#sigtryggr the last kingdom

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Little Warrior

Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarsson (The Last Kingdom) x F!Reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and death, kidnapping, slight Stockholm syndrome, attempted sexual assault, sexual tension, coercion, corruption kink, talk of religious beliefs, female masturbation, loss of virginity, smut. Word count: 4.6k

Summary: When Sigtryggr and his men seize Winchester he takes a special interest in one of their captives (I have essentially yeeted Stiorra from the story and adapted the storyline of how her and Sigtryggr become an item to suit my own). Based on this request.

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

They come in the night. As Winchester sleeps, the Danes descend upon it.

She is woken by the blood curdling shouts and screams of the townspeople, accompanied by the acrid stench of smoke from nearby burning buildings.

Her heart lurches in her chest, panic causing bile to rise in her throat as she acts purely on instinct, scrambling from her bed and out of the house wearing just her nightdress. The only thought in her mind is that she doesn’t want to die trapped in her home as it’s burned to the ground.

Once she is outside, she watches wide eyed with horror at the destruction around her. Buildings are ablaze, people lay dead and dying upon the ground, the thick coppery scent of blood makes her want to vomit.

It’s only when the coolness of the night air begins to chill her skin that she realises just how perilous her situation is - a thin layer of cotton is all that separates her flesh from the horrors around her. She worries about what these Heathens will do to her if they see her in such a state of undress.

She trembles at the thought, dread gnawing at her insides. It’s too risky to go back inside, her only option is to hide. She takes her chances beneath an overturned farmer’s cart, crawling beneath the gap and cowering, waiting for the chaos around her to die down.

Clutching the cross around her neck, she sends up a silent prayer to God to keep her safe. Her destiny is in his hands now.

The aching in her joints for having been crouched for so long is beginning to become unbearable when the noise eventually quietens. She wonders if the Danes have left, if King Edward will return to rescue Winchester or if they have managed to capture it in his absence. Where are the Wessex guard?

She freezes when she hears the sound of approaching boots upon the ground, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage when they come to a stop in front of the cart she’s hiding under.

“I can see your feet, Christian”, comes the voice of a man. He speaks softly and quietly, and it sends shivers down her spine.

Too paralyzed by fear to do anything, she remains as she is, her breaths coming quick and shallow, a rapidly dying hope in the back of her mind that he might give up and leave her alone. But there is no such luck.

“You will come out,” he commands, “or I will drag you out, the choice is yours.”

She clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle the frightened whimper that escapes her, attempting to force herself further back against the wooden confines of her misguided hiding place.

A large hand appears beneath the cart, reaching towards her before wrapping itself around her ankle.

She shrieks, thrashing against the hold it has on her as she’s dragged out. She lays wide eyed on the cold earth, her breathing erratic, as she looks with terror upon the Dane that towers above her prone form.

His long brown hair is wild and unkempt, half of it pulled back, and a ragged scar runs the length of the left side of his face. He regards her with mild amusement and she becomes aware again of her state of undress.

The thought that he might rape her sends her senses into overdrive, pure adrenaline driving her decision making. She knows she’s in no position to run, her only other option is to fight him, so as he crouches down towards her, she lunges upwards, slapping and scratching at his face and shoulders.

He is quick to overpower her, pulling her to her feet and twisting her arm behind her back.

“A fearsome little warrior, she is,” he chuckles, keeping her arm taut behind her as he gently urges her forward. 

He guides her towards the front steps of the King’s estate, where several people are kneeling before a group of Danes. As they draw closer she recognises a few of them; King Edward’s sons and a few of the Wessex guard.

She is certain she’ll be killed. The man presses on her shoulder, urging her to kneel beside the other captives. She takes up her position, the stone step is hard against her knees, and she is all too aware that she is the least valuable of everyone gathered there.

“Send them to where they keep their dead King,” the man says, looking at Edward’s children and then nodding towards the chapel.

“We need to send a message to Edward,” a dark haired, heavily pregnant woman says, as two of the Danish men pick up the boys and carry them off. “We must force him to yield Winchester to us.”

It makes her shudder to think that this woman will be a mother, when she is capable of such atrocities. 

“And what do you propose, Brida?” He responds.

Brida regards her with a look that makes her blood run cold. She has never seen anyone look at her as though she is worth less than nothing, her brown eyes are filled with utter contempt. “Send him her head,” she tells him, “it is more shocking to Christians when you are prepared to kill women and children alike.”

She gasps audibly, stricken by terror at the notion that they intend to behead her, until she feels his hand upon her shoulder.

“You will not touch her,” he says cooly, “slaughter the men, but she stays with me.”

“And what will you do with her?” Brida asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That is for me to decide,” he responds dismissively.

He makes a cut throat gesture at the Danes that flank Brida, then nods towards the kneeling guards, before pulling her back to her feet and directing her inside of the King’s estate.

She winces as she hears the sound of blades making thick, wet impact upon flesh, followed by dying screams of agony. Despite her shock and disgust, she cannot help the twinge of relief that lightens the feeling in her chest that that is not what destiny has in store for her, at least not yet.

The room that he brings her to is what she assumes is a study. It is filled with books, maps and writing materials, the space is occupied by a wooden writing desk, a chair and a settee.

As her eyes travel around the room, taking in her surroundings, she’s startled out of her reverie when her gaze settles back upon him. He is standing so close, silently observing her, his expression unreadable.

Once more she is reminded of how little she is wearing, and now that she is alone with him, fear of what he might do to her returns in earnest.

“S-stay back,” she stammers, backing away, eyes scanning the room for something, anything, that she can use as a weapon.

He smirks, unmoving, as he looks her over from head to toe. “Be calm, little warrior. Do you know who I am?”

Her face contorts in confusion. “No…”

He straightens, tilting his head slightly, clasping his arms behind his back. “I am Sigtryggr Ivarsson. I am a Dane. If I wish to hump a woman I do not need to do so by force.”

She softens slightly, fear does not grip her heart quite so icily as before. His name is meaningless to her, but she is relieved that he means her no harm.

Sigtryggr leans in, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “But make no mistake, little warrior, I will have you, and you will beg me for it.”

She draws back quickly in disgust - not at his words, but at the reaction they elicit from her. The way warmth pools in her lower belly fills her with immense guilt. This man has invaded her home and killed people she knows, people she loves, she should despise him.

Swallowing thickly, unease prickling at her, she elects to change the subject. “What have you come here for?”

“To take what I am owed,” he says simply.

“And what is it you believe you’re owed?”

“Land. Your people drove me from mine,” he explains, anger lacing his tone, “your boy King will give back what he stole, or I shall keep Winchester and send him the heads of his children.”

She inhales shakily, feeling like she wants to cry. “A-and…how do I factor into all of that?”

He softens, shrugging slightly. “You don’t, but I can’t imagine your King will yield quickly, and it is always nice to have company. You are brave, for a Christian.”

“So I am your prisoner?”

“No, little warrior. You are free to leave any time you’d like, and take your chances with Brida.”

The implication is not lost on her. Her freedom is an illusion when the alternative is death. Sigtryggr is her only guarantee for safety.

“Shall we find something else for you to wear?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

She looks down at the thin material of her shift, seeing how dirty it is from having been crouched beneath the cart, dragged out and then forced to kneel on the steps of the estate. Her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

“Yes, please,” she whispers.

He nods. “Wait here.”

Sigtryggr leaves her alone in the study, not bothering to lock the door behind him - a sign of his confidence that he knows she won’t try to escape.

He returns a few moments later with a white cotton shift that is similar to the one she is currently wearing, She assumes it belongs to Ælflæd, something he has found within a bedchamber.

“Where is the rest of it?” She asks.

“What do you mean? It’s the same as what you have on, and it’s clean,” he says simply.

“Yes, but this is meant to go under–” she sighs, “nevermind.”

She takes the shift from him and begins to change, noting the way that he turns from her, keeping his eyes fixed on the shelves of books that line the walls of the room. The small mark of respect makes her smile. She had not anticipated such manners from a Heathen.

He pulls a book from the shelf when she is finished, flipping through its pages. “Can you read?”

She nods and he hands the tome to her.

“Read to me.”

“Can you not read?” She asks with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I can,” he says with a smirk, “but where’s the fun in that?”

She sighs, settling into the chair in front of the writing desk, while Sigtryggr sits upon the settee a few feet away, and she reads to him.

Over the next few weeks their days are spent much like this. She reads aloud to him, though none of the books are particularly interesting, mostly religious texts and historical records of Wessex. She’s not convinced that he pays any particular attention to the words, but he seems to enjoy the sound of her voice.

They find a Hnefatafl board and Sigtryggr teaches her how to play. They while away hours strategising ways to remove each other's pieces from the board. He has a sharp mind, is calmer and more analytical than any other Dane she’s ever met. He bests her with his cunning multiple times, until she finally begins to get the hang of it and he begins to lose to her.

“Another game?” She asks. “How many have I won now?”

He shoots her a sideways glance, a faint smile upon his lips. “I am not keeping count.”

She giggles. She is beating him, but he does not seem to mind.

They sleep upon furs and blankets that Sigtryggr has brought down to the study and fashioned into a makeshift bed. Her stomach flutters at laying in such close proximity to him, but true to his word he never touches her. Shame blooms hotly in her chest as each of the days pass and she finds herself yearning for it.

He brings her food, and the hopelessness of the situation looms over her as with every meager meal the bread tastes more stale.

“Read to me, little warrior,” he requests, reclining on the settee, his forearm slung over his forehead.

She grouses, hunger pangs causing her stomach to rumble painfully. “I cannot concentrate,” she whispers.

“What is the matter?” He asks, sitting up to look at her.

“I am hungry. I’m always hungry.”

He nods, stepping towards her and offering her his share of the bread.

She looks from his outstretched hand to his face uncertainly. “What will you eat?”

“I will manage, and you will read to me,” he tells her, as she takes the offering and he settles back down.

She smiles to herself at the gesture, warmth spreading throughout her. So she eats, and she reads to him.

Sigtryggr disappears each day, leaving her alone in the study. She only leaves to bathe and to relieve herself, but she is perfectly happy to stay put and await his return, especially when she is all too aware of the alternative.

Each day when he returns he brings news of the continuing siege. King Edward and the Wessex guard surround the walls of Winchester, but will not attack as his sons are being kept captive in the chapel. They have yet to yield to Sigtryggr’s demands for land.

She fiddles with the cross around her neck, eyeing the Mjölnir that sits around his carefully. “Can there not be a peaceful resolution?”

"It is more difficult to live peacefully with enemies than to fight them,” he tells her.

“But we live peacefully,” she retorts.

“We are not enemies, little warrior.”

The sentiment makes her heart flutter, though there is the lingering question in the back of her mind; what are we?

He leaves her alone again as usual one morning and she busies herself poring over maps to pass the time.

She turns when she hears footsteps, expecting to see Sigtryggr but instead it is a man she does not recognise. He appears Saxon, so she cannot understand why the Danes have allowed him to move around the estate so freely.

The stench of ale upon him as he draws closer is nauseating. His eyes hold malicious intent as he advances towards her, and her blood runs cold at the sight.

She stands, backing away from him. “Whatever you are planning to do, please reconsider,” she pleads, “Sigtryggr will punish you if anything happens to me.”

“I have allied myself with the Danes,” he slurs, “but at what cost? They treat me like a dog, while Sigtryggr coddles you. Tell me, whore, is your cunt really that good? Perhaps I ought to find out for myself.”

She yelps as he lunges for her, grabbing her and pinning her against the desk. Fury flashes through her as she struggles against him, attempting to free herself from his hold.

“Whatever treatment they give you, you have brought upon yourself, traitor,” she spits.

Her head snaps to the side, a sharp sting spreads across her cheek as he strikes her.

She barely has time to adjust her focus before she feels him forcefully being pulled off of her.

“Eardwulf!” Sigtryggr snarls angrily. “Fucking coward!”

His fist makes impact with Eardwulf’s face knocking him to the ground, before he is dragged away.

She curls up on the furs, shaking as tears stream down her cheeks, waiting for her heart rate to calm. What could have happened to her if Sigtryggr had not returned when he did doesn’t bear thinking about.

She is unsure of how much time has passed when he returns.

“Are you alright?”

She turns towards the sound of his voice, gasping when she sees he’s covered in blood. Rushing towards him, she places her hands upon his face. “You are hurt…”

Softly he grasps her wrists, keeping her hands where they are. “This blood is not mine, and Eardwulf will not hurt you ever again.”

Her lips part in shock at the thought that he has killed for her, saved her life twice now. She studies his face, taking in the stormy blue of his eyes, the fullness of his lips.

She allows her gaze to linger there for just a moment too long, embarrassment making her hot, eager to distract herself. She traces a finger over the scar that runs the length of the left side of his face.

“How did this happen?”

“A man tried to take my eye during battle,” he explains softly, “so I took his life.”

“But you were hurt.”

“Injured, yes. Left with a scar, yes. But very much alive.”

“As am I, thanks to you.”

She drops her hands from his face and he steps away from her, pulling off his blood soaked light armour and clothing.

She feels her throat run dry at the sight of his bare torso, all lean, lithe battle hardened muscle, adorned with scars. She longs to trace her fingers over each of them.

Looking away, she feels ashamed for harbouring such thoughts and desperately tries to ignore the throbbing ache in her core.

As night falls and Sigtryggr lays asleep beside her, the feeling that lingers between her legs has yet to subside. It is maddening, robbing her of rest. Every time she closes her eyes the image of him stood bare chested before her enters her mind.

She has never touched herself before, it is impure to do so, yet she needs relief or she is sure she will go mad.

Sparing a glance in the darkness towards Sigtryggr, she makes sure his eyes are closed before reaching a tentative hand between her legs. She lets out a shaky sigh as her fingers make impact against the sensitive flesh.

She is not quite sure what she is supposed to do, but finds that a combination of rubbing the area and bucking softly against her hand feels most pleasurable, so continues to do that, holding her free hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds she makes.

There is a feeling that builds within her, a zenith that she feels she must press towards, so she continues in earnest, until finally she feels something within her release and her entire body shudders, a soft moan stifled against her lips as white hot pleasure rolls through her body.

Laying there afterwards she does her best to calm her breaths, feeling guilty for having done something so depraved.

She is startled by Sigtryggr’s voice beside her. “If only you’d beg, little warrior, I could do that for you.”

Her breath hitches and she quickly turns away from him. Not knowing what to say, she feigns sleep, clutching her cross and praying silently that he’ll forget.

She is grateful when he speaks of it no further, and life goes back to normal, or at least what normal is for them.

That is until a couple of weeks later when Brida storms her way into the study, clearly having grown impatient with the lack of progress being made.

“It has been more than thirty days since we captured Winchester, and your negotiations with the Saxon King are not working, Sigtryggr,” she glowers at him, “the time for talking is over. We are killing more captives.”

She does not miss the way that Brida’s eyes linger upon her as she says this, a shiver of fear causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“I will choose who we execute, not you,” Sigtryggr tells her.

“You cannot protect this Saxon forever,” Brida retorts.

“Oh, but I can,” he says, placing himself protectively between her and Brida. “She is mine, and I will decide what happens to her.”

Brida scoffs, turning and leaving. Sigtryggr follows, leaving her alone to ponder the fact that he has once more saved her life.

When he comes back several hours later, he looks so tired. The expression he wears is one of defeat and she feels her heart ache for him.

“Read to me,” he says softly, sitting heavily upon the settee.

She regards him quietly, she wants to comfort him. She wants to comfort herself. She has grown weary of denying him.

Before she has time to think about what she’s doing, she crosses the room, and places herself upon his lap, her thighs astride his.

“What are you do–”

His words are cut off as she presses her lips to his eagerly, before pulling away. “I’m begging, Sigtryggr, please. I–”

He surges forward, kissing her again, his mouth possessing hers hungrily as he grasps her hips, lifting her as he stands to deposit her onto the makeshift bed upon the floor, his body caging hers in against the furs.

“I knew you’d give in, little warrior,” he whispers against her neck, kissing his way down her throat to her collarbone.

His fingers toy with the hem of the shift she wears, a silent plea for consent in his eyes as he looks at.

She swallows thickly and nods, nervousness and excitement fluttering ceaselessly in her stomach.

He pulls the garment over her head, throwing it to the side before sitting back on his haunches to admire her.

“Gods…you were worth the wait. So beautiful,” he whispers reverently.

She squirms beneath his gaze, turning her head away at the intimacy of the gesture, feeling shy and uncomfortable.

“Look at me,” he tells her softly. His fingers grasp her jaw, turning her face back to him.

Slowly he undresses, until he is as naked as she is. She feels the familiar ache between her thighs as she drinks in the sight of him, chiseled and battle hardened.

“Now we are equal,” he reassures her.

He reaches for the cross around her neck, toying with it between his fingers, before giving a quick, hard tug, causing the cord to give way. “What we are about to do is no business of your nailed god,” he tells her, tossing it to one side.

He kisses her once more, slower this time, their mouths saving the feel of the other’s against it. Trailing featherlight kisses down her body until he reaches her breasts, he wraps his lips around one of their hardened peaks, sucking gently.

The sensation causes her to moan, a pleasurable sensation shooting through her body, pooling into wet warmth between her legs as she arches against him. 

Sigtryggr repeats the motion on the opposite breast, before descending further down, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

She freezes up when he grips her thighs, placing them over his shoulders so that his face is level with her most intimate of parts.

“What…what are you doing?” She asks anxiously.

“I’m going to taste you,” he says matter of factly, making pointed eye contact.

“You cannot do that,” she protests weakly, “it is an unclean thing to do.”

He grins at her, shaking his head slightly. “Christian,” the word leaves his mouth as a half hearted insult, before he presses forward.

The first swipe of his tongue against her folds causes her to gasp, her hands burying themselves in his hair as he uses his grip on her thighs to pull her closer, his tongue moving against her firmer, deeper, faster.

A groan of satisfaction rumbles in his throat, the vibrations causing her insides to clench as she bucks against his face, chasing the edge of oblivion that his tongue is pressing her towards.

He sucks at her pearl, before laving his tongue over it and she cries out as she spasms against his mouth, ecstasy numbing all of her senses as he continues to lap at her.

Once she relaxes, he pulls away, sitting back between her legs, his chin slick with her juices. His fist runs over the length of his cock as he takes in her blissful state and her eyes widen as she sees the size of him.

He is thick, long and slightly curved. She has never looked upon anyone’s manhood before and she trembles as she wonders how it will possibly fit inside of her.

Sensing her trepidation, Sigtryggr caresses her cheek with his palm. “Relax, little warrior, I have prepared you well.”

He presses the head of himself against her entrance and she braces herself, but then he stops. Her eyes flit to his questioningly.

“Beg for it,” he whispers.

She whines, wanting to hide her face in furs that they lay upon.

“Beg,” he says again, more insistently.

“Please,” he pushes forward, aided by her arousal and release, “please,” he pushes forward again, more of her swallowing him up, accompanied by the sensation of stretching and the slightest of stings, “please,” he pushes forward once more, finally sheathed fully inside of her.

She realises as he settles on top of her, giving her a moment to get used to the feeling of him, that this was merely a means to distract her so that she wouldn’t focus on the possibility of it hurting and grow tense. She smiles, stroking the wild tresses of his dark hair. Always so cunning.

He withdraws his hips slowly, before carefully pushing forward again. He repeats the motion several times, watching her face carefully.

As her breathing quickens, her brow relaxing as her jaw begins to slacken, he increases his pace, hips snapping against hers faster and faster, their kisses frenzied as they pant into each other’s mouths.

She feels him throb inside of her, the sensation pushes her back towards the precipice she’d fallen over earlier, but before she reaches it he is pulling out, spilling pearlescent ropes of spend across her belly.

He wipes her clean with a blanket, discarding it before laying down beside her and pulling her into his arms. A satisfied ache settles within her, she feels she could fall asleep like this, but his voice lulls her back to full consciousness.

“I have released the King’s sons back to him,” he tells her quietly.

“What will happen now?”

“He is sending a warrior named Uhtred into Winchester to negotiate terms, if I accept those terms then my men and I will move on.”

Her heart sinks. She cannot bear the thought of him leaving, not now she knows what it’s like to be in his arms. “Oh,” is all she is able to muster, pressing tighter to him.

They fall into a quiet doze, until he gently squeezes her shoulder. “I must go and speak with Uhtred.”

She watches sadly, quietly, as he dresses. He leans down to kiss her before he leaves and she pushes her lips eagerly to his. If he is to abandon her then she will cling to every last moment until he does.

When Sigtryggr returns later, she is dressed in her shift again, though her cross remains discarded. She is seated by the window, staring listlessly out of it.

He carries a bundle of clothing in his arms and she looks at him curiously.

“To keep you warm,” he explains, deepening her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I have discussed terms with Uhtred and we have reached an agreement. I will leave Winchester, on the condition that you accompany me…not as my prisoner, but as my woman.”

She grins, running into his arms and wrapping her arms around his neck.

As they ride away from Winchester, side by side on horseback, she does not feel as though she is leaving her life behind. On the contrary, it has just begun.

[mommytauriel]

+ · 。~ favorite physical touch

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

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

request. no

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

☆ UHTRED

laying his head on your chest

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

☆ FINAN

cuddling

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

☆ SIHTRIC

hugging you close

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

☆ OSFERTH

resting his head on you

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

☆ SIGTRYGGR

kissing you

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

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

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

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

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

I hope you guys enjoyed this!

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

Likes comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

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

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

[viking-chaos]

The Last Kingdom | 5.06

[synintheraven]

Another little commission I did for @whitedarkmoonflower (that also turned out pretty nicely and hope she liked 👉👈)

[tinumiel]

Dane King Ken's job is PERFECT. He is obviously ridiculously good at Perfect. The unit does not come with any other accessories because he doesn't need them. He does have a special feature, a recording of a particular speech about throwing away entire conquests to safe his wife.

No accessories sold separately. I told you he doesn't need them.

Warning: This doll has been known to destroy any realistic expectations projected towards real life Kens. Purchase at your own mental risk.

[oursoulsareodinsown]

[idksmtms]

Sigtryggr Masterlist

Series

Under construction...

Oneshots

Hostage Situation - (Sigtryggr x reader - coming soon)

During the siege of Winchester, you, palace maid, are called to speak to Sigtryggr. He sees your intelligence, knows you would have been quiet but would know lots of information about Edward and the royals. He doesn't expect you to be beautiful and so easy to fall in love with as well...

The Forgotten Princess - (Sigtryggr x Princess!reader - coming soon)

As negotiations begin for Winchester, you find that Edward would rather burn down the city than retreat for your life. Still, Sigtryggr won't let anything happen to you. You are his favourite captive after all.

AUs

Coming soon...

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Of Irland, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Instead of being taken captive in Winchester, Stiorra leaves for Irland with a friend of her father’s. There she meets Sigtryggr, a Dane, the grandson of Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter 1: Let Me Go

Chapter warnings: Drinking, Language, Mentions of SA Words: 3977 A/N: This was originally posted on AO3, now being added onto Tumblr. AO3

“Drifa please,” she begged. “Please let me come with you.”

“I cannot,” Drifa sighed. 

They’d been going around in circles for what must have been an hour. Simply put, Stiorra was bored with her life in Coccham. She yearned for adventure and excitement. Things that Coccham did not offer. She’d been surrounded by the same men for years on end, forced to have a Christian education. But she believed in the gods. Stiorra had no intention of remaining in Coccham where, one day, possibly soon, she’d be sold into marriage to a man she despised. It had happened to Aethelflaed. She did not want it to happen to her.

Drifa was leaving for Irland to help the Danes who were in trouble there. She’d once served Young Ragnar there and helped him make a name for himself. Drifa had been at Ethandun and at Dunholm, which was where she met and befriended Uhtred. Then Ragnar was killed, and she’d spent a few years in her home far across the sea in Norway. She held land and was a Jarl there. When she came back, she’d brought some men with her. And now they’d stopped in Coccham on their way out to Irland, to adventure, which was exactly what Stiorra wanted.

“I will not risk your father’s wrath,” Drifa said. She was not afraid of Uhtred, but that did not mean she wanted to lose his friendship. “Irland will be very dangerous. A war zone. It would not be sensible to take you there.”

“I can defend myself,” Stiorra insisted, drawing her knife. “Anywhere is better than here. Please!”

“Stiorra, you are the Dane Slayer’s daughter. I am going into a nest of Danes. If they find out who you are, half would want to hump you, and the other half would want to kill you as vengeance.”

“I can defend myself,” she repeated. 

Drifa sighed, running out of excuses. They had ranged from not enough room on the boat (“I’m small, I won’t take up much room.”) to not having enough horses (“I can ask my father to give me a horse”). 

“Please, Drifa. I want to live amongst my mother’s people, to find the part of myself that died when she was taken from me.”

 Drifa did not have a good counter to that. Gisela had been her friend. 

“Please, Drifa,” Stiorra pleaded. “ Let me go .”

Drifa groaned, turning towards the window, and leaning on the frame. She sighed, conceding. Stiorra would make a good politician. “Fine,” she growled, grudgingly, not happy to be admitting defeat. “You may come.”

Stiorra jumped up in victory. 

“But,” Drifa warned. “But.” 

Stiorra stopped jumping. 

“You will follow my every order. You are one of my people now.” 

Stiorra nodded. 

At that moment, Finan’s voice called up the stairs. “Unless you want us to eat all the food, you two better come down here!”

“Not on your life, Finan,” Drifa joked to the Irishman. “Not on your life.”

“Then hurry up. I’m starving.”

Drifa looked back at Stiorra, who’d been giggling, her face turning serious. “I will tell you all you need to know on the journey. And Stiorra,” she told her. “You had better remember it all.”

“How’s the food, Drifa?” Uhtred asked.

“Delicious as always, Uhtred,” Drifa said. “My compliments to whoever made this.” She was just being polite, as always, Stiorra could tell. The stew was disgusting.

“It was Finan who made it,” she informed. 

“Well, in that case,” Drifa began. She swallowed another spoonful, and grimaced. “You need to find yourself a woman,” she spluttered. 

Everyone began to laugh. 

“I have no idea how you’re even alive if this is what you eat.”

"So, Drifa," Uhtred said, when the laughter had simmered down, "tell us a story from Irland. I'm sure you have one you have not yet told." 

"Oh, always, Uhtred, always," she chuckled.

"Well, then," goaded Finan, "tell us a story from home."

Drifa put her spoon down and thought for a moment. “Which one do you want me to tell?” she questioned.

“Innis dhaibh am fear mu dheidhinn a 'phut,” proposed Asvard, Drifa’s best friend and advisor.

“Chan eil mi cinnteach gur e deagh bheachd a tha sin,” she said, raising her eyebrows in a jokey manner.

“Would it kill either one of you to speak a language we can understand?” Finan said exasperated. 

“Just tell the story!” encouraged Sihtric. 

Drifa nodded. She downed her cup of ale and set it down.

“One night,” she began, “I was walking the streets of Deflyn. The moon was out, the stars were shining. It was peaceful. I was walking to the tavern, in need of ale. And, I hoped, to watch the world go by. I’m almost there, just around the corner, when I hear this noise.” 

At this moment, Asvard let out a large snort. She glared at him murderously and he quickly changed his laugh into a cough. Stiorra began smiling. Drifa’s stories, at least the funny ones, always led somewhere inappropriate. She silently hoped her father would forget she was there and not tell Drifa to stop.

After she was finished glaring, Drifa continued: “Now this noise, it sounded like a dog. And I do not really like dogs, so I went to investigate.” 

Hæfnir had most of his fist stuffed in his mouth, desperate not to laugh. Jomar was staring fixedly at his plate, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. 

“I drew my knife.” 

Another poorly concealed snort. Stiorra was staring to giggle herself now, in anticipation. 

“I walked to the door. I slowly opened it.” 

A small chorus of snorting. Everyone on the edge of their seats. “And I was confronted by this magnificent, wonderful, beautiful view of a…” she paused for dramatic effect. “A butt.” 

A massive snort came from her men. Asvard had his face in the crook of his elbow. Stiorra choked on her drink.

“WHAT?” Uhtred shouted, perplexed. 

“You heard me!” Drifa said indignantly. “A butt, an arse, a buttocks, bum. Derrière, if you’re a Frank.” She paused for a breath. “A butt!” She took two chicken legs and two bones laying them on her plate like a butt… but with something else. 

Stiorra began to understand.

“You mean to say,” began Sihtric. “That you walked in on someone… um,” he stopped, not wanting to say the word in front of Uhtred and in the presence of his daughter.

“Humping?” Stiorra said, innocently. There was silence. You could have heard a pin drop. 

Uhtred’s eyes widened. “Stiorra!” he admonished. 

The silence began again. Then all hell broke loose.

Hæfnir fell off his chair, taking his wife, who’d been sitting on his lap, with him. Sigbjorn fell face first in his food, prompting Ingemar to laugh at him so he shoved Ingemar’s face into his food. Asvard fell back off his chair. Finan and Sihtric clung to each other. Osferth had stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Finan spluttered. “What did you do?”

“Well, what do you think I did? I turned tail and ran.” 

They started to laugh again. 

Drifa held up a hand. She was not finished. “And I spent the rest of the night at the tavern trying to forget what I had just seen.”

“Well, did you know who the arse belonged to?” asked a puzzled Osferth. 

There was a snort from Sihtric.

“I knew exactly who it belonged to. The funny part is that when I woke up, he was coming out of a house. But not the house I’d walked into.”

“So,” Finan sputtered, “are you saying he humped two different women in one night?” 

Everyone looked at her.

“That is precisely what I am saying.” 

Silence followed her words. When the hilarity exploded this time, Stiorra half expected soldiers to come running with how loud they all got.

When everyone had calmed down, Drifa spoke again. “Bear in mind that this happened a few years ago, when he went through a…” she paused, thinking of the right word, “rebellious streak.”

“Must have been one hell of a rebellious streak if he was humping two women in one night,” Finan joked.

“Oh, yes. His brothers gave him hell for that.”

“He reminds me of Hæfnir,” Unn recalled. 

Mutual agreement spread through the table. Hæfnir was still picking himself up off the floor.

Another hour of feasting, laughing and joking flew by. Drifa began ordering her people to bed (“To sleep ,” she emphasised) and Stiorra, exhausted, followed suit. 

She collapsed on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, she would be riding away, far away from here. Riding to Irland.

Stiorra was woken the next morning by someone shaking her. She opened her eyes, finding herself staring back into Drifa’s blue-green ones. Her eyes almost seemed to glow, even in the half-light of dawn. Seeing she was awake, Drifa left the room, her footsteps barely audible. 

Stiorra rubbed her eyes and glanced out the window. There was barely a sliver of sun visible on the horizon. Yawning and stretching, she got up, dressed, and tiptoed downstairs. Drifa’s men also seemed tired but were busily packing a few remaining things. Stiorra followed suit.

They crept out of the house, trying not to wake anyone. Drifa left a note on the table for Uhtred. They mounted their horses and rode off. They rode long and hard. There wasn’t much conversation, the noise of the horses was too loud. The wind whipped through Stiorra’s hair, stinging her eyes, but she kept them open, not wanting to miss one bit of this incredible journey. 

She was leaving home. She was going to Irland. 

She’d be able to live amongst her mother’s people, the people that had raised her father. She was no longer tied down and stuck in Coccham, waiting, and dreading the day she’d be forced to marry someone she despised. 

She was free.

They stopped only once, partly to relieve themselves and partly to eat. That was at midday. The next time Drifa called a halt, it was dark. 

Stiorra was exhausted. She almost collapsed getting off the horse. 

Unn cooked a stew for supper. It was eaten in silence, everyone too tired to talk. 

Once all the bowls were clean, Stiorra laid down on her bedroll and slept.

She was awoken the next morning by Drifa. Again. The sun was barely up. Stiorra groaned, leaving the warmth and softness of her bedroll for the cold hardness of the saddle. 

And again, they rode. Long and hard. Onwards and onwards. The trees and grass and hills seemed never-ending. Wessex was so much bigger than she had thought. They rode so fast; Stiorra was surprised that they had barely stopped. Drifa seemed desperate to get to Irland.

By evening, the party came to a stop at a port town called Bristou. Drifa arranged lodgings for the night while everyone else secured their horses. Stiorra was tying her horse in the stables when Thora, Frida and Mœid appeared at her shoulder. 

“We’re going to the market,” Thora informed. “Would you like to come?”

Stiorra eagerly accepted.

The market was bustling, even as the sun went down. There were stalls selling all kinds of things, things Stiorra had never seen before. There was gold jewellery from the Far East, swords and fabric from Frankia, furs and axes from Scandinavia. 

Stiorra was surprised. 

Danes were free to trade here.

She turned her head, left and right, not knowing where to look. 

Frida was looking at the Frankish linen, Thora and Mœid were admiring the jewellery. 

Stiorra could have sworn she saw Hæfnir at one of the stalls, buying something for his wife.

The fun ended too soon. Asvard came and told them that it was time to eat and then to sleep. “There is still another leg of the journey.”

The Innkeeper did not seem particularly happy about so many Danes sat at one of his tables, but Drifa’s silver kept him quiet. She seemed to have an endless supply.

 Stiorra wondered how she got it all. 

Over supper, Drifa finally told Stiorra why they had rushed so quickly to get there. “The Danes in Irland will need help if they do not already. Cnut should be going to help them, but I do not trust him. He is slippery.”

“Who’s in charge in Irland?” Stiorra asked. She was sure Drifa had mentioned it before, but she could not remember.

“Irland was conquered by Ivar the Boneless. It was passed to his son, Ivarr and now it is ruled by his sons: Ivar, Sigtryggr and Rognvaldr.”

“What are they like?”

“Ivar is… stupid, ugly and an arse. Rognvaldr is less ugly, but drunk and an arse. Sigtryggr is…” she paused. “Sigtryggr is smart, like his grandfather.”

“She paused because she thinks Sigtryggr is han-” Drifa’s cousin, Asfrid began.

“You shut your mouth!”

Asvard spat out his drink.

Much later, Stiorra lay on her bed, thinking about Irland. Thoughts were whirling round and round her head. What would Irland be like? What would its rulers be like? She’d said Ivar was stupid. Was he like Cnut? And Rognvaldr, a drunk. A drunk she could imagine. And then there was Sigtryggr. Smart as his grandfather. He had to be a formidable warrior.

Stiorra shook her head, trying to empty her mind of these thoughts. She couldn’t start obsessing over people she had never met. One last leg… That last leg on a boat. She’d never been on a boat.

Only a few more days until she stepped on non-English soil.

Stiorra threw up over the side of the boat. The wind blew some of it back in her face. 

Ingemar laughed. “Still have to find your sea legs!” he jeered. 

She glared at him while the others joined him in laughing. 

Drifa let out a small smile. She stood at the prow of the ship, looking out for Irland. 

Stiorra found that she liked a boat even less than a horse. A horse left pain in your head and your arse. A boat left waves of dizziness, followed by bouts of sickness. If she had to choose, she’d take the horse. When she did not feel sick, she gazed around her. If she squinted, she could see Wealas on one side, and a part of Irland on the other, barely a ghost on the horizon.

The sea churned beneath them again. Another vomiting session. The boat sailed further West. Soon enough, land was properly in sight. They docked on a beach near a village called Trá Mhór. 

“I will go in,” Drifa was saying. “We don’t know what has happened these last few years.”

“So, we stay on the boat?” Stiorra asked Thora.

“We stay on the boat,” she said, “and let Drifa find out what has happened. Then we will sail on to Deflyn.”

Drifa was gone until long after dark. When she came back, she told them that a rebellion had started forming. “They’ve raided a few villages, but apparently nothing serious enough to get Ivar’s attention.”

“Ivar ignores his people being killed?” Stiorra said, confused. What man did not care for his own people.

“Like I said. Stupid. Maybe I should have added another stupid,” Drifa joked.

“Ivar Ivarrsson does not give a shit about his people,” Asvard said. “As long as the Irish are not bothering him, safe in Deflyn, then no, he does not care.”

“Not all men are like your father,” Unn told her.

The boat began to move again. The sickness returned. By the afternoon of the next day, the end of the journey was in sight. 

“Feast your eyes on Deflyn!” Drifa announced. 

Deflyn was a small city, far smaller than Winchester. Its walls were made with wooden logs. Small watchtowers were dotted around the city. A few scouts were visible in the trees, but they did not bother the ship.

The ship was docked, and the group walked into the city of Deflyn. It was messy and crowded. There was a market street, traders shouting, showing off their wares. All kinds of things were sold. The market was almost as busy as Bristou had been, perhaps more so. Taverns were everywhere. Men already deep in their cups. Women sitting on their laps. A few people waved at Drifa. One man stumbled up and cheered, forgetting the woman who was now picking herself up off the floor. She punched the man in the face. The man, drunk as he was, tried to hit her and ended punching someone else. A tavern brawl in earnest.

This was what freedom looked like. What being a Dane looked like. This bustling city, with its wooden houses and noisy people. 

Stiorra loved it.

The party walked on to the Great Hall. It was easily the largest building there. Danish carving decorated the door frames. There were many windows all over. It was like a palace. The inside of it was full of smoke and rather stuffy. 

Stiorra could make out the vague shapes of men sitting at the long tables. Suddenly, the smoke cleared. She glanced at Drifa. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back. She had used her magic to clear the smoke. Stiorra turned her attention to the raised dais at the back of the hall.

A long table was perched on top. There were many seats, but only three men were actually sat there. The one on the left had long brown hair and a pointed face. A small beard covered his chin. Stiorra suspected that this must be Rognvaldr, particularly as the next thing he did was pick his mug of ale and drink deeply. 

She could not see the one on the right. He was shrouded in shadow. 

The middle one had stood, glaring warningly at the newcomers. He stomped around the table, and towards Drifa. Up close, Stiorra could see that he was large. His hair was red and long. His beard thick and streaked with grey. His eyes were a cold blue.

“Who are you, stranger?” he said, his voice harsh.

“I am many things. If it is my name you want, then ask for it,” Drifa retorted. “Otherwise, I shall go into the long meandering ramble of who I am.”

“Then your name.”

“My name is Jarl Drifa,” she told him. “And what might your name be?” 

He glared at her. 

She glared back. Then she broke into a wide grin and started laughing. 

His harsh expression shattered too, and he joined in. “She’s back!” he called to the Hall. The men too began to laugh. “Come, sit, eat, drink,” he offered, leading Drifa and her people to the table. 

Asvard pulled Stiorra along with him. He dumped her unceremoniously in the seat next to the man in the shadows. She turned to speak to him, but he got up and left. All she saw of him was the back of his head, his long mane of hair.

“So, tell us, Jarl Drifa,” Ivar was saying, “what new stories do you have to entertain us this time?!”

Rognvaldr noisily swallowed his food. “It had better not be another version of the story of my brother’s arse!” 

Asvard snorted into his ale.

“I could tell you of your own arse!” Drifa joked.

“You could tell us of this woman you have brought with you,” Ivar suggested. 

Stiorra did not like the way he was eyeballing her.

“Leave off the eye-fucking,” Jomar told him. 

Ivar raised an eyebrow at his language.

“Jomar,” Drifa sighed, “I swear, that one of these days, I am going to kill you.” She took a deep breath, and then yelled, “SHUT IT WITH THE LANGUAGE!” 

Asvard choked on his ale.

“Like you have any control either,” he spluttered.

“Faodaidh tu do bheul beag inneil a dhùnadh agus a bhith nas lugha de tholl asail,” she jabbered.

“Like I said.”

“What did she say,” asked Ivar.

“I told him to shut up.”

“You do know asail actually means donkey.” 

At this, Drifa splashed her ale in his face, to which he responded by punching her. The men cheered, egging them on. 

Stiorra half expected Ivar to put a stop to the fight, but he too joined in the egging.

Danes, she thought.

The feast lasted for many hours, and there were many more drinks and fights. A man, very drunk, tried to get Drifa to hump him. 

She replied by kicking him in between his legs. At some point, Drifa stumbled over and suggested that she take herself back to the house. 

Drifa had pointed out the street that she and her warriors lived on, and Stiorra was confident that she could make her way there. She lurched up, a little drunk herself, and began to slowly walk.

The night air outside the Hall was cool. Stiorra hadn’t realised how hot it was in there. She took a few deep lungfuls of the soothing air, and began to walk. Well, stumble. She was drunk enough that she did not look where she was going. Then she collided with something hard. 

That something hard turned out to be a Dane. This Dane turned to see what hit him and found himself looking at a small, drunk girl. He sneered. 

Stiorra started to back away. “Where are you going, woman?” he slurred. “Are you lost? I could help you find your way.”

Stiorra kept moving back. “I am going home. I know where I live.”

“It is not safe for a woman to be alone in these parts.” His hand shot out, catching her wrist. 

Stiorra struggled, trying to break free. 

“Stop fighting!” he ordered. “It will do you no good.” The Dane dragged her into an alley. 

She tried screaming, but he blocked her mouth. She wriggled, viciously, trying to dislodge herself. But the Dane was strong and huge. She heard a ripping noise. And she begged the gods to save her.

A whoosh, then a thwack, and the Dane was pushed off her. Stiorra fell face first into the ground. She glanced behind her, wondering who her saviour was. 

The Dane who’d tried to attack her was getting up on his feet, but there was another Dane. Her helper punched the man again. And again. And soon, the Dane who attacked her was no longer moving. 

The other rose, turning his attention to her. He came towards her, and she backed away. But he knelt down, holding his hand up. “ I will not harm you, ” was all he said. 

Stiorra stopped moving. 

She could only see a sliver of his face, an eye. An ice-blue eye. Like Ivar’s. Only this one was warmer. 

He held out his hand to her and she took it. His hand was warm and rough. His eyes (for she assumed there was another) looked her up and down. He released her hand and shrugged out of his tunic. He held it out. 

She took it, pulling it down over her own head. It smelled of leather and iron. A nice smell. 

He offered her his hand again and pulled her up. She stumbled slightly, and strong, muscled arms caught her. He picked her up and carried her. 

She still said nothing, wondering at this handsome stranger who saved her. Her drunkenness was causing her to become dizzy, so she still could not see his face.

He carried her to the houses that Drifa had mentioned. 

Stiorra wondered if this was perhaps one of her other men. The ones who’d been sent before. 

He knocked on a door and it opened to reveal Torgärd. 

She gasped at seeing Stiorra’s beaten and bruised state.

Stiorra faintly heard her thanking the man and began pulling her inside.

“Wait,” Stiorra said. “Who are you?”

She turned around to see him better.

“I am Sigtryggr.”

[destinyisall-tlk]

the last kingdom + alignment chart (insp)

[mojogifs]

Sigtryggr Ivarsson

The Last Kingdom | Season 5

[bhxrdy]

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

Work Song, Hozier | @gemini-mama @thalygremlinsson

[viking-chaos]

The Last Kingdom | 5.01

[icarusignite]

Hey Author, I wanted to ask if you could maybe write a story about ! Sihtric x reader! Could you perhaps write something where the reader is the younger sister of Ragnar, Uhtred and Thyra. In sihtric's age.

Maybe she could have met him in the forest when the two were children and became best friends from that day on. Nobody knew about it because the families are no longer good. Years later, when Kjartan kills the parents of the reader and Uhtred. the reader goes with him and Brida. She is younger than Uhtred and brida maybe Uhtred could teach his little sister to fight and she will be a shieldmaid maybe even the best!!!

When sihtric joins uhtred, the reader is very happy. Sihtric loves the reader, but thinks she would never want anything from him, so he marries his wife from the series

The relationship between the reader and sihtric becomes very bad due to the married

The reader is angry because she doesn't like his wife, she’s jealous and she is very hurt. And she makes him feel her anger!!! Maybe we could have a little fight with his wife, that would be cool.

At some point I don't know how they could confess their feelings for each other.

I love drama in story’s like that. I hope you like it too and it gave you ideas to write it. Maybe you could say if you write it.

Thank you, your reader 🫶❤️

#drama #brokenheart #anger #bestfriends #love

I am so jealous that she is his wife. I just don't like her😑

I have to put my cell phone away, otherwise it will be broken later

I wrote a similar request to another author, but I thought I could also ask another one, hope it doesn't bother you! 🫶

Heyyy finally got this done. It is longer than I expected lol cuz I wanted to give them a shared background story lol. I tried to add all the requested components but his wife just isn't his wife yet so he was planning to marry her but then ofc he changes his mind after the reader rages at him. I love angry confessions lol.

Cheers, hope you enjoy the story 🫶

Word Count: 4.8k | AO3

In the heart of the forest, the sun shone through the canopy of leaves and the birds sang a merry tune. A group of children ran through the underbrush, their laughter echoing through the trees.

"I saw a wolf, Uhtred, I saw it, it had sharp teeth and yellow eyes!" Brida shouted excitedly, brandishing the branch she held in her hand as a pretend sword.

"Brida, Uhtred, don't let them get to me," Thyra shouted from the platform the children had built in the trees. "And protect my little sister!"

"I am a warrior like Father and Young Ragnar. I don't need Uhtred to protect me!" you shouted back at Thyra, who only rolled her eyes at your childish antics. 

"Father and Young Ragnar are much bigger than you, you cannot possibly be like them!" Uhtred laughed.

You crossed your arms and glared at him until he raised his hands placatingly.

"Now then, what shall we do about the wolf?" you grinned. "I say we skin him and gift his pelt to the lady of the hall."

Your hair whipped around your face as you fought your imaginary foes, eyes bright with determination and a fierce sense of bravery. You took careful steps, your feet moving in sync with your makeshift sword, as you circled around the supposed wolves who were coming for your sister. Suddenly you heard the sound of branches snapping and twigs crunching underfoot, signalling the approach of another person to your little corner of the forest. You instinctively raised your branch in front of you, ready to defend yourself and your friends against any potential enemies. 

"Did you see that?" Uhtred's voice wavered and everyone's necks turned in the direction the noise originated from. 

A figure stepped out from behind the trees, making Uhtred and Brida freeze. 

"Uhtred?" Thyra's panicked voice came from her spot in the trees. "What is happening?"

"Stay up there!" he warned, grabbing your hand along with Brida's and pulling back a few steps. 

 "It's Sven, Kjartan's son," Brida breathed.

"Sven?" Thyra's voice shook.

"He won't hurt you," Uhtred reassured.

You pushed Brida and Uhtred forward, "But he'll kill you, so go!" 

"What, we're not leaving you!"

"And I will not leave my sister. Just go, please."

Several other young boys, Sven's friends presumably, tore out of their hiding places, giving chase to Brida and Uhtred as they sprinted away. One of the larger boys made his way toward the tree Thyra was in. You ran after him, hoping to get to him before he reached your sister. You tackled him to the ground but he easily threw you off to the side before going to haul Thyra out of her hiding spot and toward Sven.

"Don't touch her. Don't you dare touch her!" you shouted, and another boy grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head upward.

"Shut your yapping mouth or you'll be next bitch," he murmured into your ear.

Thyra whimpered as Sven cornered her against a tree, sword in hand. 

"Uhtred! Uhtred!" she wailed and it made your heart race. 

You knew Sven was going to do something to her, you could see it in the smirk he sent your way just before he reached forward and ripped the top half of Thyra's dress off her shoulders. A broken sob escaped her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make herself small. The sight set your nerves on fire. With an animalistic screech, you headbutted the boy who was holding on to you. When you slammed your head against his nose, you heard a satisfying crunch and he howled in pain as blood gushed down his face. You gave another holler before you ran and threw your entire weight onto Sven, forcing him away from your sister and managing to knock him onto the ground.  You watched out of the corner of your eye as Thyra fled the scene, screaming for Uhtred and Brida to come to your aid. One of Sven's friends pulled your small frame off him easily, and dragged you deeper into the forest, pinning you against a tree with his arm across your neck, suffocating you. You twisted in his hold and kicked him between the legs, making him drop you so that you could crawl away. Sven was right there though, and he grabbed your jaw, turning your head so that your eyes met his. He was several years older than you and now you were frightened. 

"Hmm, you're not as pretty as your sister, but I suppose you'll do," he snickered.

You closed your teeth around his arm, biting down until you tasted blood. He swore and when he went to pull you off, you drew back to punch him. And then you were raining blows down frantically upon him before he had a chance to get up. His hand scrambled around for his sword and brought it up in a deadly arc across your face. You flinched at the burning sting and he used it to his advantage in order to throw you off him. He stood there frozen for a moment, just watching your crouching form on the floor, your hand pressed tightly to your cheek as you took in deep shuddering breaths and blood seeped from between your fingers. Perhaps he then remembered who your father was because he turned and ran, his cruel friends following close behind. 

"Are you...are you alright?" came a timid voice after a while, and it made you jump. 

"Who-Who's there?"

You blinked through teary eyes to spot a young boy around your age step forward from behind a nearby tree. He looked at you with concern, his eyes taking in your injury.

"Are you okay?" he asked again softly.

You shook your head, fresh tears streaming down your face. You were terrified, hurt, and you couldn't quite remember the way home so you were also lost. 

The little boy took a step closer, his eyes reassuring, "Don't worry, I'll help you."

You cringed away from him, "Who are you."

"I am Sihtric. I won't hurt you."

"Can you help me find my way back home, I don't remember the way," you whimpered.

Sihtric took your hand and started to lead you out of the forest. You clung to his hand tightly as he led you through the forest. You were still scared, but somehow his presence brought you a sense of comfort and safety. As you emerged from the dense cluster of trees, you could see your home in the distance. Your heart leaped with relief, and you began to quicken your pace, Sihtric keeping pace with you, never once letting go of your hand. As you drew closer, you saw both your parents standing at the door looking out anxiously. When your mother caught sight of you, her eyes lit up and she rushed towards you, scooping you up into her arms. You winced, your left hand still pressed up against your face. She let out a gasp and carefully pried your hand away, and showed the angry red line, that ran from your cheekbone to your chin, to your father. Earl Ragnar swore loudly before taking up his sword and leaving the house in a fury to confront Kjartan and his son, already having been told the story of what happened by the other children. 

"Is-is Thyra okay?" you whispered to your mother, making her smile affectionately.

"Oh my darling girl, look at the state of you, and you're still worried for your older sister. Thyra is perfectly fine, she just had a bit of a fright, now let's get you inside and cleaned up hmm?"

Sihtric lingered outside your door, uncertain of what to do. Your mother noticed him standing there and approached him, still clutching you in her arms.

"Thank you for bringing my daughter home," she said, her voice kind. "You're a very brave young boy."

Sihtric just shrugged, looking a little embarrassed, "It was nothing, I'm just glad she's okay."

As he turned to leave, you grabbed his hand. 

"Wait," you said. "Will I see you again?"

"If you like...?" he gazed up at your mother in hesitation. 

Your mother nodded, her lips turning upward, "You are welcome here anytime."

You grinned shyly, the memory of your adventure already fading into the background, "We can explore the forest together then, just like real warriors."

With a wave goodbye, Sihtric turned and disappeared back into the woods, leaving you with a newfound sense of wonder and the excitement that comes with making a new friend. From that day forward, Sihtric became one of your closest companions, spending endless afternoons exploring the forest and getting into all sorts of adventures. You always looked out for each other, and the bond you forged that day in the woods never wavered. Even though his father had been banished by yours, he continued to find ways to meet with you in the forest, a place where he didn't have to be Sihtric Kjartansson, a bastard child of Kjartan the Cruel. He was just Sihtric, your friend, and perhaps more, judging by the lingering glances you both often exchanged.

This continued up until that fateful day when your entire world was burnt to the ground. You had lost everyone, your parents, your grandfather, and your beloved sister. Your older brother Ragnar the Younger had been away and you felt yourself all alone in the world, that is until Uhtred and Brida took you in. Uhtred felt a strong sense of responsibility for you, being one of the last surviving members of the family that had so lovingly raised him. He had been unable to save Thyra from being taken but he swore to himself that he'd never let harm come to you. 

As the years went by, your childhood wish came true. You had indeed become a fierce warrior, and Uhtred made sure that you knew how to protect yourself and others. You fought in the Battle of Edington against Skorpa and made a reputation for yourself, but the young boy with whom you had spent your childhood days remained a fond memory you found yourself often reminiscing. 

______________

It was in King Guthred's camp in Cumberland where Sihtric finally found you again. He had been sent there to infiltrate the camp and abduct Uhred but when his band of spies attacked, you were the first one there to save your brother, along with Hild, Halig, and Clapa. He had recognized you immediately, the fierce young woman with sharp piercing eyes reminded him of the little girl in the forest whom his half-brother had maimed. However, when you first saw him, you had only looked at him with disdain. He was just another miscreant to you, sent to harm your brother, and you could not imagine him as your childhood companion. He felt his heart sink at that, at the malice in your eyes, at the fact that you did not seem to remember him at all. 

Once he had sworn his allegiance to Uhtred, he made his way to the great hall, where you sat conversing with Gisela. He wanted to talk to you, to hear you speak. Gisela caught sight of his yearning gaze on you and gave him a knowing look. She excused herself and left you sitting there all alone, giving Sihtric an opportunity to take her spot. He settled himself beside you, taking a moment to map out the planes of your face. He had waited years for this moment, to see you again, but now that it was happening, he was unsure how to proceed.

You looked at him and raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "I hear that you will fight for Uhtred now?"

Sihtric nodded.

"You better not betray him, or I'll stick a knife in your throat while you sleep."

A laugh burst out of him and he looked at you with soft eyes, "You are exactly as I remembered."

"Am I now?"

"Do you not remember me?"

You sighed, "Of course, I remember you. How could I ever forget?"

"Well the way you were looking at me like you wanted to take my head off, certainly didn't feel like you remembered me."

"You know you did try to hurt my brother."

"Right...I'm sorry for that by the way. You have my word, I will never betray him."

You twirled your dagger between deft fingers, "I'll hold you to that."

Sihtric laughed again, "Gods, I've missed you."

Your heart skipped a beat. You had always felt something for him but never dared to act on it.

"You did?" you asked, surprised.

He nodded, "I thought about you all the time, wondering where you were and what you were doing. If you were well. And then I heard the stories, of your brother's victories, and they always spoke of his brave sister who fought beside him."

You felt your heart swell with happiness. For the rest of the day, you and Sihtric continued to converse, your exchanges growing more relaxed as you fell back into the familiar comfort of knowing each other. You both shared stories of what you had been doing since you last saw each other.

Sihtric hesitated for a moment, then gathered up his courage to ask you the question that had been weighing on his mind ever since you had been separated, "Are you perhaps with someone now?"

"Why, are you asking because you're interested?" you gave him a playful smirk.

Sihtric's cheeks flushed red as he stumbled over his words, "I... well... I mean... that is to say..."

"Relax, I'm just messing with you. And gods no, me with someone? What an absurd idea. Although... I might be open to offers."

You winked at him.

His eyes widened in surprise and he cleared his throat nervously, "I, uh, I wasn't... I didn't mean..."

"My brother does enough of that for the both of us. Someone's gotta stay sensible and keep him out of trouble, especially since Brida isn't here to do it anymore."

You chuckled at his discomfort and reached out to touch his arm. 

Relief washed over him, and he smiled shyly, "That's good to hear."

You shoved his shoulder, "Good to hear? I am glad my lack of companions brings you such joy Sihtric."

"That is not what I meant and you know it."

"Oh really, so what did you mean then?"

You bat your eyelashes playfully and he rolls his eyes. 

"You haven't changed one bit."

"Perfection doesn't need to change Sihtric."

"Oh very funny."

What he didn't say out loud was that you were indeed perfect. To him at least. He had spent the past few years of his life missing you and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you again. He kept his admiration to himself as he listened to you speak, feeling a deep yearning in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to tell you how he felt, to take you in his arms and never let go. But he was afraid. Afraid of ruining the friendship he had just rekindled. Afraid of the disappointment he would feel if you rejected him. He wondered if you knew how he felt. Did you have any idea of the effect you had on him? He doubted it. After all, you had been children when you had last seen each other. Maybe you had moved on and found someone else. Maybe you didn't even remember him the way he remembered you.

As the next three years went by, you fell into an easy routine with Sihtric. He was part of Uhtred's inner circle and you were his beloved sister so the two of you were seldom separated. Your teasing banter and friendly competition entertained everyone in the group and soon they were all making bets regarding which one of you would be bold enough to confess to the other. The feelings you two had for one another were obvious to everyone, everyone except you and Sihtric it seemed. Even your brother often sent teasing smiles your way when he paired you with Sihtric for tasks. Perhaps this was why the entire group was flabbergasted when Sihtric asked for Uhtred's blessing to marry. 

Uhtred had mentally prepared himself for Sihtric to eventually ask for your hand. He would ask you for your opinion of course and if you were agreeable, he would have been more than happy to bless the union. 

"Who is it that you wish to marry Sihtric?" he raised an eyebrow.

Finan sniggered behind him, sure that his companion would utter your name. You were all on the road back to Winchester and it had been a dull journey so far so he was curious at this new turn of events. You had to admit, you found your heart racing at his request as well. You held your breath, not daring to hope. 

"Sidgeflaed, Lord," Sihtric replied.

"Sidgeflaed? The whore in Winchester you've been spending a lot of time with lately."

"She says she loves me, Lord."

Finan snorts and Sihtric squared his shoulders defensively.

"I swear, she says she loves me!"

"She would. Sihtric she's a whore," Finan chuckled. "What she loves is your silver."

The entire group burst out into laughter.

Sihtric kept his attention on your brother, "I wish to marry her. She says she loves me and I love her."

Uhtred noticed your rigid form out of the corner of your eye. Your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping your horse's reigns and your jaw was clenched tightly. He could tell that something was bothering you and he had a feeling he knew exactly what it was.

"I will speak to Gisela when we arrive at Winchester and then perhaps I will let you marry your girl. But in the meantime, you are to give her no more of your silver."

You felt a pang of jealousy and sadness at his words. He had chosen someone else. You thought that perhaps now since you had been reunited, he might've chosen you. You kept your emotions in check long enough to flash Sihtric a strained congratulatory smile, but inside you struggled to hold back tears. And then your sadness turned to anger, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal. How could he marry someone else when you had loved him all along? You wanted to scream at him and ask him why, you wanted to beg him not to marry this other girl, you wanted to run away and never see him again, you wanted to see him every day of your life. Instead, you kept a placid smile on your face and once you all reached your destination, you were the first one to bolt home, leaving your brother to deal with your horse. 

Gisela looked up in surprise when you burst through the door and rushed to your room, the door slamming behind you. Once you were in the private confines of your chambers, you let the tears flow freely. A few moments later, there was a soft knock on the door. You quickly wiped your tears and tried to compose yourself as your brother's wife, entered the room. She had been there for you ever since she married Uhtred, almost like a second mother. 

"Oh, my darling, what's wrong?" she asked gently, placing her arm around your shoulder.

You sniffed morosely, "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Well, you don't look fine."

"It's really nothing. I am just being immature, it's no big deal."

Gisela's lips turned upward as she ran her fingers through your hair, "I have two kids under the age of seven. I think I can handle immature."

You just shook your head and leaned against her, allowing her to pull you into a tight embrace, her comforting scent calming you down. Just then, someone cleared their throat loudly and Gisela looked up to see her husband smiling down at her.

"Am I interrupting something?" Uhtred asked.

She shook her head, "No, your sister is just upset, but she refuses to tell me why. Perhaps you can shed some light on this matter?"

"No, you can't tell her. She's going to think I'm being childish," you whined from the crook of her neck.

Uhtred sighed in fond exasperation, "Sitric has asked for my permission to marry."

Gisela's brow wrinkled in confusion. Shouldn't you have been happy if that was the case? She had watched you become close to him over time and she knew how fond you were of him. 

"To marry someone else," Uhtred clarified.

Her eyes widened in understanding as she rubbed soothing circles on your back, "It's okay love. It's okay to be upset. You are a strong and resilient woman and you can get through this." 

"Shall I refuse him?" your brother asked, making you shake your head frantically.

"No, I am just being selfish. I want him to be happy, and if... if that other girl is the one he loves, then I will try and be happy for them. I don't want to get in his way."

"If you say so."

After Uhtred left you alone with his wife, you wrapped your arms around her once more.

"Thank you, Gisela. You're always so kind to me."

Gisela smiled at you warmly, "Of course, my dear. That's what family is for."

Over the next few days, you made it your priority to avoid Sihtric at all costs, going out of your way so that your paths didn't cross, and when meeting him was inevitable, you made sure that you interacted with him as little as possible. Your tone when addressing him was cold and clipped, only saying what was necessary. It was obvious to everyone that you were trying to distance yourself from him and eventually even Sihtric picked up on your strange behaviour.

He had been trying to find a chance to talk to you alone ever since his first announcement regarding his matrimonial plans. He sensed the strained tension that lingered in the air whenever you were around him, and it filled him with a sense of despair. He was doing this all for you and now you wouldn't even look at him. He thought that by marrying someone else, he would be able to take his mind off you. He didn't want to push you into something you did not want and ruin your friendship by confessing his feelings but now it seemed that he had only made things worse. He had to make things right again somehow. As luck would have it, he spotted you walking down the street alone one day. He called out your name, hurrying to catch up to you. 

When you turned around and saw him coming towards you, you tried to quicken your pace, hoping to avoid him, but he was much too fast. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into a nearby alleyway, away from prying eyes. You aggressively yanked your arm away from him and glared. 

"What are you doing, Sihtric?" 

"I had to talk to you," he responded, his voice low and urgent. "You've been avoiding me, and I need to know why."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," your voice was flat as you fixed your eyes on something over his shoulder, avoiding eye contact. 

"Damnit would you at least look at me when I'm speaking to you."

"No."

"Why are you acting like this? Would you please talk to me."

"Just leave me alone Sihtric. Go spend time with that whore you've been humping. You should get to know your future wife some more," you spat out.

Sihtric flinched at the venom in your words. Your entire body was tensed and you blinked rapidly a few times as if to hold back tears.

"I can't leave you alone," he said, his voice rising. "You're my friend. I care about you. I need to know what's going on."

"I am not your friend, don't you dare call me your friend. You do not care about me at all!"

"How can you say that? What have I done? Would you at least tell me?"

Your face hardened, "If I was really your friend, you would have told me about Sidgeflaed. You never even mentioned her."

"Is that what this is about then? You're upset that I told your brother before I told you? If that's the case then I'm sorry you had to find out like that," he approached slowly, arms reaching toward you.

You shoved him away, "You don't get it, do you? You still don't get it."

"Then explain it to me... please."

"You're marrying her! How could you marry her? If you really cared about me, you wouldn't be breaking my heart like this!" you screamed at him then, and tears streamed down your face. 

"What?"

"How could you marry someone else Sihtric? How could you do that to me when you know how I feel about you? Do you expect me to attend your wedding with a smile on my face? Congratulate you for every child you have with her?"

"What do you mean I know how you feel about me?"

You turned to walk away, and Sihtric couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed your arm again and spun you around to face him, pushing you against the wall, his face inches from yours. 

His voice rose in anger, "You know what, no! You don't get to say something like that and walk away from me. What did you mean when you said I know how you feel?"

"You know very well what I meant. Do not humiliate me any further," you gave him a weak laugh.

Realization dawned on his face as his eyes widened.

"You have feelings for me?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, "What does it matter? It's not like you feel anything for me."

Sihtric scoffed derisively, "That is the furthest thing from the truth."

"Huh?"

"Don't act like you don't see it. Like you never saw the way I've always looked at you."

Your eyes narrowed in anger, "How dare you? You never once told me how you felt. How dare you blame this on me?"

"I'm not blaming-" he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry okay. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"That doesn't change anything. You're still marrying her."

Your voice broke at the last word and Sihtric's heart clenched at the sight of your melancholy expression.

"I'll try to be happy for you. I swear it. You-you should be able to be with the person you love most and I will make my peace with the fact that it will never be-."

"I don't want to marry her!"

"But-"

"I thought that by marrying someone else, I could forget about you. I was wrong. I can't forget about you."

"Oh don't pretend to care now."

Sihtric tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and ran his fingers down your jaw. 

"I care about you more than anything," he whispered, stepping infinitesimally closer. "I love you."

"You do?"

"Weren't you listening silly girl? It's you I love, it's you I wish to choose."

"I don't appreciate being called silly," you sulked. "And you're really not going to marry her then?"

"No. No, I can't keep lying to myself."

"You really hurt me you know."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Sihtric begged, his voice pleading. "But please, just give me a chance to make it up to you. I love you. I always have, ever since we were children, and even when I couldn't see you, I never stopped thinking about you. I just didn't want to ruin what we had by telling you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had always secretly hoped that he felt the same way, but had convinced yourself that he didn't. Now, standing in front of him, you could feel the tug of your shared history and the depth of his emotions.

"Please, just one chance. Let me show you how much I care about you. I promise to never take you for granted again," Sihtric continued sincerely.

"Okay," you murmured, your voice softening. "Okay, I'll give you a chance but if you hurt-"

"Never. I will never hurt you again."

Sihtric brushed the remaining tears from your eyes tenderly and smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He couldn't resist the pull he felt, because then he was leaning in and pressing his lips gently against yours, unsure if you would reciprocate.

You were caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss, but as his lips moved against yours, you felt your heart stutter in your chest. You closed your eyes and kissed him back, allowing yourself to be swept away by the rush of affection you felt for him. 

You both stood there for a few long moments, lost in each other, oblivious to the world around you. When he pulled away, Sihtric grinned.

"I suppose I'll have to ask your brother's blessing again," he looked into your eyes hesitantly. "That is if you would do me the honour of allowing me to be yours?"

"Yes. Yes of course."

"Thank you."

He pressed a delicate kiss to your scar and then you were pulling him back towards you by his collar, mouths pressed in a passionate embrace as you both gave in to the undeniable attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface for years.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he mumbled against your skin like a prayer. 

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: request by @willowbrookesblog after reading my NSFW alphabet :')

Warnings: 18+!!! SMUT. pwp really. threesome, some spanking, choking, DVP - do I need to go on?

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f) x Modern!Sigtryggr

summary: You and Sihtric wanted a threesome with Sigtryggr, and Finan's party happened to be just the right time and the right place.

wordcount: 4,1k

Masterlist

'You're pretty damn hot, pretty boy.'

'Did you see him?' Sihtric grinned at you as you downed another shot, his arms circled around your waist, pressing your body firmly against his.

'I have,' you said with a cheeky smile, 'you up for it?'

'If it please you, my love,' Sihtric smiled, 'you know I'll do anything to drive you wild,' he chuckled in your ear and tugged your earlobe gently with his teeth.

'Hm' you hummed and bit down on your lip, 'we should make our move now then,' you said and took Sihtric's hand, 'he went upstairs on his own. If we block his way…'

'Then he'll walk in on us,' Sihtric laughed and shook his head lightly, 'you really planned this, didn't you?'

'Well, I didn't plan it,' you snorted, 'but I fantasised, yes,' you admitted.

'You better not fantasise too much, lady,' Sihtric grabbed your chin, playfully but firmly, 'I'm still your only man, yeah?'

'You are, my love,' you giggled and pecked his smirking lips, 'you know you are the only one for me, Sihtric. But the idea of having Sigtryggr with us, just once,' you exhaled sharply, 'it makes me so wet.'

'I know,' Sihtric licked his lips, 'I can't deny he's good looking. And if this gets you going, I'm all game.'

'And that is why you're the only one for me,' you smiled and kissed his lips again.

'Anything for you, my love,' Sihtric smiled.

He quickly drank two more shots before you pulled him with you, up the stairs, leaving Finan's loud party downstairs behind you. Apparently Sigtryggr had gone upstairs because someone called him, and you both heard him speak in one of the bedrooms, his calm voice muffled by a closed door. You pulled Sihtric closer, and he pinned your hands up against the wall as he made out with you, across from the room Sigtryggr was in. 

And you didn't need much to get aroused as your own boyfriend, Sihtric, was already enough to make you a horny mess almost every day. He was more than enough to please you. But once, during a boring night, you had both confessed a threesome with Sigtryggr was an interesting thought. And when you heard he was single again since the last time you had seen him, you and Sihtric would try your luck tonight.

Sihtric had easy access, as your skirt was short and your panties easy to pull to the side.

'You're already so fucking wet,' Sihtric breathed in your ear as his fingers played with your wet folds, slowly sliding two digits in and out of you.

'Fuck,' you sighed, letting your head rest upon his shoulder as he kept your arms pinned above you with his other hand, 'I need your cock in me, so badly, please,' you begged.

'Patience, my love,' he whispered, a tone of amusement lingered, 'you'll have me, no matter what, don't worry.' 

'Sihtric, please-' you begged, bucking your hips against his.

Then the bedroom door suddenly opened.

'Oh, shit,' Sigtryggr said with a light chuckle, 'sorry, didn't mean to interrupt...' 

He stared at the two of you as you both stared at him. Sigtryggr was handsome, incredibly good looking to be honest since he changed his appearance. His hair was recently cut short and braided, with the sides shaved. And his bright smile with those piercing blue eyes, which popped with that hint of eyeliner; he simply aroused you. Almost the same way as Sihtric aroused you, whose eyeliner was on point tonight as well, as was his half shaved haircut. But Sihtric was your man, and no one could ever take his place in your life, not even a guy like Sigtryggr. And Sihtric was well aware of your undying loyalty.

'Care to join?' you breathed after a short moment, and gave the somewhat shocked man a wink.

Sigtryggr opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Sihtric pulled his hand away from you, and brought his wet fingers up to his lips.

'I promise she tastes delicious,' Sihtric said and licked his fingers, 'this is your only chance, you'll regret it if you won't take it,' he said with a cocky look on his face, keeping you close.

'Fuck,' Sigtryggr scoffed lightly and he laughed, rubbing his hand over his slightly flushed cheek as he shoved his phone in his backpocket. 'You guys serious?'

'Yeah,' Sihtric chuckled and looked back at you, 'my girl needs to be taken care of.'

'Babe,' you moaned, finally shoving your hands under Sihtric's shirt as you looked at his scarred cheek, 'I need you to fuck me, please.'

'Damn,' Sigtryggr bit down on his lip, looking back and forth between you and Sihtric, 'can't handle her on your own?' he asked the love of your life, teasingly.

'I can handle her just fine,' Sihtric's eyes darkened as he suddenly felt threatened, for no real reason, and he pulled you hard against his chest, 'you can join, but you better remember she's mine only,' he hissed.

'Hey, man. I have no intention of stealing your lady,' Sigtryggr said earnestly, 'but I'm all down for a good time.'

'You think you can handle us both, my love?' Sihtric purred in your ear as he pushed you towards the bedroom.

'I want you to fuck me both,' you mewled as Sihtric shoved you past Sigtryggr, 'just once I want to feel two cocks inside of me, please,' you begged.

'We'll fill you up,' Sihtric grinned, then looked back at Sigtryggr, who was still standing outside the door, trying to grasp the situation, 'won't we?' Sihtric asked him.

Sigtryggr smirked and stepped back into the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Sihtric took off your top, leaving you dressed in only your short skirt and a risky, lace bra. You felt his hands all over you as he kissed you from head to toe and back, letting Sigtryggr watch as Sihtric knew how to treat you well. Sigtryggr clearly enjoyed the sight, leaning back against the wall, and Sihtric was quick to kiss your lips and shove you towards the other man. Sihtric pushed your back up against Sigtryggr's chest, who chuckled lightly and settled his hands on your waist, while Sihtric kissed you eagerly. You moaned against your boyfriend's lips as he pressed his hips against yours, allowing you to feel how hard he was. His cock desperate to be freed from his clothes. And with that same move, he pushed your buttocks against Sigtryggr's crotch, who felt equally as hard as Sihtric, and you squirmed between their strong bodies as you felt their hands and heavy breaths on your skin.

Sihtric moved his hand up into your hair, grabbing a fistful to give you a firm tug, tilting your head slightly up and to the side, allowing Sigtryggr to kiss your exposed neck. You moaned softly at the feeling, but Sihtric was quick to silence you with a kiss, sliding his tongue in your mouth with ease. While Sihtric's hands trailed down your body, Sigtryggr took over the grip onto your hair and gave you another firm tug, causing you to gasp and break the kiss with Sihtric.

'You guys are freaky, huh?' Sigtryggr laughed when Sihtric pulled you towards the bed.

'We're just getting started,' you purred after Sihtric threw you on the bed, who chuckled, satisfied at the sight of you.

Your hair was already a mess, your lipstick was smudged and you looked like the perfect toy with that short skirt and knee high socks. And Sihtric was a hot mess all the same. Already running out of breath, his lips, cheeks and neck stained with your red lipstick, claiming him and only him with the print of your lips on his skin, as Sigtryggr was free of any red smudges.

'You're so pretty, baby,' Sihtric whispered, stealing another light stained kiss from your lips before he stepped back and took off his shirt.

He threw his shirt on the floor as Sigtryggr walked over, who was eyeing your boyfriend up and down, licking his lips at the sight of your man's toned body.

'Damn,' Sigtryggr smirked, pulling Sihtric towards him by his belt loops, checking him out again as he did, 'you're pretty damn hot, pretty boy,' he husked and bit down on his lip.

'Yeah?' Sihtric scoffed with a cocky look as he pulled Sigtryggr's shirt, 'show me what you got then.'

Sigtryggr hummed and took off his own shirt, throwing it onto the floor as well, and he pulled Sihtric closer again. Sihtric moved his hands up over Sigtryggr's equally toned chest, to his neck, and he took his face with his tattooed fingers.

'You're pretty fucking hot yourself,' Sihtric rasped, earning another soft hum from Sigtryggr.

Your mouth fell open, your head was spinning and you felt your pulse inside your wet slit as you watched how both men trailed their big, rough hands over each other's arms and torsos, before they crashed into the hottest, sloppiest kiss possible. Sihtric brought his hands up to Sigtryggr's neck, deepening the kiss while Sigtryggr grabbed onto your Dane's dark curls, moaning into each other's mouths as the kiss got more and more heated and sloppy.

'And a good kisser too,' Sihtric smirked after he broke the kiss, and licked his lips as he looked at Sigtryggr.

Both men smiled at each other with heavy-lidded eyes, while they hummed softly upon each other's touch.

'You're a good kisser yourself too,' Sigtryggr murmured, smiling.

You looked at both men as they leaned in for another kiss, and you quickly cleared your throat.

'Guys,' you scoffed, 'really?' you threw your hands up, frustrated that both men seemed to have forgotten that you were the one who begged for them. And now they were all over each other while you sat there on the bed, almost naked, soaking wet and completely ignored.

'Oh, fuck, baby,' Sihtric spoke softly with his low voice and chuckled, 'sorry, kitten,' he hummed as he climbed in bed with you, cupping your cheeks to kiss you just as deeply and sloppy as he had kissed Sigtryggr just yet. And he made you forget your complaints as you moaned against his lips.

'You're sexy too, my love,' Sihtric smiled sweetly. He leaned in closer, then whispered softly, only for you to hear, 'I love you, lady. You're my number one, don't forget that, baby girl,' he gave you another sweet smile and pecked your lips as Sigtryggr joined you on the bed.

'I'm not out to steal your man either,' Sigtryggr smiled at you, and he pulled you in for a hot kiss.

Sihtric took your hands and guided them to unbutton his skinny jeans, while he unbuttoned Sigtryggr's jeans and watched how you two kissed each other, and it made him even more aroused.

'Fuck,' Sihtric sighed, and he leaned in, joining the kiss.

Both men got a hold of your chin, constantly pulling your lips towards their own as they tried to kiss you at the same time. You all felt and tasted each other's tongues in the sloppy, desperate threeway kiss. And the air grew thick with moans, sighs and grunts as you all stripped each other fully of the remaining clothes, while desperately fighting over each other's lips and tongues.

Sihtric threw your legs over his shoulders and held your hips firmly in place, pressing soft, wet kisses to your core before he licked, kissed, sucked and pleased you with his mouth and tongue. Sigtryggr's hands trailed all over your body, and soon your heavy breathing turned into heavy moans.

'Oh, fuck, Sihtric,' you moaned, 'baby, please, yes, right there, fuck!' you pulled his hair, earning a hard, heavy moan from your lover as you arched your back.

Meanwhile Sigtryggr kissed your neck, your shoulder and then brought his lips to your breast, teasing your nipple with his tongue, and you moaned hard at the feeling of both men enjoying you while you enjoyed them.

'Oh my fucking god,' you cried out, one hand pulling Sihtric's hair as your other hand grabbed onto Sigtryggr's bicep. 

'Fuck, I'm gonna cum!' you screamed, and right after the words spilled from your lips, you came on Sihtric's tongue, who drank you in with a satisfied moan as if you were his source of life, and he had been dying for you.

You heard both men chuckle at your dishevelled state, and after they gave you a short moment to catch your breath, they each took one hand and pulled you up to sit on the bed as they towered over you, standing next to the bed. And without a single word, you took Sihtric's hard length in your mouth, sucking him slowly yet eager. Just the way you knew he loved it, driving him crazy with your swollen-kissed lips around his cock. At the same time, you worked Sigtryggr with your hand, making both men a heavy, moaning and cursing mess.

'Fuck,' Sihtric sighed, one hand in your hair as his other hand grabbed Sigtrygrr's chin, pulling him in for another sloppy kiss, granting you with the insanely hot view as you sucked Sihtric off.

Both men sucked and bit each other's lips as they kissed, and it didn't take long before you swallowed Sihtric's warm cum down your throat, and you wiped your mouth with a grin before he kissed you eagerly.

'I love you,' Sihtric rasped, 'I fucking love you, kitten,' he smiled and brushed his fingertips over your flushed cheeks.

And just as Sigtryggr wanted to take Sihtric's place, using your mouth for his pleasure, your handsome, sweaty Dane stopped him by placing a hand on his chest.

'Woah there, handsome,' Sihtric said with darkened eyes as he got up in Sigtryggr's face, 'you're not getting any closer to my girl unless you wear a condom, you got that?'

You giggled at your protective boyfriend, the alpha-male in the room, and pulled him down on the bed with you, making out with him as he recovered, while Sigtryggr searched the bedroom. And he was in luck, as he found a whole pack of condoms in a drawer.

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed as he pulled you on top of him, 'I love you, baby,' he nuzzled your nose softly and pecked your lips, cheek and the tip of your nose, making you giggle again.

'I love you too, Sihtric,' you smiled, brushing your lips lightly over his, 'I want you inside me, pretty boy,' you sighed when you felt he was ready for you again.

'Yeah?' Sihtric smiled, holding your face in his hands, kissing your lips occasionally, 'you want both of us inside your tight pussy?' 

'Mhm,' you hummed, desperately, while taking in Sihtric's familiar length, and he groaned lightly at the feeling, smiling at you with his lips parted as he held your hips.

'This position?' Sigtryggr asked as he joined you both on the bed again, after he overheard your conversation.

'Yes. She will only face me when we fuck her,' Sihtric said sternly, 'and you will not say her name, or anything along those lines. And no anal! She doesn't like that,' Sihtric stressed, 'I swear I will cut your-' 

'Sihtric,' you chuckled softly, hushing him with a kiss, 'I think you made your point, babe.'

'All fine by me,' Sigtryggr smiled, and you gasped when you felt his hands on your waist, grabbing you firmly as he positioned himself behind you.

'You used lube?' you quickly asked, looking back over your shoulder.

'Found that too and used it,' Sigtryggr reassured you, 'ready?'

'Yeah,' you smiled.

Sihtric was quick to take your chin, redirecting your eyes back to his.

'Hey,' Sihtric said softly but seriously, 'eyes on me, baby girl. I'm your man, yeah?'

'Yeah,' you sighed and quickly nodded, your hands moving up to his broad shoulders.

'Say it, baby,' he demanded.

'You're my man,' you smiled, sweetly and in love as you looked down into his mismatched eyes, 'I love you, and only you - oh, fuck!' you suddenly exclaimed as Sigtryggr gently pushed his cock inside you, stretching you up further as Sihtric was already inside you.

'Relax, my love,' Sihtric cooed as both men felt your walls tighten around them, 'be a good girl for me, and relax,' he said and kissed your lips softly, 'are you my good girl?'

'Y-yeah,' you inhaled sharply as both men filled your pussy up completely.

'That's it,' Sihtric smiled, keeping his eyes locked with yours, 'such a good girl.'

Sihtric alone already made your knees weak, hearing the man behind you groan with pleasure made your head spin, and you felt lightheaded when both men started thrusting into you, gently easing you into the feeling. And you quickly became eager and impatient, as the sound of their heavy breathing and soft moans aroused you intensely. The pain soon became pleasant as you became more wet with each grunt you heard.

'Fuck,' you moaned, 'you boys like that?' you chuckled.

'Yeah,' Sigtryggr moaned in your ear as Sihtric hummed with a smile underneath you.

'Is it good for you, kitten?' Sihtric husked.

'Yeah,' you sighed, 'so fucking good, oh, fuck.'

You surrendered completely to them, feeling their warm hands grabbing your hips as they fucked you gently, gradually speeding up their pace. Your body trembled at the intense pleasure you felt, and as Sigtryggr moved one hand up into your hair, giving you a tug to which you moaned, Sihtric took Sigtryggr's other hand, and you watched how your lover slowly sucked the other man's fingers, to which you all groaned.

'You like it, baby?' you asked Sihtric, who lightly wrapped his hand around your throat as he watched you on top of him.

'Yeah,' he breathed, 'you take us so well,' he hummed.

You laughed and rocked your hips against both men, earning a few hard, heavy moans from them, until Sihtric suddenly pushed Sigtryggr away from you. And before you could react, Sihtric flipped you over and picked you up effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms were around his neck, and you kissed his lips, swallowing his moan when he pushed his cock back inside you again as he leaned back against a wall. You threw your head back, being fucked good, and you felt Sigtryggr's hands on you again as he breathed down your neck.

'Fuck me,' you breathed, 'I want you both to fucking use me.'

'You heard her,' Sihtric grunted as he looked at Sigtryggr behind you.

A strangled moan left your mouth when you felt both men inside you again. And their pace became relentless, your body held in place as you were pressed between theirs. Your head resting back onto Sigtryggr's shoulder as your hands held onto Sihtric's shoulders, allowing them to ravage you completely.

'Fuck, you feel good, doll,' Sigtryggr moaned after a short while, and Sihtric suddenly slapped the man's face, hard.

'Don't speak to my girl,' he said with ragged breath, staring Sigtryggr dead in the eyes.

'Slap me again, pretty boy,' Sigtryggr husked, 'and I'll take it out on your girl.'

'Guys, please,' you moaned, their useless rivalry arousing you insanely.

Sihtric breathed hard and slapped him again, to which Sigtryggr was quick to push deep inside you, hard, making you scream and laugh as your nails dug into Sihtric's shoulders.

'Oh, fuck!' you gasped, 'm- more!'

Both men smirked at each other, and you enjoyed the sight of Sigtryggr's hand around Sihtric's throat. And your man became a weak, moaning mess when you pulled his hair as Sigtryggr squeezed his throat, until Sihtric suddenly lost his grip on you with a short, sharp, raspy inhale.

'Back off!' you immediately ordered Sigtryggr, who listened and moaned as he pulled out of you.

Your feet found the floor, your shaky legs barely holding you up, and you checked on Sihtric, who had brought himself down to his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

'You good, babe?' you breathed as hard as him while you cupped his cheeks.

'Y-yeah,' Sihtric smiled at you, 'was just a little intense, love. All good. You, baby?'

'I'm good,' you sighed, and you both chuckled before you kissed softly, 'I love you.'

'And I love you,' he whispered and left wet kisses on your neck and shoulders, 'tell me what you want.'

'On the bed,' you said, and you took his hand.

You beckoned Sigtryggr over as you sat up on your knees, with Sihtric in front of you, up on his knees as well. Sigtryggr moved behind you, his back against the bed's headboard as he awaited your next words.

'Again, like we just did,' you said, out of breath, 'but no more choking!' you gave Sigtryggr a threatening look over your shoulder, 'at least, not that hard,' you giggled.

You gasped, smiling, when both men entered you again, slowly, before picking up their previously ravaging pace. Sigtryggr's hands held your hips firmly as Sihtric held your waist with his loving grip, and you took his chin as your other hand held onto his dark, messy, sweaty hair.

'Fuck me, baby,' you smiled against Sihtric's lips, who moaned desperately at your words, not being able to speak.

'Kiss each other for me?' you asked him sweetly in between heavy breaths.

Sihtric moved his hand up Sigtrygrr's neck as he kept his grip on your waist, and he pulled the man closer, both pressing their bodies against yours as they kissed, hot and heavy, their pace soon becoming as sloppy as their kiss. You felt Sihtric's hand slide down your waist to your clit, stimulating you in the right way as both men felt their climax approach deep inside your warm, wet, tightness. Your body trembled again as you tensed up, clenching your walls around both men, who moaned hard into each other's mouths, resting their foreheads against each other as they both kept one hand on the back of each other's head, staying close.

'Oh fuck,' you moaned as you felt the pressure build up in your core, 'please, don't stop.'

Sigtryggr pulled you in, leaning the side of their faces against yours, both men breathing heavily into your ear as you felt their hot breath on your neck. You wrapped one arm around Sihtric's neck, keeping him close, and you took his chin, guiding his gaze slightly down to meet your eyes while Sigtryggr kept his grip on your man.

'Look at me,' you whispered, desperately, 'look at me when you cum inside me.'

Sihtric smiled, out of breath, looking down at you with half open eyes as he continued to stimulate you as he fucked you. His lips were slightly parted, his eyeliner smudged down to his rosy cheeks, making him look even sexier and more irresistible than ever before.

'Finish with me, baby girl,' he rasped, 'come on, I know you're close.'

Sihtric words, the satisfied smile on his tired, flushed face and a sudden spank on your ass from Sigtryggr was all it took for you to come, hard, with a trembling body and a loud moan as you yelled out Sihtric's name while he spilled inside you with a deep growl. And so did Sigtryggr, who was quick to pull out immediately after, figuring Sihtric would otherwise punch him between the eyes if he didn't allow you two to have your moment. 

You moaned at the sudden loss of Sigtryggr, who already made his way to the ensuite bathroom, but you forgot it as quickly as he had pulled out when you felt Sihtric's cum drip down your thighs, just before he pulled you in to lay down with him on the bed.

'Gods,' Sihtric sighed, smiling as he cuddled up with you, 'was that good for you, love?'

'Yeah,' you giggled tiredly, burying your face in his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, 'did you like it?'

'I did,' he hummed softly, 'but I won't share you again anymore, lady. This was it.'

'I know,' you pecked his skin gently, 'we experienced it now, and it was fun,' you whispered and looked up at him, 'but you're still the only man I want, Sihtric. No one compares to you.'

'Good,' Sihtric smiled and kissed your lips.

You heard the bathroom door close and Sigtryggr cleared his throat as he got dressed.

'So, eh… thanks,' he chuckled, 'I best get going. See you two around, I guess.'

You both laughed and thanked him too, reminding him this was a one time thing only, to which he agreed with a smile.

'Oh, and,' Sigtryggr said before he closed the bedroom door behind him, 'you two are a hot couple, really, you guys better get married soon,' he winked.

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[ivarthebadbitch]

the last kingdom + forehead touches

(requested by @weaverhawk)

[oursoulsareodinsown]