#the last kingdom fictions

[pedge-page]

Mother Who Provides

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: based off this lovely ask for sub Joel wanting to breastfeed and get jerked off, and hella Mommy kink!

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Mommy kink, breastfeeding, lactation, praise, love biting, assisted m masturbation, male orgasm, cum eating, little belly stuffing because this bitch just loves his Mommy's milk sm

18 + ONLY

- - - -

The first time Joel watched you breastfeed your newborn baby had him feeling all kinds of—different inside. You weren’t totally aware of it at first, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Every time you got up to go feed the little one, he was always within the same room, or meandering in the hall pretending to carry the laundry, or just finding an excuse to sit across from you and watch. 

He thought it was just an awe—here’s the woman of his dreams who just single handedly grew a whole human being in her belly, then pushed it out all by herself after 13 hours of labor, and now is nurturing his child from her own body. You were like a miracle who just kept giving. 

His cock getting hard was just the excitement of how amazing women were. That’s it.

But you had started to notice other things that were strange in his behavior. One time you had gotten up at 3am to feed the baby, Joel still asleep by your side. When you had finished and crawled back in to bed, reaching out for the warm security of his body, he wasn’t there. You groggily waddled down to the kitchen to find your husband chugging a gallon of whole milk like a fish out of water. His eyes fell upon you,  the way you yawned, dressed in a dissheveled night gown and asked if he’s ok, unaware that you were rubbing your sore breasts in your palm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, predatory eyes wide as he stares at your chest, ready to pounce on you like a wolf.

You knew pretty well right then what his little “problem” was. 

From then on, you intentionally were seeking him out in tighter shirts so he could see your bouncing swollen breasts more clearly, leaning over in front of him more often, or just straight up asking if he could give you a tits massage. Complaining about how “sore” they felt, or not wanting your milk to go to waste since the baby couldn’t drink it all even after having an entire freezer full. 

You feint a sigh. “Maybe I should donate it…”

“NO!” He shouts a little louder than he intended. “I mean… uh.” He coughs, unable to think of a reasonable excuse.

“Yeah? Who else is going to drink it, Joel?” You taunt. Joel was a tough man, but admitting things that he wanted was difficult to force out of him.

“I—I mean we—we could—“ he shook his head and went to sit on the couch. “Sorry, I mean. That’s a great idea. You should do that. Be nice for other moms.”

Joel wrings his hands together and looks away, clearing his throat.

You stride over to him and straddle his hips, his pupils going big with shock. You sit up on your knees with him caged under you, your breasts level with his nose as you rub your fingers through his brown curly hair. “Is that what you want?”

You can see the way his eyes are trained forward, looking at the swollen nipples poking through your tank top. He swallows heavily and licks his lips, hands resting on your waist, fighting the urge to bite.

“No…” he whispers softly.

“No? Is there someone else who should get Mommy’s milk?” You tease.

He closes his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat. 

“Speak, baby boy.”

“M-Me,” he says, head tilted up to you as he nuzzles the scruff of his cheek into your chest. You cup his head to firmly press his face harder, his nose gliding along the cleavage as he inhales your scent sharply. His hands creep up along your sides before grasping the droopy fat of the underside of your breasts, making you gasp.

You don’t even need to sit down on him fully to feel the tent poking your clit as you hover over him. He squeezes your tits roughly before wrapping his teeth around a nipple and tugging gently, releasing it with a satisfying bounce back in to place. The result was a slight damp spot around the peak where a drip of your milk seeped out. 

And Joel Miller fucking whimpers for the first time in his life.

You hum in delight. “Can you ask Mommy nicely?”

He doesn’t hesitate: “Please, can I have Mommy’s milk?”

Holy fuck, you’re a sucker for your man.

-

Now a half hour later, Joel is still greedily suckling at your tit as if being starved his whole life. You’re sitting on the couch  while cradling Joel’s head in your lap, having him lying down on his back in the perfect position for the milk in your breasts to just flow right into his hungry mouth.

His eyes are closed, jaw working open as his lips suction tightly, gulping your sweetness. You stroke the greying hairs on his cheek, feeling the way he hums contently vibrate against your skin.

He feels safe like this, in such a vulnerable position. The idea of protecting you, being on guard, defensive, all of that stress melts away while being swaddled by you. He can let go of worry, of anxiety, taking deep breaths and feeding soothingly under the gently, nurturing embrace of his beautiful, life-giving wife.

You had palmed his hard-on the entire time, not releasing it quite yet until you were satisfied with how full his tummy had grown. You could even hear the little sloshes of bubbles in his stomach as it filled with new nutrients. He’d let out a tiny whimper, milk caught in his throat when you’d squeeze around his base possessively before returning to your palming. His precum smears along his thigh and shorts. 

“You’re so hungry, baby,” you coo, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “This whole time you just wanted a taste of Mama’s milk, hmm?”

He nods absentmindedly, refusing to let go of your golden titty. 

Unsatisfied with his response, you grip his hair and yank his head down, his lips detaching and falling away from your breast. He lets out a needy whine and stares at you. “Y-yes Mommy. Wanted your milk. Please can I have some more?”

You giggle and nod. His tongue darks out to lick the little drips that had trickles down before attaching back to your nipple and suckling happily.

You pull his throbbing length out though the hole in his boxers. “Gimme a little spit,” you command softly.

Joel sits his head up, cheeks full of milk. You put your hand out in front of his lips as he release the creamy substance into your palm. Your newly silkened hand finds its way back to wrap around his base before stroking him. 

“Ohhhhh f-fuck Mommy!” he groans, eyes closed and leaning back against your thigh. But the sensation was too good, hips bucking up that he had to force his chin back up to continue watching. Your fingers expertly curled around his mushroom tip with each pass, the assistance of the milk acting as a lubricant. He licked his upper lick, his leg twitching with how hot it felt. You lean forward a bit and push your tit closer to his lips again. His eyes dart to you, tongue sticking out to capture your nipple again before resuming his impatient guzzling.

“Naughty, boy, getting all hard when drinking from Mommy’s tit.” You swirl his slit with the tip of your nail, his steady flow of precut oozing out and mixing with the milk. You feel his throat flex with each stutter, his mind reeling in and out of sanity, fists balled at his sides to avoid taking control. Joel’s lips were a sin everywhere else on your body, and this moment was no different. They were full, pouty, and his lower lip juts out enough to be able to easily catch your nipple and hold on with each insatiable gulp.

“Maybe I should bottle it up and let you bring it to work with you. Can share your special bottle with the other boys,” you laugh.

Joel growls angrily, browns crunched as he bites your nipple possessive. 

You hiss out in pain, fisting his curls once again. “Ow! Bite me again and you’re done,” you warn. His face relaxes, eyes staring up at you with sorrow as you resume your pace pumping his shaft.

“Ah-m srorry—Momm-ee,” he mumbles against the fat of your breasts, soothing over his bite mark with his warm wet tongue. 

You sigh deeply. The weight on your chest is almost fully lifted now that Joel has swallowed so much of the milk that had built up.

Your baby was just so little right now, there was only so much he could fill in his tiny body, leaving you aching, heavy, and swollen all day and night. But your full grown 5’11 200 pound hunk of a husband? He could drink for HOURS and drain you completely so that fresh milk can replenish your system just for your baby. 

“Maybe we should make your feeding a regular thing too. Would you like that?” You hum. You increase the speed of your hand, now jerking his cock violently.

“Ahh—ah! Ye-oh fuck, fuck Mommy—yes, yes I want it!”

“Yeah? You wanna be full of Momma’s milk all the time? Bet you wanna cum too. Taking such good care of me, I think you deserve a reward.”

He swallows another big load before his panting forces him away, creamy liquid spilling over his cheeks. “Ah—ugh-ugh oh fuck, fuck yeah! Wanna cum, wanna cum on Mommy’s hand, please! Please, keep tuggin’ my dick just like that, Fuck! FUCK yes Mommy!”

His mouth falls open, breath caught in his throat as you feel his hips raising off the couch slightly. You take the opportunity to lean forward and shove as much of your tits in his mouth as you can, suffocating him. His eyes roll back as the first of his cum spews up into the air, followed up big spurts rapidly shooting as you violently work his cock.

“Shhhh, that’s it, that’s my good boy, keep cumming all over Mommy’s hand, such a good boy. Don’t forget keep drinking your special milk. Mommy made it just for you.” You bite your lip at the idea of motherhood just falling so easily over you.

His whole body shutters, moaning and sucking around your breasts, unsure what to do with himself as he keeps cumming in your hand. His dick pulses the last of his spent, dribbling globs of sticky, thick semen all over your fingers and his full stomach. He quivers from the overstimulation, suppressing a burp. 

You remove your hand, caressing the heft of his bulging stomach just as he takes a deep breath through his nose, calming his breathing. He opens his eyes to see you licking the glorious mess of his cum off of your palm, each finger dipping in to your sinful mouth and sucking his spend clean. 

“Fuuucckkkk, that’s hot. Eatin my cream when I drink yours.” His eyes are positively drunk off of you. He babbles quickly: “Wanna keep ya milkin’ every year. Kids or not. These tits are mine. Keep me stuffed full of ya sweet cream, Momma. Never need to buy dairy again. Just drink it straight from the tap.”

You grab his hands down by his side and bring them up to your tits, guiding him to rub your sore breasts gently. “Gotta work them up to get more in you.”

Joel doesn’t argue, taking over the movement and squeezing your breast like icing bag, bringing your nipple back down to his lips as he milks more of your love into his mouth.

- - - -

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Deathless Death

Pairing: Osferth x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Religious guilt. Smut. Fingering. Slight exhibitionism. Oral (f receiving). Gratuitous Hozier references. Word count: 3.5k

Summary: When a young woman's father is killed following Skade's attack on the priests of Alton, Osferth agrees to take responsibility for her, feeling a need to protect a fellow Christian. However, the longer they travel together the deeper they have each other questioning their faith. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The Lord works in mysterious ways. This is a belief that Osferth has always clung firmly to, it is the only way he can justify his existence; the result of a union between a serving girl and a deeply religious king who, so embarrassed by his extramarital indiscretion, had ensured that Osferth was enrolled as a novice monk as soon as he was old enough, and refused to ever acknowledge him as his son.

Osferth is a bastard, yet he must have a purpose, for God does not give life without intent. He feels he has found his reason for being when he crosses paths with Uhtred, a man his uncle, Leofric, had always spoken kindly of. He offers to serve Uhtred as a warrior, though he has no fighting experience. This is the divine path chosen for him, he is certain of it. He clutches the hilt of his sword as tightly as he often grips the cross that sits around his neck in times of anguish, and does his best to be brave in spite of how afraid he feels.

Reluctantly he learns the ways of ale and women, surprised when the Lord does not smite him down for his sins. He surmises that he has misinterpreted the teachings of the Holy Book; a life of piety does not have to mean an existence endured in abstinence. Though his faith in God never once falters, he grows to enjoy, and even seek out, the pleasures he’d once mistaken for temptations. They are not a means for him to stray from the light, but another outlet in which he can revere it and give thanks.

It is not until he reaches the village of Alton with Uhtred and his men that he discovers the true purpose of the journey he has embarked upon. A group of Danes with a seeress named Skade in their midst has attacked the village, killing all of its holy men.

That is where he finds her. Such a fragile looking thing, sobbing her heart out while huddled behind a vegetable cart, clutching her cross in much the same way he used to do with his.

“Don’t be afraid.” He reassures her calmly, crouching so his face is level with hers.

“Are you an angel?” She asks tearfully, her eyes wide and imploring.

Osferth cannot help but smile at that. For you I’d like to be.

With gentle persuasion, Uhtred agrees to allow Osferth to bring the girl along, provided he is responsible for her. He is all too happy to agree to that. Her mother is long dead and the attack on Alton has killed her father, she has no one else. He was meant to meet her, he feels it in his heart.

Naturally, she is fearful of the others, her only prior encounter with heathens had ended in the death of her only living relative and left her all alone in the world. She clings to Osferth, but he does not mind it. He sees a lot of himself in her, how scared he’d been when he’d first left the monastery to accompany Uhtred. But if she is anything like him, she is resilient and she will pull through this.

As the weeks pass, her face becomes less marred by fear and grief. She is beautiful, Osferth realises. He has been grateful to have someone to bow his head in prayer with, however, the way that she snuggles next to him for warmth in front of the campfire, how closely she leans back against his chest as they ride together and the proximity in which she lays her bed roll next to his no longer feel so innocent, at least not to him.

He feels ashamed for harbouring such illicit thoughts about her. Her piety makes him feel like he is the worst kind of sinner. She does not partake in ale and stays quiet when the rest of the group share lewd jokes. Where her prayers are earnest and heartfelt, his feel flimsy and disingenuous. He would renounce the Lord and worship her instead if she asked it of him. The idea makes his stones ache. When she shivers and huddles to him for warmth it occurs to him that he’d burn everything in his path if only for her to never feel cold again.

Guilt blooms heavily in his chest at the thoughts and feelings she elicits from him, especially when she looks at him, her eyes are always filled with gratitude and adoration. He has grown to crave her gaze, despite the fact that she will never view him as anything more than a protector.

When it becomes too much for him to bear, he seeks the comfort of the nearest brothel. With each thrust into the whore beneath him, he imagines her face, how those hands that fold so delicately in prayer would feel clinging to his shoulders, how soft and supple her flesh would be against the wiry hardness of his own. When he reaches his peak, picturing her, he comes harder than he ever has before in his life. It feels like he has died and approached the very gates of Heaven.

If that is how it feels merely to think about her, he wonders what it would be like to actually be inside of her. It would surely feel holy and sacred, a pleasure not meant for mere mortals. For the second time that night he craves her, and so he seeks out another woman offering her services in the pleasure house.

He pays them well, and he is not unkind to them. He is convinced that that is why they fight over him the next day. He is mortified, especially when he sees that she is watching. She will think him godless, sinful. He hopes that the Lord is merciful and does not intend for her to leave him. He sends a silent prayer of thanks when she remains by his side in the days that follow.

It is not until Uhtred, Sihtric and Finan pay a visit to Alfred, and leave Osferth and her back at camp that he realises they’ve never truly been alone together. He shifts uncomfortably on the log he sits upon, glancing up from the flames of the fire every so often at her, unsure of what to say. She eyes him curiously the entire time, the warmth from the fire and the sunny afternoon meaning she does not snuggle to him as she usually would. Secretly he is disappointed.

“Do you still believe in God?” She asks quietly.

Her gaze is timid and as Osferth turns to meet her eye, she looks to her lap as though ashamed to have asked.

“Of course I do, my lady,” He replies softly, smiling at her. He wants more than anything for her to look at him again, there is something reverent in the way she regards him that makes his chest swell and his cock twitch. He could die happily with a single glance his way from her. “My faith has never waivered.”

“You are not as devout as the people from back home.” Her fingers pinch and stroke over the fabric of her skirt as she says this, not looking up at him as he sits across from her.

“I used to be,” He admits with a slight shrug, wondering if she thinks less of him for his perceived lack of faith. “I suppose travelling with Uhtred has taught me that faith does not mean deprivation. The Lord made life for living.”

She nods, her voice barely above a whisper, as her eyes flicker to his. “Is that why you visit brothels, and why those women fight over you?”

He feels his cheeks heat up as she asks this, and suddenly it’s his turn to look away, embarrassed. He takes a moment to consider his reply, not wanting to sully her innocence with vulgarity, or say anything that might frighten her. “I was celibate when I was a monk…” He begins awkwardly. “I’m not anymore. Truthfully, partaking in the pleasures of the flesh feels like the closest experience to meeting God without dying.”

He knows he has turned pink all the way to the tips of his ears by the time he finishes speaking, he cannot bear to look at her for fear of what he might see in her eyes. She must think he is utterly depraved.

The moment of silence between them hangs thick and uncomfortable before she finally breaks it. “If that is why you are fought over…then I am eager to find out for myself.”

His head snaps up, his eyes wide, stunned and unsure of if he has heard correctly, it seems too forward a statement for such a pious little thing like her. However, her stare is steady and unwavering as it meets his, causing his breath to hitch. He hadn’t misheard her and she meant every word.

The cracking of a twig causes them to finally look away from each other, as they turn to see the others returning. He has never been displeased to see any of them before, but can’t help but wish they’d left it a little longer to come back.

Her words play on a loop in Osferth’s thoughts. I am eager to find out for myself. He frantically strokes himself to release that night, once more plagued by visions of her, the silkiness of her hair, her scent, the dulcet tone of her giggle. There is no sweeter innocence in his mind than the gentle sin that he shares with her.

There is a storm the following evening. Though they are camped beneath a thatch of trees, protected from the worst of the downpour, it does little to block out the boom of the thunder and the crackle of lightning. She whimpers at every crash, clearly frightened, and Osferth’s heart aches for her. He’d do anything to make sure the expression of fear and sadness she wore for the first few weeks they traveled together never returns.

He pulls her tight to him, wrapping the furs around them both as they sit around the fire with the others. They don’t bat an eye at the familiarity between the two, understanding of the fact that she finds comfort in a fellow Christian’s presence and that Osferth is simply offering kindness to someone in need of it.

She melts into his embrace and he allows his hands to wander over her beneath the furs, tracing the curves of her through her dress. He has never dared to touch her like this before and she looks up at him questioningly, though makes no move to stop him.

Emboldened by her silent consent, he strokes her hair with his free hand, while allowing the other to push up her skirt. She gasps at this and buries her face in his chest. He holds her tighter while Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric continue their conversation, all assuming she is just startled by the storm that rages above them.

Her inner thighs are velvety smooth as his fingertips trace over the flesh of them. Not even angel’s wings feel as divine as this, he thinks. As the pads of his digits make contact with the gusset of her smallclothes he draws in a shaky inhale at finding that it is damp with her arousal. It darkens the desire within him to have confirmation that she is just as affected by him as he is by her, and he pushes her underclothes to the side, stroking through the slickness of her folds.

She shudders against him, her breathing growing heavier and he quietly shushes her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. He looks up to see Finan give him a sympathetic smile, clearly assuming Osferth is comforting her, before he is distracted by Uhtred swatting him softly with the back of his hand in order to gain back his attention.

Osferth looks back down at her, she is peeking up at him from where her head rests against his chest and in the flicker of the firelight he can see that her pupils are wide with lust. It is a look he has seen on the faces of many of the women within the pleasure houses he’s visited over the years. To see it burning bright within the eyes of someone so pure is enough to drive him to madness with the desire it awakens within him.

Shielded from view beneath the furs, he circles her pearl with precision, silently delighting in the way she clutches at his robes and bucks slightly up at his hand. He feels she’s growing close when her body tenses against his and she stares up at him, worry evident in how her brows pinch together. Poor thing has never peaked before.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs, coaxing her to let go.

He cradles her head to his chest as she trembles and gasps against him, before finally going limp. Osferth withdraws his hand, allowing her to slump sleepily against him, smiling softly down at her as her eyes drift closed.

He knows in that moment that she will be both his salvation and his damnation, and he welcomes both with open arms.

It is another week before they are left alone together, and life carries on as normal. They do not speak of what happened beneath the furs on the night of the storm, despite the fact that it’s all Osferth can think about.

The others head away from camp one evening to scout the locations of a possible attack from the Danes. It is too dangerous for her to come along, so Osferth remains behind so she is not left alone. This time she seats herself next to him, and he feels his mouth run dry, heart hammering in his chest as he struggles to think of what to say to her.

He startles when she places her hand on his. “You are right,” She says with a shy smile. “It felt…like something divine…when you touched me.”

Osferth swallows thickly. “You liked it?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but desperate to hear her say it.

She nods, chewing her lip nervously. “I did. Does that make me a sinner?”

His eyes widen in mild horror that she could ever consider herself such. “No, that is something you could never be.”

“I am not repentant though,” She muses, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I have thought of nothing else.”

“That is only natural.” He tells her, suddenly aware of how close their faces are, noses almost brushing. His gaze flits to her lips momentarily. Osferth has never kissed a woman before, though he has fucked plenty; the ones he exchanges coin with do not allow such intimate gestures. He desperately wants to kiss her though.

He is surprised by her boldness when she leans in first. It is a quick peck to his lips, which she rapidly withdraws from, looking sheepish. He cups her cheek, coaxing her back and presses his mouth to hers with more pressure. She softens against the movement and for a moment it feels as though time has stopped for Osferth. There is only her. It is a kiss riddled with youthful inexperience and yet he does not think there has ever been anything better.

“Will you…” She mutters against his lips, clearly uneasy with attempting to ask for what she wants.

“Touch you?” He finishes for her.

“Yes,” She whispers, “I want to feel…” She places a hand over her face, giggling. “I have never laid with a man before. I do not know what to ask for.”

“It’s okay.” He reassures her. “I understand.” Osferth coaxes her to sit on his lap as she had the night of the storm, only this time there are no furs to cover them, and he rucks her skirt up around her hips, rather than slipping his hand beneath it.

“Take these off for me.” He says, plucking at her smallclothes.

She does as he instructs and he pulls her tight against him, her back flush with his chest as his arm snakes around her waist, dipping his hand between her legs. She is wet already and he cannot help the groan that escapes him as his fingers make contact with her core.

He circles her bud slowly and she clamps her mouth shut, cutting off the mewl that threatens to spill forth.

“You don’t have to be quiet this time.” He tells her, as she turns her face into his neck, her breath coming in hot puffs against his skin.

Tentatively he dips a finger into her entrance, conscious of the fact that she has never had anything inside of her before - the thought that he is the first makes him swell painfully hard against her rear as it presses back into his lap. Her grip on his digit as he inserts it is vice-like and he wonders how she’d feel squeezing around the length of him, if she ever allows him to take things that far.

He sets a steady rhythm of dragging his finger against a rough patch inside of her that causes sounds that are prettier than any of the songs he’s heard at æfensang to spill forth from her, while circling her pearl with his thumb.

She squirms against him, her arm reaching above and behind her to wrap around his neck, her fingers scrabble desperately at the back of his robes. Her jaw is slack, her eyes glassy and Osferth believes that if the Heavens could speak then her wanton cries of pleasure would be their mouthpiece.

She falls apart with a violent shudder, clenching ceaselessly around his finger and he withdraws it slowly as she begins to calm, continuing to hold her close. Though he is pleased to have brought her to peak, he feels disappointed that the moment is over so soon. He wants, needs, longer to enjoy her.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispers to her, pressing his face to her hair. “Will you allow me to taste you?”

“Taste me?” She asks, confusion etched across her pretty features. “I do not know what you mean.”

“I will show you.” He tells her, ushering her off of him and laying down. “Come here.”

There is no question in Osferth’s mind that he would ever allow her to lay upon the ground, she is too good for that. He will gladly let her sit atop him so that she never has to experience that indignity or discomfort.

He guides her to straddle him, pushing her upwards towards his face, but she falters.

“Osferth, I’ll crush you!” She protests, hovering above him.

“You won’t, my lady.” He tells her with a soft chuckle, tugging insistently at her thighs.

She relents, hovering over his face. “What are you going to…oh!”

He cuts her off, gripping her outer thighs and runs the flat of his tongue against her centre. He can taste the remnants of her previous climax and hums at the sensation. She is sweeter than honeyed wine, an essence so pure it must be holy.

Tugging her flush against his face he laps at her like a man starved, sucking harshly against her pearl, before licking hungrily through the slick that gathers as she whines and writhes above him. If there is a Heaven then he has found it between her thighs and never wants to leave.

He strains painfully against his breeches beneath his robes as she begins to lose control, grinding against each flick of his tongue. He knows she will not last long, already sensitive from his earlier attention and so he savours each moment; her taste, her scent, the feel of her against his mouth and how she moves against him. She is a vision of beauty beyond comprehension as she sits astride him, thread thrown back, moans of ecstasy offered up to the night sky.

She was created in the image of all things good and pure, and his journey so far has led him to her; she is made for him, of this he is certain as she reaches the apex of her pleasure. He swallows down her release like it’s communion wine. In her gratification he is cleansed, reborn.

Osferth lays her down carefully on her bed roll afterwards, covering her body with his own. She appears almost drunk as she gazes up at him, eyes heavy lidded with a soft smile upon her lips.

“My sweet girl,” He coos to her, softly stroking her face. “Can you take more? Will you let me inside?”

As she opens her mouth to answer, the raucous laughter of Finan can be heard in the near distance. The group is returning.

Osferth moves quickly away from her, laying down on his own sleeping mat, watching her as her eyes flutter closed. He hopes she will dream of him. He hopes they will have further opportunities to explore each other. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and she is the most precious mystery he has yet to encounter.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Stolen Fruits

warnings: 18+! suggestive/fluff

pairing: Sihtric x fem!reader

summary: A strange man kept stealing from your lands.

word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.

Thank you to @foxyanon & @sihtricsafin for everything, I'd like to dedicate this one to you two.

Spring had been good this year, for the Gods had been kind. Your lands had flourished during the soft and sunny period, resulting in an abundance of vegetables and fruits. You made some good coin with a successful harvest, and this year was looking promising. You already earned a fair amount by selling fruits all year round, from sweet apples to perfectly sized strawberries, everyone knew you had some of the best in the country and even the royal families wanted a piece of it. Loads of money had been offered by various men to buy your lands, but you always declined the offers. You loved being a successful lady, especially since most ladies weren't as lucky as you to be in control of their own money and workload, so never would you even consider selling your business to a wealthy man.

It was now the middle of summer and the fruits you had in stock to sell to the townsfolk were all sold out already, meaning you had money aplenty and could take it easy until it was time to harvest the crops to sell later in the year. Therefore you now simply enjoyed the warm days and short nights, making all kinds of delicious treats with the fruits you had kept for yourself. Well, for yourself and for your livestock. You had a herd of goats, sheeps and chickens that provided you with milk, eggs and also some company, as life on a farm at the outskirts of town could get a little lonely. You also owned a beautiful white horse named Tristis, who was an important part of your trade as the horse was strong and well taken care of so he could pull the carriage full of fruits and vegetables when you travelled to sell to the towns and villages that surrounded yours.

Your day started just like every day. You woke up, had some tea and breakfast, then went to feed the animals, did a routine check of your lands on horseback, and after that your day was just you doing whatever you wanted or what needed to be done in or around your cottage. You noticed nothing odd during your routine check, and you ended up tidying the living area in your home. And it was only when you stepped outside, to rid your floor of the swept up dust and sand, that you suddenly saw movement near your apple trees. You quickly hid behind the greenery that surrounded your cottage, pushing the thick leaves slightly aside to spy on the thief who was shamelessly picking apples from your garden. There was quite some distance between you and where the apple trees flourished, but you could see enough to make out that it was a savage looking man greedily collecting your fruits. You sighed, for it wasn't uncommon that a peasant came looking for some food, and by the way the man's hair was looking wild and how he was fast to devour an apple, you figured the poor soul was just hungry.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you decided to not chase him away but continued to keep an eye on him. And it wasn't until the stranger suddenly neared your goats that you became alarmed, as the savage pulled a knife from his belt as he approached the bleating herd. You held your breath and clenched your fists around the broom you still held, but just as you wanted to jump out from the bushes and chase him away, you saw how he cut an apple in several small pieces and fed them to your animals while giving some a pat on their heads. You exhaled with relief and then watched how the man walked off your lands, seemingly oblivious of your presence, and he disappeared into the forest.

The next morning you found tracks in the sand from the man who had helped himself to your apples the day before. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered how alarmed you became when he had unsheathed his knife, only to be a kind stranger and fall for the begging eyes of your livestock. You couldn't blame the savage, who seemed to have a soft heart, for you always fell for the trickery or your own animals too.

Hours later, when you were baking bread with apples and cherries inside, you looked out of your kitchen window and felt your jaw drop when you saw the savage had returned. Completely frozen you watched how he stole apples again, even more than the day before, and you were absolutely baffled by the nerve of this man. You huffed in anger and wanted to storm outside, chasing him away this time as your lands were not a free for all feast, but when your eyes landed on the battle axe the man had attached to his belt, you decided it was probably safer to not confront him. At least, not confronting him by storming towards him while waving a broom angrily and ordering him to leave at once. 

You managed to get a better look at him now, as the man became more bold and even wandered further upon your lands, seemingly out of curiosity or perhaps wanting to find out what else he could steal. You saw how he was well built and, surprisingly enough, looking quite well taken care of for a savage. In fact, it was only his wild haircut that made him look like a savage, his dark and wavy locks falling upon his shoulders while his facial hair seemed well kept from a distance, and it seemed he wore leather armour, and not the cheap kind either. 

You kept an eye on the man as you became concerned of his motives, because why was he on your land two days in a row? Was he one of the men who had offered money to buy your fertile ground and couldn't handle the fact he was rejected? Was he here to spy in order to find a way to steal your land? All kinds of thoughts went through your head while the man seemed rather unbothered, and you saw how he made his way to the animals again, giving them a few pats on their heads and sharing the stolen fruits with them, just like the day before. And just when you thought he was to leave, he suddenly turned to face your cottage and locked eyes with you as you still stood there looking out your window, and he gave you a curt nod before he turned on his heels and disappeared once again into the forest.

You felt the heat on your face after the man had left, and you couldn't forget the way he had looked at you for the remainder of your day… and night.

The unknown man, who you now called "the handsome stranger" after you had gotten a better look at him the previous afternoon, kept returning to your lands to eat some of your apples and to seek the company of your animals. After a few days you became less wary and trusted the man did not have any bad intentions. You weren't happy about the fact he still stole your fruits, but the weaponry attached to his leather belt kept you from telling him off. As the weeks progressed you kind of became fond of the brief eye contact you had with him daily, at a safe distance, while leaving each other alone for the rest of the time as he wandered around your lands, and even your animals became used to him visiting and enjoying a delicious treat with him day after day.

The weather had always been nice since the handsome stranger came around, but today the rain was pouring down, for autumn had officially arrived. Your crops were harvested and you were making yourself some delicious pumpkin soup, which would keep you warm and fed through the rainy and windy season ahead of you. And when you noticed the handsome stranger still came around that gloomy day, all soaked and visibly shivering while he made his way to your apple trees, you felt for the man and made a bold move.

'E-excuse me?' you called out from your doorstep.

The man looked back over his shoulder, his long and wet hair sticking to his clearly confused face while the rain poured down on him, soaking the thick fur cloak that was draped over his shoulders.

'Lady?' he called back out, a little hesitant.

'Would you,' you suddenly paused and became unsure, but then found your courage again, 'would you like to come in for some warm soup?'

The man pondered about your offer for a moment, and then gave you that curt nod he gave you every day before leaving your lands. Except this time he didn't step off your lands, this time he stepped into your home.

There was an awkward silence when he sat down while you hung his cloak next to the fire that burned in the hearth, and you put his drenched boots in front of flames so they could dry quickly. You hadn't forgotten about his axe and that knife he seemed to carry with him at all times, but to your surprise he had taken off his belt and left his weapons at the door, showing you he meant no harm. And the only scare he gave you was when he suddenly spoke as you brought him your homemade soup.

'Thank you, lady,' he said, his voice was warm, just like that summer day on which you had very first seen him, 'my name is Sihtric,' he continued.

'Sihtric,' you repeated with a light blush, and then proceeded to introduce yourself as you took a seat across the table.

You observed him while he enjoyed your soup, and you were quickly drawn to his charm and his rugged look. His scars didn't make him any less handsome, and his mismatched eyes were easy to get lost in. And Sihtric eventually told you he was from Dunholm and scouting nearby lands, after you had asked him why he came around every day at the same time.

'But the lands are not at war?' you frowned, 'what use is there for scouting the lands if there are no enemies?'

'I'm afraid it is an old habit,' the Dane smiled softly and looked away from you, as if somewhat ashamed, 'it keeps me busy. I stumbled upon your land some time ago and,' he stopped talking as he wasn't sure if he should confess his theft, even though he figured you surely had been aware.

'And?' you asked, aware of what he was thinking, and you tried to suppress your grin while you waited for him to answer.

'And… I… would like to apologise for stealing your apples, my lady,' Sihtric said with a blush on his cheeks, 'I will compensate you for it, I promise. Tell me how much you need,' he said and reached for the pouch he kept hidden under his tunic.

'How much I need?' you asked, confused and mildly offended while Sihtric counted his coins, 'I don't need anything.'

'My lady?' the apparently self proclaimed Lord of Dunholm looked up at you, bewildered.

'I am wealthy,' you said with pride, holding your chin up high, 'I do not need the coins of a man who steals out of habit.'

'I did not steal out of habit,' Sihtric retorted as politely as he could while he shoved the pouch underneath his tunic again.

'Are you sure about that, Lord?' you grinned.

'You dare to doubt my word, my lady?' he questioned, failing to hide his own grin now as he leaned in on the table.

'I wouldn't dare to doubt the word of a man who is clearly in need of a battle,' you taunted, 'or at least in need of a good brawl at the alehouse.'

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak but he had no comeback to your remark, so he licked his lips and smiled slyly before he finished the soup. He thanked you quickly afterwards and said he should get going again, and after he had stepped off your land and you cleaned up the table, you found he had left you some money which covered far more than the apples he had stolen.

The weather during the days after your first conversation with Sihtric continued to be grey and wet, and so it became a routine for him to stop by and have some of your delicious homemade meals as he needed a moment to warm up again. And where he first took his leave immediately after having devoured your food, he began to stay a little longer as he enjoyed your company and the warmth of your cosy home. The fact that you were a blessing to his eyes also made it all the more tempting to stay longer, so he could get to know more about you. You started to trust each other over time, you even felt comfortable around Sihtric while he had access to his weapons as one day he forgot to take off his belt at the door, and ever since that moment you both felt you could open up more about your struggles, but also about the happier moments you had experienced in your lives.

Sihtric was impressed with the trade you had built for yourself and the money you owned, but he was even more impressed with your talent for making the most appetising foods he had ever seen and tasted. You never charged him for your meals, which Sihtric appreciated, but it didn't take long before he started to ask if he could perhaps help you out with certain tasks as a way to thank you. As independent as you were, you wouldn't deny the help of a strong man when offered, so you made good use of him and had him fix up the barn in which you kept your livestock, and he also fixed a leak in the roof of your cottage. You became fond of each other and, after it happened a few times, you were convinced that the way he looked at you and the occasional light brush of his fingers against your skin wasn't entirely meaningless.

And your gut feeling would be confirmed only a few days later after you had started to fantasise about him at night. You began to long for his visits, missing his voice and his scent whenever he left your home to continue his day, and you were ashamed that it made you break things on purpose, just so you can ask him to fix it and have him around a little longer.

Neither of you had never said the words, but you both knew that the lives you lived separately had been rather lonely as of late, despite the riches you both possessed. Wealth couldn't silence the way you yearned for each other, and when another rainy afternoon came around, you both couldn't resist each other anymore.

Sihtric knocked on your door, soaked through and through due to the rain, and as soon as your eyes met his you knew this afternoon would be different. His face was bruised, as he had finally caused a fight with a stranger he encountered as he scouted the lands, before he had made his way to you.

And the tension in your home was thick once he stepped inside and kicked off his boots, which you placed in front of the fire before he handed you his heavy cloak to hang so it could dry too. You hung the beautiful fur next to the fire and then turned around, finding Sihtric towering over you while drops of water trickled down his face and from his long hair. His breathing sounded unsteady while he was usually a wave of calmness, and his hands trembled lightly as he began to take off his leather belt. You both didn't say a word as your eyes remained locked while he dropped the heavy leather with weapons on the floor. His cold hands then began to work his tunic, pulling it off and leaving him in front of you in only his breeches as he threw the wet attire next to his belt. You reached out to cup his bruised cheek and you gave him a saddened look, but Sihtric also caught the faint hint of a smile on your face, which told him you were accepting of his sometimes impulsive and reckless nature. 

You then took a step back and stared at his impressive body while he took off his necklace, leaving his damp hair looking even wilder than before. And after you both heard the dull thump of his necklace falling onto your floor, his tattooed hands suddenly reached for your face while you grabbed onto his broad shoulders, and you crashed into a steamy and passionate kiss while the fire crackled behind you and the rain tapped on your windows.

You both gasped with need when the kiss was broken as you pulled Sihtric down on the floor with you, and your lips attacked his neck and shoulders while he impatiently pulled at the laces at the front of your dress. You felt his hot and ragged breaths on your parted lips, sneaking into your mouth before he let out a desperate whine and pulled you closer with his hand on the back of your neck, kissing you deeply until your lips felt bruised. 

He loved the way you tasted and how your warm skin felt against his own damp and cold body once he had rid you of your dress. You kissed desperately while you straddled him, and moans of relief sounded from you both when you finally sank down on his length, feeling him inside you the way you had been longing for all this time already. His hands warmed as he caressed your body while you placed your hands on his chest, riding him slowly and relishing the feeling of being together like this for the first time. You made love and kissed each other everywhere possible until you both felt that sweet release.

He then pulled his already dried and warmed up cloak over you both while you laid in front of the fire, holding each other while you shared some of the apple pie you had baked, stealing kisses from each other in between each bite. And when you looked up into his love dazed eyes, you both knew you'd never feel lonely again after this day.

Because Sihtric hadn't only stolen the fruits of your land, he had also stolen your heart.

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama

@lexeirikrleif @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a

@verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777

@urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50

@hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305

@carnationworld @justanother-sihtricgirlie @stark-head @reidsbookstore @thenameswinter99

@deathbluestar113 @ladyinred2248 @zaldritzosrose @legitalicat @maryelle-cats @penumbrie

@solinarimoon @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @yungpoetfics @stupiddarkkside @sleepjam @ewanmitchellfanatic @itbmojojoejo @lady-targaryens-world

if you want to be added to/deleted from the taglist, message me 🖤

[aemonds-wifey]

Masterlist

🔵Aemond Targaryen🔵

The Dragon & The Wolf 🐲💚🐺

[Inspired by the song: Way Down We Go- Kaleo]

Aemond x Fem! Reader

Childhood Part 1 Childhood pt 2 Childhood pt 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Chapter 11 Chapter 12 (📝) Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

One shots for this series ⬆️

The first Kiss

A Balm (idea by @moonchildrenandflowercrowns )

A Gift (requested by @moonchildrenandflowercrowns )

A very lazy Morning

A Hot Soak

The Past

The moment I Knew (📝)

Home (Part 1)

Home (Part 2)

A lullaby

A disobedient son

A Precious Language

A family Dinner

🟣Osferth🟣

The Warrior & The Monk ✝️💙⚔️

[Inspired by the song : Fire On Fire - Sam Smith]

Osferth x Fem! Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Epilogue

One shots for this series ⬆️

An offer of Everything

The Surprise

Away for Too Long

A Baby Monk No More

An eventful Gathering

The Nightmare

Where it All Began (📝)

🟠Tom Bennett🟠

An unexpected Summer Meeting 🌸☀️⛵️

{Inspired by the Song: A Beautiful Dream - George Ezra}

Tom Bennett x Fem! Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

One Shots For This Series ⬆️

In Every Life time

Regency Ewan Mitchel x Fem reader!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

TAGS

@schniiipsel @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @namoreno @nolongereviliwantlove @talesofoldandnew @yentroucnagol @arcielee @bbyaemond @bcon24 @lauraneedstochill @polkadotsocks1993 @motley-baby @sscreamingbanshee @tssf-imagines @actualhawkesworld @avidreader73

[nebbyy]

Hello everyone, new writer here!!

I have some writing ideas in mind but I thought it'd be wiser to start off by writing what you guys want to read first then I might elaborate the projects I already have in mind.

GENERAL INFOS:

Except for headcanons, most of my fics will be inspired by paintings and songs, which I will put either as a pic or link to the song into the post :))

English isn't my first language so please be kind with me if I make any mistakes (which will happen for sure)

I probably won't write for a male!reader, not because I'm against the idea but simply because I've never done it before and I fear it wouldn't come out as good as with a female or non-binary reader. That being said, I still might try it out in the future if it's something that many of you want

Keep in mind that I'm still studying so I might not be always able to post the same day someone sends a request, but I'll try to write my fics in no more than 3 days after the commission

If any fic I write contains spoilers from the book/series/movie THERE WILL BE A WARNING so that I don't ruin anything to anyone🤗

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR:

The Arcana

Harry Potter

Game of Thrones (all series and books)

Kingdom of Heaven

Percy Jackson (the whole universe)

Attack on Titan

Death Note

Avatar the Last Airbender

Lord of the Rings

Avatar (the one with hot blue aliens)

If you want fics from other fandoms you can still ask me and I'll do some research on it so that I can make something, but it will take more time ofc

THINGS I WON'T DO (smut related):

Anything revolving a lack of consent, so no noncon, dubcon, cnc,...

Pedophilia and zoophilia (ew)

Any naughty actions related to any sort of bodily discharge (period excluded)

Any butt stuff related activities, no shame in who likes it at all but it's something that I just don't like personally and wouldn't be comfortable writing

I think that is all you guys need to know for now, once I'll get enough fics done I'll add the masterlist in this post too so you guys can see if my writing is of your liking.

Byeeee hope I'll see you in the requests!!!!

[ijustreallylikepirates]

A list if my fictional crushes (nobody cares but this is a tad bit long 👀)

Hector from Coco

Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender

Sokka from Avatar the Last Airbender

Ozai from Avatar the Last Airbender

Bolin from Legend of Korra

Eska from Legend of Korra

Huan from Legend of Korra

Nathaniel from Miraculous Ladybug

Marc from Miraculous Ladybug

Luka from Miraculous Ladybug

Sea Hawk from She-Ra

Horde Prime from She-Ra

Hunter from The Owl House

Raine from The Owl House

Darius from The Owl House

Callum from The Dragon Prince

Runaan from The Dragon Prince

Ethari from The Dragon Prince

Aaravos from The Dragon Prince

Gren from The Dragon Prince

King Harrow from The Dragon Prince

Terry from The Dragon Prince

Corvus from The Dragon Prince

Carmen Sandiego from Carmen Sandiego

Shadowsan from Carmen Sandiego

Devineaux from Carmen Sandiego

Gray from Carmen Sandiego

Dash Haber from Carmen Sandiego

Le Chèrve from Carmen Sandiego

El Topo from Carmen Sandiego

Mime Bomb from Carmen Sandiego

Ollie from The Ghost and Molly McGee

Dark Cacao Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Pure Vanilla Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Clotted Cream Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Stardust Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Capsaicin Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Eclair Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Dark Choco Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Crunchy Chip Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Red Velvet Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Wildberry Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Affogato Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Lilac Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Herb Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Royal Margarine Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Rockstar Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Burnt Cheese Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Smoked Cheese Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Espresso Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Prune Juice Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Werewolf Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Mint Choco Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Vampire Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Crème Brûlée Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Licorice Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Sparkling Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Mercurial Knight Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Adventurer Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Gumball Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Clover Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Camilo from Encanto

Bruno from Encanto

Augustin from Encanto

Daring from Ever After High

Sparrow from Ever After High

Alistair from Ever After High

Sundrop from Five Nights at Freddy’s

Robaire from Turning Red

Pink Lars from Steven Universe

Ford from Gravity Falls

Eddie from Stranger Things

Cody from Total Drama

Dave from Total Drama

Geoff from Total Drama

Jacques from Total Drama

Noah from Total Drama

Shawn from Total Drama

Raoul from A Monster In Paris

Harry from Harry Potter

Ron from Harry Potter

Neville from Harry Potter

Sirius from Harry Potter

Lupin from Harry Potter

Bill from Harry Potter

Gilderoy from Harry Potter

Percy from Percy Jackson

Grover from Percy Jackson

Leo from Heroes of Olympus

Nico from Percy Jackson

Will from Percy Jackson

Apollo from Percy Jackson

Hades from Percy Jackson

Alec from Disventure Camp

Nick from Disventure Camp

Nick from Heartstopper

Charlie from Heartstopper

Tao from Heartstopper

Aled from Heartstopper

Madmartigan from Willow

Wally from Welcome Home

Eddie from Welcome Home

Howdy from Welcome Home

Finn from Adventure Time

Simon from Adventure Time

Marshall Lee from Fionna and Cake

Gary from Fionna and Cake

Ambrosius from Nimona

Ballister from Nimona

P.T. Barnum from The Greatest Showman

The Other Father from Coraline

Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean

Will from Pirates of the Caribbean

Professor Rocket from Crashbox

Jumpin’ Johnnie Jumble from Crashbox

Sketch from Crashbox

Anyways, I’m done yapping. Just a disclaimer so that people don’t get mad or anything, I’m not sexualizing any of these characters. Also for people wondering about the characters that are minors, I am also a minor.

I have a big obsession with fictional characters 😁

I love how most of these were scrunkly middle aged men and then there’s just two girls (Carmen Sandiego and Eska turned me gay for a minute)

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

EVENT POLL: 30-WOMAN ROYAL RUMBLE FOR FICTIONAL CHARACTERS TIME! (part 6)

[synintheraven]

Nothing I love more than a bunch of similar-looking screenshots lol

Also yeah more Ragnar because I made too many edits and need to post them okay look at this handsome Dane

[i-am-trans-gwender]

Last Airbender fun fact told through a Pulp Fiction parody

VINCENT: You know what the funniest thing about the UK is?

JULES: What?

VINCENT: It’s the little differences. A lotta the same shit we got here, they got there, but there they’re a little different.

JULES: Examples?

VINCENT: Well, in London, you can get fish and chips at a pub. And I don’t mean just any pub, either. They give you mushy peas with it, like it's a side dish. In the UK, you can take a double-decker bus tour of the city. Also, you know what they call Avatar The Last Airbender in the UK?

JULES: They don’t call it Avatar The Last Airbender in the UK?

VINCENT: No, because 'bender' is derogatory slang for homosexuals over there, they can't say that in a kids show.

JULES: What’d they call it?

VINCENT: Avatar: The Legend of Aang.

JULES: Avatar: The Legend of Aang. What'd they call Legend Of Korra?

VINCENT: Legend Of Korra is Legend Of Korra, but they say it like "Laygund O Korrah".

[incompletemelody]

the problem with getting into a show after it’s all dropped is irrecoverably shipping a couple that didn’t get enough screen time and needing a spin-off for them asap

[pedge-page]

You Please, My Pleasure

Sub! Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Mommy kink, cowgirl/riding, orgasm denial, over stimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm control, reader’s hand makes a pretty necklace for Joel, themes of free use, objectification, praising words for Joel (sweet boy, etc), bitty breeding kink at end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You sat In a community table at the cafeteria, over hearing a group of other women chattering about the men they'd been eying up:

"You seen that Joel Miller around?"

"Oh, he's hot as hell. I dont care how old he is."

"So protective, and strong, and firm. Jesus just look at him those broad, muscled shoulders and back. Bet he's a wild night."

"Shhh!"

"Im serious! The lucky girls he's probably pleasing..."

'Did you you hear he's apparently great with a gun."

He could ram his big gun in me any day."

"Shut up Claire! Oh my god."

"I just know it. Bet he could make you ache for days. Half the men here wouldn't compare to a guy like Joel in bed. I just have my own fingers to keep me barely satisfied, dreaming about a hunk like that."

"What about you?"

You hear your own named piped up, apparently leaning too far in to their conversation and now finding yourself included.

"Oh." You glance at the clock behind them, realizing you had to get back to your house instead of listening to the lady gossip of the town. "Luckily I just have my own toy to come home to..." and you escuse yourself with a gentle smile.

-

There was something beautiful about watching a strong, built, capable man like Joel Miller absolutely fall apart under you. The way his high pitched moans bounce within the confines of your bedroom, not one secret of his confessions ever leaving the safety of these four walls. His flush skin adorned in bright claw marks, almost a way of claiming him under those rugged clothes. His stomach tensing then releasing with each breathy pant, eyes rolling as he tries to hold on to the little control he has over his orgasms.

An unearthly sight. Just for you.

“Ah—ahh fuck!” He cries. Joel’s hips crash up against yours, shaking as he concentrates on starving off his orgasm.

You slow the rocking of your hips to gentle glides, your palm caressing the stubble of his cheek. “Shhhhhh, I know. I know. You’re bein’ so good tonight, baby.”

He nods with furrowed brows, eyes closed and head thrown back into the soft white pillow. His beautiful brown curls splayed out on the satin case like a god. “I’m—I’m bein’ so good,” he repeats, swallowing the lump in his throat as he feels himself regaining composure over the tight coil wound in his stomach.

“That’s right. That’s my good boy,” you praise. 

You start a slow rhythm again, softly bouncing on his thick cock that’s been teetering on the edge for an hour now, buried snugly in your suffocating pussy. 

“Good boy,” you coo again. “Mommy never leaves your aching cock neglected, huh? Let you live in my warm sopping pussy all day and night.”

“mmmm—yeah—yes Ma’am. Treatin’ me—s’good.”

You’ve trapped his body, your knees caging him between your legs. You can feel the tense quivers in his spread thighs, unable to do much as your ankles have wrapped back over the meat of them, pinning him below you. He can’t fuck up, can’t squirm. If he wanted to throw you off him, there’s no doubt the immense strength in him could. But he doesn’t. 

His hands are on your waist reassuringly, only to remind himself that you’re still here, guiding him through it. He’s gotten so much better at not taking back control, relinquishing his mind, body, and soul to you.

You feel the steady twitch of him inside you, dragging so deliciously along your walls, taking full advantage of his girth pushing to the crest of your womb. “You’re the best cock I’ve ever cum on.”

“Hahhhh, oohhhhhgggghhhh, tha—oh f-fuck!—thank you—“ he can’t help the slight canter of his own pelvis rolling up into you, brushing his tip along your cervix. “Thank you, Mommy. I—You feel so good—I feel—feel amazing, sweetheart. J-Jesus fuck. Love—love your tight pussy—choking’ my cock. Usin’—usin’ me.”

“Yeah? You like being my fucktoy?” The hand on his face slow glides to his mouth, your thumb hooking on the side and tugging before letting it spring back to place. You then push your fingers around his thick throat, the other hand planting firmly on his plush chest to hold you up. You don’t crush his neck, only leave your touch there as a warning. You ass slams down harshly on his fat cock, making him hiss, encouraging the new rough fucking you’re giving him. The room fills with the obscene slapping of skin against skin as you ride him harder.

“Yeah—yeah! Ye—ah fuck—fuck yes!” He croaks, teeth gritting as he stares you down with hooded eyes. “I l-love bein’ your little fuck stick. Comin’ home n’ fuckin’ me, fuckmefuckmefuckme!—turning’ me into y-your personal dildo. FUckMommy, yeah!”

His tongue sticks out, smiling hazily as his neck arches, head thrown further back, pushing him into your touch. He looked so fucking pretty wrapped around your fingers.

He doesn’t realize his hands have grasped at your breasts, squeezing them in his big hands. 

“Look at me,” you command, breathless yet still pulling your authoritative voice over him. His head snaps back, watching the way your body glistens on top of him with each bounce. Your hips were practically flush together, grinding down on him with precision. “Did I say you could touch my tits?”

He retracts his hands immediately, returning to their rightful place on your hips. “N-No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry Mommy, please.”

You tighten your grip around his throat. “You live— for my pleasure.”

He lets out a guttural groan from deep within his chest. “Yeah—yeah fu—oh fuck, shit—yes Mommy! squeezing’ me so tight, m’just for you, all yours, want you to feel so fuckin’ good, mmmm—” He’s nodding quickly, little wailing growls growing louder as you crash your pussy down on his weeping length over and over again. His lips are parted, fast short breaths being forced out as he feels his pleasure climbing.

“That’s right,” you pant, lost in the prickling feeling of your clit snagging against his pubic hair, smothering your throbbing nub.

“Nnffmmmm—I’m—I’m gonna cum, Mommy. Please, please tell me I can cum,” he whines.

You stop your hips entirely, ignoring the way his face curls into anguish and cries out pathetically. His body is shaking violently under you with the denial.

 You laugh wickedly in his face. “No, nonono, sweet boy.” You let him continue to whimper and quiver below, his cock twitching between your folds. You lean down and grip his hair, kissing him with your tongue invading his lips like a serpent in a rabbits den. You suck his bottom lip before pressing your foreheads together, rolling into a slow, devastating grind that has him seizing in near pain under you.

“I still want more cock.” 

Joel elicits a small whimper, reducing himself to nodding again. You cup around his cheek once more, a loving, natural tone slipping out of you. “Can you do that for me?”

 “Y-yes. Yes.” He coughs obediently, voice strained beyond recognition. 

You sit back up, both of your hands digging into his chest and start riding him more aggressively again. “Fuck me like you want to give me more cock.”

He gasps out a pained yelp. Joel’s beefy fingers clench your sides, nails pinching into your lower back. His knees bent, feet planted wide apart digging into the mattress to thrust up into you. He fucks you with vigor, ignoring his own pleasure too rapidly building inside him again in exchange to watch your tits bounce, hear your gorgeous voice flood the air with each powerful ram. 

“Ugh—oh yeah, baby that’s it!” You cry, tilting your head up to the ceiling. “Fuck me, fuck me so good, baby!”

But his hips are rutting too high, too fast, breath coming out too shallow. “Oh—oh god, I’m gonna—Mommy fuck I can’t! I can’t stop, I’m gonna—!”

“Don’t you dare fucking cum, Joel,” you snap. Your pussy contracts around the width of his cock in a death grip, unable to stop the aggressive back and forth grind as you chase your orgasm.

He’s shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut as you start to cum around him. 

“Oh f-fuCK I can’t—ICAN’T!—I’m—FUCKfuck!—“ His balls draw tight as he releases thick spurts of his seed, load after load filling your convulsing cunt as he forces out harsh pants through clenched teeth—“Mommy I’m sorry! I’m cumming! I can’t stop—I can’t stop fuckin’ cummin—ohjesus I’M CUMMING.” He’s absolutely pouring buckets, each throb of his cock inside you pushes more cum deep into your convulsing womb. The two of you are moaning together in high tune, though his even more desperate, slightly pained after being denied all night.

You settle before he does, eerily quiet atop him as his staggered breaths and fluttering chest calms. When the fog in his mind clears, his eyes fly open, shame washing over him at what he’d done.

“M-Mommy I—“

But you don’t listen, slowly driving back down with his spent cock sloshing in and out of your drenched cunt.

“Ah!” He yells, fingers tightening around your waist in a plea to stop the overstimulation. You yank his wrists off of you and pin them above his head. With each rock of your hips, you feel his stomach tensing and releasing, unsure of the overburdening sensation you’re forcing on his poor dick.

“mmmfffff—nnoo, Mommy, No more, please!”

You still ignore him, rutting your ass back down on his dick now that it’s fully erected again. His seed spills down the base of his cock, wet slaps overlapping with his pathetic pants.

“AURRgghhHH!! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He begs. “I’m—Mommy—fuck—fuck I can’t!”

“You can and you will.” You state plainly, pace continuing without falter.

His shaking digits desperately try to collide with the death grip around his wrists. “Please, please, how can I make it up to you??”

You smile inwardly. The desperation in his hoarse yet sweet voice, his shaking limps both squirming away and subconsciously thrusting back up in to your tight heat, more, less, more, he’s so unsure of the overstimulation wracking his bones. You liked this Joel. You want to keep this Joel. 

And he knows. 

“We’re not done until you fuck a baby in me.”

- - - -

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Religious guilt. Canon-typical violence. Mild angst. Loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Part two of Deathless Death. Osferth has a crisis of conscience and faith, however, an attack on their party by the Danes makes him realise what's at stake. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

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

Osferth rouses slowly into wakefulness, blinking his eyes open. For a moment, his mind is blissfully silent, focusing only on the canopy of green leaves above and the chirping of the birds in the woodland that surrounds him and his travel companions.

That is until the memory of the previous evening floods back to him; the taste of her upon his tongue, her cries of pleasure that had echoed through the trees and up into the night sky. He can still feel the smoothness of her thighs beneath his fingertips, the way the softness of her flesh had yielded beneath his hands as she’d hovered above his face while he’d devoured her like a man starved.

His throat tightens at the thought, his cock stirring in his breeches. He turns on his bed roll to face her, expecting to see her peacefully sleeping next to him, just as she usually is, her features a vision of angelic beauty. However, the space beside him lays empty and his brow furrows in concern as he props himself up on his elbow to look around for her.

He spots her. She kneels at a fallen log, her hands clasped in prayer against it. The early morning sunlight filters through the branches casting the top of her head in golden light. She is the picture of innocence, truly angelic, and guilt and shame wash over Osferth in thick, hot waves. He would have sullied her upon the filthy forest floor, if the others had not come back and interrupted them. Worse still, she would have allowed him to. This pure, devout, impressionable girl had been a vessel for his lust. Seeing her as she is now, Osferth vows to keep his distance; he must do better by her, despite his yearning for her.

He is startled momentarily when she opens her eyes and looks directly at him, clearly having sensed his gaze upon her. Her smile is warm, making her eyes soften with fondness as she looks at him.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice gentle. Osferth will never have enough of that dulcet sound, it is sweeter than honeyed wine. “Will you join me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak and makes his way over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the log. It’s a deliberate choice, a need to place a physical barrier between the two of them so that he is not tempted to reach out for her, to feel her lips upon his once more.

If she is offended by his decision, she does not show it, lowering her head once more and closing her eyes. Osferth wonders what she prays for. Had she awoken this morning filled with regret for what they’d done and is now praying for God to cleanse her of her misdeeds?

Pressing his own hands together, he closes his eyes and bows his head.

Please, Lord, give me the strength to resist her. Do not allow me to sully her innocence with my sinful behaviour any more than I already have. Forgive her for transgressions, for she does not understand fully what she has done, and was led astray by my lust.

“First one awake’s meant to light the fire,” he hears Finan grumble sleepily in annoyance from a few feet away.

He sighs, standing and walking towards the pit that had been dug the day before. “Apologies, Finan, I’ll do it now.”

The rest of the morning passes peacefully. Uhtred’s talk of their travel plans serves as a welcome distraction, though he is unable to stop himself from glancing over at her. She looks at him with such adoration that it makes his heart squeeze. He is not worthy of basking in the affection of her gaze, yet he craves it all the same.

When it comes time to move on, she leans back against his chest as they ride, and it takes everything he has not to wrap his arms around her waist. His knuckles turn white from the intensity with which he keeps a hold of his horse’s reins, knowing that if he lets go his hands will be upon her in an instant.

She tucks herself against his chest as they bed down again that night and he is glad to wrap his arms loosely around her, keeping her close. He reasons he is simply keeping her warm, nothing more, until she looks up at him doe-eyed and expectant.

“Will you kiss me again?” She whispers into the darkness and he feels a pit open in his stomach.

“Not tonight, my lady”, he tells her quietly, “get some rest.”

He hates telling her no. The way her face crumples in disappointed sadness feels like a dagger to his chest, but it is for her own good. A kiss would lead to more and he cannot do that to her. He must control himself for the both of them.

She nuzzles into him, closing her eyes and he allows himself a moment to simply let his hands stroke through the silken strands of her hair, soft as angel’s wings.

He is thankful that the constant presence of Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric during the day prevents her from asking about the night he had tasted her. He can see it in her face each time she looks at him, longing in her eyes and questions on the tip of her tongue, but she’d never dare speak of it in company, so he always ensures they are never alone.

Come nightfall she clutches against his robes as they lay together, and he savours her closeness, her warmth, her scent, pretending his actions are a matter of duty that he derives no pleasure from.

She catches him off guard a few mornings later, excitement in her eyes as she approaches him.

“There is a river close by. I’d like to bathe. Will you join me?”

Osferth feels himself flush scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. The thought rivulets of water running down her skin, tracing the curves of her body, has him swallowing thickly in order to maintain his composure. But he cannot give in.

He picks up his sword, fastening it to his belt. “I will keep watch to ensure you are safe, my lady.”

Her gaze lowers, he can see he has disappointed her yet again and guilt gnaws at him. He detests that doing the right thing makes her so sad.

She turns and walks off in the direction of the riverbank, and he dutifully follows her. He has to physically force himself to turn away when she begins to undress. Never having seen her fully bare before, he is desperate to look, but knows he will not be able to control himself if he does.

In his peripheral vision he sees her form illuminated by sunlight as she steps from the bank and into the water. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and he glances quickly at her, seeing how her hands move through the water, over her hair and down her body. 

Looking quickly away, he wonders how someone so angelic can be such a temptress. He wants to protect her virtue, yet ravage her at the same time, and it seems she is attempting to lure the latter half of him out to play. She does not know the full weight of what she is asking, however, and Osferth could not live with himself if he laid with her, only for her to regret it.

He keeps his focus on the surrounding woodland, to make sure no one approaches or sees her as she is bathing. He does not look upon her again until she returns to him, dressed once more, her hair damp from the river.

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes and Osferth feels panic flutter in his chest. They are alone. They are alone, and she is going to ask him about what happened between them and he will not know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That he is a sinner? That he cannot control himself? That he swore to protect her and has taken advantage of her instead?

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks sadly.

The question hits him like a punch to the gut. How could she assume she is to blame for anything?

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “Was it not good…the other night? Have you decided you don’t want me after all?”

Her tone is filled with insecure hurt and Osferth feels as though he wants to cry. He had never meant to make her feel unwanted. If only she knew that she is everything he has ever wanted and everything he does not deserve simultaneously.

“Osferth?” Sihtric’s voice echoing through the trees interrupts them, as the crackle of branches heralds his approaching footsteps.

He turns to face the direction he is coming from, brows rising in concern as he sees the hardened look upon Sihtric’s face. This is serious.

“Get ready to go,” he tells them both. “We are being tracked by Harald’s men.”

Without thinking, Osferth grabs her hand, rushing her back to camp. They hurriedly pack away their belongings, kicking out the fire, before mounting up and moving on at speed.

She rests wordlessly against his chest, and he knows they will eventually need to continue their conversation from earlier, but right now his only focus is on keeping her safe. If he cannot do that then he has failed in his entire reason for taking her with him from Alton in the first place.

Their horses are brought to an abrupt halt, rearing up slightly when Danes ambush them in a clearing, surrounding them. Bile rises in Osferth’s throat, icy fingers of fear wrapping around his heart - not for himself, but for what may happen to her.

As Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric dismount, withdrawing their weapons, he leans forward whispering quickly to her. “Run. Run away and don’t look back. I will find you after.”

He feels her trembling like a leaf, and wishes he could do more to comfort her, but in this moment the best source of comfort is to protect her and, so as she flees, he jumps down from his horse and unsheathes his own weapon.

Osferth is not a masterful warrior, but travelling with Uhtred has sharpened his skills and he fights with more confidence than terror with each passing day. 

Allowing pure instinct and adrenaline ro guide his movements, he drives forward, slashing with his blade, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the wet, dull sounds of steel biting into flesh.

A sharp sting against his temple happens so quickly that he barely registers he is cut, until he feels the warm trickle of blood in his eye. He blinks it away in time to see Uhtred run through the Dane responsible for causing the injury.

He is panting, sweaty, sight in one eye reddened by ichor by the time they have cut down Harald’s men. Those not killed have fled, but any solace he feels is short lived as dread and regret spur him into action, he runs through the woods in search of her.

Stupid fool.

If he’d have known better, he’d have taken her and rode away, not left her to fend for herself. What if some of Harald’s men have come after her? What if she’s dead?

As Osferth races through the trees he can no longer tell if the warmth upon his cheeks is blood or tears, he simply knows he has to find her.

His heart soars, relief and exhilaration flooding through him when he spots her cowering in a thicket, fresh tears pricking his eyes.

She is safe.

He calls out to her and she raises her head, her eyes wide with fright, though she visibly relaxes when she sees him, stepping out from her hiding place.

His jaw clenches in anger when he sees the slash in the sleeve of her dress, a long, angry looking red gash adorns the flesh of her forearm.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

She shakes her head. “I caught myself on a low hanging branch when I ran away. It is my own clumsiness that is at fault, no one else.”

Reaching up, her fingers brush over the cut to his temple. “You are hurt…”

Osferth winces, though does his best to sound brave in spite of the pain. “It’s only a scratch. The fact that you are safe is all that matters to me.”

They stare at each other unblinking for a moment, her thumb tenderly wipes away the tears that have tracked down his cheeks. 

If they are not meant to be together then why would God deliver her safely back to him? They both could have died today and all he wants to do is kiss her.

Before he can second guess himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss as he feels her return the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close.

She is alive, they both are, and he has never felt more so than in this moment.

That night, they do not sleep upon the forest floor. Uhtred finds them lodgings at a village alehouse, stating they have all suffered enough for one day and deserve the comfort of a decent night’s rest.

Retreating upstairs, bellies filled with ale and stew, Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric pile into one room, leaving Osferth and her to the other. It is humble, simply furnished, with a small double bed.

Osferth’s pulse races, keeping his back to her as he removes the light leather armour from his wrists and chest, leaving himself in just his robes. They have never spent the night alone together like this before. What would she be expecting of him?

He lips part involuntarily as he turns back to see her dressed only in her cotton shift. She has removed her dress, and tended to the cut upon her arm. She is beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels himself redden with embarrassment as she looks up and smiles, clearly having caught him staring.

She squeezes water from a cloth into a basin, before turning back to him. “Here, let me,” she says, gesturing to the wound on his temple.

Osferth approaches her slowly, his breathing unsteady. He hisses lightly at the sting of it as she gently presses the dampened cloth to his injury.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, lightening her touch, and his chest tightens.

As if my forgiveness is something you would ever need to seek.

She dabs at his face, placing the cloth into the bowl several more times as she goes, wringing it out, until she is satisfied he is clean.

Dropping the cloth back into the bowl, she places her hands against his face. She regards him with such tenderness that he has to close his eyes, unable to stand the way it makes it feel as though his heart will burst out of his chest.

Her fingertips move lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, over his lips, chin and jaw. If this is what it feels like to be worshiped then the satisfaction God must experience is beyond gratification.

He gasps as he feels her lips press eagerly his once more and moves his mouth hungrily against hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and walking her back towards the bed.

Pushing her back, he hovers over his, his lips trailing a path down her neck to her collarbones, before kissing the rest of her body through her shift. Eagerly, he pushes the cotton above her hips, finding her wet and wanting, eager to be tasted again.

Osferth’s gaze flickers back up to her face. Her eyes are glossy and darkened by desire, her lips swollen with kisses and parted as she breathes heavily through them.

If he had died today, he is certain the grave he ended up in would not be enough to hold him back from crawling back to her, if only to see her like this. But in that same moment, he remembers the men he has killed today, his hands sullied by blood, lives ended by his hand.

He is unfit to touch her. He cannot besmirch her virtue with his uncleanliness.

He bows his head, exhaling sadly. “I–I cannot go any further, my lady,” he whispers, “I would not dirty you with hands that are not worthy of you.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “And what about what I want? It is my virtue to give away, don’t I get to decide who takes it?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you cannot give me this,” he argues, eyebrows drawn together in a pleading expression.

“I know perfectly well what it is that I want,” she replies, her tone defiant.

She shifts on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and he lets her. All his fight has left him, so he simply lays there, watching her with curiosity as she sits astride him.

Carefully, her hands pull at his clothes, stripping him of his robe, trousers and breeches. He quietly allows her to do so, lifting his body as needed to aid her task until he lays utterly naked before him.

Osferth has never been nude in front of anyone before. He had anticipated feeling shame and embarrassment, wanting to curl in on himself to hide from her. However, her gaze is filled with such warmth and innocence, she looks upon him in wonder, the way that people gaze at sunsets and meadows of wildflowers. It makes pride swell within his chest to be looked upon as though he is worthy.

Her lips brush gently against his, and as quickly as he leans up to kiss her back, she is moving away. Her mouth trails a path down his neck, across his chest and over his abdomen, before she allows her fingertips to take the same journey. He shivers, feeling his manhood pulsate under her attention.

He sucks in a breath when he feels her hand wrap around his cock, testing the weight and feel of it in her palm, eyeing it reverently, before she lets go and comes to lay beside him.

She pulls her shift over her head, discarding it upon the floor, and his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of her. Not even the most diligent monks in his days at the monastery could illuminate visions as lovely as she is.

“I do not know what I am doing. I’ve never done this before, but I want to. Osferth, please.”

Her quiet plea is all he needs to hear. He turns her onto her back, hovering over her and kisses her deeply. A rumble of appreciation vibrates through him as he feels her instinctively part her thighs.

Pulling away, he grasps the base of himself, guiding his tip to her waiting entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes locking with hers.

“I have never wanted anything more. Please.”

Her words make his stones ache and he presses forwards, jaw going slack at the feeling of how tight she is as his length forces apart her walls.

She whines quietly at the intrusion, though as he studies her face he is met with desire rather than the discomfort that he had anticipated. It excites him to know that she wants him, though he fears he would not be able to stop now even if he wanted to.

If lying with other women has been the closest he has come to seeing the face of God before, then in this moment he has truly died and gone to heaven.

His thrusts into her are slow and soft, his lips linger against hers, exchanging sticky kisses and laboured breaths. As his passage eases, his movements become slightly harder and faster, groaning as she grows wetter, clenching around him as the wooden bed frame creaks with their efforts.

This is his forbidden fruit. He has tasted her and now there is no going back. He loses himself in the sensation of her, his grip on her tight as she writhes beneath him, the sounds she makes are sweeter than any music.

Noticing her tensing when his thrusts are shallower, he repeats the motion in earnest until suddenly she is crying out, pulsating around him, pulling him quickly towards release. He pulls out, stroking himself to completion, watching the way his spend paints her bare flesh in pearlescent ropes.

Breathlessly he falls back against the mattress, pulling her to him, wanting her close. She is pliable, eager, and snuggles against him, her head upon his chest.

He looks down at her through hooded eyes and she smiles back up at him, her gaze filled with warm affection.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words stick in his throat. They are not enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. They are just words, much like heaven and hell, and they are worthless. He will never want for anything, as long as he has her.

So, he simply kisses her, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how precious she is to him.

[hamartia-grander]

Stop giving me excuses as to how a female character is annoying to you and start explaining how the hell you think finding a woman annoying justifies hating her or disregarding her as a character

[viking-chaos]

Of Irland, Chapter 25

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 24 \\ 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 25: The Prisoners

Chapter Warnings: Smut, Threat Words: 2152 AO3

“Stupid children,” Stiorra muttered to herself angrily as she entered the Great Hall. They’d been running around her feet all morning as she tried to find the things Drifa had asked for, eventually tripping her up, causing her to drop the precious herbs, expensive ones too. Drifa would not be happy. 

Someone suddenly caught her waist and yanked her into a deep, passionate kiss. She grinned into it, recognising who it was immediately.

“And what exactly is it about children that is stupid?” Sigtryggr asked when he broke away to breathe.

“It’s not that I don’t like them,” she explained, “it’s that they don’t pay attention to their surroundings, and sometimes that causes problems.”

“Any I know?” he asked. “I could talk to their parents, make them apologise.”

She smiled, and shook her head. It was typical of him, always trying to find ways to be helpful. “No, there’s no point. They pushed into me while I was on errands for Drifa. I’d rather it was me facing her wrath than small children who would cower at the sight of her, small as she is.”

Sigtryggr laughed, and Stiorra had never heard a more beautiful sound. “Even the tallest of us tremble in her tiny presence.”

“But as she says, size doesn’t matter, only your honour and courage.”

He chuckled and kissed her again, his lips so soft on hers.

He suddenly picked her up in his arms, bringing her legs around his waist and carrying her off somewhere, all without breaking the kiss. She giggled slightly as she clung to his shoulders. He put her down on something hard and wooden, and moved his lips to her neck, sucking small marks as he went. She opened her eyes, realising that they were now on the high table, in full view of anyone who might walk in. 

“Sigtryggr,” she giggled, “here?”

“Why not here?” he murmured as his lips brushed the flesh below her ear.

“If anyone were to walk in-”

He pulled back, “Then they will see a man worship his woman as she should be worshipped,” he said, bending down on his knees.

He pulled down her stockings, kissing a trail up her legs.

Stiorra wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing. She cursed her own inexperience, and waited to see what he would do.

He stopped for a moment, noticing her apprehension, and smiled reassuringly. Then he resumed his route, placing open-mouthed kisses up her thighs.

“Sigtryggr,” she whimpered, knowing what he was doing now, and desperate for him to just get on with it. She was soaked.

“So desperate, aren’t you?” he muttered, his lips hovering mere inches away from where she needed him the most. “Say it,” he whispered, the brush of air on her core making a soft whimper fall from her lips.

“Please,” she begged.

He smirked. that bastard smirked. “Please what?” he teased, moving a small faction closer to her weeping core. “Use your words.”

“Please,” she whimpered, “please use your mouth.”

And use his mouth he did.

The tip of his tongue softly licked at her pearl. She clamped a hand over her mouth, attempting to stifle the moan threatening to let itself out of her. He paused for a moment and said, “There is no-one here to hear us. Let me hear you.”

He dove back down between her thighs, almost tickling  her with only the very tip of his tongue.

And it felt incredible.

His little licks became steadily more vicious as she grew wetter by the moment. The little wispy thing on his chin he called a beard tickling her thighs making her squirm. And he suddenly licked a broad stripe across her folds with the flat of his tongue. 

Following that was a mixture of sucking on her pearl and licking more of those broad stripes. Stiorra wound her finger in his long wild hair, tugging on it to bring him closer. A particularly vicious yank (after a particularly harsh suck) had him outright moaning into her. 

So lost in her pleasure as she was, she barely registered when he inserted one of those gorgeous long fingers of his into her core. And then another. Crooking them within her and giving her the most blinding pleasure she may have ever experienced. It did not take long for her to see stars.

He pulled back grinning while rivulets of her juices ran down his chin.

He stood up slowly, wiping away the fluids from his chin. She could have sworn she watched him suck on his fingers, savouring the taste of her.

“Delicious,” he smirked.

He didn’t give her much time to recover from her climax before his lips were on hers again. She could feel his hardness poking at her thighs through his breeches. 

“Tell me,” he panted, “tell me you want this.”

“I want you.”

Her hands made quick work of the ties confining him. He pushed her back on the table and gripped her hips, pulling her as close to the edge as he dared.

He entered her suddenly, giving her little time to adjust. But she wanted him so badly, she didn’t care.

His hips snapped at a relentless pace as he pulled back up to him. He sucked on her neck, possibly leaving marks. She knew he would not last long. He must have been hard for her since she entered the Great Hall. He must have realised that too, as he started rubbing on her pearl with renewed vigour, desperate to get her to her peak before him. 

She pulled him back from neck, eager to claim his lips with hers as she felt her peak approach. She moaned deeply as it washed over her in waves, and he sighed as he spilled inside her. 

They stood like that for a moment gathering themselves, when the door banged open suddenly, and the two sprang apart. Ivar stormed in, a furious expression painted on his face as always. one that seemed to grow redder as his gaze landed on her and his brother. 

“What are you doing?” he thundered, still stomping like a child.

“Nothing,” Sigtryggr answered. 

Ivar growled. “DRIFA!” he yelled. “Where are you, you dumb little-”

Drifa walked in at that moment whistling a tune. “I’d be careful what you say about me, Ivar Ivarrsson. I am older than your father.”

Sigtryggr sniggered. 

“Let’s go,” Ivar grumbled.

Time to interrogate some prisoners. The small group went into the room behind the Great Hall known as ‘the war room’. Ivar signalled to a guard and Anlaf was brought in, still in the same grimy armour. His hair was damp from the cells, and his armour was tinged green, most likely from his time on the ship. He looked miserable, but then, Stiorra supposed anyone would feel miserable after a night in those cells. She shivered remembering her own time in there, not knowing if she was going to live or die.

She didn’t even think she was supposed to be in there. But as she began to slip out, Sigtryggr gripped her wrist. He nodded, telling her she could stay. 

Anlaf was pushed into a kneeling position on the floor as Ivar sat in a large carved chair that looked more like a throne. His gaze raked over Anlaf, as if he was observing a slave in the market. The last time either of the brothers had seen their nephew had been five years ago. 

The door opened again and Rognvaldr slipped in. No-one paid him much attention, other than Drifa, who nodded in greeting.

Ivar, seemingly finished glaring at his nephew, signalled Drifa to start. 

“Five years ago,” she began, “you, Anlaf Guthfrithsson, left Dyflin to find your father. Is that correct?”

“It is,” Anlaf answered.

“And from the looks of things, you found him?” she asked.

Anlaf nodded.

“So, my brother is still alive then?” Ivar questioned.

“He is,” Anlaf confirmed, “old, but alive and well.”

“You went with your friend Hermund Grimmarsson, yes?” Anlaf nodded. “And he is now a berserker. What happened?”

Anlaf took a few breaths. It was clear this was not something he wanted to talk about. But everyone stared at him expectantly. He had no choice.

“I don’t know what happened to him. When we arrived, we found out that my father had found and joined Barid. We were told we had to stay with them, as they didn’t want anyone to find out where they were. Hermund found another friend while we were there, but never told me his name. He started to spend more and more time with this man. We barely saw each other at all. Then he vanished. I did not see him for months. Then, my father took me on a raid with him and Barid, and a berserker came smashing through the village. I saw him doing horrible things there. And then he turned, and it was Hermund, except he was covered in berserker markings. He seemed happy to see me again, but I could hardly recognize him. He could outdrink anyone at the alehouses. He seemed to relish in the raids. I was disgusted at how anyone could do something like that. “And then we sailed up a river in Wessex. Or Mercia, I can’t remember. And we saw a ship. It was sizable, a trading ship. We didn’t see the flags, and Barid ordered us to raid it. I saw him and my father arguing about something, but it was too noisy with the men gathering their weapons and shields. After we were done, my father ordered us to leave the plunder. Hermund complained, but he told us it belonged to the seer, Drifa. And us raiding was not going to end well for us. She would come with her magic and spells and curse us all.”

He glanced at Drifa, who was smiling and shaking her head. “They tell such fanciful tales about me.”

“Perhaps you should curse them,” Sigtryggr suggested. 

“Quiet!” Ivar barked. “Let the boy finish.”

“He asked me and Hermund to turn ourselves in at the village behind us, until a boat came to take us to wherever the Seer was. So we turned ourselves into the local Lord, who happened to be Uhtred the Dane-Slayer. When Hermund learned that, he tried to kill Lord Uhtred, but was caught. I was treated more as a guest, until the other ship came. And then we came here,” he finished. 

There was silence after he completed his story. from the sound of things, Anlaf hadn’t done the right thing, perhaps he had grown since the last time he was in Dyflin. But Stiorra was in no position to judge. She didn’t even know Sigtryggr had a nephew until the ship carrying him arrived in Dyflin.

“We will decide what to do with you later,” Ivar said, breaking the silence. “For now, we will talk to your friend.” He signalled the guards to take Anlaf away again.

“From what he said, he didn’t really do much,” Sigtryggr said.

“He left Dyflin and sided with a traitor,” Ivar retorted.

“He came back,” added Rognvaldr. “Willingly, too.”

“You truly think he came back willingly?” Ivar conterred. 

The argument was interrupted by the arrival of Hermund, dragged in by two of Ivar’s men and Sigurd, a berserker himself. Even Sigurd was dwarfed by Hermund’s sheer size. But then, size wasn’t everything. Stiorra had little doubt that if Hermund so much as thought about trying anything, Drifa would be on him like a cat on a rat.

Hermund proved to be less talkative than his so-called friend, preferring to stare menacingly at them, stubbornly remaining silent. In the end, Ivar had to send him back to the dungeons.

“So,” Sigtryggr began, “what do we do with them now?”

A silence fell between them. 

Even Drifa seemed to have no clue.

“They have to be punished,” Ivar pointed out.

“Yes, but how?” Drifa questioned. “Anlaf confessed to the crimes he did commit, but none of them felt serious enough to execute him. He accused Hermund of crimes that we would execute for.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what we should do.”

“I say we kill Hermund,” Rognvaldr said. Everyone stared at him. He never made a lot of contributions to these sorts of discussions. “What? Am I not allowed to have an opinion?”

“No, Go on,” Drifa encouraged. “We kill Hermund.”

“And perhaps he can have Anlaf beaten,” he suggested. “Not too many times, of course.”

“I like this plan,” Drifa agreed.

“As do I,” Sigtryggr concurred. Even Ivar nodded.

“I suppose that would work. I…” he stopped and stared at Stiorra as if he had only just noticed she was in the room. “What is she doing here? What are you doing here? Get out!” He yelled.

Stiorra left without complaint. Perhaps it was best not to tempt luck any further today.

[thalys-artcorner]

“You showed the spirit of a True Warrior”

Finan and Eadith from The Last Kingdom. Or as I like to say, one badass lady and her simping, lovestruck himbo.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

EVENT POLL: 30-WOMAN ROYAL RUMBLE FOR FICTIONAL CHARACTERS TIME! (part 7)