WUOTANI RUOPERATH @sihtrik-moved - Tumblr Blog

ivithia‌:

in spite of their private oasis, she yearns to show what has become of them. intimate in its creation, she finds herself connected to sihtric ─ in a more pure, and intricate matter than by the physical. having steadied herself, she moves to look upon him, to view purpling, bruised marking which rests on his shoulder. a mark of passion, fuelled with the potential of such being viewed by others, curious to know how it was he obtained so. her love is physical, emotional as beings remain, chilled embrace crawling upon ivory flesh. pulled forward, his kiss is returned, a blissful noise, a sigh of contentment, lingering upon petals. saturated in desire, it is his grasp that sounds forth a moan, his teeth and touch leaving little space between bodies. his words, his oath, dance beneath her flesh, prickling so over. ‘ i love you, ’ drawn from her tongue are those three precious words, words of the heart ! of the mind and soul ! she means so, means for only his ears to hear her whisper. with lips pressed to his, teeth grazing tender flesh, she whispers, ‘ take me for yours on steadier ground, ástin mín. ’

𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐸𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐷𝑆 𝐶𝑂𝑁𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝐻𝐼𝑀 𝐸𝐴𝑆𝐼𝐿𝑌 , it seems not hard to do so . especially when dedications are given so forthright . they have not known each other long , and for some it may seem their declarations come too early . the question of infatuation lingers , but he cares not to consider it as he breaks himself free from her grasp . his hand finds hers to lead her from the water to the bank where the earth is dry and warm and the night feels colder than before . 𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐖𝐍 , at least till they reach where their clothes lie . it will not be the most comfortable bed , surely , wool and leather , but this is a concern that seems to lie so far away amongst the stars as he shifts the materials closer together . it’s only a thought . he turns to face her again , standing yet close enough to feel her warmth against him still , that she might feel his breath upon her face as he bends to kiss her once more .

#ivithia #nsfw

i wanna write more here but work is slowly killing me once again but im here to plot and send memes and stuff.. + i just rlly wanna develop more relationships for sihtric and expand on his canon

ivithia‌:

she seeks to draw out this very moment ! alluded to the nature of their relationship, a part of her yearns to be near to him, to feel the depths in which they would go for one another. conquered by touch, her flesh illuminates beneath moon's glow, quiet cries, only loud enough for his ears, trickle from petals. hiding herself in his shoulder, teeth graze over flesh, biting, rather harshly, to hinder that of another cry. releasing flesh from maw, she leans away, slack jaw as motions, more driven than expected, bring about feral, trying breaths. one could believe this was sudden, yet his influence … her infatuation … already does her heart sing ! why deny the reason for so ? why hide beneath the guise of some false mockery ? his words bring her to steady upon throne, chest dragging gasps from lungs. ‘ then love me. ’

𝑆𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝐼𝐿𝐿𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝐴 𝑀𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝐹𝐸𝐴𝑅 𝑆𝑇𝑅𝐼𝐾𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐼𝑀 , fear from an unforeseen place . fear that grips his heart tightly . a fear that perhaps she might turn away from him , that his love is not wanted nor needed , that this passionate escapade is naught more than that . and as he looks to see her , hot skin cooled by the touch of freezing spring water , he knows that he wouldn’t want to lose her . that the mark she has left upon his shoulder from the strength of her bite , that once caused waves of curious pain to flood through him , 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 . as a part of her to remain even when she is not there . she is every gift the gods could have given to him , and everything more than that too . not often has life gifted him with anything. but then she speaks and it is like music to his ears , music that he adores , music that speaks to his soul . and so he captures her lips between his own once more , with a burning , empassioned desire that most people rarely ever live to experience . it is hard to balance her , to stand , to counter upward motion with downward force , and yet he does not complain , for whilst they are here together , whilst he is trapped between her legs , he has no mind to worry . 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 ; 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐘 . his teeth catch upon her lip a moment , and he pulls upon his grip about her hips with a grunt to draw her closer again as water ripples about them . ❝ i will . of course i will . ❞

#ivithia #nsfw

renaissancecat

I can’t believe these two were left in charge.

#the energy #* 🐉 sihtric kjartanson ! ❝ all people beasts trees and stone and wind ; we all descend from the one great being .#*finan

When is sb gonna write finan 4 me

ivithia‌:

mjǫllnir beats within the cavern of her chest, and perhaps he can feel it, see it as she offers herself to him. anglo saxons may have been convinced that so was unholy, meant for husband and wife, but alas ! what good is it to matter when affections are mutual, savoured beneath dimly lit evening. had she proposed another area, perhaps she would have contested to using ropes, a more pleasant situation being granted given their conversations prior to now. singular adjustment is made and rather than hiding herself from sihtric’s observant gaze, she laments relief on passing breeze. suppose it was spiteful, remaining in water, yet thoughts are forgotten, left elsewhere. in its stead, she welcomes warmth, welcomes him. her loyalty for the gods now lingers with sihtric ─ the likes of so created from just days previous. still, she’s content, lessening hold to move, small waves forming in her wake. let it be for him she gives a show, and let it be for his sight, and not another’s that he witnesses her become soft from his touch.

𝐸𝐴𝐶𝐻 𝑀𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑇 𝑆𝐻𝐸 𝑀𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐿𝐼𝐾𝐸 𝐴 𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑆𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺 , cast down upon him from some greater and untouched plane of existence . every breath is harsh , almost growled into her ear . teeth graze upon her shoulder , lips pass too , and he only holds her gently --- supports her weight so she might move freely . yet still his grip is tight , fingers harsh upon the skin about her hips . he cannot help it , 𝐻𝐸 𝐷𝑂𝐸𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁 𝑅𝐸𝐴𝐿𝐼𝑆𝐸 𝐻𝐸 𝐷𝑂𝐸𝑆 𝐼𝑇 . she is everything , and he cannot let that go , so he holds her to him , drives deeper still . perhaps it is a bad time to speak , it certainly seems it , or perhaps it’s merely a bad time to say what he desires to . he falls prey to heart so quickly and easily , to desperation and desire so fast one might think he never had anything to call his own . and so he does not speak it , rather , they are words that slip from him on a breath . ❝ i think that i love you . ❞

#ivithia #nsfw

ivithia·:

@sihtrik. *

attention deviates towards window, the likes of so bringing her nearer due to rakas’ toughened snarl. albeit tired, steps are still light, the glint of vambrace, of blade, echoing from the evening glow. having done her best to remain … distant, per say, from abstergo and others seeking out the creed, there are a few who know of her whereabouts, a few who maybe have some knowledge due to personal interests. for this reason, she’s hesitant, focus narrowing on the silhouette of another.

with rakas quick to bark at said intruder, she pushes onwards, one arm coming beneath strangers throat as opposing brings blade comes forward, not yet breaking the skin, nor piercing abdomen in response. ‘ who the fuck are … ’ familiar is his jawline, yes, she knows his features well. immediately, she groans, breathing out a curse as blade retracts, tired stare finding sihtric. ‘ are you trying to kill me, or are you trying to off yourself by scaring the absolute shit outta me ? ’

𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝑆𝑈𝑅𝑃𝑅𝐼𝑆𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑊𝐼𝑇𝐻 𝐺𝑂𝑂𝐷 𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑁𝑇 ; the surprise of a gift , the surprise of a kiss , these kinds of things . so when he scales the outer wall and slides open the already ajar window to enter her space it’s with a glint of amusement . BUT SHE SEEMS FAR TOO CAUTIOUS , since he does not notice the fact that whilst he sneaks into the building , she sneaks up on him . 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 ----- 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 . with an almost choking grasp that , frankly , frightens the life out of him . MAYBE IT’S A DESERVED RESPONSE . but he must laugh as her realisation comes to forefront . it’s a startlingly abrupt laugh , but cheery all the same . ❝ i was trying to surprise you , not scare you ! ❞ he answers , taking back his balance from where he has been destabilised --- but not without yet another chuckle . ❝ though i can’t say it wasn’t enjoyable being threatened by you . ❞

#ivithia

i might take a short break away from writing today at least until this evening

#altho i wanna write on robin but for god knows what reason nobody stans him as hard as i do

I've an early shift tomorrow and I'm currently dying from a migraine so i

#bed 🤧

ivithia‌:

starved is her nature, that of a whimper seizing her throat. breaths, most rampant, escape, touch lingering, venturing. he lights her soul aflame ! blaze burrows beneath flesh, surrounding waters easing the heat within til she wants not to be anything more than close to sihtric. petite in his hold, breathy moan passes petals, his lips … his touch tormenting flesh as shivers return, climbing along her spine. he is all she knows, all she desires. such affections, no matter the creation, lure eve in grabbing for his chin, marked digits curving at his throat to bring lips to his. mention of want forms, and she nods, consenting. ‘ i am yours to have. ’ murmured, her touch remains, fixed as thumbs brush along his jaw. again, lips press to flesh, teeth grazing over his jaw, silent whisper seeking admittance, ‘ only yours. ’

𝐼𝑁 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐶𝐻𝐸𝑆𝑇 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑂𝑈𝑁𝐷𝐼𝑁𝐺 , hammering , as their lips find each other once more . he tastes them once more . and the chill of the water is nothing to the shivers that raise little bumps along his skin . his breath even shakes a little upon the notion of her promise , upon the lips that pass over his skin ; mumbled against him . the waters ripple around them as he moves boths hands to her waist , and desires that some may consider sinful but that he has never been ashamed of come to surface . so there is not much more of games nor hesitation despite a struggle for balance while he finds himself a place inside her . but it is not without a scrape of teeth upon her neck , not without the accompaniment of a pleasureful groan to meet the sound of the wildlife deep in the forest .

#ivithia #nsfw

ivithia‌:

how was it that a person, so suddenly, became a home ? that the structure in which relayed all other emotions was to be swallowed by enamoured affections ? graced in knowing only the details, finite in discovery, of sihtric, she feels alive beneath his touch. a thousand stars being birthed as he cradles her near. how fickle it was ! knowing her heart soared, and sought to protect him from the dangers which lingered beyond the stretch of lands they knew as home. turning head, she follows his touch, parted lips trembling, curious for the lengths in which they would go til pleasure became more than just a passing thought, more than some place, hidden beneath woods and moonlight.

ease is given as she comes into his embrace, touch releasing his locks to settle upon the length of his throat, thumbs grazing along sharpened jawline. with the moons glow looming overhead, she answers with lowly sigh, thighs tightening ‘round his waist. ‘ y ─ yes, ’ hazy is her sight, teeth grazing along the shell of sihtric’s ear, gentle nip seeking to get a rise from the heathen, from the one she wishes to have for her own, ‘ gods, yes … ’

𝑆𝑂 , 𝑃𝐸𝑅𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑆 𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐸𝐸𝐾𝑆 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐹𝑂𝑅𝑇 𝑂𝐹 𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝑆𝑂𝑈𝐿 . with a hand at her back , and an arm about her waist , he holds her close . so that she might not slip away . her skin is damp and soft to the touch but her body is warm and welcoming . her neck is even hotter beneath his lips , and then her teeth graze his ear . a faint grunt falls from his lungs , muffled against her skin . 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝑇𝐻 𝐼𝑆 𝐻𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐾𝑆 𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝑂𝑈𝐿𝐷 𝐷𝑂 𝐴𝑁𝑌𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝐽𝑈𝑆𝑇 𝑁𝑂𝑊 , whatever she may ask from him he would never refuse , and if that should make him weak then so be it . still , a smirk plays upon his features as he continues to kiss her , to draw his own teeth along the sensitive parts of her neck . ❝ i want you , eve . ❞ he admits as lingering kisses pass up towards the line of her jaw and he explores the curve of her stomach with the rough fingertips of a hand . ❝ i do . ❞

#ivithia

im gonna try do a few drafts here then maybe try and write over on @sherhood too bc i miss my idiot child

#but at the same time... i am bad.. at words

ivithia‌:

forsaken are the gods ! óðinn, freyja ! if the gods were allowed their pleasures, why not she ? ( 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑝𝘩𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 … 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 … 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝘩𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 … 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝘩𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 … ) smaller than he, she drifts over stones and mud, mindful of where talons may grasp. uneven breaths drift from petals, cold touch bringing lips to his. try as one might, her height brings … difficulty, a stumbling sound lingering as tattoo’d flesh brushes over his torso, finding purchase within dampened locks. wanton, she inhales the smell of the forest, the dirt which lingers on his flesh. feet, however, falter til she comes to flatten so, fingers still tight within his mane. ‘ forgive me, ’ forehead presses upon his as rather shameless comment binds itself to her tongue, a chuckle hovering over sihtric’s lips, ‘ but if it’s allowed, you could … lift me … last thing i desire is your back aching once we’re finished. ’

𝑊𝐻𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐻𝐸 𝑃𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐾𝐼𝑆𝑆 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐸𝑌𝐸𝑆 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝐶𝐿𝑂𝑆𝐸𝐷 , his mind is somewhere in the depths of her . LOST . only to be recovered again by the whisper of her voice and the press of her forehead against his own . it’s all rather shameful , that he has become so quickly enamoured with her ; her beauty and the delicate maturity of her soul . that she might tease him and care for him at the same time ---------- or so he hopes . he never spent a moment to consider that she might not . 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 , the hand that rests upon her neck for a moment lifting higher so that he might run his thumb across the softness of her skin . ❝ i think i could allow that . ❞ he answers on a note of humour , a mischievous spark to his eye , before he shifts . he bends , till an arm can reach around her back , and the other hand upon her thigh . she is as light as a feather in the water , and all the difficulty he finds is in keeping his balance as he pulls her to his person ; his own body the pillar of support . 𝐒𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐖 , 𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐔𝐏𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 . but he doesn’t . instead , he traces her neck with his lips . ❝ better ? ❞

#ivithia #inter of esting

pfadlos·:

She sneers upon hearing his remark. “I am not afraid of the road itself”, a roll of her eyes, but she knows he understands the true intention of her words. She is afraid of those that walk in shadows. Though Stiorra has always fancied herself a warrior she must admit that her dagger remains unbloodied, her hands shaking in the face of foes and enemies. She is not like them. Not yet at least. Only time will tell how much of her father’s blood runs through her veins and she is more than determined to prove her worth. To the men that ride with her now, to the gods above, to the mother waiting somewhere on a distant shore or in a golden hall. But yes, she tilts her head, maybe he is right and she is truly afraid of whatever may lie ahead. “It would be a shame to lose you too early”, a glint in her eyes as she smiles, “I fear only for the ones that find themselves on the wrong side of your shield and iron. But one cannot be too careful, is that not right?” One hand takes her knife from the satchel at her belt while the other extends to him, “I promise. I will not weaken your shield. I know the runes I must carve” For it is not a skill of carving too deep but more of finding the right movement. One wrong line and the runes may lash out in anger. Stiorra has done this before, her mother has taught her. A distant memory almost lost to the fogs of time. But the runes are there, whispering in her blood. She will choose wisely. So her hand remains outstretched, not daring to take the shield from his hands. He is a true warrior after all, strong and lithe. He does not fear, he will not pause to give space to doubt. So she shifts her legs, moving from one side to the other for a more comfortable position should the shield truly land in her lap. Leaves rustle overhead, light fades to dusk, and for a moment she hears only the crackling wood consumed by fire casting shadows between them. The right time to carve the runes, to ask the gods for more than just protection.

𝐴 𝑆𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝑆𝑀𝐼𝐿𝐸 𝑃𝐿𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝑈𝑃𝑂𝑁 𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐸𝑋𝑃𝑅𝐸𝑆𝑆𝐼𝑂𝑁 , 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑁 . not afraid of the road , of course not -------- though men have likely died all along its path . some roads may even find themselves cursed , should chance allow . but he says none of these thoughts as he looks over at her . the fire is warm , it is calming , and much more caring than the windy chill that threatens all about him . 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 , 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒 , to hand over to her the sturdy wooden board . artistry is by no means one of his talents ( in fact , he possesses very few outside of the realm of destruction ) and so , in a way , he finds himself fascinated by it from time to time . so he watches whilst she carves . ❝ i’d say sometimes that too much care makes you slow , but ... ❞

❝ when did you learn to do this , lady ? ❞ he asks , his eyes moving between her and the fire by their side that flickers away and keeps them all comfortable . he has his own beliefs , perhaps not as strong as others , but his faith has not let him down yet . at least , it has lifted him from some of the darkest places . but his trust lies mostly in his own strength , 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 ... they are earned . for a long , long time he had none to rely on but himself , and so he does not ever worry about help that might be offered . even if it does come from one of importance .

#pfadlos

ivithia‌:

… you want not to be hidden from his sight, do you ? the goddess freyja granted her knowledge of the past, visions of war and bloodshed, but none would be the wiser to believe so would appear in the physical. that the idea of romance, kindred and spirited, would resonate in waters untouched, grounds which would be holy, had another came any the nearer. alas, it’s merely them, curious beings. to say she was not charmed was but a lie, and one that, within the moment, could not be hidden from the likes of eyes, brighter than that of the stars overhead. ‘ perhaps ? ’ mimicking sihtric, she offers dimpled grin, her reach extending towards his torso, following with the curve of markings that stain flesh. quiet, she merely grants a breath of laughter, certain that he would become the trickster god. ‘ arðu síðan áfram og smakka mig. ’

𝐻𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑂𝑈𝐶𝐻 𝐼𝑆 𝐴 𝐺𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐿𝐸 𝑅𝐸𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅 𝑂𝐹 𝑆𝑂𝐹𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑁𝐺𝑆 , calmness cast over a body hardened by war . but her touch also lingers long after its moved on , like a trail of heat to mark him . and , like she touches him , he touches her . 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐄 , 𝐒𝐄𝐄 , and cold fingers find themselves to rest upon the side of eve’s neck . and then , beckoned on by what feels like fate , he leans to press his lips against hers . his own are cold and damp , but her mouth is more welcoming than anything he has considered before . in that moment her lips feel like home . he draws himself a little closer , too , pulled perhaps by the promise of her being . but still his kiss is gentle , as if , should he move too fast , she might flee from him .

#ivithia