Sep 6, 2025
husband!sihtric (18+)
↳ characters: sihtric ↳ warnings: vulgar language, smut (mdni); size kink, biting kink, breeding kink, sihtric kink etc.
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from South Korea
seen from Singapore
husband!sihtric (18+)
↳ characters: sihtric ↳ warnings: vulgar language, smut (mdni); size kink, biting kink, breeding kink, sihtric kink etc.
"so deep," you mewl, biting down a pitiful sob. "so deep."
he's fucking everywhere, completely overwhelming your senses—musky scent filling your nostrils like an aphrodisiac, inconceivably strong arms bracketing your writhing frame against the damp furs, ridiculously broad shoulders shielding you from everything but him.
it's only him.
"you're doing great, my love," sihtric praises, pressing a wet kiss to your jawline, the gesture so tender as his hips rolls against yours, swollen cock prodding against your cervix. "always so good for me, my little wife."
he shifts, momentarily halting his movements, and you whine in protest but he just chuckles lowly and lifts your calves to rest on his shoulders. when you squirm downward, trying to kiss his tip with your needy hole, he bites down on your leg, mismatched eyes watching as your expression contorts at the sting.
you curse and might actually be about to slap the grin off of his face, but then he ruts into you, folding you in half, and it feels like he's downright molding your insides to accommodate his thick girth.
"f-fuck!" you cry out, gasping for the air that's being punched out of your lungs.
sihtric hisses at the velvety feel of your sobbing cunt, squeezing him so tightly it feels like you've got him in a chokehold, and he loves it—a wonderful way to go, he thinks.
and the sounds your pussy makes as he drills into you, as lewd as the wanton moans that fall from your puffy lips, squelches in harmony with the wet smack of skin slapping skin. his heavy balls tighten like an iron grip, cock pulsing, throbbing as he praises you, his sweet little wife, for always taking what he gives you like a fucking champ.
his calloused hands snake around your shoulders, holding you firmly against his chest so that you literally cannot move a fucking inch, only lie there like a coiled spring and moan obscenely as his thick cock assaults your weeping hole.
"mm, can feel you clenching me so nice—are you gonna let me fill you up, mh? gonna let me make you all round with my pups?"
his filthy words make you moan, and you nod vehemently cause there's nothing you would love more, too fucked out to actually form any coherent words. a breathy chuckle escapes him, cut off by the primal groan reverberating in his ribcage as he pistons forward, and he loves the sting of your teeth biting down on his shoulders, revelling in the licentious sounds you make as he fucks his seed into your womb.
Godless and Free
Pairing: Sigtryggr Ivarsson (The Last Kingdon) x f!reader Warnings: Talk of religion, mild angst, sexually explicit content. Word count: ~5k
Summary: It has been a year since Sigtryggr took her away from Winchester. Now, settled into a life in Jorvik, the two must learn to navigate their differences.
Author's note: Based on this request, but also a sequel to Little Warrior. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.
The wind whipped through her hair, its icy chill pricked like tiny daggers against her heated skin as she raced through the woods – more a rapid stumble than a full run – it was an inky black night, the glow of the moon and stars above were all that illuminated her way, preventing her from crashing face first into the roughened trunks of the trees. Her lungs burned with exertion, her feet bloody from the repeated snap of twigs and stab of jagged stones against her bare soles. She would not, could not stop though; a fate far worse than sore feet and breathlessness awaited her if she allowed herself to slow down.
“Christian…”
The taunt filtered through the air as a loud whisper, seeming to come from everywhere and yet nowhere all at once. She was suddenly uncertain of if she was running to or from the voice. She collided with something solid, and was sent sprawling upon her bottom. Her thin, cotton nightdress did nothing to cushion her fall, and she yelped at the impact of a gnarled root that protruded sharply from the earth. Pain bloomed hot and intense across her flesh. She stared fearfully up into a familiar pair of blue eyes – once they would have softened in sympathy at her discomfort – now she saw only hatred reflected back at her in their depths. Sigtryggr’s mouth twisted in disgust as he spat the word “Christian” again, as though it were poison upon his tongue. She wanted to plead, to cry out for mercy, but when she opened her mouth only a pathetic whimper escaped her lips. She trembled, a prey animal beneath a stalking predator, as fear sent acrid bile creeping up the inside of her throat. He lifted his axe in a high arc above his head and brought it down in a heavy swing.
She awoke with a gasp, her heart racing as cold sweat slicked her hair to the back of her neck. The pale light of dawn had only just begun to reach out across the heavy furs she lay beneath, bringing with it the realisation that she was not, in fact, being chased through the woods, but tucked safely in bed, next to the man who had once held her captive. Now she lay beside him of her own volition, though since leaving Wintanceaster he had haunted her dreams, not as a symbol of liberation, but one of terror. Instinctively, her hand went to her neck, fingers reaching fruitlessly for the wooden cross she had once worn around it, and found the skin bare. Her hand dropped uselessly back to the furs, curling into a fist. That little cross had been a source of comfort to her in the life she had before this one, that was until her heathen lover had torn it free and discarded it the first time they had lain together. She had not minded at the time, the reckless act had enthralled her, but that had been in the safety of the confines of Alfred’s study, which was familiar. Now they were settled in Eoferwic, the furthest from home she had ever been, and the absence of her cross made her ache.
Sigtryggr stirred beside her, disturbed by her startled awakening. A tired noise of displeasure rumbled in his chest, as he rolled to face her. His slender fingers reached beneath the furs, gripping the dip of her waist.
“It is early, Little Warrior, too early to begin the day yet” he whispered, before tugging her against his bare chest with gentle ease. “You are trembling. Why?”
His tired eyes opened wider, regarding her with mild concern as she felt her racing heart slow beneath the comfort of his touch and the soothing sound of his voice. So different from what she had dreamed, and yet eerily similar. “I had a dream,” she murmured as her body pressed against his, “about you.”
"You dreamed of me?" he asked, his gaze softening as his hand lifted from her waist to her face, and his thumb stroked tenderly against her jawline.
She could sense the desire that simmered beneath the surface of him, his body so tightly wound against her own and prepared to pounce at the slightest hint of invitation. It hurt her to know that the next words from her mouth would snuff that out, causing him to withdraw from her, but she could not lie to Sigtryggr. He did not just see her when he looked upon her; that piercing stare bore down to the very core of her, flaying her open. There was nothing she could hide from him, he was far too perceptive.
"I dreamed of you," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she clutched the furs tighter to herself, as though the very act would protect her from whatever hurt or offense she would inevitably see reflected back at her in his stare. "You were chasing me. You meant to kill me."
The wolfish grin that spread across his face was not the reaction she had anticipated, and she frowned as he huffed a soft laugh, the gentle expulsion of air fanning across her cheek. He cupped her face, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to the crease of her brow. “I do not allow those I mean to kill to warm my bed,” he muttered, “now sleep. You are safe.”
She cuddled against him, allowing him to tuck her head beneath his chin as he wrapped both arms around her. His warmth quickly lulled her back into a gentle slumber, though she noticed as her breaths softened and she inhaled his scent that he smelled faintly of soft earth and fallen leaves – like the woods.
Hours later, with the morning sun now streaming vibrant through the gaps in the wooden beams of their longhouse, they broke their fast on salted pork and oat cakes – long gone were their days of scraping green mold from their bread crusts during the siege of Wintanceaster – food in Eoferwic was plentiful with no one at the city walls to starve them. The settlement here was a prosperous one for the Danes; they had crops, livestock, homes. The space she shared with Sigtryggr was modest, but comfortable – the self-contained hut was a single room consisting of a small hearth for a fire with a space to prepare food, a large bed laden with furs and a wooden table with chairs, which they now sat at to eat.
When Sigtryggr had given Wintanceaster back to Edward, and asked her to go with him, she hadn’t hesitated. The month they had spent together had not seemed long enough, especially not when they had only just begun to explore the depths of their feelings for one another. However, the journey north towards Eoferwic had worn her patience beyond its limits, quickly dissipating the lover’s haze she had lost herself in. She did not voice her complaints to Sigtryggr – she was all too aware of what he had sacrificed to keep her safe – however, long hours spent astride his horse made her backside sore and, as eager as she was to welcome him between her thighs when they made camp each evening, the hardness of the ground was unforgiving against her knees and back. She grew miserable and withdrawn, waving it away as travel weariness whenever her lover queried her sullen silences.
She had expected her spirits to lift once they arrived at their destination, and to an extent they had – a comfortable bed, and days not spent on horseback did wonders for morale, but at her core she was homesick. When Sigtryggr had thrown away her cross, in her mind that had been symbolic of his disapproval of her faith. Out of respect to him, she had not prayed since leaving Wintanceaster, afraid she would offend him or, worse, that he would mock her. It was painfully apparent from the suspicious stares directed her way by his fellow Danes that they did not trust her. Sigtryggr was putting himself at risk by keeping her as his woman, the absence of her faith was the least she owed him. However, far from home and without being able to speak to her god, she was afraid. The nightmares had begun shortly after that, and she had kept them to herself – until now.
“I want to talk about my dream,” she said, placing the remnants of her oat cake upon her plate, and dusting the crumbs lightly from her fingers. She watched as Sigtryggr chewed a mouthful of salted pork slowly, eyeing her carefully as he lifted his gaze from the table towards her.
“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug once he’d swallowed, “I would never hurt you.”
“It’s not nothing,” she insisted, “I’ve been having this same dream since we arrived here.”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest. “Are you afraid of me?”
She swallowed thickly, looking down at the crumbs upon the table then back up at him. A look of impatience had settled over his features, she could see it in the subtle lift of his eyebrow as he waited for her answer. “I was your prisoner once.”
He narrowed his eyes and she instantly wished she could take back what she’d said. But it was too late now. “And now you are my woman. You chose to come with me.”
“How has anything changed?” she demanded, her voice becoming shrill as she fought back the tears from it, rapidly losing the battle against a tide of emotions she had held at bay for months. “I am as much your prisoner here as I was back in Wintanceaster. I have not even my faith anymore, only you. My life is in your hands.”
He leaned across the table, nostrils flared in anger and instinctively she shrank away, fearful of his reaction to her admission. When he spoke, his voice was angry, but it was not loud. There was a dangerous lowness to it, a quiet edge that was more menacing than any furious shout. “You are free, free to leave anytime you’d like. And if this is how you feel, I suggest that you do.”
She felt as though all the air had left her as she watched him stand up from the table and leave without another word. There was a part of her that longed to chase after him, to demand that he stay and talk about all of this, yet she remained rooted to the spot, unable to move from her chair as her chest felt too tight and unshed tears pricked at the rims of her eyes. She had done it. She had finally done it; shown the depth of her ingratitude for all he had done for her and he had hated what he saw, grown tired of her. A tear tracked its way down her cheek as she wondered if he would come back.
He did come back. Darkness had fallen, the day having passed at a glacial pace as she busied herself, sweeping the floor, making the bed – no task taking enough time to while away the seeming crawl that the passage of time had halted to. She lay on her side, facing the wall when she felt the dip of the mattress next to her as his weight settled into the bed. She wanted to wail like a child when he didn’t tug her against him as he did every night when he slipped into bed beside her. She had grown used to him pulling her against his body as though she weighed nothing, either nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck as sleep claimed them both, or rolling her onto her back as his hardness nudged insistently at her inner thigh. Tonight, he did neither of those things. It was the first night since they left Wintanceaster that he hadn’t touched her.
No dreams came for her that night, though she was certain at some point she felt the gentle brush of Sigtryggr’s lips against her own. When she opened her eyes to greet the morning sun, his space in the bed was empty. She threw back the furs, eyes wide in panic as she moved through the small space. His weapons were gone, boots and clothes too.
Has he left me?
Not caring that she was dressed in only her nightgown, she pulled open the door, looking out upon the settlement. It was eerily quiet. The grassy plane that the longhouses encircled, worn down to the earth by repeated footfall over time, was mostly empty, void of the usual men that gathered to talk and spar. A few small children ran past giggling with a dog barking at their heels, and she could see Brynhild draping wet clothes to dry over a length of twine pulled taut between two posts.
Besides Sigtryggr, Brynhild was the kindest to her of the Danes. She was unsure of how old she was, but she had a manner of speaking which sounded more ancient than time itself. She was a portly woman, seemingly as wide as she was tall, and her long hair was grey as iron, always neatly braided and then pinned into buns at the sides of her head. Her blue eyes sat deep in her well lined face, yet still twinkled with vivacity. She was a person that smiled with her eyes rather than her mouth, and they softened as she watched the young Saxon woman rush breathlessly over to her.
“Brynhild, where is everyone? Have you seen Sigtryggr?” she asked, too worried to be embarrassed about the shrillness that the urgency in her question lent to her tone of voice.
“Gone to Dunholm,” the old woman answered simply, “all fighting men and women gone.”
“What for?” she asked. Dunholm was English land, the Danes had no business being there, unless to cause trouble.
Brynhild shrugged, then groaned with effort as she stooped to lift a damp undershirt from her wicker basket. The younger woman was quick to step forward, taking over from her and beginning to drape the laundered items over the clothesline.
“You are a good girl,” Brynhild commented, her eyes sparkling in one of her subtle smiles, “Sigtryggr was smiled on by the gods when they gave you to him.”
She stiffened at the mention of him, pausing to look sadly over her shoulder at the old Dane. “He’ll come back to me, won’t he?”
“If the gods mean for him to.” Brynhild took the empty wicker basket from her as she offered it back. Her words provided little comfort.
Sigtryggr had left without a word. The last thing he had said to her was that she should leave. Perhaps he hoped she would not be there when he returned. Dejectedly, she turned to go back inside, suddenly feeling much too vulnerable in the little that she was wearing.
“Wait, before I forget,” Brynhild called after her.
She turned, and saw that the old woman held out Sigtryggr’s dagger to her, hilt first. It was a simple weapon, the steel of the blade was dull, yet its edge was wickedly sharp. The dark wooden handle was carved with runes that she did not know the meaning of. She looked quizzically from the weapon to Brynhild’s face, hesitating.
“Take it,” she urged, thrusting her hand out again for emphasis, “he told me to give to you. Keep you safe.”
Slowly, she reached forward and took the dagger from her outstretched hand with a quiet thanks, then turned and walked back inside of the home she shared with Sigtryggr. She turned the blade over in her hands, wondering why it had been left for her. She would get no sense from Brynhild beyond what she had already told her, and she dare not speak to any of the other women left behind – they treated her with mistrust and their answers would not be kind.
Did Sigtryggr mean to return to her? Had he simply given her his blade as a means to arm herself when she went off by herself out into the world? Why had he left and not said anything?
The days passed by with an agonising slowness, and upon the fifth morning, when she had woken alone once more, she climbed from the bed and prayed – the first time she had done so since leaving Alfred’s study. The earthen floor was cool against her knees, a strange contrast to the warm furs upon which she placed her elbows as she clasped her hands before her and closed her eyes. She surprised herself when her thoughts immediately landed on Sigtryggr and not herself.
“I pray, Lord Jesus Christ, be Sigtryggr’s true armour. Cover him, therefore, O God, with your strong breastplate. Cover him all in all with his five senses, so that, from his soles to the top of the head, in no member, without within, may he be sick; that, from his body, life be not cast out
by plague, fever, weakness, suffering, until, with the gift of old age from God, departing from the flesh, be free from stain, and be able to fly to the heights, and, by the mercy of God, be borne in joy to the heavenly cool retreats of his kingdom.”
She kept her hands clasped in front of her, as she knelt before the bed with her eyes closed, and her thoughts drifted to her wayward lover. “Please come back to me,” she whispered. She would stay, she decided, if only to know for certain that he intended for her to leave, that their time together was at its end.
Upon the seventh night, she jerked awake, torn from sleep by the blare of a war horn that pierced through the silence with a loudness that made her heart feel as though it would burst forth from her chest. She snatched up Sigtryggr’s dagger from beneath her pillow – the place she had stashed it for safekeeping since Brynhild had given it to her, partially for her own protection, but mostly because having a little piece of her lover in the bed with her helped sleep to find her with greater ease. She moved quickly from the house, and peered out into the distance. She could see flames upon the wooden fortifications that encircled their settlement, and hear the shouts of men. The shouting grew louder, signifying that the people whose voices they belonged to were drawing closer. She looked down at the blade clutched so tightly in her fist that it made her knuckles white with the effort, and decided there and then that it was better to run. It was craven, she knew, but it was her best chance of survival. Her and a single dagger were no match for whatever army advanced upon them.
Having hurriedly tugged on a red linen shift over the top of her nightdress, and pulled on her boots, she rushed out of the door, dagger in hand. She thought of Brynhild – she couldn’t simply leave the old woman defenceless, but as she looked towards her dwelling, she could see that the portly old woman was already outside, her back towards her, and marching purposefully towards the source of the noise.
What was she doing? Did the old woman have a death wish?
She called out after her, wondering if she’d even hear her amidst the cacophony of noise. Apparently she did as, without turning around, she waved her off dismissively and carried on walking. She stared after her, jaw agape, torn between chasing after her and simply fleeing. Growling in frustration, she took off running in the opposite direction – she could offer no protection, simply another body for the advancing forces to cleave through before they inevitably killed Brynhild too. She made for the treeline, deciding that hiding in the thick of the woods was her best chance of survival.
The moment that she was running amidst the trees, the light of the settlement swallowed up by dense woodland, icy fingers of fear began to dance along her spine. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, visible whimpers escaped her with every laboured breath as she ran as though hunted. She was living her nightmare, and this time she couldn’t jolt into wakefulness to end it – this was real. It was a cloudy night, with no moonlight to illuminate her path, and so she stumbled in darkness, tripping and almost falling several times over unearthed roots. She managed to right herself each time and continue to run, until a particularly bad pitch in her step shook the dagger loose from her grasp, sending it clattering to the ground where she could no longer see it.
“No!” she cried, dropping to her knees and scrabbling at the dark earth with trembling fingers in search of it. It was all she had left of Sigtryggr. Her nails scraped uselessly in the dirt, never making contact with the blade she desperately sought. She hadn’t even realised she had been crying until she felt the droplets fall upon her hands.
She yelped in surprise as her fingers brushed against someone else’s, drawing her hand back as though scalded. She looked up, her eyes able to make out the figure of Sigtryggr crouched before her, the dagger she had dropped held loosely in his fingers. She had been so frightened, so absorbed in her own sense of panic that she had not even heard his approach.
“Looking for something?” he asked softly, offering the weapon back to her.
It was in that moment that she realised that this was nothing like her nightmares. She had nothing to fear from him, he would never harm her. All of her fright dissipated in the moment that she looked upon his face – so familiar even in darkness – and she lunged towards him, throwing her arms around his neck, causing the blade to fall back to the ground as Sigtryggr toppled backwards, wrapping his arms around her waist, as he laid heavily on his back.
She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, his long hair tickled her nose as she sobbed helplessly against him. Her words made little sense, even to her. “I was lost, I was lost,” she babbled, hiccuping around her tears.
Sigtryggr hushed her with a soothing sound, stroking his large hand over the back of her head, before coaxing her to look at him. “You are lost only if I am searching for you, little warrior, and I have found you. You’re safe.”
She was overwhelmed by the urge to interrogate him, to demand to know where he had been for the last week, why he had left her, but at the feeling of him beneath her, the sound of his sweet words and how earnestly he looked into her eyes, all questions died upon her tongue. Suddenly aware of the feeling of him beneath her, how real he felt after so many nights without him, she was eager to feel more.
Reaching between them, she tugged open the lacings of his trousers. Knowing straight away what she was after, Sigtryggr crushed his lips to hers, forcefully pushing her skirts above her hips as he kissed her as though he meant to devour her. It was too much and not enough. She felt as though she could not breathe, but could not bear to be parted from him as her tongue licked messily against his. The scrape of the rough woodland floor against her knees stung, and yet not for a moment did she wish to climb off of him. With hastened desperation, she grasped the base of his manhood, panting heavily as he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes screwed shut in pleasure as she dragged him through her slick, and the vision of his face in the darkness, contorted in ecstasy, was one she wanted to etch into her mind, to ensure she would remember it always. She didn’t care that time had not been taken to prepare her properly, and sank down onto his girth with a cry of both pain and gratification as he stretched her open. The impossible fullness was the most complete she’d felt in days.
One of his hands grasped her hip, guiding her movements as she began to undulate atop him, while the other sank into her hair, anchoring her against him. Catching sight of his Mjölnir pendant against his leather breastplate, she took the cord of it between her teeth, biting down as she impaled herself upon him over and over, urged on by his soft, breathy moans. She stilled only when he came inside of her with a jerk of his hips, holding her hip with such force that she knew he would leave bruises. She let his Mjölnir fall from her lips, as he groaned low against the hollow of her throat, then fell bonelessly backwards, staying inside of her, taking her with him as he went. She had not peaked, it did not matter, the feel of him, his essence, filling her, reminding her he was real and not something her frightened mind had conjured as a comfort was all she needed.
When she had finally caught her breath enough to speak, she lifted herself enough to look down at him. “We have to go, we cannot stay here, we are being attacked.”
“That was just us,” he said softly, pulling her back down to him and tenderly kissing the top of her head. “I told Brynhild not to open the gates until she heard the horn and saw the torches, so that she would know she was welcoming us home.”
“Why did you leave?” she asked, lifting her gaze to look at the sharp line of his jaw. She was trying desperately to remain the balmy glow of their coupling, but could not quite keep the biting edge of anger from her voice.
“Uhtred wishes to take back Bebbanburg,” he explained, stroking a hand lazily up and down her back as they remained entwined upon the woodland floor. “We rode to Dunholm to keep him and his men away from Eoferwic.”
“And..?” she asked with a curious raise of her eyebrow.
“We had to lend fighting men and women to his cause, but he will not trouble our settlement here.”
“I am surprised you do not wish to join his fighting,” she murmured, tracing the lines of his leather breastplate with her fingertips in the darkness.
“I have fought for all I want, and it is here,” he replied, “I owe a debt to Uhtred for what he did for us in Wintanceaster, and that debt is now paid. I have no need to fight for him.”
She hummed in acknowledgement, quietly relieved that he would not be placed in harm’s way for another man’s cause. “Why did you not tell me you were going?”
He hesitated a moment, his hold on her tightening subtly. “I…I was going to, and then I was unkind to you before I left. I feared you would leave, and I knew if I went without telling you why then at the very least your curiosity would keep you with me.”
Her heart ached at his words, how could he ever believe that that was all that bound her to him? She reached up, cupping his cheek, nuzzling her face against his. “I am not going anywhere.”
“You say you still feel like my prisoner…”
She sighed, shaking her head. “I just…I do not know what my place is here. I wish to keep my faith, Sigtryggr, but will you cast me out if I am to do that?”
He sat up, keeping her upper body cradled against his chest. Sweeping her hair away from her face, he gazed down at her, intensity burning in his eyes, visible even in the gloom. “It is no secret that I hold no love for your nailed god, the followers of his faith have taken much and more from me. But it was a Christian woman that I fell in love with back in Wintanceaster, and I did not bring her north to change any part of her. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her eyes misty and voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”
It was bright outside when she awoke – back in their bed, with no memory of how she got there – and Sigtryggr’s side was empty. For a moment, dread gnawed a pit in her stomach, worried she had dreamed his return and that he was still gone from her, until she looked bleary eyed around the room and saw him huddled in a corner beside the fireplace.
“Sigtryggr? How did we get back here? What are you doing?” she mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.
He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, offering her a cunning smile, before he rose and crossed the room, greeting her with a soft kiss against her forehead. “You fell asleep in my arms,” he told her, “and I carried you home. Come, I have something I want to show you.”
She accepted his outstretched hand, smiling at the warmth of his rough palm against her softer one, and rose from the bed. He led her to the corner where he had been kneeling a moment ago and gestured towards it. He had laid down a sheepskin upon the floor, with a small wooden altar erected against the wall, complete with a half burned tallow candle.
“Now we both have a place to speak to our gods,” he smiled, and opened his free hand, allowing a length of leather cord wrapped around his fingers to dangle against his palm. Threaded onto it was a handmade wooden cross, whittled so crudely that it almost made her want to laugh. She simply smiled though; despite its crookedness, it was all the more perfect for the fact that he had made it for her.
She pushed her hair out of the way, as he came to stand behind her, fastening it around her neck. Her fingers toyed with the cross as it settled upon her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her back against his chest, the word that fell from his lips was warm, moist, spoken with desire against her neck. “Christian…”
It sent a shiver down her spine, and this time for an entirely different reason.
<< Previous chapter || Masterlist || Next chapter >>
Claim (Edward x Wife!Reader)
Kinktober 2025 Prompts: dominance, praise kink, hair pulling.
CW: MINORS DNI, afab reader, Mercian reader, mentions of Alfred's death, mentions of inappropriate comments, mentions of childbirth, semi public sex (throne sex), praising (Edward to reader), p in v sex, dominant Edward, hair pulling, fingering, possessive Edward.
Words: 2956
AN: Edward does not yet have a taglist, so this is for my precious wifey @legitalicat 😘
Edward had once balked at the idea of getting married. Of tying his life to another, likely someone he wouldn't know. But his parents had ingrained the importance into him, that when he was king, he would need a wife not only for heirs but as support. Alfred would often laud Aelswith for the part she had long played in his desire for a united England.
Then he met you. Like his mother, you were of Mercia. His parents knew how important the alliance between the two kingdoms was and how important it was to keep that alliance strong after Edward became king.
He had been told tales of your kindness, of your beauty and your faith. Edward had held on to those things, reminding himself of them as you walked into the throne room. His mother and father had stood off to the side. Your own parents had walked in behind you.
Those memories stayed with him, even now. You had been with him through so much. Especially when his father had died and he had been crowned as king. You had been the support his parents had all but promised you would be. Through the good and the bad.
He knew his marriage to you was something to take pride in, that it was something envied by others. To not only have a beautiful wife, but to a wife that loved him unconditionally. So often, visiting nobles would praise him for it. Would say God had blessed him with 'the perfect wife and queen'.
For years he had listened to those words. Before he had become king, they had been innocent comments. Deflected away, usually, by his mother. You took them as compliments, thanking them each and every time. Assuring Edward that they were simply being nice.
But as the years rolled on, as you both got older, the comments became less veiled in innocence.
Though somehow you continued to remain blissfully unaware. Edward, however, mentally marked each and every comment and who made them.
Every single one.
He was exhausted, frustrated and everything in between. What had begun as a simple afternoon of petitions followed by visits from neighbouring nobles had soon turned into yet more comments on his 'luck' in securing such a pleasing wife.
Edward could only find happiness in the fact you were not there to hear them this time. You had bore him a child a few months ago and royal obligations were not on the top of your list of priorities. But it seemed as though the news had only made the comments ramp up.
Most were not directly spoken to Edward anymore, however. Though they often made it to his ears, through drunken ramblings at feasts. Those comments in particular were usually the most lecherous. As though not saying them directly to the king gave them leave to say what they pleased. That frustrated him the most. Not only were you his wife, the mother of his child, but you were queen.
Heavy steps took him towards the chambers he shared with you. Knowing just hearing your voice, seeing your face would be enough to make him forget his frustrations. Even only temporarily.
You were in a chair by the window as he entered, your daughter held in your arms as you rocked back and forth. Every worry and frustration leaving him the moment he crossed the threshold.
"My love, is everything alright?" you asked, hearing the door click closed.
Slowly, you stood. The baby hardly stirring in your arms as you walked over to her cradle and set her down. Edward simply stood in the middle of the room, and you could tell immediately that it wasn't something simple that was bothering him.
By the small frown that still pulled at his brow, you had a feeling you knew what it was. Your hand moved to cup his face.
"Do not worry yourself, the comments mean nothing," you smiled, leaning in to kiss him.
You said the same thing every time and Edward had to wonder how you always seemed so unbothered about the things being said about you.
"Some men simply want what another has, and you have many things they do not."
You knew your worth, you knew how others would look at you. But the only thing that ever mattered to you was what your husband thought of you. If he found you to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, then that was enough for you.
But for Edward, he saw beyond their words. Especially when they came from men. He had made such comments himself when he was much younger. That was what bothered him. Knowing that what they said aloud was probably only the beginnings of the other thoughts they would have about you.
"It is not what they say aloud that concerns me, but what they do not," he muttered, kissing your forehead before settling himself on the edge of the bed.
You stood in front of him, lifting the crown from his head and setting it away on the dressing table.
"You cannot rule their thoughts, Edward."
You continued to talk, but he was barely listening. Yes, you were right, he could not dictate what they thought. But maybe he could remind them that those thoughts would only ever remain as such…
Days passed before Edward had the, in his own words, displeasure of meeting with any nobles again. You tried to assure him over and over again that the comments were nothing to concern himself with. Yet the words seemed to simply pass through one ear and out of the other.
Thankfully, the meeting passed without incident. It was the planning a feast to celebrate the birth of the first royal child, something you were beyond excited about. The date was set, the guests invited and even the food was beginning to be sourced and prepared.
The date was less than a week away, not all that long in the grand scheme of things. But it became the focus of everyone of any status in and around the palace. A distraction for Edward as well, you hoped.
But unfortunately, you were not that lucky.
The feast was in full swing. Noble after noble coming to offer blessings and congratulations to you both for your daughter. You took them gladly, thanking each and every one personally. Edward sat at your side, but you were so focused on your guests that you didn't notice the slow change in his expression. Because he wasn't listening to the guests in front of you. He was listening to others around the table.
He could hear each and every word like he was sat right beside him. Commenting on how your figure had changed after childbirth, how lucky Edward was to have such a pleasing wife. The longer he listened, the worse the comments got. Drunken whispers about how well you fit into your gown. How that if they were your husband, you wouldn't be leaving your chambers…
His goblet slammed down to the table, a little louder than necessary. But loud enough to make the group of drunk lords fall silent. Edward's gaze found each and every one, committing their faces to memory.
And a plan was already forming in his mind.
Your hand came to rest on his forearm. Even without hearing what had been said, you knew why he would react like that.
"Calm yourself, my love," you whispered, giving his forearm a subtle squeeze.
That snapped him back to reality, but for the rest of the feast, all he could think of was how to show them who you belonged to.
As the feast wound to a close, Edward was settled in his throne. Keeping a watchful eye on you as you bid farewell to each guest and thanked them for coming. When the last guest left, you turned to your husband.
"Could you not have enjoyed the festivities just a little?" you asked, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips.
Edward kept his eyes on the door. He could hear the same voices on the other side, mixed with some others. A small smile began to tug at his lips. When he didn't answer you, you moved closer. Fingers under his chin to tilt his face to look at you.
"Do not tell me you are sulking over some drunken fools again?"
Edward's arm circled your waist, pulling you to stand between his legs. His smirk widening at the gasp of surprise that left you.
"I do not sulk," he grumbled, toying with the ribbon on the front of your gown.
You let out a derisive snort, the hand at his chin moving to curl around the back of his neck.
"You do, and you are doing so right now."
Edward heard the voices pass outside the door again. His free hand moving your skirts and pulling you into his lap. It wouldn't be the first time you had sat with him on his throne, but there was something behind his eyes that you couldn't quite place.
"Kings do not sulk, we brood," he laughed, the arm around your waist holding you steady as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
You laughed again, shaking your head.
"Whatever it is, you need to stop letting them frustrate you."
He toyed with the ribbon of your bodice again, the mischief now clear behind his eyes. He was planning something. You opened your mouth to question him, but he beat you to an answer.
"Then allow me to vent my frustrations, my love," he smirked, tugging at the ribbon until the top of your gown fell a little further open.
Your brows raised, voice breaking as you exclaimed, "What are you doing, Edward?"
He leaned forward, pressing slow kisses to the flesh of your shoulders and chest. As though that was enough explanation. The hand at his neck tangled into his hair, pulling his head backwards and earning you a frustrated growl.
"We cannot, not in here…" you whispered, tugging gently at his curls again when he moved to lean back in.
"You wish for me to be unbothered by those lechers," he grunted, wriggling from your grasp and nuzzling into the swell of your chest.
"I want to show them that they can think as they please, because I am the only one who gets to have you like this."
You felt a wave of heat run over your body. You had asked him time and time again to put those fools out of his mind, but you had never thought he would do so like this. Yet you could hardly ignore the desire that simmered in your belly.
"You wish to…in here?" you asked, hardly able to form the words.
Edward answered with a roll of his hips, letting the already hardening length of him pressing against your clothed core. His eyes finding yours and filled with nothing but lust and adoration.
"I wish to remind them that this beautiful woman before me is not for them to leer at, for them to lust over. That she is mine to pleasure, to lust for…"
That sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand winding back into his hair to plant a hungry kiss against his lips. There was something possessive in his tone that made your heart race and your thighs clench.
Edward's arm around your waist pulled you closer, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a groan. His free hand slipping beneath your gown, quickly finding your heated core. You let out a gasped moan of his name as his fingers slipped beneath your smallclothes.
His pace was quick, there was no grace or rhythm. Just pure need fuelled by possessive frustration.
"Edward, please…" you sighed, as his fingers pushed deeper inside you.
His pace was unrelenting. Two fingers buried deep, the cool touch of his ring making your shiver in his hold. His thumb pressed against your pearl, making your back arch in uncontrolled pleasure.
The thrill of getting caught, of someone hearing you or seeing you should have felt wrong. But it only spurred you on. Your hips grinding down against his hand as your desperately chased your peak.
Your skin was flushed, your eyes scrunched shut as your squealed his name. His fingers pistoning in and out of you as you barrelled through your release. His cock twitched insistently beneath you.
You needed more. You needed him. Edward kept going as he felt your muscles clench around him, your hand scrambling to try and push his hand away. Your head dropping back as Edward's lips latched onto the exposed column of your neck, his thumb still pressed against your swollen bud.
Before you could even relax, you could feel Edward shift beneath you. The laces of his breeches were torn away by his desperate fingers. His hips shifting until his head slipped between your folds. Moans left you both in perfect unison as every inch of him was enveloped by your warmth.
He started slow. Holding you tight as he began to thrust up into you. His lips continuing their both over your neck and jaw. Your hand tangling tighter into his hair, the other gripping his shoulder. His hand at your waist encouraged you to roll your hips, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
"Let them hear you, my love, let them hear what only I can do for you," he mumbled into your neck, slowly but surely picking up the pace.
"You always sound so pretty, they should hear what they'll never have."
His words sent wave after wave of pleasure through your veins. Making you roll your hips faster with the urge of his hand. His own grunts and groans joining your moans and sighs in a symphony of pleasure.
Your nails scraped against his scalp, trying to pull him in for a kiss. You could feel your release already creeping up on you, faster than you could have expected. Both of his hands held your hips tight, taking full control of the pace as he felt you pulse around him.
You felt so sensitive, the aftershocks of your first release having barely subsided as your second begain to creep up on you. Your head fell towards his shoulder as you gave in to the waves of pleasure that flowed through your body.
His hips slammed into yours. Chasing his own end with a flurry of growls of your name. He could still hear the voices outside the door. Edward knew that if he could hear them, they could hear this. Perfect.
He kept going until he felt your core clenching around him again. Your moans muffled by the fabric of his tunic. A hand moved to your hair, gently pulling you back upright.
"I said, let them hear you," he growled, punctuating his words with a thrust of his hips.
You gasped out in surprise, eyes meeting his as you stopped trying to bite back your moans. Edward's lips met yours, your eyes rolling back as your second peak finally crashed over you. Your moan barely muffled by his kiss.
The squeeze of your muscles around him pulled his own release out of him. His forces brutal as he spilled inside of you. Your joined moans echoing through the room.
Slowly, your bodies stilled. Your breathing heavy as you rested your forehead against Edward's. A small smirk breaking on your lips.
"Jealousy suits you, my love," you giggled, earning you a lazy thrust into your still pulsing core.
Edward chuckled, letting himself slip out of you. His frustrations had subsided, for now. But he had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time.
You might not have known the faces of the men from the feast, but you could find them easily now. They seemed unable to meet your gaze, let alone Edward's. Yet you knew your husband. He wasn't about to let this lie.
The table was filled with nobles from around England, though you couldn't for the life of you remember what the feast was for. All you could focus on was Edward's hand on your thigh, hidden by the heavy wooden table.
But his eyes were trained on those men. There was no anger in his gaze this time, however. There was pride, amusment even.
As the meal ended, you both moved to socialise. But just as Edward stood, you took his arm and pulled him back to you.
"Be nice, you proved your point…twice."
Edward smiled, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a lingering kiss to the back of it. You didn't need to watch him to know he was walking over to the group of young lords as he let you go. The idea that he was so impossibly in love with you that he was this possessive, sent a wave of desire through you, even now.
"My lords, you are awfully quiet this evening!" Edward called, smiling as the men hurried to bow before him.
"My king, we…uh…" one of the lords could hardly stammer out a sentence as they all met Edward's gaze.
Each one looked as though they would prefer the earth below opened and swallowed them whole. Your words echoed in Edward's mind, but so did every comment about your appearance.
"I should hope you have thought twice about speaking about your queen in such a manner," Edward hissed, leaning in so only the lords would hear his words. He was sure he could see at least one of them shaking with pure nervousness.
"Because I will take great pleasure in reminding you all again, should I need to."
An abandoned church made most of broken wood and whimpering winds becomes a momentary resting sanctuary for Uhtred and his men— Osferth finds himself with a crooked root in the shape of a hand, a gold ring, and a full, blue moon.
╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ COCK WORSHIP, ORGASM DENIAL ❞
[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,830 ] [ masterlist ] | Osferth x Ghost Bride!Reader
contains— smut, fluff, angsty-ish - corpse bride!au - this is not the N word okay, you're a ghostly being that becomes corporeal. it's monsterfucking, not that kind of filth - no use of y/n - mentions of christianity lol - dillusioned!reader (if you know the movie, you know) - mention of character death - nsfw: sort of dubcon, smidge coercion, cock worship, orgasm denial(?) - no betas.
a/n— ok, but i am actually very proud of this one!! i enjoyed writing this way too much, adding a bit of comedy aspect to it shdhs. i hope you enjoy it!! oh, also this is the vibe you want if you wanna listen. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!
His pack rests behind him, the couple of bundled furs he uses for bedding has hardened into the cold ground, not at all aiding his sleep. Around him, his lord and the rest of the men had managed to fall into their dreams, almost as soon as they closed their eyes.
Even Finan, with a furrow in his brow and his arms crossed, has his head tilted awkwardly to one side that Osferth knows is going to be painful in the morning.
But sleep evades him, and though he scarcely believes in ghosts, resting in a church, no matter how abandoned, no matter that there's gaping, charred hole that has blown over the side of it, trickling the cold, winter winds and soft, wet snow— it feels odd.
It brings a restlessness and a comfort all the same, and with a few minutes more of staring at rotting wood and broken awning, Osferth sighs. Their small fire is dying, might as well get more dry sticks.
The church, though broken and ruined, offers warmth. Once he's out into the wintry night, the pale moonlight bright and full, glittering the wisps of fluffy snow as if you don't come out wet if you sink on it. It's cold. Much too cold to walk, to linger, but he continues. He winds to the other side, leisure in his pace, breathing in the cold whilst warming his hands with his mouth.
It's nice to find a rhythmic motion that empties his thoughts. It is nice to be out of Wessex, out of familiarity. Uhtred brought with him adventure and battle, honour and excitement. It quieted the wrought in his head... until night comes, and Osferth is left with the weight of all those he tries to bury.
He walks quite a bit, observing and carries a faint sadness for a few graves that are left. Some opened, unearthed by grave robbers, uncaring of the Christian faith. Wooden plaque holding no names, just crosses. He moves past, finding himself entering the forest before he could think through it until he comes across a clearing. It's surprisingly, perfectly circled, trees at the side adjusted like soldiers with a curled root at the centre.
Curious and kind of awed at nature, at the wonder of the existence this little tree root, curled and cold, he dips one knee as flutters his fingers over it. The thin spindles look like curled fingers, a hand reaching in a hooked angle.
When he pushes his hand forward, curling his fingers against the root, Osferth makes a surprised hum at how fitted, how perfectly it holds like a hand against his.
Osferth doesn't notice you, dancing between the shadows and moonlight. Hit by light and you fade with it, more air and light yourself than life and physical flesh. You had seen him and his men find the scarred church and setup camp. The four men had not been the first to find the abandoned place, nor had taken refuge.
And time is everlasting when you're dead. Meaningless when there is no end to days and nights.
But he is different, you muse, watching him unable to sleep and walk and walk until he reached the clearing and your cold, dead heart feels a tug.
Does he know you? Is that why he is so different?
You slink between trees, hiding behind a trunk as you watch him kneel where your body lies, curious and awed, watching as he holds your hand, curling his fingers around your own.
Your left hand flexes, a surprised giggle falling from your lips and disappearing with the wind as you feel his warmth. His hand as if he is holding your own. Human touch fades from memory in a span of time and it is a pleasant hold.
Look down, you try to say, excitement you've never felt before, thrums through your body. Look down and see the ring!
If he does, you know do not need to know who he is. You know who he will be.
Look down, look down, look down! Please! you are practically screaming, jumping in the shadows as his eyes, beautiful blue like your favourite butterfly, is entranced by the glint underneath the snow. You hold your hands to your chest. Oh, please! Please, Please look down!
You exhale, feeling life sweep back into your mouth. There. There you are, you say soundlessly as he picks it up. A gold band worn with age but gold it still is. He twists it around, and though others have tried to steal it, pocket it and sell it, you know he is different. His warmth is different. There is kindness in his eye that you like.
And God, is he pretty. You would not mind at all being his bride.
You're on one knee, now propose, you say, willing the vows of old and binding to reach his ears. He twists it and as if playfully entranced, he mutters the words that you echo back in the shadows.
"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Osferth murmurs, the words he's listened once as a young boy, hearing the priest anoint two lovers who had escaped to bond their love. "Your cup shall never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness."
He raises the ring and places it on your crooked, dried fourth finger— and you inhale air, wintry and cold and so, so alive for the first time in a very long time.
"And with this ring," he says.
"I ask you to be mine," you finish, startling Osferth as you glide toward him. Triumphant. He stumbles, falling on his bum as your arms widen around you in all your ghostly bride attire and glory. "My love! I have waited for you for such a long time. Good thing the ice and winters have been kind to my body and you still manage to find it!"
Though in truth, you had plowed against hard ground to at least unearth your left hand while most of your body had been abandoned. Your skull had cracked in three places, and there's a worm who made a permanent home in your dried liver. But your new husband does not need to know that.
He gapes at you, wide eyed and unblinking, and just as he starts you yell? Shriek— You stumble to him, falling on his lap as you press your hands against his mouth. When you don't pass through him, you let out an excited shriek.
"Oh, my apologies, I don't mean to scare you!" You pout, aged old sadness wisps beneath your eyes. "Please don't scream, my love. I have waited for you for so long. And you're so warm... and so real."
As shock permeates his face, frozen under the feel of you pressing against him— there is weight, he can feel you. You're not as warm as him, cold in fact, and he is able to see through you if his eyes adjust well enough. But you are there. He can see you and he can feel you. Your wide, unblinking eyes drinking him in, exuberant smile composed of pretty lips and a mesmerising happiness. Your hair cascades around a ruined, fluttering veil with dead flowers atop your head.
But by God, you are beautiful.
Your wedding dress— because you are a bride, are you not? Were a bride, Osferth's head is starting to ache from trying to look through and at you — are in tatters and holes, showing more of your skin than what your dress initially thought to show and he swallows. He can see a creamy thigh exposed through a slash. It doesn't help that you're bent over, resting between his legs, and he can see the top of your breasts.
On your end, your hands are just there, on his face, and you start exploring his pretty visage. His warmth is addicting, gliding your fingers through his nose and pretty cheekbones, tickling yourself on his lashes with the pads of your fingers and you giggle. The sound makes Osferth exhale shakily before you are cupping his sharp jaw and your fingers touch his lips, your own mouth turning into an 'O'.
Oh, they're soft and a little chapped, a little cold, but his exhale entrances you. His show of pure, breathing life is tantalising.
You lean in closer, nearly touching his lips with your own as you try to inhale his air. He smells of smoked meat and dried ale. Winter woods and burnt campfire. Your hands drift from his mouth to his neck, to his chest. His heart. There in your palms, you press tight. A quickened heartbeat nestles beneath and you exhale, smiling ruefully.
"My husband." Osferth's eyes widen at the pure adoration and lust in your gaze. "You are wonderful. My wait is worth it."
"Hold on, l-lady." He captures your hands in his, eyebrows furrowed. He swallows as he can feel you both corporeal and wispy. If shadows can be held, he thinks it would feel like this. "H-How am I your husband? Sorry, I've— I don't even know your name!"
What's more is that you're a ghost! But something in his head tells him not to speak aloud such a thing, for another, he isn't sure he hasn't fallen back in the encampment with the others. A bizarre dream of a very pretty, ghostly bride is for one an embarrassing topic to broach.
"Oh. That's right!" You giggle happily, offering your name and Osferth tests in his tongue. A pretty name for a pretty bride. "What's yours? Though, I'm afraid I prefer to call you husband, and would prefer to be called your wife. Or 'your love'."
At another helpless, tinkling laughter, Osferth blushes. Your eyes are distracted by the colour in his cheeks, so long ago contained your own but no more, that you take your hands from his and start petting the rosy tint again. He's so warm that you start nuzzling into him, your head burrowing into his neck.
"O-Osferth." He clears his throat to get your attention. "Osferth, lady."
"My wife."
"Sorry?"
You start to pout. "Call me 'my wife'."
Osferth starts to shake his head. "Lady, I really don't—"
"I am your wife now. See." You sit up, pointing back to your dead hand, gold ring glinting under the pale moon. "You've made your vows and given me the ring. We're married now." Your gaze darkens, your form shimmering and Osferth yelps as you had gotten ice cold. "You have made your vow, Osferth. Are you telling me you do not honour your vows? Are you a man without honour? Is there another... woman?"
Your hands on his face sharpened, like ice, digging through his skin as iff trying to embedded yourself into his skull. He cries out, taking your wrists.
"No, no! I— yes, I am your husband now. I am. There is also no other woman!"
You cock your head, still frowning. "Are you sure?"
"I'm wearing monk's robes, lad— wife," he says helplessly.
"But..." You cock your head to the side. "You don't seem too shock of a woman's body. You're very responsive to me, my love, I enjoy it quite so."
This time, he blushes deeply. "I— Goodness, okay. I've had practice... s'all."
"With... whores?"
He cringes, waiting for you to turn mad, pure ice cold and tear through his skin like you almost did, but you only hum when he nods.
"That is alright. That presents more of a challenge than an obstruction of our love."
"Challenge?" he asks as you gently push him on his back, straddling his hips. You slide your palms up and down his torso almost as if he is a campfire and you are warming your hands.
He swallows at your confident grin before you blow him a kiss and he exhales a laugh, his mind truly unconnected from his body because there is a ghostly woman on top of him, adoring him with flirtations, and he is stirring in his pants.
Truly, he must be deep asleep, in a more awkward position than Finan.
If I am, he thinks watching you with a blossoming attachment. Please, by God, don't wake me.
With a seductive intent, you slide down from his body, making sure you pay a special wiggle in his tenting manhood that he feels a lightning bolt from his cock to the ends of his nerves. He doesn't truly understand what you intend until you've unlaced him and paying special attention to his now, semi-erect appendage.
Osferth is red and sputtering, unable to find the strength to stop you.
You get your face impossibly close to his manhood, your unbridled attention makes his cock inflate until you test a teasing finger from beneath, circling his balls, up and up until you tease the slit and his hips jolt.
"G-God, Oh goodness," he spits, white knuckling his woolen coat. "Please do something. D-Don't just—shit." You test a tongue, laving the underside of his cock until pearly white essence beads from his slit and you lick it experimentally. It tastes salty, inexcusably human and alive, and you decide you like it, especially when you watch Osferth writhe, unable to decide what to do from such teasing little touches.
"Good thing for you husband, your wife made sure to serve a keen listen to gossiping wives behind the church after mass. Well before the raid burnt it all down." You got yourself comfortable between his thighs, loving how snugged you fit against his warmth here, as well as having a beautiful of view of your Osferth. "They spoke salaciously of what keeps their husbands to their beds."
You give him a wink as you enclose your hand on his cock, giving it a firm tug and he chokes. "To keep the whores away." You start slow and teasing, wanting to see what movements pleased him the most, what made him sigh and groan, jolt, hips chasing the feeling of your hand that started to warm and get wet, both from his excitement and the teasing licks you give.
When he started panting, you took your hand away. His head bobs back adorably at you, frowning. "W-Wife? Wha—" But you don't let him finish, sitting up on your hunches as you replace your hand with your mouth, feeling the stretch as he throws his head back again, neck arched. It doesn't hurt, momentarily uncomfortable as you test the feeling of it, the weight now so full in your mouth before you start moving up and down, eased by the slick and guided by his pretty sounds.
And Osferth has been on the brink of peak multiple times, but you kept stopping or slowing midway. At first, he surmised it must be your first time, unused to a man in your mouth but eager to give him pleasure, which he can't help but feel deep fondness for.
By the third peek he's been deprived off, and the little smirk playing on your lips, he realised the truth. But your mouth is a different story. It's hot and heady, just like a real mouth and his stomach is clenching, his pleasure tightening that he's got tears in his eyes, apologising as his hips chase his high in your throat but by the rumble that rocked his cock, it seems as if you were trying to tell him it was okay.
When you started massaging his stones, he was gone. White hot pleasure broke behind his eyelids that he grabbed your head, your veil and hair, dead flowers falling into light as he came, hips stuttering, before holding you down until the last drop of his spend is in your mouth.
He releases you with apologies, chest heaving with tears in his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, lady, I— inexcusable." He stared gently cleaning your face, unable to realise how much more solid you had become, how much more colour bled in your ghostly blue.
But as you sit back up, you're grinning, unmistakable pride in your gaze as he wipes the corner of your mouth tenderly. You take his fingers before he wipes it on his trousers, coated in him, and licks them clean, sucking hard with a little giggle.
"Good boy," you say. Osferth shudders, his cock already painfully stirring once more.
The Lord have mercy on him. Were there ghostly vixens? Did he marry the only ghostly vixen?
He can't say he's too mad about it.
"Hmm. So that's what it tastes like. I think I like it." You smile, rubbing his thigh. "I also think we are going to have a fruitful marriage, sweet Osferth. What we only need now is one thing..."
He blinks at you. "Hm?"
"Death, my love." You blink back at him owlishly, snapping the dagger strapped to his side. "How can we stay together when one of us breathes?"
Christ, I already have an idea for part two...
Osferth ✞ The Last Kingdom Masterlist
Osferth, utter angel in the streets but an absolute sinner in the sheets. — @fan-goddess
— ONESHOTS
Take Me to Church
Osferth x female reader || 1,190 words || complete
Guilt plagues Osferth each time he spends a night in your arms, but despite the shame, he cannot help the desire he feels at the idea of you round with his child.
The Shrine of your Lies
Osferth x nun!reader || 2,300 words || complete
On a restless night, plagued by sinful thoughts, Osferth comes across a nun with similar struggles.
The Laughter of Daisies
Osferth x female reader || 2,820 words || complete
Growing up in a small village in the countryside, you have always admired the pastor's son, Osferth. One afternoon in a field of daisies, confessions are spoken and love blooms in the sun.
Dividers by @saradika
Reblog to spread the love. Ask in the comments to be added to my Osferth taglist ♡
By the River
Word count: 5411 Warnings: RatedXish, smut, angst, Uhtred Smut,
Previously chapter from Eadith’s lady... ...“I watched you slip into his tent last night…” she tells you with a look of drunken disapproval on her face.
You bite back your bottom lip unsure of what to say next. She sighs and casts her look back out towards the group, you peel back the tent, flap a smidge and peer out with her. Uhtred looks back towards the tent and smiles meeting your eye. Eadith, clearly seeing the interaction, no thanks to Uhtred, cranes her head towards you and allows the tent flap to shut.
“Alright you little Sinner… story time…”
You sit on the ground propped up by a bunched up group of furs behind your head, while Eadith sits cross legged, bunching and un-bunching her skirts.
“That's it, that's all there is to say..” You tell her, the ale bottle staggering to and from between your hands.
You decide there is no better time than now to let it all out, all the times you and Uhtred have spent in secret…though you weren't lying when you said you didn’t know what to make of it. It's not as though you had a definite word to tell Eadith as to what you and Uhtred were. There was never any talk of the future and as you explained the situations to her you also began to wonder what it was exactly you and Uhtred were.
The words and stories still coursing through your mind, you sit up and face her.
“What…what do I do, Eadith?” you ask her plainly.
She stares blankly across from herself still fiddling with her skirts as her face makes little expressions.
“...I don’t know..” she says finally. “...But no more secret keeping!” she says with a giggle.
You join her in laughter and turn back on your stomach after slumping back down towards the furs.
Suddenly, the tent flap opens and Sihtric and Finans' faces appear; unpleasant looks painted across their faces.
“Aye, where's the bloody ale!” Finan asks.
You struggle to get up, as does Eadith before you're both face to face with them. Behind Sihtric’s tall shoulder, you spy Uhtred and Osferths close in toe.
“Where's the ale!?” Osferths asks with a smirk.
Eadith and yourself push through the men and prance back out towards the fire with a new bottle of ale ready to fill the men's cups (as you had finished off the prior one). You sit yourself back in your spot between Uhtred and Eadith, this time not avoiding to keep space between yourself and Uhtred. You watch him place himself cautiously on the ground next you and bat your eyes a bit in his direction. He plucks his cup up off the ground and you pour him a new full cup, your hands brushing against each other for a moment and you smile staring down towards his cup. Once full, you retract the bottle and glance up towards his shimmering blue orbs that are staring madly back at you. Your smile widens and you hand the bottle to Eadith who runs around the circle filling the men's cups.
Whilst busy exchanging dangerous glances with Uhtred, you suddenly hear Eadiths wild giggle uproar over the group, and turn towards her. Finan abruptly pulls her down into his lap as she squeals out in excitement trying to avoid his arms. You watch as the two bicker playfully for a moment before she settles into a spot next to him. Eadith casts you a look, that you know all too well. You shoot her back a warning look before turning away and allowing her to enjoy the ale ridden moment she finally has with her one and only; Finan. She smiles towards you as you smile back and watch slightly sickened, at the two who are flirting with each other all too plainly.
Finan passes the bottle to Sihtric and he pours himself a full cup. You spy Osferths face falling as she watches Finan and Eadith act like idiototic love birds before the rest of the group. You swallow hard understanding the poor baby monk's heart is inevitably breaking before the group.
You look over to Uhtred who's leaning back comfortably against his palms eyeing you devilishly; and cast him a flirtatious eye roll.
You extend your arm out to Osferth, which he ignores before bringing his cup to his mouth and downing the cup. He looks apologetically towards you then places his cup at his feet and stands.
" I think it's time I retire for the night," he tells you with a stoic look. "See you all in the morning.." He says faintly while trailing off towards his empty tent. You turn your head back towards the fire where Sihtric and Uhtred meet you with understanding eyes.
Eadith and Finan are still deep in secret conversations with each other, snuggled up beside the fire and you look down away from them before something sparks your attention.
We're all sitting here while they’re being…Eadith and Finan… your mind racing in a million directions.
If we can so easily dismiss our attention from them…surely noone would think anything of Uhtred and… your thought is cut off by Eadiths shriek. She rocks back in Finans arms and you cast your gaze away from the two, yet again. This time you spy Sihtric who has clearly had enough for the display of affection.
"Those two are far too involved with each other…" Sihtric says before finishing his cup of ale.
"Y/N…care to join me in my empty tent?.."
"Sweet dreams Sihtric!" You call to him, cheerfully with a giggle.
Uhtred laughs quietly to himself as you wave Sihtric goodbye. Sihtric scoffs and makes his way towards his and Finans' tent; leaving you and Uhtred alone beside Finan and Eadith, who are far too busy with one another.
The darkness of night guards their privacy far too much as you look away from their faces across the fire. You stare down at the red orange flame dancing upon the logs and after a long moment look up towards Uhtred beside you.
"Think they'll notice?…"
"Nope…" He answers before you can get the words completely out.
It would be far too easy to blame the ale for two mishappenings of the gang tonight, and you're sure you'll be busy, repairing Eadiths reputation and courage in the morning. You look to Uhtred then back down towards the fire again without a word. Unsure that Osferth or Sihtric could be spying from their tents.
"Well…that's quite enough excitement for one night." You say plainly, planting your hands on your knees.
"Goodnight, my Lord." You say quietly before raising to your knees to stand. Uhtred eyes you daringly as you rise from your spot.
"Sweet dreams…Uhtred…" you utter softly under your breath watching his eyes grow with want.
Eadith and Finan watch as you move from the fire and make your way towards yours and Eadiths tent. Uhtred's eyes follow for a brief moment before staring blankly back towards the fire for a few moments. Finan and Eadith focused back on each other, as you hear another shrill giggle escape Eadith before dipping into the flap of your tent. You curl yourself down into your bed on the forest floor snuggling deep into your pile of furs. Just before you roll over, you peer out to see Uhtred's head full of hair, bop back towards his own tent before drifting off to sleep under your furs.
~~~~
The shuffling of Eadiths unsteady footsteps awaken you and you roll in your spot watching as she peels the furs from her spot then place them messing on top of herself.
"Well, well, well…" you mumble in a groggy hushed voice.
"Shhhh…, go to sleep Y/N…" She utters in a mumble. "You're not the only one who can keep secrets…" She says with a giggle before tossing herself down into the pile of furs.
You smile to yourself before snuggling back up under your own pile of furs, trying desperately to find a small part that smells of Uhtred for you to drift off to sleep in…
~~~~
Within a few hours the relentless sun is shining on your eyes through the faint slit in the tent. You roll over and hear Eadith snoring soundly while trying to fall back to sleep. You toss and turn in place trying to lull yourself back to sleep, with no use. Finally, you lay on your back staring up at the blank tent above you and sigh heavily. Eadith, snoring loudly adjacent to you in her furs; you roll again towards the small slit in the tent and stare out at the dim sunlight. The birds chirp in the distance and hear the horses; tethered to their trees in the distance begin to whinny. You rub your eyes and sit up looking over your shoulder at Eadith yet again; still sound asleep. You take a quiet inhale in and look around the tent for your belongings before throwing them under your arm and making your way out of the tent into the dim sunlight.
Pacing slowly, you follow the hushed sounds of the water through the morning birds calls. You spy an ale cup on the ground by the fire that died through the night and grab it to go along with you. Through the trees you creep slowly trying to trace the sounds of the water rushing downstream you assume. The further you pace the louder the sound of rushing water gets, till you're out of sight from the tents.
Good, at least it's a bit private you think to yourself as you walk further from the campsite. Soon, the morning bird’s calls are being washed out by the sound of running water and you press further into the woods before finally spying the fresh spring; flowing fast just a few yards from where you stand. You creep towards the water in the dim light, careful as to where you step and extend your hand towards the water's edge with the stray ale cup in hand. You reach the shore line and begin to rinse the cup before filling it and bringing it to your lips before you hear a voice.
“Y/N!”
You drop the cup and your belongings, creeping back on all fours away from the edge while peering around through the dim sunlight. Your head casts from side to side trying to locate where the voice came from but soon a faint splash against the dark water gathers your attention.
You hear him chuckle in his deep voice and sit perched on the side of the water clasping your chest still frightened.
“Y/N!” he says again, still laughing.
You take a deep breath in, watching his shadowed figure approach the water line as you sit still grasping your chest.
“What are you doing!” you ask in a hushed voice, your breath slowly steadying.
“Same thing you appear to be doing..” he says with a chuckle still in his voice.
You look towards him, his long hair slicked back with water and his glimmering chest sparkling against the reflection of the water with the early morning sun. He stays put in the rushing water which drowns out most of your voices. Your mind still groggy from sleep, finally snaps to the realization, Uhtred had the same great idea you did… to run down and bathe uninterrupted in the spring while everyone else was asleep. You clear your throat and try to look in a different direction.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” you say faintly also realizing your staring right towards his naked body, but inevitably unable to make out any details.
“...Come here…” he says slowly.
Your breath catches in your throat and you whip your head back towards him. You hear him approach from the water and finally see more details as he steps towards you in the dim light. His shadow blocks most of his features but the moment his hand meets your waist you know for sure, this is real; not a dream, not your imagination, not a wish you’ve tried so hard to make come true..
You reach out and pull him against you, his hands gripping firmly at your waist, then his head moves slowly towards you, his brilliant blue eyes glimmering only inches from your face.
“Uhtred!” You whine in a sigh before his lips meet yours finally crashing together as your body spirals out from your control.
His lips meet yours and you allow a hearty moan out from your lungs as you feel him against you.
“”Y/N..” he moans against your mouth as you wrap your arms around his wet neck.
His tongue invades your mouth unapologetically, as his hands roam up the sides of your dress. You cling eagerly to him and press yourself against him hoping you’ll never separate. His mouth searches every crevice of yours as you pant against him, while his hands meet the ground behind you and you lay helpless under him.
Your clothes dampened by him pressed against you, you peer up at his raging blue eyes glimmering above you. His chest rising and falling with his breath as you stare madly back up at the blue orbs that haunt your dreams. Breathless he smiles down at you.
“Y/N.. Care to join me?” he asks in a ragged breath.
…”I thought you’d never ask!” you reply with a faint giggle.
You release him from your grip and sit up slowly. You watch him descend back into the water where you're unable to see any details of his perfectly sculpted body. You lick your lips as you begin untying the laces behind your back. Uhtred splashes playfully and you giggle watching him in the sunlight that glistens off his toned chiseled chest and shoulders, as you reach down and begin removing your many skirts. You drop your outer layer and then your corset watching him as he dances impatiently in the water for you. Finally in your final thin layer you begin to wade into the water up to your calves. Uhtred goes under and then pops back up much closer to you now.
He sits patiently watching you from the water, the sun against his back shines directly on the front of your body. You hold up the skirt of your last layer and wade a bit further into the water, closer towards him. Before the end of your shift gets wet, you take a deep breath and quickly pluck it up over your head and toss it behind you. You’re bare body presented before him, and your breath catches in your throat a bit. You meet his eye for a second before sinking down into the cold water and resurface just out of reach of him. Uhtred slicks his hair back eyeing you and closes the gap in the water between you two.
Your breath is still stuck in your lungs, you're unsure if it’s from the cold water, or being bare naked so close to him. He pulls you in and you clasp your hands around his neck as he hold onto you, pulling you off out towards the deeper water. Soon, you're unable to touch the bottom and cling around Uhtred's huge bulging neck and shoulders trying not to show how fearful you are in the deep waters. He smiles down at you as you cling helplessly against him.
“I won’t let you go..” he tells you calmly through a smile.
You try your best to keep afloat only hanging on to his neck as he walks deeper still into the dark waters.
Maybe not right now… you think to yourself biting back your bottom lip.
He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you towards him as he walks further into deep water. Soon, you're completely out of reach of anything around you, and your mind can no longer avoid the danger lurking beneath your feet.
You instinctively cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist and pull yourself up onto him.
“Uhtred!” you gasp, panicking against him.
He stares into your eyes, calm as ever with a smirk, and you try your best to match his energy.
“Don’t be scared..” he tells you quietly, leaning in towards you closer.
Your core against him as you cling to him helplessly, panting a bit in panic as you cling to the huge strong man you're holding on to.
By now, your fingernails must be cutting little half moons into the skin around his neck. You take a sharp breath in peering around at the open water.
“Uhtred, I don’t like open water!” you tell him with a ragged breath.
He chuckles and you try to grip yourself closer to him, which at this point is virtually impossible.
“I can tell!” he says with a laugh.
You peer into his blue eyes and hold him tightly against you, as if he is the only life raft on the open sea.
Although you try your hardest to understand him being able to find humor in this moment, you frantically peer around at the water, still panicking.
“Uhtred please!” you beg in a worried tone.
You’re sure he can feel you shaking against him, seeing as the whole front of your body down to your core is pressed up as tight as you can possibly be against him.
“Uhtred!” You say again, unable to conceal your fear any longer.
“Y/N!” he says back with a laugh.
“Uhtred!” you say almost shouting now.
He stares you in the eyes and you shake against him.
“Put your feet down..” he tells you through a laugh.
“No! I’ll..”
“Y/N!” he says again, almost irritated this time. “Put your feet down!”
You quake against him, blinking back the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Trust me, and put your feet down…” he says softer.
You close your eyes still clinging helplessly around his neck and place your feet down, feeling the water's floor beneath you, and rising a bit as you regain your feet and stand up.
Your eyes burst open and you see him laughing wholeheartedly at you as you stand a few inches above him. You exhale heavily and back up a few more steps away from him realizing you're on the shore again. You watch as he gyrates with laughter, the water barely covering his waist and you instinctively sink down to cover your bare breasts exposed in the process.
“Uhtred!’ You exclaim a final time, trying not to join him in his fit of laughter but inevitably joining.
He tries to calm himself, still smiling as he creeps towards you on the water's edge. You sit watching him laugh as he creeps further up the edge of the water where you’re seated. He crawls up over your body and you once again cling around his neck. You peer up into his blue eyes sparking down on you and reach your neck up with your lips to meet his.
“I can't swim!” you blurt out against him.
He laughs, placing his forehead tenderly against yours.
“...I noticed,” he says with a smile.
He collides his lips back with yours. You suck in a deep inhale and press your mouth against his. He moans against you, his hand slipping around your back and pulling your body closer to his. You arch up against him, feeling his hard cock pressing against your thigh. You press yourself against him, trying to pull him down onto you but are abruptly stopped when he releases you and wades back towards the deeper water.
…”Do you trust me..?” He asks wiping water from his face.
You sit squirming a bit before slowly standing and allowing him to take in full view of your completely unclothed body. Your skin goosebumped in the cold air and you take deep meaningful breaths as you wade into the cool water towards him. He watches you as you slowly make your way to him, shivering but not from the cold of the water.
You reach out and wrap your hands around his neck, while he reaches up and grasps you by your waist again. You take a final deep breath and feel your feet lift off the bottom of the deep water floor. He reaches down and meets your lips with his, while you wrap your legs around his huge toned waist. This time not being as afraid, as you cling against him. Your aching core brushing up against his chiseled abs as you moan against him. Your tongues intertwine as you comb your fingers through his wet hair devouring his taste and grinding against him.
“I trust you Uhtred..” You tell him through a ragged breath.
His lips eagerly meet yours again. You squirm against him, your body burning hot and warming all the water around you as he wades up again out of the deep waters. He places you carefully on your back, his body concealing yours from the sun shining through the trees above you. You graze your hands along his jawline, feeling his wet chin hair against your fair fingertips as you suck at his mouth relishing in his sweet taste. He reaches down between your legs and you spread them open for him, wrapping them around his waist and urging him towards you.
His head cranes down in the crook of your neck
“Do you want this?” he asks in a kind, breathless whisper.
You push him up enough to meet his lips again and pant against him.
“Yes! I want it, I want you!... …I want you… now!’ You plead against his mouth.
His hand between your thighs trails down closer towards your core and you gasp as his blunt fingertips gently brush against your aching center.
You feel him smile against your lips as he touches you and you moan out against him. His eyes peer down at you glimmering a new blue you've never seen before. You moan and arch yourself back, panting, as his fingers trace the sensitive outline of your center. You reach down trying to find his hard cock to stoke and make him need you as much as you need him. He moans against you when you finally grasp him. You shoot him a devilish look and try eagerly to line your core up with him, pressing your bare breasts out against him as he pants above you.
You line him up and reach your neck up to his lips, feeling the ever slight touch of his huge beating member brushing up against your center. The cold water cascading at your feet as you pant against him and finally feel his huge round tip push through your quaking folds. You cling desperately against him and arch yourself up towards him as you try to fill yourself faster with his huge beating member.
“Uhtred!” you gasp, biting into his shoulder, digging your teeth deep into his sensitive skin as you moan.
He groans out against you and pushes further into your slick aching folds.
You dig your fingers into his huge wet back, below his neck as you thrust up against him. His head cranes up and you watch as his eyes blink open and closed, as he bites back his bottom lip. You crane your neck up and meet his mouth sucking at his swollen bottom lip and finally, he presses you flat against the waters edge. Your back digging into the sand and stones beneath you as you feel his huge ember fill you entirely.
You pant against him loudly as he stares down at you. You suck at his mouth trying to taste his determination for not having plunged deep into you long before this. You dig your heels into his thighs as he pulls out and slams back in against you, sending your whole body jolting as you cling against him. You both moan out, and you dig your nails further into the skin on his back.
“Uhtred!..” You moan against him.
He thrusts deep back in and out again, sending your body cascading into spasms of ecstasy…
~~~~
Hours later, deep in the woods you find yourself in an even more uncomfortable predicament than usual.
"Come on ladies, what's with you today!? Put a little pep in those steps!" Finan calls over his shoulder with more Sarcasm than you care to pay attention to.
Eadith rolls her eyes and scoffs before turning towards you.
"Let's go.." She says with a sigh.
You grit your teeth and brace yourself yet again trying to hold yourself in the saddle from the gyrations that occur from the horse.
Women having babies and riding back home hours later were a goddamn wonder to you at the moment. The truth was; you were sore. Really sore! And with every little bump and jostle of the ride on the horse, your core was not feeling any better.
You tried your best to grin and bear it and couldn't help but allow a smile to grow across your face when you remembered the reason why you were sore to begin with…nonetheless, this ride was traitorous.
Hours later. You finally arrive between the gates of Corfe, eager to get off your house and take a seat on something much more forgiving…other than Uhtred…
The group gathers outside the local tavern and you jump off all to eagerly adjusting your skirts as the men eye you suspiciously. Uhtred has a faint smirk in his face as he sits on his horse still watching you. You play it off and begin unpacking your bedding before the rest of the group while they mount up and tether their horse securely nearby. You gather your belongings over your shoulder and wait patiently for the rest of the group before entering in towards the tavern nearby.
"You alright?" Eadith asks with a suspicious look.
You side eye her as you both pace on after the men waltzing up towards the entrance of the tavern.
"Oh, I’m great!” You tell her through a slick smile. “...Details later…" you tell her hushed as you both watch the men insert themselves through the entrance.
Inside, like much of the other ale house taverns you've stayed in, it is dimly lit, musty smelling and filled with local drunks. Nonetheless, you and Eadith smile politely, tipping your heads towards the ones that notice you, as you trail in after the men before you. Your arms, as well as Eadiths are very full and you accidentally stumble into her as she drops a bag from her filled arms.
“Shoot!” she says bending over and trying to gather the bottles that have rolled out across the floor in front of her. You place your stuff on the dinghy floor and quickly try to gather the medical tonics. A few gentlemen stir and laugh while you and Eadith rush to grab the items near their feet, while another younger looking man, quietly bends down and tries to gather some along with the two of you.
“Thank you so much” Eadith tells the man graciously as she gathers the bottles from him.
The young man, seemingly not too intoxicated and clearly kindhearted, smiles at Eadith with a blush on his face and brushes back his longer hair behind his ear. A heavy set man, one you recall pointing and laughing moments earlier, grips the young kind boy by his shoulder and roars with laughter in his ear towards Eadith.
“Ahh, don’t pay any attention to these witch whores, my boy..” He belts out as the other men nearby roar in laughter.
The young boy's face turns solemn and concerned as the large and clearly very inebriated man turns to face him. He shakes the young boy aggressively by the shoulders and stares deep into his helpless sorrowful face.
“...They’ll suck your soul right out of your johnny and sell it to the devil himself…all while making you pay handsomely for it…” He adds with a loud fit of laughter.
“You watch your tongue!” Eadith spits towards the large man.
He eyes her precariously, up and down her fair dressed body.
“Eadith, don’t mind him, let's just go..” You tell her quietly while packing the bottles into her bag.
She shoots you a daring look, furry and anger built up behind her eyes.
“No, they have no right to speak to us that way!” She says, peering back towards the man.
He casts the kind boy aside and steps closer towards you and Eadith.
“Oh, I don't, do I?” He says with alcohol thick on his breath.
He reaches out and grabs Eadith by the arm in a tight grip, she winces at his touch, while a few other men back you against a table and grip you harshly as well.
“Let us see what I’ll be calling you two she devils, when you’re under me!” He screams around the crowd.
The men around begin to chant and roar.
The ugly fat man is face to face with Eadith; spitting angrily against her face as he speaks, while you feel yourself being lifted up off the ground and drop the satchel of medical bottles again. The men begin to trail down the hallway with you in hand when you hear a voice boom over the fit of evil laugher filling the air.
“Gentlemen!” His deep stoic voice booms over the crowd.
Sihtric and Finan throw a few warning blows to the men who are holding you and they cower away quickly.
“I do not believe King Edward would take kindly to how you’re addressing his own personal healers of Wessex!..” Uhtred speaks directly down to the fat man whose grip has now released Eadith.
You and Eadith gather your stuff from the floor again, quickly. You both peer around the crowd and scurry off towards Osferth who beckons you towards him, away from the gathering of men. You both scurry away towards him, hearing Uhtred's voice address the crowd who have caused more of a commotion than you’re sure they wished. Sihtric and Finan, stand flipping their small hand daggers around in the air as Uhtred continues to scold the crowd of grown men.
“...You and your friends are unwelcome here as long as we’re here..” he tells the fat man peering down into his round appalled face. “Now get out, before me and my men throw you out..” He tells him directly pointing towards the door.
The other men have already backed slowly towards the door, while the little fat leader peers up into Uhtred's eyes, wanting to make a show of his disgrace for the crowd.
“This is my tavern, you and your men are going to have to throw me out if you don’t want to see the sight of me..” He says as bravely as he can.
Uhtred stands above staring deeply down at the troublemaker and wipes a smirk from his face.
“...Very well…” He says turning back to face Sihtric and Finan with a knowing look.
Sihtric and Finan look at eachother and nod, before hesitantly approaching the fat little man, presumably pissing himself by now.
Over the crowd Uhtred's eye meets with yours as you stand beside Eadith and Osferth. He casts you a look of sorrow and pity, with which you tilt your head a bit and bat your eyes towards him. He holds his gaze for a moment before turning back towards the clearly intimidated fat man and instantly pulls his huge arm up back behind his head and swiftly punches the fat man in the jaw; his round little body growing limp instantly as he falls to the floor.
Uhtred huffs a bit before spitting on the man while Finnan and Sihtric grab the limp round body and drag him out the doorway. Uhtred casts his gaze towards you again; as he paces huge strides towards you, straightening his shirt and clutching his sword in his belt. You roll your eyes a bit trying to bite back your smirk as he makes his way over to the three of you.
“Shall I show you ladies to your room?” he asks, a bit breathless as you and Eadith follow him down the dark hallway towards the inn's rooms.
You shake your head a bit at Eadith, who is all too busy giggling herself to death; as you pace into the darkness with Osferth close in toe.
This request is for our darling Osferth. His super religious upbringing has him unknowingly become an ass man, with this twisted idea if they have anal, her "purity/maidenhead" will stay intact. She can be a nun, ealdorman's daughter, whatever.
Here's a picture for inspiration. ♥
OSFERTH + ANAL
contains: afab!reader, modern!osferth, anal, also anal fingering ofc, manipulation? slightly dub-con so tagging it anyway, gaslighting, religious themes? is this sacrilege? blasphemy? i think it’s desecration? i don’t know i am not religious im sorry if this is wrongly put omg it’s fucking anal. ooc osferth but y’all know how it is with anal SEX.
author’s note: holy shit arcie,, god tier request i hope i do it justice damn. i had to do a modern!au because i still cant wrap my head around old english terms to write,, so forgive me for that and please enjoy! GOD FORGIVE ME FOR THIS HOLY FUCKING SHIT,,,
send your requests for my milestone event!
“Are you sure about this,” You stuttered, still somewhat embarrassed as Osferth looked down at you, “I don’t think it works that way, Osferth.”
He kneeled in front of you, and placed a hand on your thigh, “Don’t worry, darling,” He softly caressed your skin, his long fingers tracing shapes in your inner thigh. “I already explained this to you, do you want to hear it again?”
You nodded shakily, your gaze moving from his hand on your thigh to his blue eyes. “Yes, please.”
He gave you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t seem right to you as his deep blue eyes darkened.
“My sweet girl,” He cooed, cupping your face with his other hand, “You know we can’t lay normally as a man and woman could,” A little smirk crept into his face, “I am not allowed to take you as mine that way, you know that.”
You pouted slightly, a faint blush appearing on your face. “I know.”
“Good girl,” His hand was soft on your face, tracing your jaw as he spoke, “But thankfully, I know a way.”
His hand on your inner thigh moved to your already wet cunt, he grazed the wet patch on your panties before moving them to the side. His index moved up and down on your folds making you shiver, he gathered your juices as he moved his finger downwards your perineum.
He circled your exposed puckered hole with the pad of his index, coating it with your own juices as you jumped slightly at the touch.
“I cannot take your purity, my darling,” He purred, “But I can take you from here and we wouldn’t have a single problem.”
You had to hold back a moan at the back of your throat, gulping as you looked into his blue eyes who were looking back at you with an electrifying hunger.
“Are you sure? Isn’t that the same thing?”
He looked at you condescendingly, “Sweet girl, don’t you trust me?” He kept circling your puckered hole, the pad of his finger slowly pushing into you.
You frowned, shaking your head apologetically, “I do trust you, sorry.”
He removed the hand on your face, grabbing the little bottle of lube on the nightstand. “You should know better than question God’s word, sweet girl.” He put an absurd amount of liquid on his fingers, parting your legs with his other hand to begin opening you up.
The lube was cold on your skin, it made you jump at every slight touch. He started slow, the familiar touch of his pad on your puckered hole making his way in, the burn of the intrusion making you wince.
“Osferth.” You sighed, swallowing as his fingers pushed into your puckered hole, working you up.
His first finger transformed into two, adding more lube to it every time, his other hand worked on your clit to make it more pleasurable. Suddenly, your soft distressed whimpers turned into loud moans of delight, his fingers working magic into you.
“Are you ready to take all of me, darling?” He whispered, his head leaning against your leg as he watched hypnotized how his fingers scissored into your gaping hole.
You only could nod in response, your eyes closed.
He softly removed his fingers from your hole, and you watched him remove his pants quickly, his hardened cock in sight as he pulled his underwear down.
Osferth lubed his cock, using an exaggerated quantity of the liquid, but he knew how useful it was. He kneeled in front of you, his throbbing cock standing proud and crimson. “Open your legs, sweet girl,” He said, slowly pumping his length, spreading the lube.
You obeyed, parting your legs as much as possible as you laid back on the bed.
He grinned down at you, his blue eyes darkened with lust. “Good girl, you have to look me in the eyes as I do this, do you understand?”
You nodded quickly, shaking in anticipation as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock on your now stretched puckered hole. You shivered, shaky breaths coming out of your mouth.
“You will stay pure as I do this, you know that right?” He slowly submerged himself into your hole, making you gasp, already overwhelmed at the big invasion.
He grunted, teeth clenching as he muttered, “So tight, my sweet girl, you’re so tight for me.”
Your eyelids fluttered, almost closing, jaw dropped as he buried himself into you.
His hand flew to your jaw, startling you, opening your eyes to look at him, “Look at me, this is a reward for you, darling.”
vermithorn © do not copy, repost or translate my works.
Thotum/Late Kinktober Posts In My Drafts Currently
Minors, do not interact, this is 18+ only
* Abundance part 2, incubus!Satoru finished what he started, with lots of praise. And lots and lots of praise
* Fatgum trick or treating event where a villain crashes the fun for your students and there is so so much praise again because I love him so much
* CHOSO X BLACK!FEM!DANCER and when I say homeboy might rival Todo in his idolization 💋👌🏾 as you can see, I’m a lil feral for Choso and his praise because once again, so much praise
* Uhtred scaring some newcomers with his lil death rider trick, and we all know Uhtred is nothing if not a loving lil praise giver (and receiver)
Plus a few requests I think will be a lot of fun and I’m open to/for more