeezing me so hard…” He mewled, hands on your waist making you start to bounce up and down on his cock. “Want to make you cum again.” He begged. 

“So good for me, my prince.” You murmured against his lips, moaning breathlessly as his cock hit your cervix.

“Can you feel me deep in you, my queen?” He asked, one of his hands now on your lower abdomen. “Right here.” 

“I can, can feel you there.” You answered, your arms holding his neck as you kept bouncing, lips brushing each other as you moved. 

This time should be about satisfying Ivar, about finally letting him cum, but as his cock buried inside you, filling you up to the brim, you couldn’t avoid the pleasure, your swollen, abused pussy didn’t seem to bother keeping you so wet you could feel him slide easily as you bounced. His hands finally grabbed your ass and helped you bounce faster, turning you into a blubbering, moaning mess. 

“Can I-  Can I cum, my queen? Oh… Can I cum inside you, please?” He begged, his rapid breathing hitting your flushed cheeks.

“Trying to breed me prince Ivar?” You teased with a smirk. “You wanna fuck your babies in my belly?” 

“Yes, please.” He cried, eyes rolling into the back of his head, head thrown back. 

“Wanna fill me up, my prince?” You kept going, voice getting high pitched with the proximity of another orgasm for you too. 

“Please!” He moaned out loud again. 

“Go ahead. Give me a child, Ivar.” 

You whimpered, feeling him stiff inside you and right after, with a loud groan, spilled hotspurs of cum into you. Your body shuddered as you followed, cuming with a long moan. Ivar hid his face on the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your skin. You hugged him tightly, caressing his hair, his neck and his back, tracing his tattoos with the tip of your fingers. 

You stayed like this for a few minutes, once you recovered a little control of your body you tried to move away from his grip, knowing he didn’t want you there after you fuck, he barely could look you in the eyes after letting you dominate him this way, but before you could make any move, his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you in place. 

“Did you mean it?” He asked breathlessly. 

“What?” You asked with a frown, confused. 

“You really want my child?” His voice was a whisper, a barely there whisper. You widened your eyes and looked at him. 

“You really want a thrall to bear you a child?” You asked back. “I have no right to dream this big, prince Ivar.”

His eyes were sparkling again, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“But do you want it? Even if it’s possible that the kid is born a cripple like me?” He insisted and you held his face between your hands. 

“I’d be honored to bring a child as strong and brave as you are, Ivar.”

“I’m not talking about honor, I’m talking about love.” He started. “Would you love him? Would you love a cripple child, from a cripple father?” 

“How couldn’t I?” You answered softly and he looked at you in confusion. “I already love you, my prince.” 

That was the first time you ever said that out loud, and then It was true, tangible, you couldn’t no longer pretend It was just about sex. 

“Be my wife then.” He asked all of a sudden. “Be my wife, bear me a child, I can not let you be taken away from me. You’re mine, be mine.” 

“I’m no princess, Ivar.” You tried to sound more confident than you really were. 

“Of course you’re not, I could never marry a princess.” He smiled finally, putting your hair behind your ear. “You’re a queen, my queen.” 

You kissed him eagerly, dragging your arms through his shoulders, hugging him tightly. Your bodies were sweaty and fucked out but feeling so close to him still felt incredibly good. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He murmured against your lips. 

His cock finally slid out of you, his seed running down your pussy, but Ivar quickly took his hand to cover and keep It inside you. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure my child is conceived.” 

“You know we have time, right?” 

“Yeah. And i’m going to love fucking you until then.” 

***

[zapreportsblog]

❝army of ivarrsons❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings

✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”

✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.

"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"

Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."

Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.

Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."

Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.

She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."

The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.

Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.

And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.

The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.

Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.

As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.

Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.

"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."

The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."

The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."

Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"

(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.

Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."

The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.

Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."

The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."

(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."

The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.

Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."

Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.

Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.

The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."

Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."

Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"

While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).

It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.

Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.

Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.

Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.

The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.

As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.

The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.

As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.

Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.

But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.

Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).

Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.

The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.

[aikaterini-drag]

Embrace of Two Hearts

Summary: Harald has been traveling, negotiating alliances but now that he is back, he can’t take his eyes off of his wife —as well as his hands off of her.

Pairing: King Harald Sigurdson x Queen Fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, kisses, implied smut, besotted Harald.

Kofi 🧡 AO3 🩷 ASK ME 🩵

It had been a long time since Harald Sigurdsson had left Norway to build alliances and trading negotiations with the surrounding kingdoms. The matter had required his attention and he had been forced to leave you behind so you could take care of the kingdom in his absence. You were his Queen, the person he trusted and loved the most.

After meeting with various wealthy yarls and merchants, Harald’s plans had been prosperous; he’d stricken deals to trade goods and boost the income of his kingdom.

After almost two months at traveling, he was finally back.

Harald hadn’t blown the horns to make his arrival known.

He wanted today to be a surprise.

He wanted to see your face light up and hear your happy laughter as you reached him.

So after a light meal and a much needed bath, he headed to one of the villages where he was told you had gone shopping.

With his hood pulled low over this face, he strolled along the bustling Viking village, and when he saw you, his eyes fixed on you. You hadn’t taken notice of his presence; you were engaged in conversation with some of the women selling silks and spices. Resting his great frame on one of the stalls, he took his time and watched you for a few seconds. When waiting became too much to handle, he slipped back his hood and approached you.

A loud gasp left your lips when you finally saw him. You blinked, as in disbelief and when he smiled invitingly, all dimples and sunshine, you rushed into his arms. Your husband was back! Oh, how you’ve missed him, craved him! You’ve been exchanging letters with him during his travels but nothing compared to him holding you, touching you. And there he was, tall and handsome, wearing his marvelous regal tunic and leather pants, his fur cloak, his handsome face forming a warm smile.

“Ah, there’s my beautiful queen!” he said when you practically jumped into his waiting arms.

"Oh, Harald!" You pressed your lips against his in a long kiss. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back.”

“Surprise,” he said, his lips stretched delightfully.

“Oh, how I missed you! Is everything alright? The negotiations?”

“Everything’s perfect. I’ll tell you about my feats later.” He cupped your face, his hungry eyes taking in your beauty. “Let me look at you, have my fill of you.”

“Did you miss me so much, my lord husband?”

“Only a little, my lady wife.”

"Only a little?" You raised a brow. “Then why are you here?”

“Because I lied. I missed you. Painfully. Deeply. Hard.”

You laughed. “You debauched Viking.”

He grinned. “I've hoped to distract you from your shopping. Is it working?”

You fluttered your eyelashes. “Only if you kiss me again.”

Smiling in that stunning mischievous smile of his, he lowered his lips to yours, his tongue dancing with yours wetly. The touch was too swift for your liking but since you were still in public—and everyone was staring… you drew back softly. Harald locked your hands together and led the way back to your longhouse. You walked through the hall, with him stealing kisses and whispering sweet words to you.

When he had you in the solitude of your room, he scooped you up and dropped you onto the bed. You giggled as you bounced stop the furs and pillows. He joined you, a thick knee climbing onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. And then he was all over you, his strong body draped over your slender frame. He watched you with eyes ablaze with the passion, his lips parted. He brought his hands to caress your cheek, his knuckles tracing your skin lovingly.

“What is it, King Harald? What has you so enthralled?” you teased, leaning into his touch.

“You,” he said simply. “My wife… my beautiful wife who outshines even the finest jewels.”

You kissed him lightly. “I’m not as charming as my strong and courageous husband.”

“I disagree. You are achingly beautiful and perfect. And I am not in the least charming.”

“Oh, you're charming. Impossibly charming.” You claimed his lips and he moaned. “Your charm is as sharp as your sword.”

Harald grinned. “My love, my sword only yields to you. Sharp and ready to service you.”

“You didn’t just say that!”

He kissed your forehead, however, his hands were skillfully dragging up your gown. “What are you thinking, my mischievous wife?”

“What are you thinking, my mischievous husband?”

“I’m thinking I missed the feel of you. And that I want you,” he said and rolled his hips gently, and even with the layers of clothes, his groin pressed hard against her center.

Whining softly, you slipped your hands under his tunic to feel his warm skin. “Me, too. It has been so long.”

“Hm… I have been denied your warmth but no more.”

“Make love to me?”

“All day and night, my love.”

He pulled you close and kissed you deeply and fervently, lips meeting, tongues brushing. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but your love and passion. Clothes were tossed away, skin touched skin, sweat tricked like little diamonds and then came bliss.

[redskull199987]

Early Mornings

Ivar the Boneless x female!reader

Word count:1.1k

Warnings:a little bit steamy

Summary: You find yourself in a delightful situation after waking up, but are suddenly interrupted by an unexpected visitor...

Gif by @underragingwaves

Masterlist

Part II

I slowly tried to open my eyes. But it seemed so hard. I was too lazy and the bed too warm.

Finally, my eyes flutterd open and I tried to sit up, but a pair of strong arms encircled my waist. I looked up and smiled.

He seemed so calm. Ivar the Boneless, a man who was almost never calm.

I quietly turned around in his arms and admired his face. The eyes which were usually shining bright blue were now closed. His mouth slightly ajar and his chest rose and fell as he breathed.

Carefully, I let my fingers dance across his jawline. A soft stubble scratched my fingertips.

"I love you", I mumbled, "Ivar the Boneless"

"I love you too, my dear"

That caught me of guard. I tried to pull away, but Ivar was faster. He grabbed my hand, and put it back on top of his cheek.

A smile crept onto his face, as he grabbed my other arm and pulled me even closer to him.

"Ivar-", I protested, but before I could say anything more, his soft lips collided with mine and I let any protests slip past me.

I sighed against Ivar's lips and we parted slightly. I could feel his warm breath on my skin and his blue eyes gazed into mine.

"Ivar", I mouthed against his lips.

He lifted his hand and softly brushed away my hair:"My Y/N"

Ivar slowly put his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. He sighed softly, before looking at me again.

"My Y/N", he whispered again.

I smiled at him and reconnected our lips. I felt Ivar's hands wander to my waist and he pulled me on top of him, while he sat up himself.

I felt Ivar's back hit the headboard, while he pulled me closer to his chest.

"Ivar", I signed against his lips, "Please"

"So needy, huh", he chuckled.

I only looked into his eyes and nodded. A grin graced his lips and in a matter of seconds, Ivar had switched our places and he was suddenly hovering above me.

His lips attacked my neck and a moan escaped my mouth.

"Shh", Ivar whisperd, "We don't want others to hear these beautiful sounds"

I nodded and tried to keep silent while he continued to kiss across my neck.

"Those noises are only for me to hear", Ivar mumbled. His voice was stern,"Only for me"

I only nodded at his words again, not able to form a coherent sentence.

A yelp escaped my lips, as Ivar's cold hands slipped under my robe. He only chuckled and continued to lift it over my head.

He just looked at me for a second, like I was the most precious thing that he has ever seen.

"Ivar",I mumbled and pulled him towards my lips again.

Another moan escaped my lips, I felt how his frigid fingers touched my skin. Ivar grasped one of my breasts, before starting to kiss down my sternum.

I felt his other hand slip behind my back and puling my Body closer to him. His lips covered my hips in kisses.

I desperately rubbed my thighs together, to conjure some friction, as Ivar was taking his time to cover my skin in hickeys.

"Oh dear", he mumbled and I felt his hands push my legs apart. I gasped, as I felt his lips on my inner thigh.

"Fuck", I mumbled and brushed my hand through his hair. A groan left Ivar's lips.

"Ivar!!"

I have never seen a man, who couldn't walk, get up so fast and covering himself and someone else. Because the Person screaming his name, was not me, but his brother.

Ubbe. He only looked at the two of us and grinned. Our relationship was no secret to them, nor to anybody else, but still they liked to make fun of us or tease Ivar for always being so protective of me.

"You're late", he said sharply, before turnung around to leave.

"Oh, and Y/N?", he asked again.

"Yes?", I sighed and shyly peeked out from behind Ivar's back.

"Our mother is searching you", Ubbe stated before leaving.

"Shit!", I got up as fast as possible, looking for my clothes.

"Where do you think, are you going?", Ivar asked perplexed and even though he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, he managed to pull me back into his lap again.

"Ivar", I giggled. His pouting face was too cute, "I promised your mother to help her with embroidering"

"Why can't you stay?", Ivar wined, running his hands up my back.

"Because your mother is the queen of Kattegat and she will personally kill me if I am late", I chuckled and pecked his nose, before getting up.

"I'd never let her do that", Ivar mumbled.

"I know, Ivar", I smiled and grasped his cheek, "I know"

"I love you", he mumbled while I put on my dress.

"Would you help me with the Corset, love?", I asked and turned my back on him, so that he could could tie the knots.

"All done", Ivar smiled after a minute. I turned around and kissed his forehead:"Thank you"

I quickly grabbed a comb and brushed through my hair. I was about to tie it together to, but Ivar stopped me.

"Leave it", he said. I turned towards him and smiled, before dropping my hair. It fell down my shoulder, before Ivar slowly reached out for it. He grabbed a lose Strand and quietly examined it.

"I have to go now", I murmured.

Ivar nodded, before grabbing his crutches. He struggled a bit to get up, but I only watched him. Even though, I wanted to help him, I knew how stubborn Ivar was. He would never admit, that he needed help.

After a minute, he was standing in front of me. Only in his pants and his hair still slightly messed.

I chuckled at his sight.

"What!?", Ivar smiled,"Don't you like, what you're seeing?

"Oh I do", I answered, "In fact, I even love what I'm seeing"

Ivar smirked before giving me one last kiss. It wasn't as passionate as the others, but still tender and full of love.

"I love you", he mouthed against my lips.

"I love you too, Ivar the Boneless"

[lokifromvalhalla]

MASTERLIST

╔═════*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═════╗

⟐VIKINGS

IVAR THE BONELESS

⟐ I'm here for you | Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Genre: Comfort / Angst Words: ± 1 800 Everyone can feel the weight of the last events on their shoulders. Mainly Ivar, but he won't be able to handle it if (y/n)'s also angry at him.

⟐ A poisoned mind | Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Genre: Comfort / Fluff Words: ± 2 000 (Y/n) can't help but to wonder whether Ivar really trusts them, what they don't know it's that everything is just a matter of insecurity.

⟐ I miss you (1/2) | Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Genre: Comfort / Fluff / Light angst Words: ± 4 400 You had always been Ivar's right hand, but something happened, so now you are in the hands of Prince Oleg. Oleg, however, brings you a little gift after one of his trips.

⟐ I miss you (2/2) | Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Genre: Comfort / Fluff / Light angst Words: ± 3 000 "Elhaz wasn’t my name, in the first place. It was for me what ‘Boneless’ is for Ivar, a title, one that was given to me by Ivar since, in his words, I’m his protection, the one who makes everything feel sacred, the safety. His safety. Eventually, it was all that really mattered, and turned into what some people call me. Does he remember it?"

⟐ Clean your mind | Ivar The Boneless x Male Reader | Ivar The Boneless x amab Reader

Genre: Smut / Comfort Words: ± 3 100 Kind of content: Fingering / Anal sex / Some praising You help Ivar clean his mind and let go of all the stress that bothers him lately.

⟐ Be patient | Ivar The Boneless x Male Reader | Ivar The Boneless x amab Reader

Genre: Smut Mordern! AU Words: ± 3 100 Kind of content: Toys / Anal sex / Edging Ivar needs to be taught a lesson.

⟐ Time and humility | Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Genre: Comfort / Fluff Words: ± 1 600 A curse leaded to Ivar being turned into a half-cat person, which he doesn't really knows how to deal with nor does his partner, but they figure it out despite how stubborn Ivar can be.

⟐ What's the fun in that? | Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Genre: Comfort / Light angst Words: ± 3 800 Ivar is captured by Oleg. (Y/n), the Rus army commander, is both interested and interesting.

⟐ A nice punishment | Ivar The Boneless x [gender neutral] Reader

Genre: Smut / Comfort Words: ± 2 100 Kind of content: Oral fixation / Nipple play Playing with his chest does get Ivar to shut up for a little. It feels way better than it should.

╚═════*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═════╝

You may find some of my works in AO3 with light alterations since I post there using an OC instead of reader. Except for that, my works aren't published anywhere else nor here under a different user. Let me know if you see something off.

[eu-nicola]

vikings x fem!oc

It was going to be with reader but I needed to give it a name

my first language isn’t English and I didn't correct this

summary: vikings brothers have a sister who can control dragons and has powerful magic (anon request)

The baby Freyja had been born with an eye the same as that of a snake with a different color and pupil shape, it was thought that it was because of her ancestors and that it was a way of proving that in the future she was going to be a strong and powerful as her father was. And they weren’t wrong.

In one of Ragnar's trips he found a somewhat strange egg, larger than a normal one with scales and green in color, he took it and took it to his sweet daughter, this was going to be the compensation gift for being gone so long. The day her father returned home the little girl was playing away from everyone while they were looking for her, she didn't care and continued with her game because she thought it was funny how she could move the twigs in the air and throw them far away she even try to try with a big stone but it was too big for someone so tiny.

When they finally found her, her mother didn't realize what she was doing, she just told her it was time to stop playing and took her inside so she could see her father, he welcomed her with open arms and a kiss on the cheek. When the girl began to ask him a thousand questions about where he had been he immediately smiled and took out his gift, Freyja was surprised to see her new gift, it was beautiful for her.

Over time the girl realized that it was not a normal egg and saw a small dark green dragon come out of there, just like its shell, she loved this but she did not want to tell anyone because it was her secret, it was her dragon and if she said so maybe they would want to take it from her and she didn't want to, so she decided to hide it in a cave that she had seen once with her father and brothers not so far from the place but that no one ever went to.

Months passed and even in such a short time the dragon had grown immensely, Freyja, only 6 years old, escaped every day without anyone seeing her and brought the dragon something to eat, she always convinced a prisoner to follow her and she took them there for the dragon she had called "Arrax", certainly she was never afraid to take a prisoner because she knew that they couldn't do anything to her because she had her dragon taking care of her.

One morning Freyja was trying to get a prisoner and escape but for the first time her brothers saw her and instead of telling her something they just followed her to the cave with the prisoner being sure that the man was not going to do something before they killed but it was not necessary because they were surprised when they saw the dragon eat the man in one bite. Immediately the girl noticed the presence of her brothers and smiled at them as if what she had done was a little game. "brothers", the little girl yelled, she came to hug them and at that moment Freyja introduced Arrax to them and she tell them that he was a good pet and very pretty, when her half-brother Bjorn wanted to push her away, she immediately made him fly away the air raising it as she had once done with that twig but now she had been able to do it with it.

"Don't try to take me away from Arrax again." she told them.

At first everyone was so surprised at the beast that even they who are not afraid of anything for a moment were afraid of the dragon. For now no one was going to say anything but maybe in the future when his sister became a woman they would be able to use the dragon for their own purposes. Without speaking they all looked at each other and it seemed that they agreed even Freyja herself that she was already eager to ride the dragon and feed it with her enemies.

[lady06reaper]

Alright yall....

I NOW WRITE FOR VIKINGS!

I really like this show and there's just not enough content for this amazing show! will write for anyone at this point in time but if I don't feel like I can get the character right please have a back up just in case

[thepaperpanda]

Affected By Music || modern!Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: Although Ivar dislikes the Christmas songs you listen to, you somehow convince him that they're not that bad.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1435

Authors: Rouge & Cass

A/N: today’s prompt: enjoying the Christmas music

You sat at the table, trying your best to cut a neat Christmas tree from the thick, green glitter paper you held in your hands - the task was far from easy as the paper was thick enough to be difficult to cut through, even with the kitchen scissors.  You were listening to Last Christmas by Wham! from a radio playing quietly, standing on the windowsill. Throughout the song, you weren't even aware you were rhythmically rocking your foot.

"For Fuck's sake!" Ivar yelled, walking to the radio and turning it off.

Since the morning, the song had been drilling into his brain - he was sick of it. "I will throw the radio out the window if I hear this cursed song again."

After his outburst, you stopped cutting the shape in the paper. You rolled your eyes and said, "Don't be a drama queen today. It's Christmas time! Cherish it! Christmas songs are all over the radio right now in the end, so better get used to this."

"Sweetheart, I see what you mean, but Christmas is only like two days, right?" Ivar looked at you annoyed. "And they start playing this shit on repeat a month before. It's annoying."

"It's not annoying," you replied, putting down the scissors and paper. When you got up, you walked to the windowsill and turned the radio on once more. "... but the very next day you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special," the song was crooning on the radio.

In a frown, Ivar pulled out the plug to make sure the radio wouldn't play again. "I'm serious Y/N. I'm tired of hearing this song everywhere."

Leaning forward, you pulled the plug from his hand and reconnected it. "That wasn't fair! Why are you always so angry and grumpy?"

"Because it's annoying. When I'm annoyed during a game, you tell me to put on my headphones," Ivar commented. "And I do it because I respect you, so it's your turn to respect me as well."

It annoyed you when Ivar acted like that, and unfortunately he was prone to it quite often. "There's no comparison between the two. Whenever you play your games, you become nervous and show your worst traits. I respect you, but it also goes the other way, doesn't it?"

"So you can open Spotify and put on headphones, sweetheart," Ivar said with a wry grin dancing in the corners of his lips.

It hurt you to hear Ivar's words; you had worked hard to create a festive atmosphere in your shared flat, and Ivar had never been so wry toward you as he was now. "Whenever the weather cools down, I can't wait to hear Christmas music. I even listen to it in the summer when I craft or while I read, because I like this type of music, but if you don't like it, I'll switch to Spotify," you said, unplugging the plug and putting it down on the wooden floor. As you returned to your seat, you got your JBL headphones, put them on, and paired them with your phone.

It was just a stupid song and you acted like you would be locked up in the house, so he rolled his eyes.

While he was happy that it was quiet again, you started humming whatever you were listening to soon after.

You hummed with a smile; your notes fell carefree in the air around you as you were rocking your feet again, this time shaking your head from time to time.

As Ivar let out a heavy sigh, he walked towards you and placed his hand on your back before leaning forward to kiss your lips.

The reaction was unexpected for you, but you returned the kiss. You looked at your boyfriend after removing your headphones. "What was that for?"

"To stop you from humming that cursed song," he raised an eyebrow after explaining.

After exhaling, you made a sad face and rubbed your temples. "Ivar, Ivar." You stood up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice before returning to your seat. After setting the glass on the table's counter, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know what?"

As Ivar wrapped his arm around your waist, he muttered, "What?"

You began singing and rocking your hips from left to right, "Last Christmas I gave you my heart..."

"... But the very next day you gave it away," he sang along, shaking his head. "You are an annoying brat, you know that?"

You rubbed your nose against his and reminded him, "This is exactly why you fell in love with me."

"Honestly? I'm not sure if I did the right thing," he said with a sigh, furrowing his brows a little, smirking as he looked down at you.

You climbed on your tiptoes and stole a kiss from his lips, discovering with amusement that his mouth and tongue tasted like the gingerbread you baked the other day. While humming the song, you asked him playfully, "Not too much frosting on the cookies though?"

"Shut up," Ivar scoffed, wrapping his arms fully around you. Slowly, he began to rock with you, humming the song along. "They were a bit sweet."

"Despite their sweetness, you ate them all," you giggled, rubbing his nape.

"Yeah, but I'm sure I'll get sick of their sweetness," he joked.

While you rocked to the beat of the music, you nuzzled his chest and listened to his strong heartbeat.

Before saying anything, Ivar rocked with you for a moment. "I'll let you listen to those annoying Christmas songs if you keep being so cute."

"I will listen to them even if you will be angry with me," you said. "The sweeter you are, the more I would like to apologize to you."

"You're a brat," he sighed and squeezed your hand tightly. "Turn on that radio before I change my mind."

After clapping your hands, you immediately went to do what he told you.

He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping you wouldn't actually turn it on.

Soon, Jingle Bells filled the room with its rhythm and you began bouncing around to the music.

Facepalming, he already regretted that he let you turn the radio on.

Your arms reached out to catch his shoulders and soon you were dancing with Ivar.

As Ivar's hands moved down your back and rested on your ass, he murmured, "I'll never understand why people may consider all those silly, thematically similar songs during Christmas time. They are so fucking annoying!"

"Once the Christmas spirit fills you fully, honey, you will stop finding them irritating and you will realize they are sweet and they help spread that spirit all over," you told him, wrapping your arms around him.

"If you say so," Ivar shrugged lightly, but when Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You played on the radio, he closed his eyes and hissed. "No, no, not this fucking one! Sorry, Y/N, but you'll never convince me Mariah isn't annoying. Can you hear this voice? It's so shrill!"

After observing Ivar's reaction, you giggled and tugged on his thick, dark hair, causing him to raise his head, enabling you to kiss his jawline. "I have a little, angry kitten here, haven’t I?”

A sigh escaped Ivar's lips. "We could do something nice together and I'd be happy to let those songs play in the background. What do you think?"

"Ivar, what do you have in mind?"

Smirking mischievously, he tugged at your shirt. "Don't make me beg for it, you know too well."

Obviously, he meant some cuddles with a "happy ending", but you had a cunning idea. I'm sure you'll help me bake gingerbread again to compensate for the fact that you've eaten all of it apparently, and I promised Hvitserk that I would deliver a portion of it to him this Christmas."

Slowly, Ivar's eyebrows rose, and he grunted deeply. "Oh, okaaaay! But later you're mine, in all the fucking ways. And fuck Hvitty, his only ability is to eat all the time, fuck.”

Your lips were tinged with a smile. "That's true, but it's so sweet in my opinion."

"That's cute in your opinion, but you scold me every time I eat anything you cook! And you somehow don't make heart-eyes while speaking about it!” Ivar seemed to get offended.

Ruffling his hair, you asked him to follow you to the kitchen. “Let's stop talking and start baking or I’ll sing All I Want For Christmas Is You all day long!"

[axxl-rose]

The Pale Moonlight

Ivar the Boneless x ofc

Word Count: 875

Warnings: None

Laughter echoed in the distance as the men celebrated their latest battle, drinking mead and singing songs. The gleaming fire caused a dim glow to settle over the forest, illuminating the dancing shadows.

Sitting on an old tree stump, Ivar stared out into the forest, eyes hazy and shoulders hunched over in thought. Yet, his ears perked up, hearing the snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves. Glancing over his shoulder, he sat up straight as the cause of his headache appeared.

“What is wrong, young prince? Didn’t kill enough Christians for your liking?” Selene teased, a smile gracing her face as she leant against one of the many trees surrounding them.

Ivar chuckled, his head bowed low. “For a girl who criticises my love for bloodshed, you seem to enjoy making jokes about it.” His electric eyes lifted, a smirk decorating his face.

Selene scoffed, a hand waving away his response as she plopped down beside him. “I do not condone it, but if it makes you happy and stops you from injuring unsuspecting locals, who am I to complain?” She peered up at him, a twinkle in her eyes.

Ivar gave no reply, his smirk shifting into a frown. He just stared at her, unsure and unprepared.

Selene’s smile fell. “What is wrong?”

The Boneless grit his teeth, a hiss escaping. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he tried to shake off the fire in his veins as he looked away from her, unable to gaze into her shining eyes no longer.

Panic flared in Selene as she moved onto her knees, observing Ivar’s shaking form, tentatively touching his legs, “Have you injured yourself? Fallen off your horse? What is it?” She rambled, unaware that his piercing stare had returned to her.

“I want to choke the life from you.” He whispered. Selene stopped her movements, her mouth becoming dry as she slowly met his eyes, unconsciously leaning away from her friend. “I want you to understand how it feels to be afraid…” Ivar licked his lips, “Because this is how I feel whenever you are around.”

It was as if the only sounds to be heard in the forest were the quiet squawking of ravens, the distant celebrations, and the racing of teenage hearts.

“Ivar…” Selene trailed off, her gleaming eyes blown wide in the moonlight. “What do you mean?”

Ivar swallowed, the noise echoing within the forest. “You have…” his electric blue eyes avoided her, staring into the starry night sky. “Consumed my every thought. When you are away from me, I am concerned about your safety, your feelings. Has somebody harmed you? Made you cry?” His eyebrows furrowed and fists clenched by his sides. Selene could not speak. Her glistening eyes tracked Ivar’s frantic movements. “And when you are near me, it is worse! I cannot speak, for I fear that if I do, I will say the wrong thing, and you will leave!” He yelled, causing Selene to flinch. “See! I have done it already!” Ivar cried, lifting himself off the stump and beginning to crawl away.

Selene stumbled to her feet, tripping over loose leaves and sticks. “Ivar! Please!” She shouted. “You have not let me speak!” Ivar continued to ignore her, slithering into the shadows. “What if I told you I wanted to choke you too?” She called.

Ivar froze, wide eyes turning to face Selene with raised brows.

Selene’s face crinkled, her lips pursed. “Okay, that is not what I meant to say at all...” She sighed. Shrugging, she stepped closer to Ivar, slowly as if trying not to spook him. “I am afraid for you too. When you are on the battlefield, I cannot sit still! What if you have fallen off your chariot? Or even been killed? I just have to sit here and wait like some silly twit, waiting for you to return!” Selene had stopped looking at Ivar and was pacing. Now that her thoughts were in the open, she could not stop them. “And even when you aren’t on the battlefield, you concern me! What if it is too cold and your bones hurt? Or you are in pain and need silly jokes to lighten the mood?” Selene paused, staring at grey moon, seeking guidance. “But, how do I tell you I love you without losing you?”

Selene screamed; her body knocked to the dewy forest floor. Ivar hovered above her, breathing heavy and blue eyes glimmering. Odin had frozen time as the young pair gazed at each other, peering into the soul of the other. Ivar inched downwards, slow and uncertain. 

Rolling her eyes, Selene gripped the back of Ivar’s head and smashed their lips together. Their lips moved like two people dancing together for the first time, unpractised yet passionate. His arms ran up and down her sides as she played with his hair. It was not perfect, but it was right.

Pulling away with a huff, Ivar whispered, “I do not really wish to choke you.”

Selene nodded absentmindedly, staring at Ivar’s lips. “Good. Let’s just start with holding hands. Your odd kinks can come in later, hmm?” She grinned. Ivar shook his head with a chuckle, leaning back down to reclaim her lips in the pale moonlight.  

[popcorn1989]

1: You're Like a Brother

Characters: Floki and Ivar

Warning: Nothing

Words: 529

Look here for the related short stories or for other stories: Here

Ivar was sitting in a meadow on the mountains far from Kattegat. He had a nice view directly on the small village. The wind played with his hair, which he combed back. He was still out of breath from having walked the whole way, by himself, his new leg splints giving him better support, and his crutch now lying carelessly beside him.

Ivar wanted to be alone, alone with his thoughts, that kept coming back to him. He just wanted to be normal, but the gods didn't grant him that. Again and again he jabbed the dagger into the grass, leaving deep indentations. No one took him seriously, everyone called him a cripple, and he looked back at the village by the water, with an angry look. His blue eyes saw every roof and the people on the paths, they looked like ants from up here.

"Ivar" came from behind, startled Ivar turned around and saw Floki standing behind him and smiling. Whenever he saw Floki, he couldn't help but smile too, but he turned around, without saying anything. "What's wrong, Ivar?" He heard Floki approach and felt his closeness behind him. "I want to be alone," he said angrily, he didn't really want it and Floki didn't deserve it either, he was the only one who treated him like a normal person.

"The gods are sending us nice weather today, you shouldn't be sitting up here alone" - "I want to think" Floki walked away from him and approached the precipice and looked down, in his hands he held a blade of grass and played around with it, he laughed briefly when he saw the little people and turned back to Ivar. "Is that a smile on your lips?" Ivar's smile vanished as quickly as it came. When Floki laughed, Ivar automatically grinned, because it was so cute.

"What do you want here, Floki?" he asked annoyed and looked at him questioningly. "I was just wondering what my favorite son of Ragnar is doing up here alone" - "Your favorite?" Floki laughed again briefly and with his lanky gait, he approached Ivar, held out the blade of grass and looked at him deep into his blue eyes. Ivar hasn't been surprised by Floki for a long time, and accepted the blade of grass.

"That's the strongest blade of grass" - "But it has a kink and no more roots" - "No, no, no... That, my friend, is the strongest blade of grass, I've plucked several and this blade of grass hasn't changed, like the others” he took a handful of grass out of his pocket. Ivar knew he was lying, didn't he? "You are like that blade of grass, Ivar the Boneless. You keep thriving where others perish”

Ivar's eyes filled with tears, everyone was mean to him but Floki..... Floki was exceptional, and he felt like Floki was more to him, than just a friend. "Floki, you're like a brother to me" he said seriously. Floki laughed briefly, but Ivar saw in his eyes, how touched he was. He sat down next to him, put his arm around him and kissed his temple. "You too.... You too for me, Ivar Ragnasson" 

End

[zapreportsblog]

❝the shield maidens challenge❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings x reader

✭ summary : (y/n) is a shield maiden known for her unique hunting skills and techniques, ivar the boneless decides to put that to the test

✭ vikings masterlist

The air was crisp with the promise of winter as (Y/N) stood atop a hill, her gaze fixed on the dense forest that lay before her. Clad in leather armor, her long hair billowed in the wind, and her eyes held an intense focus. She was a shield maiden, known throughout the land for her exceptional hunting skills and unmatched techniques. Many whispered tales of her feats, of her ability to track prey that would evade even the most seasoned of hunters.

It was said that her eyes could discern the faintest traces of movement, her senses attuned to the subtleties of the natural world. The forest had become her domain, and the animals that dwelled within it were her allies, not adversaries.

But today was different. Word had reached her ears of a visitor, a stranger from a distant land. Ivar the Boneless, they called him—a warrior of formidable reputation and cunning mind. (Y/N) had heard the tales of his conquests, the stories of his audacious strategies on the battlefield.

As the forest rustled with life around her, (Y/N) sensed a presence nearby. Ivar emerged from the undergrowth, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that matched her own. He was no ordinary warrior; the aura of power and intelligence that surrounded him was undeniable.

"(Y/N)," Ivar's voice was a low rumble, "I've heard of your skills. I've come to test them."

Her eyebrow arched slightly, curiosity mingling with the thrill of a challenge. "And what would you have me do, Ivar?"

A slow, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. "Track me. Find me before sunset. Prove that your reputation is not mere boasting."

The challenge was laid before her, and (Y/N)'s heart quickened. This was no ordinary test; Ivar had seen through her facade, recognized the truth behind the legends. With a nod, she accepted his challenge, her eyes narrowing as she began to take in her surroundings.

For hours, (Y/N) traversed the forest, following signs and marks that Ivar had left behind. It was a game of wits, a duel of skill and strategy. With each clue, she felt Ivar's presence drawing nearer, his shadowy figure lurking at the edge of her perception.

As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, (Y/N) sensed that she was closing in. The forest grew quieter, as if holding its breath in anticipation. Her senses honed, she moved silently through the underbrush, her heart pounding in rhythm with her footfalls.

And then, she saw him. Ivar stood at the edge of a clearing, his back to her, his stance relaxed yet alert. He turned slightly, acknowledging her presence with a nod. "(Y/N), you have proven your skill," he said, his tone measured.

She stepped into the clearing, her breath coming steady despite the rush of exhilaration. "And you, Ivar, have proven yourself a worthy adversary."

A grin tugged at the corners of Ivar's mouth, a rare display of satisfaction. "The forest is yours, and your skills unmatched. But I offer you another challenge."

(Y/N)'s eyebrow quirked, her interest piqued. "Speak."

"I am assembling a band of warriors, a fellowship of those who value cunning and strategy as much as strength. Join me, (Y/N). Let your legend grow alongside ours."

Her gaze locked with his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the weight of their unspoken choices.

"I'll consider your offer, Ivar," she finally replied, her voice carrying a promise and a challenge of its own.

And with that, the shield maiden and the cunning warrior stood at the precipice of a new alliance, their destinies intertwined by the threads of skill, strategy, and a shared hunger for greatness.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the clearing where (Y/N) and Ivar stood. The air was pregnant with the weight of their unspoken agreement, the anticipation of what their partnership might bring. Ivar's gaze held a mixture of respect and intrigue, while (Y/N)'s eyes glittered with a fire that matched his own.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, (Y/N) took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Your proposal is intriguing, Ivar. A fellowship that values strategy and cunning is a force to be reckoned with."

Ivar nodded, his gaze unyielding. "With your skills and my vision, we could shape the world. Forge a legacy that will be spoken of for generations."

Her lips curled into a half-smile. "But I am not one to be easily swayed, Ivar. Joining your fellowship means abandoning my own pursuits, my own path."

His expression remained unwavering. "You would not be abandoning anything, (Y/N). You would be trading one legend for another."

A gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead, and (Y/N) let his words settle in her mind. She had built her reputation as a solitary shield maiden, unburdened by alliances or loyalties beyond the forest that had raised her. But the offer before her was a tantalizing one, a chance to expand her influence beyond the borders of the wilderness.

"I will give you my answer in due time, Ivar," she finally said, her voice steady. "I require space to consider such a significant shift."

Ivar inclined his head in understanding. "Very well. Take the time you need. But know that when you make your decision, the fellowship of cunning warriors will be waiting."

With a final nod, (Y/N) turned away, the weight of the decision heavy on her shoulders. She retraced her steps through the forest, her thoughts a whirlwind of possibilities and uncertainties. The moon emerged from behind a cloud, casting a silvery glow on the path ahead.

As the night deepened, (Y/N) found herself back at the hill where it had all begun. She looked out over the land she had come to know so well, her heart torn between the familiarity of her solitary life and the allure of a destiny intertwined with Ivar's.

The following days were a time of reflection and contemplation. (Y/N) wandered through the forest, her mind a battleground of conflicting desires. The fellowship offered a chance to leave a mark on the world, to channel her skills into something greater than herself. But it also meant letting go of the independence she had cherished for so long.

Eventually, the decision became clear, like a path illuminated by the first light of dawn. With a sense of purpose, (Y/N) made her way to the designated meeting place where Ivar and his companions waited. She walked into their midst, her presence commanding attention.

"I have made my choice, Ivar," she declared, her voice unwavering. "I will join your fellowship. Together, we will shape the world as we see fit."

A triumphant smile played on Ivar's lips as he extended his hand toward her. "(Y/N), welcome to our ranks. The fellowship of cunning warriors is stronger with you among us."

And so, beneath the moonlit sky, (Y/N) embraced her new path, her destiny intertwined with a fellowship that sought not only conquest but a legacy that would echo through the ages. The shield maiden's journey had taken an unexpected turn, leading her into a future brimming with challenges, alliances, and the promise of greatness.

[kikovalkiko]

A word from me - once again.

Hello guys, I hope you are doing well!

Life had other plans for me than continue writing stories. I’ve been inactive for a while, cause there was cute little distraction 🤰🏻🍼 I hope you forgive me.

BUT we are healthy and happy and our everyday life is now back to (kind of) normal. Soooo, I promise to don't let you guys hang and I'm back to writing again. I already have started a new Vikings story, with a pinch of a Game of Thrones in there. For my ongoing story, I'm kind of in a writers-block, so if you want, please send me messages with ideas. Or even ideas for oneshots or completly different stuff. I'm garteful for every message! <3

Sending out hugs <3

[honestsycrets]

Amor y Respeto I: Mi Alma || [Miguel O’Hara x Latina!Reader]

Chapter II: Corazón

❛ pairing | Miguel O’Hara x FB!Reader, platonic Hobie x Reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | the moment you want a sign of love from Miguel is the moment that your relationship is fucked. 

❛ tags | fuckbuddies, a very latinx piece, jealousy, jealous Miguel O’Hara, a sparse hobie appearance, spidey!reader, latina!reader, no translations of the spanish included, gif credit to the original owner, nsfw, female reader, some mention of blood and wounds, some creative liberties, slight spoilers.

❛ sy’s notes | not my usual fanfare and i’m a little rusty but miguel hit me straight in my heart. i consciously omitted spanish translations in this work. consistent pet names include mi alma (my soul) & muñeca (doll). this is not my usual fandom and i may have missed some fandom nuances, so i apologize in advance for creative liberties. lastly, emotions impact the reader’s healing capabilities, hope that's clear enough. thank you @lisinfleur​ and @ivarsrideordie​ for your help. i’ll be dropping an ivar fic soon, see you then!

In your cultura, disrespect was unacceptable. 

You knew it. Your lover knew you knew it: but for you, there was something greater than respect. Amor. If he knew that you knew about her little escapade, oh, it would be unforgivable. It undercut the very foundation of what he did at HQ. But even between lovers, where the time you spent was fleeting and unstable, there were things you could not share. Besides... how would he know? 

The day had been long. Your body ached with the dizzying speed of patrols past the vine-covered high-rise apartments of your beautiful city. Your room was stuffy with the tropical air struggling against humidity. With dried blood on your skin, the perfect remedy was a shower. Its warmth soothed your aching muscles after a long day. You found your mind wandering to problems that didn’t immediately demand a solution. How you’d avoid cotton mouth the next time you saw him. Sooner than you thought.

The shower door whizzed aside, plumes of steam fading into the cool air. “Shit!” you shouted, reaching to cover your body. Miguel bent his head as he stepped into your cramped shower and cupped the frame. He shut the shower door. Did he already know? You nipped your lower lip raw and the taste of blood turned your tastebuds. Somehow, you knew that he hadn’t slipped off from HQ just to have you. Not tonight. He had that glazed-over look in his sharp eyes, considering you the same way he might consider anyone else. 

 “Miguel?” you fluttered your lashes at him which winked off plump droplets of water. “Mi alma, que paso?” 

“Did you know?” 

You reached out to turn the knob of the water off. It creaked to a stop. Despite tracing the droplets that coasted down your curves, he watched you with otherwise uninterested eyes. When you failed to respond, he stomped closer, kicking up the water that swirled under your bare feet.

“Did you know?” His fist pounded the side of the shower wall. Your heart leapt into your chest where it fluttered painfully, encased in your chest. Miguel bared his angular teeth at you. Teeth that usually marred your neck with possessive bites, loving kisses, and teasing scrapes. He never bared them at you like this. It was always a possibility, never the reality.

You met his eyes. The certainty you had moments earlier that oh, he wouldn’t find out, was gone. Of course, he found out. Your Miguel always found out. With that dead, blank expression, you knew the gravity of your situation. 

“Of course, I knew.” His chest swelled with forceful inhalation of air as you spoke. “But Gwen… I, they’re only kids. Kids who--” 

“Kids? They are not just kids. Coño, I’d expect this of them,” he prompted your name and took a step forward. You took one back. Then another, knocking your back into the shower walls. You were like a small bird in an even smaller cage. Nowhere to run and still, he wasn’t about to give you the luxury of personal space. You were pinned between his firm chest and the two stony walls against your back. His voice lowered dangerously low, barely a murmur against the shell of your ear. “But you? You know what’s at risk.” 

“They love--” 

“Y que?” he snapped your name out again. “Tell me, when those kids destroy thousands of lives, what does that change? Have you ever stopped to think of that? Of the lives this will ruin?” 

“I just... wanted them happy. If even for an instant.” You hung your head. He set his clawed hand to the side of your head, combing through the stringy strands of your hair down with a false care that you wanted to believe in. But it was entangled in the strings of his manipulation. “Of course, you have, muñequita.” 

“Then can’t they--” His hand balled up into a fist and careened with the wall behind you. Your head snapped away as his claws unfurled and released crumbling bits of the wall by your naked toes. You’d have to clean that up-- later. You took a deep breath and exhaled the frustration that packed away in your belly. “Sabes qué? I am sorry that love isn’t enough for you, I am sorry that I have never been enough for you.” 

“No. No puedo con esto,” he looked down at you. As he leaned in, his forearm above your head supported his body weight. “Muñeca, por favor. This isn’t about us.” 

“Why can’t it be?” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I just want to be with you, but you won’t let me in,” you reached out. The soft pads of your fingertips hovered by his sharp jawline eased past his ear and into his ruffled hair. For a second, brief as it were, his eyes softened. He leaned into the touch. You had your window. “Why won’t you let me in?”

Whether or not he was past the anger, the disrespect, his thick arms wound around the small of your waist. In some bid to bring you back to your senses-- to him, he set his forehead against your own, dwelling in the soft scent of your floral soap that filled his nose. You tilted your head, capturing his lips in a kiss. His body became as sturdy: unmoving and guarded. 

“I can’t give you what you need.” He reached back to remove your hands from his hair and with care settled them back on your moist chest. As he made his way out of your bathroom, his warning echoed through your mind. “Stay out of my way.”

Miguel’s love was unstable. Affection, not love. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that you always knew it was bound to fail. You were lucky for what time you had with him. It made subsequent missions all the harder, wrapped up in this innate desire to be loved by a man who allowed himself to be loved by none. Without his affection, HQ felt barren. Its many corridors held no life, no love, and no prospect of a better future. Yet, for Miguel, there you were. Your ballet flats tapped furiously alongside the ringing stomps of your partner’s steel-toed boots.

“Ay bendito, this isn’t healing,” you dabbed your fingers in the blood at your shoulder, storming past a sea of red and blue that parted for the pair of you. Your neck was oozing-- well, not oozing so much as soaking your outfit. The mission could have gone better. Sometimes your mind wandered at the worst of times. It didn’t matter, not now. It was done, he would be happy, and it would be enough for today. All that you did you did for him-- and he knew it.

“Your man won’t be happy about that,” Hobie cut through the crowd while walking backward. He made it look so easy. Conviction, you guessed, made life much easier. 

“No,” you took the end of your silky rebozo and held it to your shoulder. “He only cares about results. We have good results. What does he have to be angry about? He has everything he wants.” 

“Hm.” Hobie hummed, span around, and leaned over your shoulder. He was on your tail with his aggravatingly long legs no matter how quickly you walked.

“Hobie, por dios.” 

“He broke up with you, didn’e?” 

You didn’t have to answer him. You didn’t even need to talk to him. You could just keep walking and leave it to his imagination. Yet, your face faltered. The perceptive man he was, Hobie twisted in front of your path. He leaned his hips back and sank his face inches apart from yours. Hobie quirked a smile in his lazy eyes and an adorable lip pout. Your eye centered on his piercing to avert your focus from his words. 

“Yeah,” he answered his own question. “Bet he did.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” you swerved around him.

“Maybe.” Hobie shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and sped after you. “But I’m with you.” 

“How sweet.” 

You knew your Miguel would be there: on that stupid platform, staring at multiple screens, at a lost life, departed from his reality in any other capacity but maintaining the happiness of others. Well, others that weren’t like you. You found him in that very same position when you pressed into his lab. 

“What is it now?” 

“We’ve taken care of it-- Hobie and I.”  

“Good,” came his dry response. “Is that all?”

“Not in the mood to talk to your girl, eh?” Hobie clicked, throwing his arm over your shoulder: not out of care, or friendship, but spite. No matter the institution, Hobie always seemed to harbor harsh feelings for those in charge. If it meant pissing him off a little, rattling up the flow of HQ, Hobie was always an eager volunteer. Hobie turned his lips to your ear and prompted your name, “C’mon, leave him. Let's go get a drinky drink.” 

You bit out a cry at the pressure on your neck, the damn thing wasn’t healing nearly as fast as it needed to be. You blamed the bundles of anxiety that rattled up emotions low in your belly. It was still open, soaking Hobie too. He didn’t mind a little blood on his shorn uniform. Good for the image, and all that.

“That hurt, Hobie!” 

Miguel threw a glance over his shoulder. Just a moment, but enough to spot something else that agitated him. Your normally white outfit, fluttery and light, splattered with the blood that painted your red rebozo a little redder. Or maybe it was Hobie’s lips on your ear, making remarks about beer-- or whiskey-- or-- Molotov--

“Get off,” Miguel pounced down from his kingly stoop and flicked Hobie’s wrist. He snaked his wrist away, shoving his palms back into his pants. You threw him a look knowing that it was not because Miguel told him to but because he felt like it. The devil’s advocate that he was. Miguel unraveled the rebozo from your neck. His hand grasped your chin and angled it one way, then the other, rumbling in clear agitation “You’re wounded.” 

“Déjame quieta. Don’t touch me.” 

“And you?” Miguel rocked back on his heels, setting his well-corded arms on his hips. Then, he angled his body toward Hobie. “Where were you?” 

Hobie lifted his pierced eyebrow. “He serious?” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“Can you? And you-- why are you still here?” Though Miguel asked the question, it was a statement. Hobie held his palms up, fluttering his fingers in mockery. You watched Miguel run his fingers down the bloody rebozo, counting its bloodied inches.  

“Vente conmigo.” He leaned into your ear. The trill of his voice danced down your spine, low and husky. Your mind wandered to the many nights he whispered just the same in your ear. You suppressed the shiver, your heartbeat trembling so violently you were sure you could hear its pathetic thumping, nearly a cry. It hadn’t been long but... you missed this.

“You told me to stay out of your way. I am staying out of your way. Give me--”

“I won’t ask again. Either you come or I’ll make you.” That was it then. A flash of disbelief snapped across your face. The gall of this man. Even though he told you to stay out of the way, he demanded that you leave the lab with him? You caught Hobie perking up to look your way with shiny curious eyes. He pointed to his chest and then yours, suggesting… something you’d ignore. Hobie slipped out a smug hum.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Hobie.”

There were no good alternatives. You knew he would make good on his threat. Not that you particularly would want to fight him anyway. Whether it was respect or obligation, you ran after your Miguel, who already walked away. You snatched the rebozo from his waiting hand, suspended in the air.

Yes, your life was a delicate balance between love and respect. You weren’t sure which of those guided you back to Miguel’s dimly lit room. Only that as you sat on his bed, your once-was lover was behind you. His fingers worked swiftly on your neck, furiously tugging at your sore neck with what felt like a needle. No point complaining. It would eventually end. You could go find the boys. They could rail you about your dating choices as they always did. 

“Lyla will find you another backup partner,” he broke the silence. You rathered he didn’t operate in this limbo of false intimacy. Your lips parted into a sigh rife with agitation. The drawback of fucking your boss was this, you supposed. He controlled your life.

“No, she won’t. I like working with Hobie. I want him.” 

Miguel paused short of dipping the needle back into your skin. “What do you mean-- you want him?” 

“What does it sound like? I like working with Hobie. I trust Hobie. So I want Hobie by my side.” You slapped your lacey thighs and turned to gaze into those familiar eyes. “Así que, no, I do not need another backup. I don’t need you controlling every inch of my work life. I need you to hurry up.” 

“Muñeca. If you’re emotional, you’ll heal slower.” 

“Do not call me that,” you jumped from his lush bed. Your neck squealed for you to stop and let him fix what was clearly broken with the slack thread that connected your body to his. Oh, and what a metaphor it felt like. Your life was sewn together by a man who held all the strings in his hands. “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore. You made it clear how little you feel about me-- and my feelings.” 

He lifted his eyes to yours. A long, slow look. The sort of look that made you question it all. As if the things you said weren’t really from your lips, no matter how sure you were of them.  You broke the exchange first and grasped the long strand embedded deep in your neck. 

“Your feelings,” he held out his hand and tugged the line, “tend to get in the way of what needs to be done.” 

Startled, you looked down at his open palm. You slipped your smaller fingers into the middle of his palm and sat back on the bed. He slid behind you, pressing his core against your backside-- because that was completely necessary. With soft care, he shifted your hair over the opposing shoulder and continued his work. 

“Apart from that, you shouldn’t have gone on that mission. You were distracted. If you weren’t so emotional,” Miguel murmured. “We wouldn’t be here.”

If you weren’t emotional? You screwed your eyebrows together in a pathetic attempt to ignore what he just said. To ignore the way that he demeaned the fuel of your abilities, what guided you through this traumatic thing called life. Meanwhile, Miguel functioned on minimal emotion-- the suppression of what he’d lost by protecting what he was. 

“It’s your fault I was distracted in the first place.” 

“You should be able to control your own feelings.”

“Fine. Apúrate. I’ll get out of your way.” 

Miguel snapped the healing aid thread and ran his clawed fingertips across the long streaks on your neck and shoulder. It was mere moments that he lingered there circling your neck. As your breathing evened out, you felt your body pull together fibrous strands of tissue and heal. Yet, you couldn’t care. 

“Done.” Miguel refused to address your gaze but opted to draw your top back into place to over your breasts. You stood and secured the buttons of your halter top behind your neck. That was it. You’d return to your duties, healed half by your emotions and half by Miguel. You would need to learn to ignore the love you had for him. One day, all this would be well. Miguel rolled up the excess thread around his reel.

Fine. If he was going to ignore you--

“Do you think,” you paused long enough to debate your words. Enough for Miguel to glance up with his stoic red eyes and lift an eyebrow at you. It irritated you how unemotional and consistently unbothered he could be when you stood there just the opposite. Always desperate for a sign of his feelings. “Hobie wants to fuck?” 

There were some lines you should never cross. While you would never actually fuck your partner, the mere mention of the thought ever crossing your mind was one step too far. It was terribly disrespectful. Miguel’s reel plopped onto the floor and rolled short of your feet.

You slid your palms over your hips before hooking at the bend in your waist. His gaze focused on the glide of your hands trailing slowly down your sides. Sides that he often snatched in the dead of night after a warm shower. Or that he’d cling to during lovemaking. Your following words caused him to lurch off the bed. “Qué piensas? He might still be in HQ, no?” 

“What,” His hand fit along your neck like a tight collar. The next moment, pain radiated from your skull and blurred your vision. The pain licked flames of excitement to life in your belly. A gasp slipped from your lips. Instead of shock, your cry was tinged with delight. With his wild brown hair slumping forward over his scarlet eyes, he was more beautiful than ever. His claws squeezed your neck, jerking and slamming your head once more. His breath tickled your cheek. “What did you say?” 

Of course, he couldn’t help himself: the control freak. He was a genius. You knew he knew it was bait. He had to. But your looming threat was enough for him to take the risk. Your lips curled, laughing your words rather flippantly. “I said-- do you think Hobie wants to fuck?”

You eviscerated his already thin patience. The searing pain of his fangs piercing your battered neck seared all thoughts of Hobie from your mind. Your hands choked out a pitiful cry. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel-- calma.”

The familiar burn of his frantic biting, his violent ownership of your body, made your body slick. He lifted your hips onto his, legs dangling over his slim thighs. Crunched up against his massive body, you felt small but as if you were the focus of his world. Just how you loved to feel when you were encased in his arms.

“You think he could fuck you like I can?” His gravelly voice rumbled. His face pinched tight, daring your response. “That you can replace me— so easily?”

No, the answer was a resounding no. But he didn’t need to know that. If Miguel thought he could play games with you, you’d play games with him. The last forty-eight hours had been a blur of his rejection. It was only fair that Miguel felt the same.

Blood seeped down from your neck, a feeling you were accustomed to today. On the other hand, you weren’t accustomed to how he tore into your uniform as if it were as offensive as your harsh words. You calmly noted that you were glad to have multiple: a consequence of doing this work too long. 

That was it. You slid your hands up his forearms, around his firm biceps, to his broad shoulders. There you rested your arms, knocking your foreheads gently together. Past the rage, you recognized the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. The promise that you were lying. For security under another name. You refused to give it to him: he never gave it to you.

“He is Spiderman, isn’t he?” 

He shifted the pad of his finger between your lips. Your tongue slid over his thumb, crooked in your mouth to suppress any more words that he may regret hearing or that you may regret saying. 

“He may be,” Miguel rasped. His lips quirked into a wicked grin. With Miguel’s sudden sharpness, you weren’t expecting to see his smile. You welcomed it, a rare delight that you found yourself loathing the more he spoke. “But you’re mine.” 

His. The inklings of fear you previously spotted in the depth of Miguel’s eyes seemed to weaken, sliding his thumb from your lips, rolling past your nipple, and the muscles of your stomach. He slid past your vulva, trailing with expert care along your slit. It was barely a touch if even a graze. Words failed to form. They were a thick bolus in your throat, congealed and thick.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I thought so.” 

Your eyes trailed Miguel’s strong jawline and ambled up toward his lips. Your gaze lingered there as his fingers slipped between your lips, finding your cunt soft and wet. His eyes flickered toward your shy gaze and danced his lips against yours by virtue of his words. “It doesn’t seem like you’re that interested in finding him.”

“How would you know?” you cried out when one of his clawed fingers dipped inside your body. Your hips jerked onto his hand to seek out more of him. Your traitorous, awful body. It wasn’t comfortable when he scratched you while stroking your velvety inner walls. But you always needed more of his touch.

“Oh,” Miguel hummed. He bent close-- your eyes now focused on his high cheekbones. You couldn’t look him in the eyes and know that he knew how weak you were for him. “I know. It’s the way you look at me.” 

“As if--” You dropped your eyes, reveling in the pressure of his prodding fingers, the delight in having him here, with you, once again. It shouldn’t have felt as intimate, as comforting as it did, but it did. His fingers withdrew, pleased with his work. “You know I can give you what you need.” 

“You said you couldn’t,” Miguel slipped his fingers into your mouth: sweet and sour with your own excitement and the scratches of blood. His hands worked at the waist as you secured yourself on the wall with your hands, knowing what was next-- and expecting it. 

“I lied.” he drawled out, a long hum. He spat on his hand and rubbed himself as you watched, anticipating the soft prod of his cock’s head at your entrance. It hadn’t been long. Yet, as he buried himself in the warmth of your body, you inhaled a wealth of air into your chest, exhaling it in soft shudders. Perhaps it was the fear of never having this again. 

His large hands shifted underneath your ass and pinned you square against the wall. His claws drew blood to the surface of superficial cuts. Your hands snapped to his shoulders and clung onto him for some security. You found no rest between the wall chafing your back and Miguel’s long, pointed strokes into your body. Your body burned with the pull of his dick dragging in and out of your cunt, fighting to keep him inside with every squeeze and pull. He wasn’t lying, you knew. But it didn’t matter. Not when you were his complete and utter focus. 

Miguel let a word of praise slip free as he ground into you. With a wall of muscle before you and the sturdy wall behind, breathing was slight and hard to come by. It had to be what he wanted-- to make you focus on him and him alone. It’s what you deserved after antagonizing the man. Your hands found his hair, knotting your fingers in it, and accepting the ferocity of his deep, then shallow strokes into your core. Your eyes flitted shut as he bottomed out, grinding his hips in tight circles. As you came, your body furiously clenched onto his cock, slowing his sweeping thrusts. 

You craved it: the moment of Miguel’s weakness. Your body urged out his orgasm with a noise tempered by pleasure and annoyance. Your cunt milking earned you a particularly firm slam of his hips. Miguel would drag you down to take it all. He spilled into you with a deliciously unique warmth, grinding his hips until spent. His forehead rested on the crook of your neck. In place of another hard bite, he gently kissed your collarbone and throat. After he finished, he settled you down onto the floor. But your legs were sloppy, weak shaky things. Miguel snatched your hand as you swayed to keep yourself upright. 

“I have to go,” you held his hand begrudgingly for support. Then bent down to pick up strips of your clothes. Yet another victim of your relationship with him. You would have to... mend this. Somehow. Probably not. “They’re expecting me--” 

“Muñeca,”

“Cálmate, Miguel. You know I’m not going to fuck him,” you swiped the coursing fluids down your thigh. You dragged your hand down Miguel’s firm chest and danced your finger up his chest to flip up his chin. He glanced down, puffing air from his nostrils in protest. His eyes rolled, oh so slightly. “He’s not my type. I like them big, mm?”

“You would if he was?” he bristled.

“I never said that.” You said. Despite this fact, certain needs needed to be met. Ones that if he didn’t fill, someone else would. You both knew this. Your work was long and stressful and done in the name of the man who was before you. If for nothing but that love, you knew you would keep going. You believed in Miguel: his choices and his heart. 

“You didn’t need to.” 

“Mi alma--” you stopped, waving your hand at his pet name. “All this is fleeting. I need someone that will meet my needs. To tell me they love me. Can you?” 

He pressed his lips together and stewed on your request. You knew without a question in your mind what that answer was. In the aftermath of sex with Miguel, he was closer to you than ever. And yet, it was impossible to convince him of an actual connection. For him, it was easier to leave you than love you. 

He didn’t need to say it.  

“I know you, Miguel. You didn’t lie. It was the truth,” you slipped your hand from his. Instead, you opted to set a fleeting kiss on the side of his lip. For better or worse, he didn’t reciprocate. Your steps carried you backward. Then, you afforded him a small deprecating smile. “Other than sex, you can’t give me what I need.”