#multipleof3challenge

[youbloodymadgenius]

Crashing Waves (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @waiting4inspiration's 9K Multiple of 3 Challenge 🌺 Congrats again, love!

Prompt 16: Something red / High heels / A quiet place

@geekandbooknerd - thank you, darling, you're a wonderful beta 💖

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Bringing Ivar back to the place - Ragnar's hunting cabin - of his greatest failure seems pretty bold. Yet you are sure of your plan. It will work. And you will prove him wrong.

Warnings: smut; use of a cock ring; mention of Ivar's insecurities; no real plot.

Words: 2881

Sitting on the bed, Ivar swallows loudly, digging fingernails into his palms. "Why did you bring me here, Y/N? What are we doing here?" You watch the muscles in his jaw clenching and flexing as he grinds his teeth. You know he's trying very hard to control his anger.

Taking two steps towards him, you cup his face, "This is a quiet place," lean forward and your mouth grazes his cheek and then his earlobe. "You know how much I love quiet places."

"You love quiet places? Are you fucking kidding me??" Seething with anger, he gives you dagger eyes. "Of all the possible places, you really had to choose this one? This fucking cabin? You fucking know this is not just any quiet place."

Kneeling down in front of him – a task nearly impossible with your six-inch stilettos – you place your hands on the bed, on either side of his hips. Reaching up, your thumb strokes his cheekbone, your face peering up at him. "I know, my love."

Of course, you do.

You know exactly what Ragnar's hunting cabin means to your lover. You know what happened here – or rather what didn't. You know about his failure. You know everything because one night he told you, between sobs, and after way too much Akvavit. And that's exactly why you're here tonight.

"Why, then?" His knuckles white, he asks through clenched teeth, averting his gaze.

"Because," things are clear to you, so you don't hesitate, "it's time to start making some new memories, my love." Your right hand grabs his left and you intertwine his fingers with yours. "And because it's time I prove you wrong."

Ivar ducks his head down, unable to look you in the eye. His voice barely a whisper, you realize he is shaking. "I… You know I…", he releases a shuddering breath, his gaze finding yours, "I can't…"

The sharpness in his voice is gone, replaced by… despair… And the way he looks at you… Gods… His wide eyes are filled with fear, confusion and… tears? It's almost enough to persuade you to back off.

But no. You won't.

"I don't know that, my love. I only know what you told me." Carefully placing your hands on his thighs, you tilt your head to the side. There are a thousand questions in his eyes and he seems hurt, and self-conscious. Oh no, you won't allow him to go down this path. "Listen to me. I was not lying, Ivar – I never lied to you – with your dexterous fingers and your skilled tongue, you can pleasure a woman. You pleasure me each and every time, never doubt that. But I want more. For you more than for me."

"But… what…" He wraps his fingers around your right hand, squeezing it so tight it hurts, but you don't complain, not when you can almost feel the panic coursing through his veins, so you just keep looking at him, with a smile on your lips and love in your eyes. "What if it doesn't work? What if… I can't get it up long enough like… like with… with Margrethe…"

"Oh Ivar, stop dwelling on this old story, will you? You were so young, my love, still a boy. And she was just a girl. A girl you didn't have feelings for. A girl who didn't love you." Gently grabbing his chin, you bring his mouth to yours for a soft, light kiss. "I am in love with you, Ivar. And I know you're in love with me. That, my love, makes a huge difference. Plus, you're no longer a boy… And, as for myself, tell me the truth, my love… " You stand up and then slowly take off your long, black trench coat. "Do I look like a girl?"

The second Ivar sees what's under the coat, his mouth falls open. Gaping and gawking, he's literally gobsmacked. If you're being honest, that's what you were aiming for when you chose that red dress. Red is his favorite color and well, the dress fits like a glove and shows off every curve you've got. As he stares at you, his eyes wide open, you're pleasantly surprised to see more lust than fear, or worry, or anger in his gaze.

"So, do I look like a girl?" You ask once again, flashing him a cheeky smile while making your way between his thighs. Your hand grazes his crotch, but Ivar doesn't seem to notice, too entranced – mesmerized – by the sight in front of him.

"No," Ivar shakes his head and clears his throat but his voice is still hoarse when he speaks again, "No, you look like a fucking goddess."

"Then, you should help your goddess with the zipper." You pull away just enough to turn around and the next moment Ivar's hands are on you, roaming over your waist and back. He slowly unzips your dress, then slides his hands over your shoulders and down your arms to remove it. "Fuck!" Ivar gasps as your dress falls to the floor, and you can hear him swallowing. "You're… you're naked."

"That I am." You turn your head just in time to see him licking his lips. His nostrils are flaring, his pupils are dilated, and the bulge in his pant is unmistakable. Good.

"Take off your clothes and then scoot over and lie down." You order, stepping out of your dress but keeping your stilettos on. Ivar barely nods, but starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Crossing the room completely naked, you can feel his intense gaze on you and as you bend down to pick up your purse, your butt on display, he makes a sound, a cross between a whimper and a groan. "Gods, woman!" He whines when you slowly come back, swaying your hips, your hand grazing his feet before putting your purse right next to him and dimming the lights.

Ivar, a white sheet covering his lower body, watches your every move, and even if his arousal is obvious, you can tell he's still scared, or at the very least, a little wary.

Kicking your shoes off, you climb onto the bed and straddle him. Careful not to put your full weight on him, you lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Y/N, what are you planning to do?" His strained voice betrays his sudden anxiety.

Smiling, you brush his cheek. "Do you trust me, Ivar?"

"It's not about trust but about what I can or–" He starts but you stop him, a finger on his mouth. You then flatten your palms on his chest and soon your hands are venturing down. You explore the lines of his torso, tracing left and right across the ridges in his abdomen. Gods, you love his body! When your fingers come across the thin trail of hair leading lower, you tilt your head, your hand slipping under the sheet. Ivar's breath hitches in his throat as your hand meets his now half-hard cock.

"Answer me, Ivar, do you trust me?"

"Yes." Ivar breathes out his answer and, reaching out, he runs his hands up your ribs to your breasts. "You know I do." He doesn't have to say it for you to know he's referring to his legs. You know them; you're allowed to see and touch them and you know how big a deal it is to him. He does trust you.

"Then trust me, one more time, please. Trust me on this."

As you draw a finger up to the head of his cock and back down the underside, tracing a line around his balls, Ivar lets out a hiss, followed by a groan when you wrap your hand around him.

All of a sudden, he grabs your wrist, preventing you to move. "You know I can't…"

"Love, you're hard." Since you can't really move your hand, you squeeze your fingers around him to prove your point. You're rewarded by a deep, involuntary, grunt, but the next thing you know, Ivar is swaying his head from side to side. "It won't… last… long enough…" His words are barely audible; you know the admission kills him. And you know he's convinced that it is an unavoidable truth. Because that's exactly what happened with Margrethe.

"It will, my love. Have faith in yourself. And if you can't do that, then have faith in me."

Slowly, using your free hand, you unwrap his fingers from your wrist, your eyes never leaving his. Once he releases his grip, you give him a wicked smile and then scoot back farther while pulling down the sheet. Pushing his legs apart with care, you settle between them, reaching for his cock.

And then, you swallow him down and start to suck. Ivar gasps and pants, hissing breaths through his teeth. You know he never experienced anything like this. No one has never done that for him, and there's a sense of pride blooming in your chest knowing you're the one offering him so much pleasure.

Peeking up, you see your lover, propped up on his elbows, who looks at you as you really were a goddess. He's getting harder and harder, squirming underneath you. Pulling back reluctantly, you give him a sultry look, not missing how confused and… disappointed he looks.

"What… Why? I … Oh fuck… I think… Y/N… I… I was…" He stutters, struggling to gather his thoughts. You have to remind yourself of his reality. Your lover never had an orgasm.

"You were close, yes, I know, Ivar. And I promise you're going to come. But I want you to come inside me, my love."

Ivar swallows. "But…" Eyes darting all over the place, you know he's once again overcome with self-doubt.

"There's no buts, love." You cut him off, reaching out and then scrabbling around in your purse. When you find what you were looking for, you hold it triumphantly in front of you. "There's no buts because of this."

Ivar frowns, confused. "What's that?"

"A cock ring, my love. And well," you add, grabbing a small tube, "some lube too."

"A what?" Bewildered, Ivar sits up in the bed, but you push gently on his chest.

You did some research. The cock ring will help him maintain his erection. Not that he physically needs it – you're sure he doesn't – but emotionally, it's a different story. But since you don't want him to have time to rethink what you're about to do – and because you wouldn't want to waste such an impressive erection – you're not going to give him a lecture on cock rings right now.

"I'll explain later, love. It won't harm you; I promise. Trust me with this, Ivar, please."

When he nods – shyly, tentatively and almost sheepishly – you don't waste any more time and pour a small amount of lube into your hand. He gasps as soon as you wrap a slick hand around his still hard cock. Setting the lube aside, you slide the ring down his cock.

"Does it hurt?" Looking closely at his face for any sign of discomfort, you slowly run your hands up his thighs, and as he shakes his head no, you straddle him once more without ever breaking eye contact.

Ivar can barely breathe and doesn't even dare to blink. He can't believe it. Fuck, he can't. This is happening. This is fucking happening. He's rock-hard, harder than he has ever been and he feels like his pounding heart is going to burst.

Earlier, the warmth of your wet mouth on his dick felt insanely good. Your lips wrapped around him, your hand holding him, your eyes filled with an equal amount of lust and love… It has been almost too much, and heavenly as the same time. He would have wanted it to never end and had resented you for a moment when you had released his cock. But it doesn't matter, not anymore, not when you're just about–

"Aaaaaaaaah!" He closes his eyes, the new sensation incredible, otherworldly, overwhelming. He's dying. Or maybe he's already dead. He can't grasp what's happening, or what he's feeling. It's magic, like nothing he's ever felt before. His head is spinning and tears are welling up in his eyes. This… This must be Valhalla; it can't be anything else. Gods…

And then a distant voice brings him back to the here and now. "Ivar, look at me, my love." It takes him several seconds to understand that it is your voice, and that he's the one you're talking to.

Slowly, very slowly and almost reluctantly, because a part of him believes that what he's experiencing is nothing but a dream, he finally opens his eyes. What a glorious sight! You, the woman he loves, are sitting atop him, looking down at him as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. And you're… he's… fuck.

"I'm… Ah… Y/N… I'm…" He can't even form a coherent sentence but it doesn't matter, because you're so beautiful, because your face is radiant with love, because you definitely are a goddess. And because you know what he's trying to say.

"Yes, my love, you're inside me. And you're hard, and you're not hurting me. It feels so good, Ivar. You feel so good… Your home, my love…" Bending forward and weaving your fingers through his hair, you kiss him as you begin to move. He's at loss for what to do, and it doesn't matter, and there's fireworks in his heart, and you're fucking right, he's home. You're his home. His.

His hands on your thighs, he looks at you and you're so fucking beautiful it takes his breath away. And the feeling of you, wet and throbbing around his cock, is the most amazing thing he's ever felt.

Sitting upright, your back arches as you widen your legs. Your heat engulfing him, he stares at you, bewitched. You're riding him, hard, gasping, moaning, praising, your skin glistening with sweat.

Fuck.

The powerful thrusts of your hips coax his body to a place he's never been before. The sounds of your lovemaking are filling the room… The suction when he slides out of you; the slap of his balls against you when he goes deep. Your grunts. Your pantings. His breaths.

"Oh fuck… it's… oh gods..." You begin to move faster and he keeps his eyes on you. You don't shy away from his scrutiny, holding eye contact as you bounce on him. His hands now cup your ass cheeks, pulling you against him, and then they find your hips, guiding you. He's going to make you come, like a man. Like a whole man. He's going to make you come because he's inside you. The thought is exhilarating, intoxicating.

"Ivar, I'm close!" The way your eyes are half-lidded and lust drunk as you breathe out his name is the most erotic thing he's ever seen. When you begin to lose your rhythm, your moans morph to keening cries and finally you shout and he gasps and you cry out his name as you clamp around him, throwing your head back. The rush of your heat surrounding his cock is overpowering, prodigious, and he thinks he may be losing his mind.

Struggling to catch your breath and still trembling, you kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He groans when you lift off him but your hand finds his cheek, caressing it. "I want you to come, and you won't come with the cock ring around your cock, love." Your skilled fingers hastily removing it, you toss the ring on the floor and then you straddle him once again, sliding down his cock.

The tingling deep in his balls is nearly immediate and he's sure he's never felt this good. He kisses you like he's starving, and in some ways he's. His hands slide over your breasts, your hips rocking, and you're so fucking beautiful he can't believe his eyes. "I love you so much…" He manages to croak in a shallow breath.

And suddenly everything explodes and he loses track of where you end and he begins, and if you answer he doesn't hear it. His ears ring and his hips thrust up against yours and his whole-body shudders violently, once; twice; more. And then his eyes flutter shut as he comes, wave after wave after wave, until he feels disoriented and light-headed, his hot, thick seed flooding your pussy, and it's so powerful it's like a fucking earthquake.

When his whole body goes limp, he lets out a soft whimper as you rest your head on his chest only to reach up and toy with his hair.

When you look up at him, he's sure the whirlwind of his emotions is obvious on his face, but he doesn't care, just like he doesn't care about his tear-filled eyes, or his crooked legs. Truth be told, for the first time in his life, he doesn't give a damn about his legs. For the first time in his life, he feels whole and worthy. For the first time in his life, he feels like the happiest man on Earth.

And that could well be the greatest gift you, Y/N, the goddess of replaced memories, could ever give him.

He loves you.

🛡⚔️🛡

@waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @pieces-by-me @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood

[mdemontespan1667]

DESTINY

DARK Loki x Reader

SYNOPSIS: A Found Object Brings a Mysterious Visitor

WARNINGS: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON, VAGINAL SEX, ORAL SEX, ANAL SEX, PHYSICAL VIOLENCE TOWARDS READER, GROUP SEX, SLAPPING, CHOKING, SPIDERS (SERIOUSLY IF HAVE ANY arachnophobia TENDENCIES AT ALL OR A FEAR OF BUGS DO NOT READ THIS. I'M NOT JOKING. PLEASE DON'T IGNORE THIS WARNING).

This is for @waiting4inspiration and their #multipleof3challenge

Congrats on the 9k followers! Sorry I’m so damn late. 

My prompts were:

1) A Stolen Ring

2) Fear of Spiders

3) A Sinister Visitor

(This is the first piece I've written in months so please forgive me if it's mule puke or self-indulgent tripe.)

******18+ ONLY******

And one more thing:

I'M REALLY SERIOUS ABOUT THE SPIDER THING 🕷

“Post Classical MesoAmerican Period. Mayan Figurine. Clay. Mayan Blue.”

Carefully your gloved fingers flipped over the yellowing tag.

“From the collection of Mr. and Mrs. Maurice Marcel Brown.”

You hung your head, exhaling loudly. 

Of the 200 artifacts you had catalogued so far over half had come from Mr. and Mrs. Brown, an elderly couple who had traveled extensively in Central and South America during the 1950’s and 1960’s, who apparently fell victim to every unscrupulous character along the way. 

After their passing their children had generously donated the entire collection to the university museum. 

Your predecessor had been thrilled. 

You, however, had a sinking suspicion that the gift had been made less out of altruism and more out of a desire to avoid a garage sale. 

It had been impossible to prove Provenance of 99% of the collection. 

In fact the only thing you had been able to prove was half the pieces were most definitely fakes, and not very good ones at that. 

It wasn’t really the Brown’s fault. 

You had no doubt they thought the pieces they were purchasing were authentic.  

Their intentions hadn’t made your work any easier.

A slight movement caused your head to snap to the right. Searching for what you were sure was an eight legged abomination.

“Nothing there, you idiot.”

You vehemently scolded yourself.

It didn’t work.

The building housing the museum had been built in the mid 1970’s. 

At the time it had been cutting edge: low slung, all one level with huge rectangle windows ringing the red brick walls. 

The front half of the structure contained a lounge area, display cases, a stockroom and two offices, the back half held rows of cabinets dedicated to artifact storage and preservation. 

Milky glass blocks separated the two.

All very modern at the time.

Fifty years later, not so much. 

After accepting the Head Curators position you had set to work. 

The University had an excellent Museum Studies Graduate program. 

You had convinced the department Chair to grant credit to any student who helped clean the lounge and office areas.

Miraculously you had even persuaded the University Board that the current state of the Museum, furnished in what could only be described as “early porn set” was an embarrassment to the entire University.

So armed with a generous $5000.00 and a handful of students, you had sorted through decades worth of boxes, painted the walls a light grey, purchased a huge second-hand sectional, armchairs and coffee tables, then switched out the old fluorescent lighting for soft glowing pendant lights. 

New, properly lit display cases had also been added. 

Both front offices had received a fresh coat of paint. 

But no matter how much you cleaned there was one thing you hadn’t been able to banish: 

SPIDERS.

Your fear of the little spawns of Hell was concrete and massive. 

The initial evaluation found nests of Brown Recluse everywhere. 

Even after the building had received a clean bill of health, which you didn’t believe for shit, you still were overly cautious.

And, no matter what, you never, ever went into the storeroom. 

With an almost physical push you forced your thoughts back to the work at hand.

Glancing at the wall clock you noted the time.

Almost Midnight. 

Fuck. 

You had promised yourself no more late nights. 

You set the dubious figurine back on the cabinet shelf.

As you did the tag came undone, fluttering down to the heavy protective black mat. 

“God Dammit.”

You reached down to pick up the tag.

POOF

A sudden draft sent the tag under the shelf. 

For a brief moment you considered just leaving the damn thing there, you could always make a new one. 

But the perfectionist in you balked at the idea. 

The figurine had yet to be properly catalogued, the original tag was needed.

Dropping down on all fours, you hesitated again, drawing your hand back. 

Terminix had sprayed recently but still.

The creepy little bastards could be hiding, just waiting for some unsuspecting woman to…..

“Oh for fucks sake.”

Before you could lose your nerve you stuck your hand under the shelf. 

You felt around blindly, tense and ready. 

Finding the string you pulled, hand closing over the tag. 

“What the hell.”

Standing you opened your fist. 

On top of the tag lay a large tarnished silver ring, a green center stone glittering in the light. 

“Where did you come from.”

While you hadn’t catalogued the entire museum you had made yourself familiar with its contents. 

There was no recollection of a piece like this. 

Carefully you examined the ring.

It was simple in design, nothing special, except for the stone, which seemed to glow from within.

An inscription caught your eye. 

Curiouser and curiouser. 

The writing was in Norse. 

Your first year of Grad school you had taken a course on Norse myths. The professor had been a cranky old harpy who insisted her students learn the rudiments of the written language.

You searched your mind for the translation. 

“Her word…”

“Her sound…”

“Her voice…”

“Her voice carries the door.”

You frowned. 

That made absolutely no sense. 

Studying it again you found your mistake.

“Her voice holds the key.”

AAAAHHHHH

A shock ran up your arm as the final syllable crossed your lips.

Simultaneously the lights exploded, leaving only a faint glow coming through the milky glass blocks.

“I do believe you have something that belongs to me.”

A man had appeared before you.

He had long inky black hair brushed back from his forehead, bright greenish eyes, an aquiline nose and cruel, hard looking lips. 

The man was clad in black leather, edged in green and gold.

You screamed, the brittle sound ricocheting off the walls. 

The stranger pulled at his earlobe, shaking his head slightly.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way.”

“Who are you.”

He stepped forward, holding his arms spread out as if to present himself. 

“I am Loki. King of Jotunheim.”

“Bullshit.”

You tried to hide the quaking of your voice with a bravado you most definitely didn’t feel. 

“Who put you up to this? Larry? Did he think this would be funny? Well. I’m not laughing. And you’re paying for the lights. Plus any other damage.”

“I can assure you I know no one named Larry.”

Loki stepped forward, you stepped back. 

“I must thank you for setting me free. Apparently Hell really doth have no fury like a woman scorned.”

Another step closer, another step back. 

“Blasted Völva and their magic.”

Loki chuckled.

“It’s really rather embarrassing. Me, Loki, the Trickster God, imprisoned by a common witch, and in a cheap trinket at that.”

Forward, back.

“Of course I would have eventually escaped, the spell was strong but not long lasting, if it hadn’t been stolen by that damned Balder. He bound the spell tighter and threw the ring into the void.”

He fixed you with a predatory stare.

“Where it somehow ended up here, with you.”

Forward, back.

“Yes, well, that’s a very nice story but the joke's over. So you, uh, you need to leave.”

“There must be something special about you, Love. You freed the beast, so to speak. Perhaps we were meant to meet.”

His mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. 

“You know I was trapped for ages in that infernal ring. Tell me, have you ever been fucked by a God?”

The word “fuck” broke your paralysis. 

You ran for the door, pulling it shut behind you, and sprinted toward the exit. 

To your horror the outer doors were locked. 

Frantically you looked around for a hiding place.

If you could just find a place to hide you could call 911. 

Your office walls were glass. 

No help there.

That left the stockroom.

Hesitating only a moment, you dashed to the room, throwing yourself inside, flipping the lock as soon as the door shut. 

You pulled your cell phone from your pocket. 

No Service.

“What the hell.”

You always had service in the building. It was actually one of the only places that did. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

His voice boomed.

“There really is no need for all this. It’s only been 500 years, give or take a decade.”

He laughed, the sound shattering the glass blocks. 

“I promise to be gentle.”

You moved away from the door, withdrawing further into the room. 

“You are only prolonging the inevitable Love. If you come out now I swear I’ll play nice.”

His bootheels rang out, stopping at the door. 

“Have it your way then.”

You felt a change in the air. 

Something crawled over your stiletto clad foot. 

Shaking it off you blindly stomped the floor. 

An image of a Brown Recluse, poison dripping from its fangs invaded your brain.

Then they were everywhere: crawling up your legs, dropping from the ceiling, landing on your head, arms and shoulders. 

The room was full of them, tumbling from the haphazardly stacked boxes, pouring through the air ducts.

Desperately you tried to find the door knob.

All thought of the dark haired intruder had flown, your mind barely functioning beyond a primal need to flee.

Up they climbed, under your skirt, below your blouse, the sting of the poison excruciating.  

Searching in the dark your fingertips touched the knob. 

It wouldn’t turn.

You twisted it right and left to no avail. 

You began to sob, reason bleeding away through the hundreds of bites. 

An anguished wail built in your throat. 

You began to shriek, over and over, until the spiders filled your mouth, blocking the sound. 

Miraculously the door opened.

Silhouetted in the frame was your savior.

Stumbling from the room, you batted spastically at your chest and arms, coughing and gagging. 

Loki held out his arms.

You feel into them with unabashed relief.

He pulled you close, tucking your head under his chin.

“There, there.” 

Loki patted your head. 

“All the little nasties are gone.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now where were we? Oh yes. Kneel before your King.”

“Wha...what?”

Your mind was still muddled.

“KNEEL.”

The word rang out.

“I..I don’t...I don’t understand.”

Loki’s arm shot out, his hand closing around your throat. 

“Kneel before me or….”

Immediately the fanged tormentors returned. It clicked what the green-eyed monster wanted, what he was doing to get it. 

You fell to the floor, reaching out to undress him. 

“Where..I don’t know..how..how do I?”

Loki chuckled. A low, evil sound.

A luminescent shimmer enveloped both of you. 

Instantly both of your clothes seemed to melt away. 

You gasped loudly at your first sight of him fully naked.

“I am so glad you like my cock Love. You are going to become very well acquainted with it before I’m through with you.”

He tapped his finger to his lips, pausing as if in deep thought. 

“I believe you should beg. Beg to worship my cock.”

You hesitated, unsure of what he wanted. 

SMACK

The force from his backhanded hit knocked you over. 

Before you could recover Loki yanked you up by your wrist. 

“BEG.”

“Please, please, please, let...let me…”

SMACK

This time the strike sent you skidding into the wall.

“I’m not a patient man. Well, I’m not a man but you understand my meaning.”

You started to stand, legs wobbly.

“I SAID KNEEL.”

You crawled toward him, knees protesting.

“Beg,” he whispered, “Beg or I’ll bring them back.”

Words began to tumble from your lips.

“Please let me worship your cock. Please.”

“Why do you desire my cock.”

“I…”

You took a moment to study his appendage. 

It was massive.  

The purple tinged head was as big as your fist, the thick shaft as long and wide as your forearm.

“That won’t fit,” you stuttered.

Panic rose up, threatened to spill out in delirious laughter. 

The room shimmered.

When you looked again his cock was marginally smaller.

“I still can’t…”

“Yes you can. Muscles stretch,” Loki paused, smiling devilishly, “bones break.”

You swallowed hard. 

“No, no I can’t. Please don’t make me do this.”

“This all sounds a bit more like whining than it does begging.”

The implied menace was palatable in the air.

“I, I want to, to worship your cock because, uh uh, it’s great, it’s…”

Loki’s fingers closed around your neck, lifting you off your knees, legs dangling, toes barely touching the ground. 

“I’m losing patience.” 

He dropped you to the floor.

You fell on your ass, splinters of pain shooting up your spine.

Searching through the files of your mind for anything that might help, you remembered an evening you had gotten lost down a wine fueled BDSM rabbit hole. 

Frantically you flipped through memory folders, mentally tossing them aside until you found what you were searching for. 

Deliberately you drew your eyes up Loki’s body, bending your neck back until your eyes met his.

“Your cock is exquisite.”

You  nuzzled your nose along the length, not quite touching, inhaling his scent. It wasn’t unpleasant.

Peering back up, you spoke with what you hoped was enough reverence to appease him. 

“Most certainly befitting a God of your stature.”

Locking eyes, your fingers began lightly exploring, fleathery touches danced around the head, along the shaft, up, down, back, forth.

“I am privileged to have been chosen for such an honor.”

Recalling his introduction you continued.

“An honor from a most benevolent God, the rightful King of Jotunheim, a God who should be ruler to both Gods and men.”

Loki’s smile encouraged you.

“I’ve only dreamed of being granted the opportunity of servicing the cock of a creature as magnificent as you.”

Tenderly you encircled your hand around as much of the width as you could, delicately stroking him, eyes never breaking contact.

“May I taste you.”

His nod of approval barely perceptible.

The first swirl of your tongue around the head was languid and easy.

You licked up and down the shaft, taking your time, your right hand gripped at the base, left fondling his balls.

You softly nibbled along the length, slipping the head in your mouth occasionally for a teasing swipe, before pulling away and starting over, hopeful that he would believe it was your adoration for his cock and not fear that kept you from doing more. 

But the hope was short lived. 

Loki placed his hand on the back of your head, his fingers splayed wide. 

With a short prayer to whoever might be listening you wrapped your hand around the base and gradually slid his cock into your mouth. 

You set a rhythm, bobbing back and forth, your hand mimicking your mouth’s motions. 

On a down stroke his cock expanded in your mouth, growing in length and width.   

You choked on the unexpected intrusion. 

Loki held your head firm as you tried to push away, giving you no choice but to adapt.

At last you relaxed and started again, the shape of his cock plainly visible as it pressed against the inside of your throat. 

“Well done. Perhaps you deserve a little treat.”

Your body jolted upwards when a tongue began to probe your slit.

Simultaneously an unseen mouth latched onto your breast, alternatively sucking and flicking your nipple into a hard pebble.

You attempted to concentrate on your task as now not one but two tongues lapped at your cunt, one circling your clit, the other delving impossibly far inside your hole, searching for the sweet spot. 

Another mouth joined the first, lightly biting both nipples.

Unconsciously your legs moved slightly apart, shifting your position.

The tendrils of an orgasm formed, searching out from your core. 

Your focus slipped. 

Your rhythm became erratic, heavy panting causing your mouth to relax a little.

Without warning Loki growled. 

“Naughty girl.”

The tongues and mouths dissipated. 

He seized your head in both hands.

Viciously he shoved his cock down your throat, the size increasing again. 

You struggled but he held you in place, hands like a vise. 

Loki took no notice of your obvious distress, jamming himself so far down your throat that your face crushed against his pelvis. 

He fucked your mouth brutally, saliva and tears pooling at your knees.

The corners of your mouth cracked, droplets of blood staining your lips. 

After what seemed like centuries his body tensed, cock pulsing. 

Seconds later his warm cum filled your throat. 

Instinctively you knew he expected you to swallow. 

You gagged down as much of the sticky fluid as you could.

Even so his cum dribbled from your mouth, splatting on your chest and floor, adding to the puddle.��

Finished Loki released your head, pushing you to the floor. 

“Very sloppy, Love. I should make you clean up your mess. Every last drop.”

He seized your neck, lifting you until your feet barely touched the ground. 

“You’re lucky. I’m in a celebratory mood.”

Loki walked you backwards until your knees hit the high edge of the large sectional. 

He loosened his hold, allowing you to fall back onto the cushions.

Your head bounced off the heavy wood of the built-in console.

Taking full advantage of your momentary daze, he pulled you to him, fully ensheathing his cock in your cunt. 

Your scream of pain reverberated through the museum. 

“Oh God, please stop, stop, it hurts.”

Loki smirked, thrusting faster, gripping your hips to the point you were sure your bones would splinter. 

You twisted your body from side to side in a hopeless bid to escape, reaching above your head for any possible weapon. 

Suddenly your view tilted. 

Loki was now under you, your hips straddling him.

The tongue returned, toying with your clit, as he held you in place, cock slamming up into you. 

From behind a hand closed around your throat halting your screams. 

“Surprise, Love.”

Unbelievably it was Loki’s voice.

He bent your forward slightly.

You attempted to brace yourself with your hands only to find they were bound above your head, leather straps encasing them from elbow to fingertips. 

“This may sting a bit.”

Fingers gathered your increasing slick, tracing through your ass crack.

A burning stretch brought a silent screech to your lips. 

Pain radiated through your body as he pushed further past the tight ring of your puckered hole.

He slid in torturously slow, prolonging the torment, bottoming out with a powerful lunge.

Held suspended in place by only your throat, they fucked you mercilessly.

Again you felt their cocks expand. 

Your brain fizzed, pain and lack of oxygen leaving you helpless. 

“Open up.”

Your eyes widened.

In front of you was another Loki, his enormous cock bare inches from your face.

You shook your head.

“It can get ever so much worse.”

Defeated, you opened your mouth.

Loki slid his cock deep into your throat, no more gentle in his actions than the time before. 

The invisible tongue doubled its efforts, sucking and licking your clit in a most inhuman fashion, sparking a fire in your core. 

Despite your protests, your body took over, rocking in time with their thrusts. 

Low moans murmured around Loki’s cock.

You felt every ridge, every vein, every inch as they forced their way in and out. 

One pushed in as the other pulled out, a constant friction with only the thin membrane to separate the two. 

Your orgasm built, higher and higher, its impending intensity frightening. 

Just as you were about to reach the tipping point a force entered you, locking your almost orgasm in place. 

The tongue lashed across your clit harder.

Beyond all reason you ground your cunt and ass against them, meeting them thrust for thrust.

But no matter how you moved or how hard you concentrated your orgasm was still held hostage.

You stared into Loki’s eyes, pleading for relief, gladly willing to beg if you could only cum. 

Every nerve in your body was on edge. 

On and on they fucked into you, cunt, ass, mouth, their speed increasing until their movements were a greenish tinted blur. 

Your orgasm continued to hover just out of reach.

Their movements became erratic.

With a shared grunt all three came.

Cum oozed out of each abused hole, coating your thighs and chin.

The magic tongue disappeared, bindings holding your arms dissipating as well. 

The other Loki's faded slowly away. 

What if he left you this way.

Forever on the verge but never crossing over.

Terror of such a fate prompted your words.

“Loki, please, I’ve been a good girl haven’t I, I’ve done what you wanted. I can’t, can’t take this anymore.”

Your voice was soft.

“Please let me cum.”

He sneered wickedly.

“Humans always beg in the end. Always.”

Loki slapped your ass.

“Ride your King.”

With no hesitation you began to bounce, cunt beyond sensitive, thighs burning.

Beyond any sense of shame you whined.

“I want the tongue back. It felt so good. Please.”

He grinned wide, his smile all predator. 

“No.”

“Please. I, I want to cum.”

“Does my slut want to cum on her King’s cock.”

“Yes, God yes.”

The need to cum brought water to your eyes. 

“Show me. Show your King how desperate you are to cum.”

Self loathing burned bright in your chest as one hand snaked down to flick your swollen nub while the other took turns rolling your nipples between thumb and forefinger. 

You wanted to stop, to run, but everything had narrowed to a pinpoint tunnel of lust. 

Your eyes shut.

SMACK

“Eyes open.”

Tears ran down your cheeks, hips bucking wildly on Loki’s cock, fingers furiously working your clit. 

His eyes blazed an erie green.

“Cum.”

The world exploded. 

Your orgasm careened through you, flaying your nerves, fiery and painful.

Vaguely you registered Loki pumping his cock up into your cunt. 

You bounced with him, still too enthralled with your orgasm to care. 

With a final thrust he came again.  

A flick of his hips sent you tumbling to the polished concrete floor.

You laid there, body racked with after tremors.

After a few minutes your eyes darted around, searching out your tormentor. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw you were alone.

“Tired of me already, Love.”

Loki, now fully dressed, tsked as you screamed.

“We couldn’t leave without my ring. Sentimental reasons you know.”

You tried to get away, willing your body to move but all your energy was gone.

He picked you up, cradling you in his arms.

Your cunt immediately clenched, searching for the lost fullness.

Your eyes widen.

How could you want him.

Again.

“Just a little spell, Love.”

He whispered in your ear.

“You will burn at my slightest touch.”

Each word brought a new ripple of desire.

Your fingers slid between your bodies.

Finding your engorged clit, your fingers streaked across it. 

It was raw, burning, but that only added to your pleasure.

You writhed along his chest, nipples catching the leather. 

Another orgasm began to build.

Moaning, you reached up, pulling his head down.

 Lips met in a carnal kiss, mouths open, tongues intertwining.

With a moan of his own Loki lifted you, setting your legs on his shoulders, thighs spread wide.

He began to devour you, tongue flat, lapping at your cunt. 

Your hands tangled in his hair in an effort to pull him closer. 

The cool brick scraped your back as he leaned you against the wall.

Your head fell back, unintelligible noises bubbling from your lips.

Loki slid two, three, four fingers into your dripping hole.

Then it wasn’t his fingers.

Your walls were stretched by the illusion of his cock fucking you again.

“Fuck, Loki, that feels,” you hissed as his tongue circled your clit, “so good. Don’t...Don’t stop.”

He feasted and fucked like a man possessed.

You were soon teetering on the edge.

You rocked your hips, wanting him deeper, harder.

Your orgasm stalled for just a moment before it bloomed, the ecstasy spreading from your core. 

Loki continued his ministrations, catching every tremor with his mouth.

Your horizon changed again.

He had flipped you over his head.

Loki grasped you around the waist, bending you over. 

Kicking your legs apart, he slammed his cock in your ass.

You flopped like a rag doll as he fucked you, your fingers at your clit.

He was an animal, rutting into you, your feet forced off the floor with each thrust. 

The two of you came together, both crying out in euphoria.

Gathering you into his arms again, Loki kissed your forehead. 

“You will lay at my feet while I conquer the Nine Realms and take my rightful place.”

Your vision started to fade as a strange rainbow light filled the room, the gravity of your fate overwhelming you.

“Come, Love. My kingdom awaits.”

You held tight to your King.

And your body craved him. 

 Just a few tags:

@allaboardthereadingrailroad @atthediscowithoutpanic @the-soulofdevil @honeyloverogers @xoxabs88xox  @jennmurawski13 @denisemarieangelina @sapphirescrolls @imanuglywombat @jtargaryen18 @hysteria87 @sagechanoafterdark @saiyanprincessswanie @imdarkinme @ironlady1993 @jamlally @sherrybaby14 @kellyn1604 @mcudarklibrary @donnaintx @caffiend-queen @littlefreya 

[pieces-by-me]

Smiles and Snowflakes

Hello there! This is my (first) part of @waiting4inspiration​ ‘s writing challenge!! Congratulations again on 9 FREAKING thousand followers. Well deserved and a huge step🎉I couldn’t decide which way I wanted to go with this fluffy or angsty....so I did both. I really hope you all like it and that you have an amazing day or night✨☀️

Words: 1308

Warnings: fluffy and cute, nothing else. English is not my first language.

Summary: Ivar can't quite fathom how lucky he is that he found someone like her.

 Prompt:  

torn dress 

ripped books

brown hair full of snowflakes

The smile on his face grew with every second he had his eyes on her. She herself was also smiling, but not at him. She was so stuck insider her mind that she didn't even realize that he was close by. Sitting under the old oak tree up in the mountains, wind tossing her hair in gently waves through the air. Not disturbing her in any way. Her eyes floating over every page in the book she had in her hands. The closer Ivar crawled towards her, the better he could see what she was reading. It was her favorite book. Pages upon pages of different drawings of different people around the world. Her father had brought it back when he returned from one of his raids.

“Haven't you read that one at least a hundred times already?”

Ivar was right next to her looking inside her book and she hadn't even noticed that he made his way to her. She thought he was still in the Great Hall with his mother. So his sudden appearance frightened her for just a second.

“Ivar! What did I tell you of not sneaking up on me?”

“You were just to unfocused of your surroundings to see and hear me. That is your own fault.”

The smirk on his face was there as usual and she did not like it this time. She knew he was right.

“Well what are you doing here? I thought you were busy today with your family.”

“They annoyed me so I was looking for you to entertain me.”

“What a privilege for me that the prince of Kattegat wants my attention.”

The cheeky tone of her voice made his lips turn from a smirk to a small smile. He loved that she joked around him. And in her jokes he was never the punch line. She wasn't afraid of him like the others, she got closer to him because she liked him. And he liked her.

“You should feel grateful.” His tone matched hers. “Now make some room so that I can sit beside you women.”

A small huff came out of her mouth as she grabbed the hem of her dress, got on her knees and made some room for the bratty prince.

They sat under their tree for what felt like hours and seconds together. After Ivar looked at the odd drawing of her book his eyes wandered around her. Her book was interesting the first couple of times he looked through it but it soon lost his interest after the sixth. The book was old. Muddy from so many times being skimmed through. Pages already ripped form too much energy in turning the pages. Dirty and ripped, two things book shouldn't be. But Y/N loved it nevertheless.

His gaze went from her book to her hands. Also dirty as he realized. Probably form helping her mother on the farm. Higher up on her arms he saw a spot of dried earth and he had to hold himself back of brushing it away. He was no stranger having dirt on him. With him crawling everywhere his clothes rarely staid clean. Next came the shoulders, or more or less her dress. It was simple but it didn't matter. She was beautiful in anything. But he noticed that her dress had a new tear in her side, probably climbing a tree. She was one of the only girls he knew that still climbed inside trees or up on her house to better watch sunsets.

“You've torn your dress.” Why did he say that? Now she'll know that he'd stared at her to notice.

Her eyes didn't leave the page but her hand brushed over the torn fabric.

“Mother might fix it.” And that was that.

Ivar let out a little breath, glad he was not caught in staring. So without guild he continued looking at her. The sun was behind clouds so it didn't shine on her face but he could still see every freckle that spotted her face. It made him smile again. He could look at her forever and never be tired of her. His mother would always tease him of his love for his friend, even though he denied it every time. But sometimes he wondered if his mother was right. Never had he felt like this with someone else. Not his parents, his brothers or other people in Kattegat. Every time he was with Y/N his world was less painful and more warm. So maybe he did love her. Maybe not. He didn't care to think too much about it. Only wanting to stay in this little bubble they were both in right now.

“You're staring again.”

Now he was caught, but strangely he didn't look away when her eyes met his.

“So?”

“Why are you staring again? You must know by now how I look.” Her words were said with a smile. Because it was true, she caught him staring at her a couple of times by now.

“You keep looking at your drawing over and over because you like them so much, so why can't I look at something I like?”

Ivar had no idea where the bravery came to say these words. Every one was true. He was glad he said them, because otherwise he would have never seen the wide and round eyes he was met with right now. Smiling he kept looking as Y/N struggled to find words.

“I...well..I can understand that....so you can keep looking.” She rushed through her words and when she finished her eyes went back to her books, cheeks looking far more pink now then what they were before.

Her flushed appearance brought a lough out of Ivar, one she loved to hear very much, and a smile on her face. Because she may not know what she felt for this temperamental, judgmental and sometime nasty boy beside her, but she always liked it when he was next to her. Never making her feel like the poor girl she really was. Always like the most valued person in all of Midgard.

The both of them could have set there for hours, neither of them would have minded. And neither of them noticed the wether getting colder. Sitting so close together made them warm.

But after silently looking through her book, and him leaning on the tree with his eyes closed, she turned towards him. Only now seeing the snow that slowly made it's way from the sky to the ground.

Y/N called out Ivar's name to wake him up. It took her a couple of shakes to his arm to finally make him open his eyes. “It's snowing and I think it's getting late. Maybe we should go back home.”

Stretching his arms above his head he answered. “Good idea, but only if you come to the hall. Mother would love to see you again.” And he also didn't want her to go already.

“I'd love to. I did't see her last time.” And she also didn't want to leave him just yet.

So the unlikely pair of the poor girl with the love for books and the crawling angry prince made their way back down the mountain and towards their home. Almost at the hall the two looked at each other again and laughed. Both being clothed in big, soft snowflakes. Y/n shook out her dress while Ivar tried to rid himself of them from his tunic. But his brown hair was full of snowflakes too so she bend down to him. He kept every move of her in his eyes, slowly smiling as her hands went threw his strands and ridding him of the cold flakes. Sending him a grin back, they entered the hall.

_____________________________

Part 2 of the challenge is here : Tiers and Snowflakes

I forgot to tag people🙈

@youbloodymadgenius @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

please leave a comment or like and tell me how you found this! And as alway have a nice day/night✨

[mayday1284]

Soft blankets and softer words- Eskel x Original Female OC

This is my submission for the multiples of 3 challenge by @waiting4inspiration! I'm hoping this is good, honestly, I put off writing it til the week it was due! Rowen is my original female character

Prompt: Burnt forests, blue flowers, and soft blankets

The penetrating scent of burning pine stung Rowen’s nostrils as they traveled through the dead and dying forest surrounding them. She stared ahead, trying not to focus on the long path ahead of her and Eskel as they trekked. It had been three days, maybe four since they stayed in an inn and Rowen was desperate for a warm bath.

Eskel walked behind her, a habit he got into when she started traveling with him over a year ago.

Lil Bleater hopped out in front of the two, happily dancing along the path, causing Rowen to laugh at the goat. Eskel smiled at the sound of her laugh, a sound he never heard enough. It was no secret their trek was taking a toll on her, despite her protests every time he asked.

The town ahead was sure to have a place for them to stay that night, it would only be a matter of them accepting witchers.

“You seem lost in thought, witcher.” Rowen’s voice pulled him out of his mind as he looked up once more, seeing her walking backwards to look into his eyes.

“Only about the journey ahead.” It wasn’t a total lie, just not the whole truth

“My, my. So serious, lighten up!” Rowen quoted something Lambert said to Eskel when he was teasing his raven-haired brother about him and Rowen.

“Don’t even start, love.”

Her smile seemed to light up the world, despite the dark grey clouds residing over their heads. The village came into view not too long after, the hustle and bustle being heard very clearly. Eskel pulled his hood up again, smirking as Rowen slipped her hand into his.

Most people didn’t even pay him any mind as the two walked through the streets, looking at the wares being sold.

Rowen smiled at a shopkeeper who was trying to persuade Eskel to buy her some flowers. She was about to turn the keeper down when Eskel handed him a few coins and took vibrant flowers of blue.

Rowen swooned inside as he handed them to her, taking a deep breath and sighing at their scent. As she looked up she watched something in him shift; he was softer somehow.

She only took his hand in hers, placing a soft kiss to it before walking once more towards the inn. The building looked older, well used, but not worn down or nasty. They stuck to the normal routine, Eskel would stand in the corner and Rowen would ask for the room. Although their plan had one flaw.

There was usually only one bed.

Many people would assume it was only Rowen going in and she never wanted them asking too many questions; those usually led to issues. So the two learned how to work around it. At first, it was awkward but once the two fell further, it was less uncomfortable throat-clearing and more teasing as they fell asleep.

This time was no different. As Rowen slid the key into the doorknob the two took in the small room. There was a single bed with two blankets on top and one pillow. A small oak dresser sat in the corner where they could set the few belongings they had. Rowen placed her flowers on the dresser, smiling once more at their beauty. Lil Bleater was begrudgingly let in, and she now ran to the small rug and curled up, softly sighing as she closed her eyes.

Eskel and Rowen took their cloaks off, resting them on top of the dresser before dropping their packs on the floor. The woman turned to look at the bed and then back at Eskel.

“I’m going to take a bath, you keep the kid company.” He chuckled at her joke. Somehow along the line, the two started calling Lil Bleater their kid; something that earned them a few looks from Geralt.

Once bathed, Rowen returned to the room, smiling as she saw Eskel staring out the window. She greeted him softly before wrapping her arms around his waist. He leaned back into her and sighed, letting his eyes closed as he took in the moment. Rowen yawned and softly pulled him towards the bed.

“Sleepy, love?” He whispered and Rowen nodded against his back.

She climbed onto the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. The soft material tickled the skin above her dress. Eskel slid in next to her and Rowen wasted no time rolling half on top of him. He smiled down at her as she rested her head on his chest, trying to look up at him.

“See something you like?” She teased.

“Once I see past the double chin, you’re quite lovely.”

Rowen feigned offense and huffed lightly, looking away from her lover. He chuckled at her and his hand began brushing through her hair as she began closing her eyes.

“Just a few more weeks, we’ll be heading back to Kaer Morhen for winter.” Eskel thought out loud.

“Our own large bed again. Decent fires.”

“Lambert’s constant talking.”

“Well,, it’s not always constant. Sometimes he sleeps.” They two laughed for a moment about that before returning to a comfortable silence.

“I must say, the travels are much easier with you by my side.” Eskel softly admitted.

“Are you turning soft on me dear?” Rowen tried to tease, but tiredness was overtaking her quickly.

“Just being honest.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her scalp.

[lisinfleur]

Fyrir Ást

Author’s Notes | I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you reaching this mark! May the gods keep blessing you with this incredible talent and allowing us to bask in your stories! Congratulations one more time! Universe | Vikings Pairing | No pair Info | Viking Age AU, Fixing Plot AU, produced for @waiting4inspiration​’s 9k Multiple of 3 Challenge | Prompt nº 12 | “Fyrir ást” means “For Love” in Icelandic Words | 1266 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, mentions of blood, wounds and pain. Some cursing.

The candles of your house were creating a middle light that enlightened the icy blue of his worried eyes over his feverish older brother on your bed. Two sons of Ragnar Loðbrók in your cabin - Thank the Gods you decided to keep yourself away from the center of the town or your place would certainly become a center of visitation for the next days. Thank the gods as well you had known Hvitserk at the time of their invasion to York, learned of their gods, and converted through your conversations with him at that time, when he was lost and sad by his older brother's departure, searching for his way he, sometimes, found into your arms. After he left, you thought you would never see Hvitserk Ragnarsson once again. But there he was, lying unconscious on your bed with his forehead covered in sweat and that infected wound on his chest, uncared by his own stupidity.

Or maybe by his unconditional love for his little brother so full of concern by his side now. Who would say Ivar the Boneless would grow into a man so fond of his brother like that? The same man that used to mock Hvitserk's dedication and loyalty was now there, suffering for what his brother had just done.

For him...

"How's your leg, Ivar?" you asked, probably breaking his line of thoughts since he looked at you surprised by your very existence by his side.

He was so out of himself...

"It's not important, woman. Hvitserk... When will he wake up?" he asked again.

The fiftieth time he was asking the same question.

"As I said the last forty-nine times, Ivar. He'll wake up when I manage to lower his temperature."

"Then do it!" he charged, causing you to sigh.

Still the same spoiled commander. But with way better reasons to be like that.

"Calm down, Ragnarsson. Your brother won't die," you granted, touching his shoulder.

"Why did he do this? Fuck, Hvitserk! Why did you do this, you idiot!" he cursed.

And you could bet he was holding back some tears behind those stupidly blue eyes.

Ivar's disease was way triggered. His eyes' whites were almost completely blue and you knew that broken leg wasn't unnatural in spite of the inhuman form it was twisted when they arrived.

If you had understood it right from what Ivar told you, they were in a battle against king Alfred closer to the Royal Villa when that happened. His body was weak, but Ivar insisted on advancing with the incursion because they had the advantage from the terrain. Hvitserk had warned him, but it wasn't enough for Ivar to listen and one of his legs couldn't handle his weight not even with the help of his braces. It broke into pieces throwing Ivar on the ground with a loud scream of terrible pain, leaving him at the mercy of the Saxons beside him, one of them ready to sink his sword through Ivar's chest and cease their major reason to fear the Norsemen's threats.

A strike that never came. Hvitserk came like a wild wolf, attacking the Saxons and protecting his fallen brother with fierceness Ivar said he'd never seen before. At the moment, in awe, Ivar said he wasn't able to see when his brother was wounded by a Saxon blade, but Hvitserk was quick in denying there was any kind of problem with him.

"I'm fine, he said. Hold on tight," Ivar narrated, telling you how his brother proceeded to carry him out of the battlefield on his own back, hiding in the woods to avoid being persecuted, walking away from the battle spot where his army was being defeated. "We fled like dogs," Ivar grunted, but as he said, at the end of the day, Hvitserk had a campfire placed, his leg tied to an improvised immobilizer his brother did out of his broken braces' pieces and two fat fishes Hvitserk had fished for them to eat.

"Hvitserk forced me to sleep," you remember him telling you. He prioritized his little brother over his own needs. And he carried Ivar all the way towards York. All the way towards your house where he knew you could care for his brother's wound.

"All the way through, always telling me nothing was wrong with his little grunts, nothing was wrong with his paleness. I'm tired, Ivar. You're heavy. Shut up, Ivar. Go to sleep. This bastard! Stupid moron! He was lying to me!"

Hvitserk knew he couldn't stop to care for his own wound. He didn't have the proper materials and the herbs he found were all for his brother's pain. Hvitserk knew if he had told Ivar he was wounded, his little brother wouldn't allow him to carry him through all the way, and without his crutch Ivar had lost at the battlefield, they would've never arrived at your home on time for Hvitserk's wound to still be treatable.

When they arrived at your door, Hvitserk was barely standing with his brother on his back and as soon as he had Ivar properly sat on a chair, safe from any damage, he fell on your ground, lying flat and feverish, unconscious but sure you would fulfill his last ask before fainting.

"Take care of Ivar... I know you know how."

You were a Saxon nurse before knowing his people. You had learned from his healers and became one yourself. Hvitserk had fought that whole way to bring his little brother into the safety of experienced hands that could help him with his condition. You knew why Hvitserk had done that.

You knew why he had lied more and more about his own wound, pretending nothing was wrong until his last strength.

You approached the laid prince, exchanging the cloth on his forehead for a new one with fresh water to lower his temperature, listening as Hvitserk grunted low, going back into his deep sleep. The wound - a cut in his chest - was now bandaged after you had scraped the dead flesh, got rid of the infected tissue, and covered it with an herbal paste that finished the smell of burned rotten flesh from the elder prince's body. Your fingers caressed the prince's loose hair, sighing.

Answering without looking at Ivar's face, maybe to give him space for the tears you knew he wasn't able to control and keep from falling.

"He did it out of love, Ivar," you said. "He did it because he loves you. Because he could stand all this pain, but he couldn't stand the idea of losing you or leaving you behind."

"He's stupid!" Ivar grunted.

The obvious knot in his throat hidden behind the hoarse voice.

"What would I do if he died, uh? What would I do without him?"

The angry voice of the younger prince became meeker. And you knew there wasn't any anger in those sentences at all.

"What would I do without you, brother?"

You held your smile into a slight curve. Hvitserk who had so long mourned his older brother's love on your shoulders, thinking he had abandoned the only one who had ever loved him; who would ever do it.

"What would I do without you?"

Hvitserk found love. And you were glad, somehow, to see he wasn't alone like he thought he would always be.

"You'll be fine, son of Ragnar," you got up, daring to caress Ivar's worried expression like once you dared to touch his older brother's crying face. "Both of you will."

You would care for them. And they would be alright.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff​ || @ivarswickedqueen​ || @akamaiden​ || @bang-kim-bap​ || @cris101071​ || @elysias-temple​ || @alicedopey​ || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ || @lol-haha-joke​ || @readsalot73​ || @rekdreams247​ || @naaladareia​ || @laketaj24​ || @therealcalicali​ || @grungyblonde​ || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets​ || @2thequietone4​ || @blackspiritshake​ || @vikingsbifrost​ || @wallabieswisher​ || @cyarikashakira​ || @chinduda​ || @isthat-tyra98​ || @xinyourdreamsx​ || @thiahilmarsdottir​ || @queenbeeta​ || @winchesterwife27​ || @gold-dragon-slayer​ || @mzliterarydreamer​ || @youbloodymadgenius​ || @marvelouuse​ || @tgrrose​ || @lif3snotouttogetyou​ || @lordsexmachine​ || @deathbyarabbit​ || @ietss​ || @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ || @didiintheblog​ || @h-e-a-v-y-l-e-a-t-h-e-r || @heavenly1927​ || @alexhandersenx​ || @alexisshoto​ || @letsloveimagines​ || @astrape-the-weatherwitch​ || @destynelseclipsa​ || @charming-merlin​ || @violetidk​ ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

[waiting4inspiration]

Multiple of 3 Challenge (9k Followers Celebration)

Welcome, one and all, to my 9k Followers Celebration Challenge!! Before we get started, I just want to thank each and every one of you guys for giving me this and for following me and putting my with my shit. I really do appreciate it and I can’t explain to you guys how much this means to me. You guys have always been there when I need someone to talk to and always supporting me with what I want to do and I really can’t say how much it means to me.

So, moving on now! I thought of doing a writing challenge for you guys to celebrate and might even consider doing something myself because I really like this idea. I was a bit hesitant to do a writing challenge because of the backlash my last one received and I will confess that I do suck at getting to reading the entries, but I promise, I’m going to try my absolute best to change that.

For this challenge, you will chose a prompt containing 3 items that must appear in your story/moodboard.

Please pay careful attention to the rules as they not only help you guys but it also helps me in putting together a masterlist of the amazing works you’ll write! Take a screenshot if it will help you remember.

Rules:

1. You can write or make a moodboard of any any character from the Vikings, Marvel, Witcher, Supernatural, or The Last Kingdom fandoms.

2. It can be fluff, angst, smut, whatever is your niche.

3. Please tag the appropriate tags.

4. Reader inserts, OCs, anything is welcome!

5. No pedophile, homophobia, discrimination of any kind, or any bullshit like that will be allowed (though I doubt that will be a problem, I’m just putting it out there).

6. Please choose only ONE prompt as I think this is quite a difficult challenge and I don’t want you guys to push yourselves too much. And there are only a limited number of prompts.

7. First come, first serve.

8. Tag me in your works and use the tag #multipleof3challenge. I would also prefer if you would send me your works that way I won’t miss it due to Tumblr being reputable of eating up notifications.

9. Send me an ask with your prompt and the character of your choice. You won’t be given the prompt if you reply on this prompt.

10. You don’t have to follow me, but that will be nice😉

11. Please use the read more button.

12. Feel free to ask me anything you don’t understand.

13. Deadline: 30 April

The Prompts:

1. -Ribbons

-A carriage

-Flower petals (@flowers-in-your-hayr w/ ivar)

2. -Ripped books

-Torn dress

-Brown hair full of snowflakes (@pieces-by-me w/ Ivar)

3. -Soft blankets

-Burnt forests

-Blue flowers (@mayday1284 w/ Eskel)

4. -A stolen ring

-Fear of spiders

-A sinister stranger (@mdeonestspawn1996 w/ Loki)

5. -A taxi

- An old enemy

- Valentine’s Day

6. -Identical twins

-A party invitation

-A locked closet (@anekoannie-chan w/ Steve)

7. -A broken wristwatch

-Peppermint

- A hug that goes too far (@blue-like-barnes w/ Bucky)

8. -Aerobics

-A secret diary

-Something unpleasant under the bed (@ozwiena w/ Sihtric)

9. -An ex-boyfriend

-A pair of binoculars

-A good-luck charm

10. -An annoying boss

-A bikini

-A fake illness (@simsadventures w/ Steve)

11. -A horoscope

-Makeup

-A missing thing

12. -A campfire

-A scream

-A small lie that gets bigger and bigger (@lisinfleur w/ Ivar or Hvitserk)

13. -An unopened letter

-An eyelash

-A secret (@saldelys w/ Ivar)

14. -A painting of a mansion

-Memories of childhood

-An emerald green gown (@alicedopey w/ modern!Hvitserk)

15. -Tear stained cheeks

-A locked window

-A midnight sky (@adhdnightmare w/ Athelstan)

16. Something red

-High heels

-A quiet place (@youbloodymadgenius w/ modern!Ivar)

17. -A library

-A secret meeting

-A phrase in Latin (@maggiescarborough w/ Alfred)

18. -A haunted house

-A lost love

-A broken object (@a-mess-of-fandoms w/Ivar)

Tagging a few people: @youbloodymadgenius @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @simsadventures @tephi101 @therealcalicali @geekandbooknerd @gearhead66 @fandomfic-galore @lisinfleur @lol-haha-joke @honestsycrets @flowers-in-your-hayr @saldelys @alicedopey @a-mess-of-fandoms @cruelfvkingsummer @inforapound @kneel-begyourpardon @ransoms-sweater-holes

[adhdnightmare]

@waiting4inspiration This is my entry for the challenge! I tried my best and hope it looks alright 😊

The challenge was to make a fic, drabble or mood board of a character with the following themes. I had a lot of fun making it even if finding the pics was annoying at times, its like when your looking for one certain pic you never find it lol

[pieces-by-me]

Tiers and Snowflakes

This is part two of @waiting4inspiration​ ‘s 9k writing challenge. Also again here you are such a good writer it blows my mind away and I am so happy that I stubbed apron your blog one day. You are also on of the first blogs I ever followed. So to be able to write for you makes me so happy ✨

Words: 1155

Summary: Ivar lost the best thing in his life. His love.

Prompt:

ripped books

torn dress

brown hair full of snowflakes

Warnings: death, straight up death and ways people died. ANGST. sadness and grieve.

Snow was falling on the ground of the poppy field where they used to sit. Everything was colored in a grey. Cold and gloomy, wet and making you shiver. Perfect for such a miserable day. The only warmth Ivar could feel was from the raging fire before him. The one that took the body of his love away.

Y/N never liked the sea. She was afraid of it since she could walk. So when the time came that she should be sent to Valhalla, Ivar knew that she would want to be burned on the ground. Surrounded by nothing but green and flowers. The gods didn't grant her the flowers but send snow. But she would have loved that as well. She was always happy with what she was given. Never asking for more then she needed, never needing to be reminded of what to do in situations, she knew her role and managed it well. She was the only one who could take care of Ivar, with his moods, with his legs, with him. She knew and loved him. And he loves her.

Ivar would always love and miss her. Her eyes, her voice, her smile. The way she would braid his hair in the morning before the sun rose. That she knew his favorite foods and would make them for him when he had a hard day. The hugs she would give him late at night, when his legs would want him to end it all, she would hold him and sing to him. She would make his pain go away and it would only return when she had to go.

What was he supposed to do now, now that shes gone? Taken from him in such a way he wanted to set the whole world on fire.

Ivar was worried the whole day. Y/N said she would be back by the time the sun would set. Yet she wasn't. He knew that sometimes she took longer routs to walk back, but never this long. A foreboding feeling of dread made itself known to Ivar and he send every men out to look for her. He begged the gods with all he had that they would bring her back to him. Pleaded that he could have her in his arms again.

But how cruel the gods are.

They found her, but now really.They found her body in an ally, laying in the muddy ground. Bruised and bloody. Her dress was torn in places and dirty in others. A horrid picture of a struggle that was lost. When Ivar was brought to her he didn't believe his eyes. How could it be that his love was laying before him, but he could never reach her again. His screamed were heard all over Kattegat.

He demanded for her to be brought back inside the great hall. He didn't take his eyes from her, while hers looked dead in the sky. Glazed over and empty. She would never see the light of day again, never skip through one of her books, never wipe a tear away that escaped from laughter.

Now that she was clean, Ivar could see the handprint on her neck. The touch that stole her from him. She must have fought back quite harshly by the way her nails were ripped apart. He hoped she scratched one of the culprit's eyes out so that he would always be marked and that Ivar could find him and do far worse things to him. Oh how he would get his revenge. Slowly and cruel. He would not sleep until he found the one that did this.

No one dared to talk to him in the following days. Everyone that did was met with screams and insults. Harsh words that hurt to the core. No one was there to get him out of his darkness, now that Y/N was gone. He had no light to guid him. Not even his brothers could help him. It was as if Ivar died with her. But the hate and rage he felt were a drive forward. To find the culprit who did it and end his life. And Ivar did.

The corpse of the men still hung over the beams of the entrance to Kattegat.

The sound of wood cracking diminished the screams of the murderer that echoed in Ivar's head, and with that brought him back to the meadow. He was the only one still sitting there. Your family, the small one you still had left, tears streaking down their faces. They couldn't bare to see your body go up in flames. Ivar's brothers didn't want to leave him there, but he insisted on being alone with you one last time.

The fire dwindled down slowly so he knew it was time. IN his hands was a book. One neither of you could read but still you loved it with all your heart. You had it with you when they found you. Now the once clean book was ripped and muddy. Still he knew that you would still love it just as much.

“My sweet Y/N. You were taken from me to a place I cannot follow you. Not yet. But believe me, we will see each other again in Valhalla, for the gods would be fools not to let you eat with them in their golden halls.” With his words the tears, the once he thought he had not one left to spare, returned. “I made sure your death was avenged. And I hope you heard the screams of the rat that took you. I hope it brings you closer to peace.”

Ivar brought his body up with a grunt as he took his crutch as a prop to bring him closer to the flames. Clutching on the book. The last thing from you he had. “I know you will miss this”

He laid the book to the place close to were your head was and with wobbling steps he made his way back. Sitting on the only place not overtaken from snow.

“I love you. You know that and it is something that will never change. And I will make sure that we will see each other again in Valhalla. So do not miss me. Drink and celebrate with the old gods. Greet father from me, he always loved as his own daughter. But I will miss you. Because now I have nothing left that holds me up.”

Ivar didn't know how long he sat there. He didn't feel hunger or the need to sleep. He didn't hear anything but the wind and the crackling of flames. Nothing was there when he looked inside of him. He simply didn't feel. He didn't know if he ever could feel again.

After what felt like an eternity the sun set and the fire burned out, leaving him with nothing but ashes and snowflakes in his hair.

_________________________________

I hope you like this! please tell me what you fought of this and have a nice day☀️

Part 1 is here: Smiles and Snowflakes

I forgot to tag people🙈

@youbloodymadgenius @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[nekoannie-chan]

Sorpresa doble

Pareja: Steve Rogers X OFC (Effie Rumlow).

Palabras: 833 palabras.

Sinopsis: Effie tiene un secreto…o eso es lo que Steve cree, ¿qué es lo que hay en el clóset? ¿Steve lo descubrirá?

Advertencias: Habrá una confusión, pero todo se resuelve.

N/A: Esta es mi entrada Multiple of 3 challenge (9K follower celebration) con la frase #6:

“Gemelas idénticas.”

“Una invitación a una fiesta.”

“Un clóset cerrado.”

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @black23​

—¿Entonces irás a la fiesta, Steve? —cuestionó Effie.

—Creo que no…

—Vamos Steve, ¿me vas a dejar sola?, anda Steve, necesitas salir más, conocer nuevas personas, no tienes por qué ser tan aburrido, tienes mucho tiempo que recuperar.

—Si, pero…

—No acepto ninguna excusa, o no “jugaremos” esta noche —amenazó Effie.

—Está bien, iré a la fiesta —respondió Steve poniendo los ojos en blanco.

La noche del sábado llegó rápidamente, Steve observaba la invitación, no entendía los motivos por los que Effie insistió tanto que fuera, sin embargo, no comprendía para qué necesitaba la invitación si era en la casa de su novia.

Steve se acercó a Natasha y a Clint en cuanto los vio, no conocía a nadie más y no veía por ningún lado a Effie.

—Romanoff, Barton, ¿no han visto a Effie? —cuestionó Steve.

—La vi hace rato con Rumlow saliendo de la cocina.

Steve se fue, en cuanto Natasha vio que él no estaba cerca, le hizo una seña a Clint para que se acercara más, no quería que nadie escuchara.

—Quizás deba decirle a Rogers lo que estoy viendo —dijo Nat.

—¿Qué?

—¿Esa no es Effie?

Voltearon, una mujer muy parecida Effie estaba abrazando a Jack, pero ni siquiera estaba seguros de lo que estaban viendo. Ambos se miraron confundidos.

—Aquí estás —susurró Steve abrazando a Effie por la espalda. Ella volteó y lo besó con ternura.

—Te enseñaré mi recámara antes de que Brock nos vea, si es que no nos ha visto ya y seguramente nos seguirá por toda la casa.

Ellos caminaron por el pasillo, luego entraron a la recámara, Steve sonrió, la decoración era muy bonita, la mayoría de las cosas eran en tono azul.

—Así que esta es tu habitación —comentó Steve mirando su alrededor con detenimiento—. Te gustan mucho las sirenas, ¿verdad? —preguntó Steve.

—Me encantan.

Steve se acercó al clóset que parecía estar cerrado con llave, le llamaba mucho la atención, quizás Effie lo había tenido desde que era una niña.

—No lo abras —pidió Effie al ver a su novio cerca del preciado mueble.

—¿Qué hay adentro?

— Nada en especial, simplemente no me gusta que vean su interior, así que no lo abras, por favor.

—¿Por qué?

—Porque no me gusta que la abran.

Steve miro con curiosidad la puerta del clóset, necesitaba saber qué era lo que había al interior.

La fiesta transcurría de manera animada y divertida, sin embargo, Steve seguirá queriendo saber que había adentro de aquel mueble así que se escabulló hasta la habitación de Effie, tenía que ingeniárselas para poder abrir el clóset, intentó varias maneras hasta que lo logró; Steve esperaba encontrar algo horrible adentro, pero en cambio se quedó estupefacto, luego frunció el ceño, ¿qué significaba todo lo que había al interior de aquel clóset que Effie tanto se empeñó en que no lo abriera?, tomó la primera foto que vio, ¿por qué había “dos Effie”?

—Te dije que no quería que abrieras mi clóset —se quejó malhumorada Effie atrás de él.

—¿Quién es? —preguntó Steve mostrándole la foto que había tomado.

—Ellie, mi gemela.

—¿Tienes una gemela?

—¿No ves las fotos?

—¿Por qué nunca la mencionaste?

—Nunca me preguntaste si tenía más hermanos aparte de Brock —contestó Effie.

La puerta de la recamara se abrió en ese momento, y dos personas más entraron.

—¿Por qué dejaste que lo abriera sin consultarme primero? —preguntó Ellie soltando la mano de Jack y volteó a ver a su gemela.

—No lo dejé, lo hizo sin mi permiso.

—Hola, soy Steve… —empezó a decir Steve atrayendo la atención de Ellie.

—Sé quién eres —interrumpió Ellie poniendo los ojos en blanco y regreso la mirada a su gemela.

—Steve creo que deberías saber algo… —dijo Natasha entrando también a la habitación, sin embargo, se calló al ver la situación.

—¿Por qué hay dos “Effie”? —cuestionó confundido.

—Soy Ellie, par de idiotas y también trabajo en S.H.I.E.L.D. —respondió Ellie molesta.

Brock entró a la habitación, sabía que el día que esto pasara iba a ser muy divertido y no quería perdérselo por nada.

—Mis hermanas pudieron elegir otros novios, pero no, eligieron a éstos dijo —Brock señalando a Steve y a Jack con la cabeza.

—¡Cállate Brock! —exclamaron las gemelas al unísono.

—Bueno, ¿por qué abriste mi clóset, Steve? —volvió a preguntar Effie.

—Creí que había otras cosas...

—Si esperabas encontrar un cadáver o algo más entonces creo q ve no conoces a tu novia —dijo una mujer muy alta entrando a la habitación seguida de un hombre. Todos voltearon a verlos.

—¿Quién eres? —inquirió Steve, nunca antes había visto a esas personas, ¿de qué manera estaba relacionadas con Effie.

—Ana Helstrom.

—Es mejor que me hagas enojar a los hermanos Helstrom, no querrás terminar en el inferno, Rogers —se burló Brock.

Steve, Natasha y Clint voltearon a ver a Brock sin comprender su “broma”, el resto rio. Los hermanos Helstrom eran muy buenos amigos de las gemelas, así que no permitirían que alguien les hiciera daño.

[waiting4inspiration]

Multiple of 3 Challenge Masterlist (9k Followers Celebration)

You can find my challenge here

Fyrir ást by @lisinfleur​

Prompt: A campfire, A scream, A small lie that gets bigger and bigger

Alfred x Reader by @maggiescarborough​

Prompt: A library, A secret meeting, A phrase in latin.

Athelstan moodboard by @adhdnightmare​

Prompt: Tear stained cheeks, A locked window, A midnight sky

Ivar moodboard by @flowers-in-your-hayr​

Prompt: Ribbons, A carriage, Flower petals

Smiles and Snowflakes by @pieces-by-me​

Prompt:  torn dress, ripped books, brown hair full of snowflakes

Tears and Snowflakes by @pieces-by-me​

Prompt:  torn dress, ripped books, brown hair full of snowflakes

Crashing Waves by @youbloodymadgenius​

Prompt: Something red, High heels, A quiet place

[waiting4inspiration]

Oh wow!! 😮🥵 That was hot! And so so AMAZING! The best way to wake up 😉 Thank you for taking part in the challenge, love! It was absolutely great work done! 👏👏

Crashing Waves (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @waiting4inspiration's 9K Multiple of 3 Challenge 🌺 Congrats again, love!

Prompt 16: Something red / High heels / A quiet place

@geekandbooknerd - thank you, darling, you're a wonderful beta 💖

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: Bringing Ivar back to the place - Ragnar's hunting cabin - of his greatest failure seems pretty bold. Yet you are sure of your plan. It will work. And you will prove him wrong.

Warnings: smut; use of a cock ring; mention of Ivar's insecurities; no real plot.

Words: 2881

Sitting on the bed, Ivar swallows loudly, digging fingernails into his palms. "Why did you bring me here, Y/N? What are we doing here?" You watch the muscles in his jaw clenching and flexing as he grinds his teeth. You know he's trying very hard to control his anger.

Taking two steps towards him, you cup his face, "This is a quiet place," lean forward and your mouth grazes his cheek and then his earlobe. "You know how much I love quiet places."

"You love quiet places? Are you fucking kidding me??" Seething with anger, he gives you dagger eyes. "Of all the possible places, you really had to choose this one? This fucking cabin? You fucking know this is not just any quiet place."

Kneeling down in front of him – a task nearly impossible with your six-inch stilettos – you place your hands on the bed, on either side of his hips. Reaching up, your thumb strokes his cheekbone, your face peering up at him. "I know, my love."

Of course, you do.

You know exactly what Ragnar's hunting cabin means to your lover. You know what happened here – or rather what didn't. You know about his failure. You know everything because one night he told you, between sobs, and after way too much Akvavit. And that's exactly why you're here tonight.

"Why, then?" His knuckles white, he asks through clenched teeth, averting his gaze.

"Because," things are clear to you, so you don't hesitate, "it's time to start making some new memories, my love." Your right hand grabs his left and you intertwine his fingers with yours. "And because it's time I prove you wrong."

Ivar ducks his head down, unable to look you in the eye. His voice barely a whisper, you realize he is shaking. "I… You know I…", he releases a shuddering breath, his gaze finding yours, "I can't…"

The sharpness in his voice is gone, replaced by… despair… And the way he looks at you… Gods… His wide eyes are filled with fear, confusion and… tears? It's almost enough to persuade you to back off.

But no. You won't.

"I don't know that, my love. I only know what you told me." Carefully placing your hands on his thighs, you tilt your head to the side. There are a thousand questions in his eyes and he seems hurt, and self-conscious. Oh no, you won't allow him to go down this path. "Listen to me. I was not lying, Ivar – I never lied to you – with your dexterous fingers and your skilled tongue, you can pleasure a woman. You pleasure me each and every time, never doubt that. But I want more. For you more than for me."

"But… what…" He wraps his fingers around your right hand, squeezing it so tight it hurts, but you don't complain, not when you can almost feel the panic coursing through his veins, so you just keep looking at him, with a smile on your lips and love in your eyes. "What if it doesn't work? What if… I can't get it up long enough like… like with… with Margrethe…"

"Oh Ivar, stop dwelling on this old story, will you? You were so young, my love, still a boy. And she was just a girl. A girl you didn't have feelings for. A girl who didn't love you." Gently grabbing his chin, you bring his mouth to yours for a soft, light kiss. "I am in love with you, Ivar. And I know you're in love with me. That, my love, makes a huge difference. Plus, you're no longer a boy… And, as for myself, tell me the truth, my love… " You stand up and then slowly take off your long, black trench coat. "Do I look like a girl?"

The second Ivar sees what's under the coat, his mouth falls open. Gaping and gawking, he's literally gobsmacked. If you're being honest, that's what you were aiming for when you chose that red dress. Red is his favorite color and well, the dress fits like a glove and shows off every curve you've got. As he stares at you, his eyes wide open, you're pleasantly surprised to see more lust than fear, or worry, or anger in his gaze.

"So, do I look like a girl?" You ask once again, flashing him a cheeky smile while making your way between his thighs. Your hand grazes his crotch, but Ivar doesn't seem to notice, too entranced – mesmerized – by the sight in front of him.

"No," Ivar shakes his head and clears his throat but his voice is still hoarse when he speaks again, "No, you look like a fucking goddess."

"Then, you should help your goddess with the zipper." You pull away just enough to turn around and the next moment Ivar's hands are on you, roaming over your waist and back. He slowly unzips your dress, then slides his hands over your shoulders and down your arms to remove it. "Fuck!" Ivar gasps as your dress falls to the floor, and you can hear him swallowing. "You're… you're naked."

"That I am." You turn your head just in time to see him licking his lips. His nostrils are flaring, his pupils are dilated, and the bulge in his pant is unmistakable. Good.

"Take off your clothes and then scoot over and lie down." You order, stepping out of your dress but keeping your stilettos on. Ivar barely nods, but starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Crossing the room completely naked, you can feel his intense gaze on you and as you bend down to pick up your purse, your butt on display, he makes a sound, a cross between a whimper and a groan. "Gods, woman!" He whines when you slowly come back, swaying your hips, your hand grazing his feet before putting your purse right next to him and dimming the lights.

Ivar, a white sheet covering his lower body, watches your every move, and even if his arousal is obvious, you can tell he's still scared, or at the very least, a little wary.

Kicking your shoes off, you climb onto the bed and straddle him. Careful not to put your full weight on him, you lean forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Y/N, what are you planning to do?" His strained voice betrays his sudden anxiety.

Smiling, you brush his cheek. "Do you trust me, Ivar?"

"It's not about trust but about what I can or–" He starts but you stop him, a finger on his mouth. You then flatten your palms on his chest and soon your hands are venturing down. You explore the lines of his torso, tracing left and right across the ridges in his abdomen. Gods, you love his body! When your fingers come across the thin trail of hair leading lower, you tilt your head, your hand slipping under the sheet. Ivar's breath hitches in his throat as your hand meets his now half-hard cock.

"Answer me, Ivar, do you trust me?"

"Yes." Ivar breathes out his answer and, reaching out, he runs his hands up your ribs to your breasts. "You know I do." He doesn't have to say it for you to know he's referring to his legs. You know them; you're allowed to see and touch them and you know how big a deal it is to him. He does trust you.

"Then trust me, one more time, please. Trust me on this."

As you draw a finger up to the head of his cock and back down the underside, tracing a line around his balls, Ivar lets out a hiss, followed by a groan when you wrap your hand around him.

All of a sudden, he grabs your wrist, preventing you to move. "You know I can't…"

"Love, you're hard." Since you can't really move your hand, you squeeze your fingers around him to prove your point. You're rewarded by a deep, involuntary, grunt, but the next thing you know, Ivar is swaying his head from side to side. "It won't… last… long enough…" His words are barely audible; you know the admission kills him. And you know he's convinced that it is an unavoidable truth. Because that's exactly what happened with Margrethe.

"It will, my love. Have faith in yourself. And if you can't do that, then have faith in me."

Slowly, using your free hand, you unwrap his fingers from your wrist, your eyes never leaving his. Once he releases his grip, you give him a wicked smile and then scoot back farther while pulling down the sheet. Pushing his legs apart with care, you settle between them, reaching for his cock.

And then, you swallow him down and start to suck. Ivar gasps and pants, hissing breaths through his teeth. You know he never experienced anything like this. No one has never done that for him, and there's a sense of pride blooming in your chest knowing you're the one offering him so much pleasure.

Peeking up, you see your lover, propped up on his elbows, who looks at you as you really were a goddess. He's getting harder and harder, squirming underneath you. Pulling back reluctantly, you give him a sultry look, not missing how confused and… disappointed he looks.

"What… Why? I … Oh fuck… I think… Y/N… I… I was…" He stutters, struggling to gather his thoughts. You have to remind yourself of his reality. Your lover never had an orgasm.

"You were close, yes, I know, Ivar. And I promise you're going to come. But I want you to come inside me, my love."

Ivar swallows. "But…" Eyes darting all over the place, you know he's once again overcome with self-doubt.

"There's no buts, love." You cut him off, reaching out and then scrabbling around in your purse. When you find what you were looking for, you hold it triumphantly in front of you. "There's no buts because of this."

Ivar frowns, confused. "What's that?"

"A cock ring, my love. And well," you add, grabbing a small tube, "some lube too."

"A what?" Bewildered, Ivar sits up in the bed, but you push gently on his chest.

You did some research. The cock ring will help him maintain his erection. Not that he physically needs it – you're sure he doesn't – but emotionally, it's a different story. But since you don't want him to have time to rethink what you're about to do – and because you wouldn't want to waste such an impressive erection – you're not going to give him a lecture on cock rings right now.

"I'll explain later, love. It won't harm you; I promise. Trust me with this, Ivar, please."

When he nods – shyly, tentatively and almost sheepishly – you don't waste any more time and pour a small amount of lube into your hand. He gasps as soon as you wrap a slick hand around his still hard cock. Setting the lube aside, you slide the ring down his cock.

"Does it hurt?" Looking closely at his face for any sign of discomfort, you slowly run your hands up his thighs, and as he shakes his head no, you straddle him once more without ever breaking eye contact.

Ivar can barely breathe and doesn't even dare to blink. He can't believe it. Fuck, he can't. This is happening. This is fucking happening. He's rock-hard, harder than he has ever been and he feels like his pounding heart is going to burst.

Earlier, the warmth of your wet mouth on his dick felt insanely good. Your lips wrapped around him, your hand holding him, your eyes filled with an equal amount of lust and love… It has been almost too much, and heavenly as the same time. He would have wanted it to never end and had resented you for a moment when you had released his cock. But it doesn't matter, not anymore, not when you're just about–

"Aaaaaaaaah!" He closes his eyes, the new sensation incredible, otherworldly, overwhelming. He's dying. Or maybe he's already dead. He can't grasp what's happening, or what he's feeling. It's magic, like nothing he's ever felt before. His head is spinning and tears are welling up in his eyes. This… This must be Valhalla; it can't be anything else. Gods…

And then a distant voice brings him back to the here and now. "Ivar, look at me, my love." It takes him several seconds to understand that it is your voice, and that he's the one you're talking to.

Slowly, very slowly and almost reluctantly, because a part of him believes that what he's experiencing is nothing but a dream, he finally opens his eyes. What a glorious sight! You, the woman he loves, are sitting atop him, looking down at him as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. And you're… he's… fuck.

"I'm… Ah… Y/N… I'm…" He can't even form a coherent sentence but it doesn't matter, because you're so beautiful, because your face is radiant with love, because you definitely are a goddess. And because you know what he's trying to say.

"Yes, my love, you're inside me. And you're hard, and you're not hurting me. It feels so good, Ivar. You feel so good… Your home, my love…" Bending forward and weaving your fingers through his hair, you kiss him as you begin to move. He's at loss for what to do, and it doesn't matter, and there's fireworks in his heart, and you're fucking right, he's home. You're his home. His.

His hands on your thighs, he looks at you and you're so fucking beautiful it takes his breath away. And the feeling of you, wet and throbbing around his cock, is the most amazing thing he's ever felt.

Sitting upright, your back arches as you widen your legs. Your heat engulfing him, he stares at you, bewitched. You're riding him, hard, gasping, moaning, praising, your skin glistening with sweat.

Fuck.

The powerful thrusts of your hips coax his body to a place he's never been before. The sounds of your lovemaking are filling the room… The suction when he slides out of you; the slap of his balls against you when he goes deep. Your grunts. Your pantings. His breaths.

"Oh fuck… it's… oh gods..." You begin to move faster and he keeps his eyes on you. You don't shy away from his scrutiny, holding eye contact as you bounce on him. His hands now cup your ass cheeks, pulling you against him, and then they find your hips, guiding you. He's going to make you come, like a man. Like a whole man. He's going to make you come because he's inside you. The thought is exhilarating, intoxicating.

"Ivar, I'm close!" The way your eyes are half-lidded and lust drunk as you breathe out his name is the most erotic thing he's ever seen. When you begin to lose your rhythm, your moans morph to keening cries and finally you shout and he gasps and you cry out his name as you clamp around him, throwing your head back. The rush of your heat surrounding his cock is overpowering, prodigious, and he thinks he may be losing his mind.

Struggling to catch your breath and still trembling, you kiss him deeply, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He groans when you lift off him but your hand finds his cheek, caressing it. "I want you to come, and you won't come with the cock ring around your cock, love." Your skilled fingers hastily removing it, you toss the ring on the floor and then you straddle him once again, sliding down his cock.

The tingling deep in his balls is nearly immediate and he's sure he's never felt this good. He kisses you like he's starving, and in some ways he's. His hands slide over your breasts, your hips rocking, and you're so fucking beautiful he can't believe his eyes. "I love you so much…" He manages to croak in a shallow breath.

And suddenly everything explodes and he loses track of where you end and he begins, and if you answer he doesn't hear it. His ears ring and his hips thrust up against yours and his whole-body shudders violently, once; twice; more. And then his eyes flutter shut as he comes, wave after wave after wave, until he feels disoriented and light-headed, his hot, thick seed flooding your pussy, and it's so powerful it's like a fucking earthquake.

When his whole body goes limp, he lets out a soft whimper as you rest your head on his chest only to reach up and toy with his hair.

When you look up at him, he's sure the whirlwind of his emotions is obvious on his face, but he doesn't care, just like he doesn't care about his tear-filled eyes, or his crooked legs. Truth be told, for the first time in his life, he doesn't give a damn about his legs. For the first time in his life, he feels whole and worthy. For the first time in his life, he feels like the happiest man on Earth.

And that could well be the greatest gift you, Y/N, the goddess of replaced memories, could ever give him.

He loves you.

🛡⚔️🛡

@waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @pieces-by-me @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood

[waiting4inspiration]

Oh... My.... Word!!!! I love this so much!!! Definitely the ending we needed😂😂😂 It was absolutely beautiful, my dear. Thank you for writing this and for taking part❤️ Amazing work 👏👏

Fyrir Ást

Author’s Notes | I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you reaching this mark! May the gods keep blessing you with this incredible talent and allowing us to bask in your stories! Congratulations one more time! Universe | Vikings Pairing | No pair Info | Viking Age AU, Fixing Plot AU, produced for @waiting4inspiration​’s 9k Multiple of 3 Challenge | Prompt nº 12 | “Fyrir ást” means “For Love” in Icelandic Words | 1266 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, mentions of blood, wounds and pain. Some cursing.

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[waiting4inspiration]

Ah, it's absolutely beautiful!!! 😍 I LOVE IT!!! Thank you so much for taking part in the challenge. You did a fantastic job ❤️

@waiting4inspiration This is my entry for the challenge! I tried my best and hope it looks alright 😊

The challenge was to make a fic, drabble or mood board of a character with the following themes. I had a lot of fun making it even if finding the pics was annoying at times, its like when your looking for one certain pic you never find it lol

[waiting4inspiration]

Oh, it's amazing! On my way to read the next part, very excited for angst 😉❤️❤️❤️

Smiles and Snowflakes

Hello there! This is my (first) part of @waiting4inspiration​ ‘s writing challenge!! Congratulations again on 9 FREAKING thousand followers. Well deserved and a huge step🎉I couldn’t decide which way I wanted to go with this fluffy or angsty….so I did both. I really hope you all like it and that you have an amazing day or night✨☀️

Words: 1308

Warnings: fluffy and cute, nothing else. English is not my first language.

Summary: Ivar can’t quite fathom how lucky he is that he found someone like her.

 Prompt:  

torn dress 

ripped books

brown hair full of snowflakes

The smile on his face grew with every second he had his eyes on her. She herself was also smiling, but not at him. She was so stuck insider her mind that she didn’t even realize that he was close by. Sitting under the old oak tree up in the mountains, wind tossing her hair in gently waves through the air. Not disturbing her in any way. Her eyes floating over every page in the book she had in her hands. The closer Ivar crawled towards her, the better he could see what she was reading. It was her favorite book. Pages upon pages of different drawings of different people around the world. Her father had brought it back when he returned from one of his raids.

“Haven’t you read that one at least a hundred times already?”

Ivar was right next to her looking inside her book and she hadn’t even noticed that he made his way to her. She thought he was still in the Great Hall with his mother. So his sudden appearance frightened her for just a second.

“Ivar! What did I tell you of not sneaking up on me?”

“You were just to unfocused of your surroundings to see and hear me. That is your own fault.”

The smirk on his face was there as usual and she did not like it this time. She knew he was right.

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[waiting4inspiration]

I felt it. I felt the pain in this, I felt the grief. And it was absolutely amazing 😭❤️❤️❤️ Well done, darling! I loved it!!

Tiers and Snowflakes

This is part two of @waiting4inspiration​ ‘s 9k writing challenge. Also again here you are such a good writer it blows my mind away and I am so happy that I stubbed apron your blog one day. You are also on of the first blogs I ever followed. So to be able to write for you makes me so happy ✨

Words: 1155

Summary: Ivar lost the best thing in his life. His love.

Prompt:

ripped books

torn dress

brown hair full of snowflakes

Warnings: death, straight up death and ways people died. ANGST. sadness and grieve.

Snow was falling on the ground of the poppy field where they used to sit. Everything was colored in a grey. Cold and gloomy, wet and making you shiver. Perfect for such a miserable day. The only warmth Ivar could feel was from the raging fire before him. The one that took the body of his love away.

Y/N never liked the sea. She was afraid of it since she could walk. So when the time came that she should be sent to Valhalla, Ivar knew that she would want to be burned on the ground. Surrounded by nothing but green and flowers. The gods didn’t grant her the flowers but send snow. But she would have loved that as well. She was always happy with what she was given. Never asking for more then she needed, never needing to be reminded of what to do in situations, she knew her role and managed it well. She was the only one who could take care of Ivar, with his moods, with his legs, with him. She knew and loved him. And he loves her.

Ivar would always love and miss her. Her eyes, her voice, her smile. The way she would braid his hair in the morning before the sun rose. That she knew his favorite foods and would make them for him when he had a hard day. The hugs she would give him late at night, when his legs would want him to end it all, she would hold him and sing to him. She would make his pain go away and it would only return when she had to go.

What was he supposed to do now, now that shes gone? Taken from him in such a way he wanted to set the whole world on fire.

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