This Feels Accurate

This feels accurate 😆

Me writing sexy fan fiction:

The people reading it:

In My Sights II

Masterlist | One

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 1885

Warning: Schmut, this part literally starts off with a bang.

Summary: Certain obligations call you back home.

Author’s Note: So much for this being a one shot.

Your hand grabbed the headboard tightly, holding on for leverage as you slammed yourself down onto Ivar over and over again. You bit down hard on your lip when you felt that sweet release slowly creeping up on you again. Trying so hard to hold back your desperate moans, you refused to let him know how badly you were falling apart. But when you felt his thumb start to circle around your clit, you were unable to stop yourself from crying out his name.

He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down to him. “Say it again, say my name again,” he whispered harshly into your ear as his thumb moved faster.

Your head was so cloudy from the pleasure that you found yourself willing to follow his order and repeated the cries of his name. He kissed you deeply while his hand tightened around the sides of your neck. You felt the spasms taking over your body as you became lightheaded.

Digging his head back into the pillow, Ivar groaned out loud as he came inside you after feeling your pussy clench around him. Your senses felt overloaded when he loosened his hold on you, the rush of air you were finally able to take in seemed overwhelming. You continued grinding your hips slowly against his while you both rode the aftershock of your orgasms.

You collapsed onto his chest in a sweaty mess of loose limbs. A part of you was surprised he lasted as long as he did. It seemed like he was determined to make up for all the lost time and make sure you didn’t forget him if you decided to make yourself scarce once again.

“Stay with me for once. It’s the least you could do,” he insisted, pulling you back to him when you tried to get out of bed. It was the same thing every time you two got together, he’d beg you to stay and you’d have an internal struggle while you told him no.

Feeling his arm wrap around your back, you laid your head against his chest. “Because I stole your kill?,” you guessed.

“Because you said no,” Ivar lamented softly. Taking your left hand in his own, he gently caressed your empty ring finger. “I still have the ring if you changed your mind.”

You were foolish to think he wouldn’t bring up the elephant in the room.

This is why you stayed away for so long. You knew if you kept showing up in his life that he would slowly try to wear down your resolve. At least he didn’t have the ring with him this time. It was hard enough just saying no to his hopeful face at the time and even harder saying no to the beautiful ruby stone surrounded by a diamond halo.

“Ivar, you hardly know me.” It was the same response you gave him the last time.

Other than your addiction to labels, luxury, and murder, he only knew of a few small facts you deemed safe enough for him to know. None of which you thought would cause a man to spend at least six figures on the perfect piece of jewelry for you.

“Well if you marry me, then I can spend the rest of my life getting to know you,” he contended as he interlaced his fingers with yours.

“How about we just enjoy the next few hours?” You were grateful that you were looking away from him. You didn’t think you could take seeing the disappointment that you were sure was on his face.

Ivar only hummed in response. You knew this wasn’t going to be the last you would hear of this though it seemed like he was conceding for the night. The truth was that you wanted to be his wife, you wanted to wake up every morning in his arms. But you weren’t naive. You knew that the only happy ending women like you get is one where you don’t end up with a bullet in your head.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to be lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.

It was a faint buzzing sound that stirred you from your slumber. After a few moments of trying to wake up, you realized it was all coming from your phone. You looked down at Ivar and was thankful that he was still deeply asleep. Carefully slipping away from his hold and out of bed, you grabbed your phone before going to the bathroom for privacy.

You tried to hold back your disgust as you evaluated the room. You couldn’t understand why he would lower himself to such grimy accommodations when he had more than enough money to buy a whole luxury hotel if he wanted to. Shaking your head, you started going through your phone.

You had two missed calls from the same contact. There was no name saved under it, only a single emoji of a cross. Your finger hovered over the screen as you dreaded having to return the call. You knew the voice on the other end would be displeased over being ignored. A single message popped up just when you were about to hit call.

You are due for a confession.

Kind of early for that, ain’t it, Padre?

Do not call me that and you are due whenever I say you are due.

Fine, I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Good. I will have a plane waiting for you at the airport.

That was not good. If he knew where you were, then it was very likely he knew what you were up to. Cracking open the door, you peeked to make sure Ivar was still sleeping. So much for staying till morning.

You quickly freshened yourself up, taking care to wipe the mascara and lipstick smudges from your face, before stepping out and quietly putting your clothes back on. Gathering his clothes, braces, and crutch, you set the items by the bed so he had easy access to them.

You didn’t take a chance on kissing his goodbye, fearful that he would wake and give you too many valid reasons to stay. Hopefully, your parting gift would ease his frustration when he woke up alone.

——

You said you would be there as soon as you can but that was a lie. After your long flight back to Wessex, you decided to take a much needed soak in the bath. It was just before midnight when you texted that you were finally on your way.

Though you never missed an opportunity to get dressed up, you knew walking into the church wearing a high-end dress and a pair of pumps at this time of night could possibly draw some unwanted attention. Instead you were dressed in a well-worn University of Wessex hoodie and plain jeans. To the few people currently occupying the pews, you were just a normal college student looking for some spiritual guidance.

You entered the confessional booth and knelt down on the step, clasping your hands in prayer. “Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks, twelve hours, and six minutes since my last confession.”

You wondered if you had the wrong booth when all you got was silence. Usually the exchange was simple, you would say the code—twelve hours and six minutes—and then the priest passed along a memory stick containing your next assignment. The remainder of the time was spent with listing your unabsolved sins.

“Hello? Is this thing on?,” You jested, giving a few raps on the partition. When it did finally open up, you could tell it was him even though the screen obstructed most of his face. “Damn,” you softly whispered.

Heahmund stared down at you, slowly exhaling as if trying to control his annoyance. “Hello, Sister Mary Julian. I am glad you could finally join me.”

The Bishop was very careful to limit his interactions with you which you took no offense to. The rare times he made an appearance was either to make a very special request or to lecture you over your work. “So, this assignment must be a juicy one if you’re personally delivering it to me,” you hoped.

“I think we both know that there is no new assignment. I had been informed that you have been away for the past few days.” It looked like you were in for a reprimand tonight. Raising his brow at you, he continued, “Tell me, Sister, what was the purpose of your trip? And I think it is in your best interest if you do not lie to me.”

“Pleasure, mainly.” Technically, not a lie. The only reason you took the job was to see Ivar again. “Just needed a bit of R&R.”

“I found it very interesting that the son of a well known diplomat was also there getting some ‘R&R’. A diplomat who is a very generous friend of the church.”

“That is interesting.”

“And even more so that his son unfortunately died due to a severe allergic reaction.”

“Should have avoided the shellfish.”

“I did not get to that part yet.”

“Damn.”

Heahmund pinched the bridge of his nose while he roughly sighed. “While your creativity in your work does amuse me, I thought we agreed that you would not take a contract on your own. Remember I handle the clients and I pick your assignments. All for your safety. Or do I need to remind you why?”

“No.” Your hand instinctively went to scarred skin below your ribs, remembering when you first met him. You were a bloody mess, passed out at his feet after being betrayed by a client. But that was a few years ago and you felt a few years wiser now.

“Do not go behind my back again,” he warned. “Your set of skills have proved useful to me and to the church and I ensure that you are well compensated for it. We would both hate it if I had to cut ties with you now.”

Rising up from the step and brushing the dust off your knees, you were happy there was no mention of what or who else you were doing while away. Heahmund was willing to overlook the sinful acts you had to commit for work purposes but, as a bride of Christ, any personal intimate relationship was nonnegotiable especially one with a man whose family was considered an enemy of the church.

“I have not excused you. I told you that you were due for a confession.”

You didn’t care if he saw you roll your eyes as you kneeled back down. You made quick work running down the list of sins you committed since the last time you were in the booth. Murder? Check. Grinding against a married man? Check. Not dressing modestly? Check. Obsessed with material possessions? Always.

Still Heahmund held back on giving you your penance. “Anything else you might be missing?”

Your mind shifted to the image of Ivar looking up at you from his position between your thighs, his tongue flat against your clit while his hands pinned yours down on the bed. You felt yourself getting wet just from the memory alone. “No, nothing I can think of, Bishop.”

——

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @spotgaai2000 @castielsangelsx @walkxthexmoon @multifandom0-0 @placetokeepstories

“You think you have the ability to steal her from me?”

I’d be like CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! 😆😆

- Ubbe thinking you’re hitting on him and trying to seduce him, but you correct him that you’re actually hitting on his wife Torvi💓👀

May Snippets Masterlist

Ubbe walks up to you as you’re refilling your cup of ale, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one’s watching him, including his wife, as he places his hand on your hips. You jump in surprise and step out of his touch. “What are you doing?” 

He frowns at you. “I know what you’re doing, (Y/n),” he whispers, stepping closer to you as you slowly take a few steps backward away from him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little flirts, how you’re trying to seduce me. Why are you pulling away now?” he questions, his words only confusing you. 

“Wait, you think I’m hitting on you?” you ask back. You both frown at each other before you laugh, realizing what’s going on. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ubbe. I’m not flirting with you. I’m...” you trail off, bite your lower lips and glance over his shoulder to Torvi, his wife. 

He follows your gaze and realizes what you’re talking about. “You’re hitting on Torvi,” he finishes for you, making a small blush creep across your face as you take a sip from your drink. “You fancy my wife?”

“Can you blame me? I mean, she’s an amazing woman,” you say, looking back at her as a smile grows on your face. “You’re lucky to have her for your wife. And I swear to the Gods, if you fuck it up, I won’t hesitate to steal her from you.”

He chuckles, folds his arms over his chest and shifts on his feet. “You think you have the ability to steal her from me?”

“Oh, I do, Son of Ragnar. Because no one understands a woman better than another woman.”

Snippets List- @simsadventures @cruelfvkingsummer @a-mess-of-fandoms @moonie-flower101 @rinkashirikitateku @tragicmisfits @ivarthebloodyking @encounterthepast @youbloodymadgenius @belovedcherry

Hope Ivar feels guilty about messing with her paints now!

Lion and the Lamb (Ivar x Christian!Reader) Part 3/?

Y/n is English royalty and in order to maintain peace between the Vikings and the Saxons, they offer their daughter in return. Ivar’s obvious distaste for the princess does not falter when they meet, taking her as a wife is merely a distraction for his ulterior motives in attacking them later on. However, Ivar soon realizes his hatred for Christians seems to falter as Y/n proves to be something else. She proves not only Ivar wrong but everyone in Kattegat, Ivar and Y/n form an unlikely bond. How long will that last when Y/n realizes Ivar’s true motives which could not only tear them apart but start a war

(I’ve decided to add gifs in the works to make it a bit more natural and easier to envision Ivar).

Masterlist

——–

The precious crate my father had gifted me, which held over twenty paintbrushes and costly pigments that were England’s most excellent, which had disappeared from my first chamber. I had scrambled throughout the hall, even turning every piece of furniture from Ivar and I’s shared room apart trying to search for the chest. 

I did find it in the middle of a group of males and Ivar who was hurling the contents. This caused brushes to break and pressed pigments of paint to crumble was the last thing I expected.

I didn’t expect the day after our lack of, wedding night would be like this. I never expected to be storming and pushing past men and women to get to my items. My stomach had dropped, and I was beyond angry, to meet Ivar, who had the biggest smile on his face. 

“Please, stop!” Reaching down to pick up the discarded remnants of the brushes and pigments. Gathering them into my arms quickly in an attempt to protect them from more harm, the pigments going all over my clothes. I tried not to say anything more as I picked up the few brushes I was able to save. Looking up towards him, the men behind him laughing to one another and pointing to the horrified look on my face. I felt ashamed, their queen on her knees, was this how a queen was supposed to act in Kattegat? Ivar pressed his crutch on a bottle of paint, making the glass crack and the colour to spread onto the gravel.

“Christian.” I’m stunned, I didn’t know what to say. “What are you doing? These are expensive.” Clutching the paints closer to my chest I look to the ground in shame, I dare not cry. Not here, not now, not ever in front of Ivar. The man who was supposed to be my husband. I need to do this for my country, without me they would be under attack by heathens. He says nothing but looks at me with the wickedness smile on his face. 

Nodding in his direction, I glance to my side before dashing away. Clutching the paints to my chest, the sound of laughter and strange voices follow and Ivar’s booming voice. “Gone off to pray to your god?” I ignore his remark and dash inside. Hoping if I hid into my room long enough, they wouldn’t know I had been crying. Pressing my back to the door, I clutch the items tighter, heading to the small desk in the corner by the window, I put it down and sit in the chair. I felt numb as I looked over the few brushes and bottles that held colours of red, blue and gold that had been saved. Swallowing hard I do nothing for a moment before the door to the shared chamber opens. I meet one of the thralls I had recognised from my wedding preparation and who had given me my breakfast this morning. 

“My queen?” She asks I smile in her direction and nod in an attempt to mask the sadness. It was weird hearing her say it, to acknowledge my role. I did not feel like a queen at all. 

“Yes?” She says nothing but watches me intently as she shuts the door behind her. 

“Are you alright, my queen?” I look to my lap and question my words. Unsure if I should blurt my problems onto this thrall or sit here in self-pity and doubt. I pick the first option. 

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” I look to her blue eyes, and I clench my jaw to stop the hot tears from falling. She turns her head to the side to study the items on the wooden desk before looking to me again. 

“It will, there have been many queens before you that have ruled strongly.” I nod at her response. I watch as she rearranges a few furs and places a few more wood pieces into the fireplace. 

“What is your name?” I ask curiously. She looks back towards me, and she smiles lightly. 

“Ama, your highness." 

"Call me y/n, you do not need to call me by formalities. Your kindness is greatly appreciated. I am surprised you even spoke to me being Christian.” She furrows her eyebrows and tilts her head.

“You are a queen even though you may be Christian, but that can be changed.” her voice is calm but concerned. 

“I do not wish to be pagan, Ama.” She sighs at my response, but she continues, “show them you can be a Viking queen and still be a Christian, then.” Furrowing my eyebrows, I study her face. “Prove to them that being Christian is but a distraction, so when you can prove them all wrong, they know to mess with the Queen of Kattegat.”

—–

Her words had struck me, and I knew that I shouldn’t let a Viking man get to me, Christian men never have, it should not start with heathens. I had wandered the halls in an attempt to gather the courage for dinner with my husband. We had not had breakfast together, the way Saxon’s did, I would hope dinner would be different. On my way to the main hall, I noticed Ubbe, who was walking straight towards me, his hair in the notorious Viking way, he gives me a small smile before walking straight past. 

I stop in my tracks and look back to find him disappear behind a wall, glancing to the side of me before stalking towards the wall quietly. Peering behind the corner Ubbe goes behind double doors, calmly walking towards the door I listen intently. I only hear muffled voices, but I do make out small parts of their language, regarding boats and travel. 

I jump slightly to the sound of someone clearing their throat. I turn around with my back to the door to someone I recognise. Harald. His eyes scanning my face, I swallow harshly and dart my eyes behind him then to the side. I really need to stop listening in to conversations. “I was just about to go in,” I excuse. The corner of his mouth etches, “So were I.” He holds my elbow before opening the wooden door engraved in pagan symbols. I am greeted by a table surrounded by Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk and a few men I did not recognise. Oh shit. “Look who has joined us? Your Christian wife." 

Ivar’s smile widens but not in a pleasant way. He extends his hand out across the table and says, "wife.” He bows his head, mocking me and not nearly as polite as he’s trying to make it seem.

Hvitserk smiles to the side towards Ivar as he does this. I gulp hard as Harald pulls me into the room to stand beside him. I felt out of place as they all started towards me. I dart my eyes between the men and take a small moment to look towards Ubbe. What am I getting myself into?

They soon forgot my existence and continued to speak in their language, it was broken in small parts in an attempt to pronounce the lands surrounding England. Ivar, Harald and even Ubbe traced their fingers across maps displayed on parchments and cloth. I watched them intently, I made out small parts in terms of raiding, which was a typical Viking practice. Something that caused my family to sell me off like cattle, but I instead not think about that at this moment.

I think back to Ama’s words in an attempt to calm my anxieties. I notice the conversation became focused on some regions of Mercia. There was not much in Mercia, my father admitted to me so. It was not as fruitful as others that I knew of. They traced their finger past canals and circled around Paris. Ama’s words echo in my head. Prove to them that being Christian is but a distraction, so when you can prove them all wrong, they know to mess with the Queen of Kattegat.

“There is a trade outpost disguised as a ministry on the coast of West Francia. My father has made many attempts at trades with them, they’re known largely for their medicine and gold exports throughout Paris and Mercia.” Everyone’s eyes turn to look at me, Ivar and I catch eyes, but he’s quick to downcast them to the map.

“How do you know, you are but a Saxon woman?” Harald speaks first with arms crossed and a blank look on his face. A thick foreign accent accompanies his question. I swallow hard and think back to Ama’s words before I speak,

“I may be a woman, but I have been raised amongst the franks and the Saxon men, I know who the enemy is, and I know who is most worth your time. If I am just any woman, why would I be standing here revealing a secret trade post that only the Saxon know of to the people who I should fear?” They all seem shocked by my answer, and Harald almost seemed pleased with my words.

I looked to Ivar as he looks up to me with his head down, I nod before heading towards the door, “I hope my advice has helped. I will be in our quarters, painting, husband.” Taking a moment to emphasise the words painting. I can’t believe I said that.

TAGLIST: @youbloodymadgenius​ @soleil-dor​ @alexa4040​ @secondratecomplaint​ @rose1729 @lol-haha-joke​ @vicmackeybullshxt @poisonous00​

I’ve been away from school too long because I thought there were only 3 types of matter

Types of matter

I feel like your A/N was targeted to me. 😆

I hope Artemis can be of some comfort to Ivar and then they will fall asleep and wake up spooning. 😬

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 13- Wessex

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2877

Warnings: None I don’t think.

AN: I hope I don’t disappoint anyone with how this chapter starts 😅😅 Slooooow Burrrrrn.

12- Northumbria

…

Her head hurt.

It was a pounding that rattled the side of her temple that seemed intune with her heartbeat. 

She couldn’t sleep.

Whenever she closed her tired eyes, Bjorn’s bloody knife tortured her. It was one of the many more tragedies she knew was to come.

She would be lying to say her lack of sleep that night had nothing to do with the heathen nestled within the furs beside her. Like her, he did not rest easy. He was in pain, she could hear it in the small grunts mutterred in his sleep. She was almost sure that his brows were knitted in that look he couldn’t hide on particular days when he struggled with pain. 

Keep reading