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liyawritesss · 1 year

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ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇɪᴠᴏʀ ᴠᴀʀɪɴꜱᴅᴏᴛᴛɪʀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ...

Characters: Eivor Varinsdottir(Female Data String) x Black!Fem!Reader

From: Assassin's Creed: Valhalla

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: When the Jarlskona of Raventhorpe sets her eyes upon you, there is virtually nothing you can do to sway her affection. What would a courtship with Eivor Wolf-Kissed entail?

Warnings: fem!data stream!eivor, cursing, game-canon violence, mentions of injuries and wound dressing

A/N: Started playing AC: Valhalla and honestly? Ubisoft don’t miss when it comes to this franchise. It’s been out for a bit now and it seems to be a bit dry out there, so allow me to feed the blk eivor lovers out there

Tags: @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @niyahwrites

First and foremost, Eivor is an intense lover. There are no if, ands or buts about that. She’s lost everything and worked to regain it all back; her honor, her respect; and if she chooses you to be her lady, then best believe it was a choice made precisely.

You joined Ravensthorpe via trade - you were a fine seamstress looking for a settlement to call home. As you had a skill that could benefit yourself and the settlement, Eivor allowed your transition into the camp. She was impressed by your craftsmanship and with another winter closing in, the town would need all the best weaving and sewing it could get to brace for it.

After your first initial meeting, there were only fleeting moments of which the two of you would greet each other and talk. You were a joy to be around, always sporting a simple smile and engaging in Eivor’s jokes and combatting her sarcasm with your own. You were one of few people who could keep up with her and it sparked a friendship between the two of you.

Though you’d always had an eye for the jarlskona since your arrival - and honestly, who could blame you; the woman was large and brooding, carrying an air of mystery and absolute dominance while simultaneously being a comfort to you - there was a level of hierarchy that had to be maintained. Yes, she was attractive, but she was also your leader.

This is definitely a situation where one person falls first and the other falls harder. And while both of you are good at hiding your feelings (or maybe it’s just both of you are oblivious to the other’s affections), there was no denying that something was there.

Eivor’s realization of her affections comes when she receives her cloak back from you. She had asked you to repair it, as someone had ripped it pretty badly during a raid, because it was her favorite and she never left the settlement without it. It’s through Valka that you learn that the cloak is the last thing she has of her mother who was killed right in front of her when she was young. And while there was very little left of the original cloak to work with, you came up with a brilliant idea that you prayed wouldn’t end in her yelling at you for it.

You’d been wanting to make her a new one anyway, and with the torn one being the right shade of light brown you needed, you decided to use it on the hem and edges of the cloak, thickening it so that the frigid winter air wouldn’t make it through as easily. A wolf pelt was also sewn as the collar for the cloak, and hidden underneath it was a regular hood for when the cold was too much to bear in the face.

It was a fairly simple design, really, fortified by an extra layer of cloth for the cold, but to Eivor, it meant everything. When you handed it to her, she took her time analyzing your handiwork, tracing the edges and the hem of the cloak where it would meet at her chest, remembering the times her mother would hug her from behind in the same manner. Enveloping her in warmth, protecting her from harm.

There was a thudding in her chest that wouldn’t quiet until she returned to the longhouse. It was heavy and loud and unlike any emotion she had ever felt before. It couldn't be compared to the feeling of near-death, nor the ignorant bliss that came from downing endless horns of ale. She wished she could have figured it out on her own what the heaviness in her chest meant whenever she looked at you, but it took Randvi, her brother’s widow, to tell Eivor that she liked you more as just a friend. Whether she wanted to pursue something further than that, however, would be something she had to figure out alone.

In the weeks approaching winter you’d actually been working with Valka in learning skills to be a healer. She’d predicted that this winter would be bad with a lot of sickness, injuries, and deaths. Unfortunately, she was correct. Her cabin became overrun with injured raiders, and of course, Eivor was amongst the ranks.

Valka suggested that since Eivor had some pretty severe injuries (not to mention a history of hallucinations and visions she’d informed you on), that Eivor should be taken care of by you in the longhouse. It took a little bit of convincing of both you and Eivor (though once the healing salve had been applied to her injuries and she’d drunk a brew Valka made, Eivor couldn't put up much of a fight while she was asleep), but nevertheless, you’d started taking care of Eivor in the comfort of her room. To this day, you aren’t sure if she knew what she was doing when she suggested this arrangement, but you’ve always had your suspicions. They don’t call a wise woman wise for nothing.

Weeks went by and Eivor was making a steady recovery, having regained much of her strength and was able to move around on her own now. SO you started coming around less often, which saddened her. One night, while you were cleaning and redressing her nasty shoulder wound, she pointed out the exhaustion that plagued your face and asked you if it would make things easier if you spent the night, and to be truthful in your response.

You admitted that it would be easier, but you had no sleeping clothes and you would have had to travel across the settlement to get them anyway. Eivor offered up one of her shirts a bit too eagerly, though quickly covered it up with an ‘it’s what friends do’, which was a painful statement to say because after being taken care of a dotted on by you for the past few weeks, it became increasingly clear for her that she wanted more than just friendship.

She still doesn’t know what officially solidified it for her, but the moment she sees you in her linen shirt, a particularly large one that hung slightly off shoulder and created a pretty contrast against your dark skin, glowing against the candlelight that flickers throughout the room, she makes up her mind that she will ask you to be hers before the night is over with.

Eivor is no stranger to having to be quick-witted in timely situations, and this is no different. She formulates how she will pose the question to you, shuffling through different starting points, trying to also hold a steady resolve so that she can actually get to the question and not chicken out when things get hot.

Which is exactly what almost happens when you ask to take down her braids that she’s had in for god knows how long, too fixated on healing to really notice her hair needed attention as well. And when she’s met with your hands in her hair, it takes every fiber of her vikingr being to not lose focus.

You’re standing in front of her while she sits on the edge of the bed. You’re rebraiding the two side pieces she normally has in, and there’s talk of the events that happened in your day while you were out before you came to check in on her. You end up moving a certain way that causes you to lose your balance, you almost fall on top of her but she catches you before you do. A crisis averted…

…and yet her hands dont leave your hips. Eivor tries to pull them away, she really does, but she can’t help that they feel right being on your sides. And when you lock eyes the intensity of the atmosphere and in your stares all but thickens, and suddenly Eivor is at a loss of any words she thought she was gonna speak.

Eivor is a skilled warrior, hardened on the battlefield, mind sharpened from years of training and discipline, but it’s the slightest nudge you give her when you lean forward, when you’re looking down at her with your pretty eyes and full lips slightly parted, when you seemingly melt into her hands - its then that every resolve she has falls through the cracks, and she pulls you onto her lap, and kisses you through the searing pain that courses through her shoulder when she encourages you to straddle her.

Eivor is an intense lover. She does properly ask to court you, after catching her breath from the mindblowing kiss she’d stolen from you, and from then on, there’s not a doubt in anyone's mind who has the jarlskona’s favor. She prides herself in having you as her Lady, wanting to spoil you with the riches at her disposal but understands if being dressed up isn’t you’re cup of tea. She grants you the same respect that is expected to be given to her - you are her equal, and she will love you with everything she has until Odin calls her to Valhalla.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

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e-wwis · 4 months

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I'm back to singlehandedly feeding all of dyke enthusiast nation 🗣️‼️

I wonder what they're talking about...

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frenchoravocadotoast · 2 months

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Take me back to Constantinople

Hytham (AC: Valhalla) x GN!Reader

Word count: 2704

A/N: I finished reading The Golden City a few days ago and I'm inconsolable :] Have some more Hytham content! (because I fell down a rabbit hole)

Had Hytham been told that he would challenge the tenets of the creed again, he would have vehemently denied it.

Constantinople had already been a tedious enough task to complete, and with his feelings involved, the young man swore to never get attached again. The life of an assassin was always on the run, never stable. He wasn’t meant to stay anywhere.

But then they met Sigurd. He and Basim traveled to Norway with him, then to England – and then Kjotve happened, and now Hytham had to stew in his disappointment as he healed from broken bones. His journey of travels ended here. At least he had the bureau to keep himself busy, as well as the lavish dinners to keep him fed and entertained. He liked it when there were get-togethers in Ravensthorpe.

Like the one from a couple of days ago.

The assassin didn’t know what the reason for the celebration was – not that the vikings needed any. As long as they were promised food and booze at the banquet, they would gladly pillage and conquer any village they were asked to. Hytham had to admit that their logic was pretty efficient, if not a little too simple. But with Eivor, it was different. Her loyalties lay with her own virtues, a moral compass that luckily aligned with Hytham’s; and thus, she would willingly carry out any task that the Hidden One needed of her, even without the promise of a full belly and a drunken tongue.

She’d done a lot for him and his creed, and he couldn’t bring himself to say no to her when she insisted that he attend the celebration. She knew Hytham tended to overwork himself. There was paperwork to finish, new feathers to stock – hell, even the bureau itself was a mess. If Basim were to return with Sigurd now, and find the bureau looking like a rabid drengr had rummaged through it, Hytham would probably have to spend the rest of the month cleaning up the place rather than working up the ranks.

He pursed his lips, not amused by the idea, but he tried his best to focus on the moment regardless. The clan members had come to form a circle, swaying to the tune of the music, and clasped their hands together as they stomped their right feet in unison. Hytham could feel the tremor under his own feet, and the laughing of the people echoed all over the room, pulling a smile at his lips too.

For a group of drunkards, they danced with great passion and expertise. Practice, Hytham shrugged. It definitely wasn’t their first night drinking and pissing mead, and dancing until their feet hurt. The circle spun faster and faster as the music enhanced. The dancers paired up to twirl and jump, and through the motion blur of faces and twirling dresses, Hytham saw it. Well, he wasn’t quite sure he’d seen it, but the smile looked familiar enough – and as the dancers continued to spin, his eyes settled on you.

He was right, then. You had indeed joined the circle. But your steps were calculated, and you lacked the drunken sway of the vikings who could barely keep themselves upright. Your smile shone bright, and your eyes crinkled under its pull as you switched partners with a woman. Her cheeks matched the tone of her ginger hair, and you somehow managed to avoid getting splashed by her drink, horn in hand.

Hytham’s eyes softened. It was moments like this that made him feel at ease, with no fear of an uncertain future or the haunting of a dark past. Everyone in this room had their fair share of demons, even the children – but they somehow possessed the power to forget about everything for the night, swinging and swaying to the music as the smoke from the bonfire fed off of each chant.

But there was something about you in particular that fascinated Hytham. Perhaps it was the way you carried yourself. The way you spoke, your presence. Maybe it was just the way you looked at him last week, when he’d taught you how to use his throwing knives. He was fixing your posture, and perhaps you’d noticed that he lingered close for too long, because Hytham caught you looking at him on numerous occasions since then.

There was something there, he mused. A potion brewing quietly, and you were both none the wiser. Even now, the mere memory made Hytham’s fingers twitch as he watched you disappear on the other side of the circle.

“You’re staring.”

He stiffened, not wanting to give the woman the satisfaction of his reaction.

“I’m just watching them dance.”

Eivor huffed out a laugh, dragging a wooden stool and plopping down next to him. From the corner of his eye, Hytham could see the blade of her ax glimmering under the candlelight.

“Basim was right, you’re awfully transparent.”

Hytham met her eyes, slightly offended. “He said that?”

“You can’t deny it if it’s true,” the blonde shrugged, nodding in your presumed direction. “Why don’t you ask them for a dance?”

Immediately, the assassin clammed up. It must have been an amusing sight to Eivor; a trained killer with a blade strapped to their arm, refusing to approach a person of their interest. When he and Eivor first met, Hytham had gone into detail about the imperative need to separate one’s feelings from their work – to allow such a thing could greatly compromise both his life and his creed. But it was a blurry line for the likes of him, a game that tested their loyalty to the brotherhood. The young eagle knew that line had been tested before, trespassed by his peers and predecessors. It hadn’t ended well for them – after all, the life of an assassin was short. It was built on sacrifice rather than yearning, that was the true purpose of a Hidden One. But now, Hytham knew he was once again at the mercy of his own heart – and what would that make of him?

Human, the little voice in his head said. It sounded an awful lot like Basim, and the acolyte was sure he could almost hear the older man’s trademark smirk. He must have trespassed that line too, at some point in his life; and Hytham couldn’t blame him. He was almost tempted to do it for the second time, too – perhaps he was spending too much time around the man.

Hytham gave the viking woman a tentative smile. “You know I’m injured. I shouldn’t be dancing anyway.”

Eivor cocked an eyebrow, like she’d been expecting him to say that.

“I thought it was your ribs that were broken, not your feet.”

Hytham frowned, frustrated; not because of her insistence, but rather because of her ability to read him like a book. Unlike his mentor, Hytham lacked the talent to keep secrets, and he was seemingly obvious to everyone except for himself.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he tried again.

“And they do?” Eivor laughed, looking at a drunk man who tripped and dragged his dancing partner down with him. Hytham could smell the alcohol on their breath from his seat.

“They’re too drunk to care.”

“Hytham.”

“I know you mean well, Eivor,” he softened his tone, shaking his head. “But I believe I should sit this one out. My ribs have been hurting again, and I wouldn’t want to aggravate them.”

It was a lie, and Eivor knew. Nevertheless, without questioning him, the woman sighed and stood up with great effort. She squeezed his shoulder in one last attempt to encourage him, but Hytham only patted her arm. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or that he lacked the confidence to do so – but Hytham felt like he’d be intruding if he were to approach you now. You gleamed and danced amongst the other dancers, stepping over the bodies of the people who had succumbed to a drunken sleep. You moved with the kind of expertise he would almost envy if he weren’t a skilled fighter himself.

Someday, he told himself. Someday, he would try to talk to you again. Not now, when you seemed to be in your own world. Hytham was content with just watching for now.

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

That day came sooner than Hytham expected.

The scenario was oddly familiar. As per your request, you were in the training yard once more, graced by the presence of a slumped dummy. The assassin didn’t stray too far from you, observing your posture as you readied another throw.

“Remember to aim for a pulse point.”

Hytham muttered, not keen on interrupting your focus. You were deeply concentrated, he could tell. Your gloved fingers gripped the dagger tightly, readjusting your hold, before you pivoted and hurled the weapon at the humanoid sack. The blade hissed through the air and past the target, and the scowl on your face darkened.

“Damn it.”

The assassin smiled in amusement. Throwing knives were cheeky little bastards – they seemed to have a mind of their own and strayed wherever they pleased. And the wind today didn’t seem to be working in your favor, either. These weren’t the best conditions to be training; but for the two of you, spare time was just as slippery as the flying blades. The second you could find time to spend together, you’d take it.

So Hytham respected your choice to continue training. It was a good enough excuse to spend time with you, at least until he ran out of knives.

He drew another one from his belt, nodding at you. “That’s alright. Try again.”

You took the dagger from him, and perhaps your impatience was starting to get to you, because just a few seconds later, the knife was cutting through the air again. This time though, it embedded itself into the crotch area of the dummy, and true to its humanoid appearance, it slumped over as if it were in pain. Hytham let out an incredulous laugh, warily eyeing the dummy.

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

You grinned in triumph, satisfied that this one had struck the target. “But this would still work, right?”

“I suppose it would,” he hummed, instinctively handing you another knife. It was the last from his belt, and Hytham was relieved to know that he would soon be retreating back into the warmth of the bureau. He propped up the dummy before joining your side again. “Try one last time. Here, I’ll help you.”

Your posture was better than last time, but it still needed fixing. The man waited for you to curl the knife up to your opposite shoulder, before leaning closer to hover at your eye level. Gauging the distance by moving into your space was unnecessary, he knew you were capable enough to do so on your own. You knew you didn’t need him either. And yet, Hytham relished the side glance you gave him, one that lingered on his face longer than he’d expected. He fought back a smile as he reached to lift up your crooked arm.

“Focus on the target and take your time,” he reprimanded you playfully. You ripped your eyes away from him, and Hytham swore he could feel the heat emanating from your cheeks. “Your arm should be fully outstretched in a straight line. Aiming too high or too low will miss the target entirely, and you’ll quickly lose range advantage.”

He let go of your elbow when he was satisfied enough. Your eyes were trained on the dummy, unblinking, and the leather of your gloves groaned when you tightened the grip on the knife. Your voice was a soft mutter, but Hytham heard it.

“You know, you sound a lot like Basim.”

The man gave you the ghost of a smile. It seemed the little voice in his head was starting to seep into his voice now, too.

“Well, he is my mentor,” a pause, and Hytham was tempted to speak again despite your focus. He added quietly. “Would you prefer his tutoring?”

“No. I would much rather enjoy your company.”

“And I yours.”

Another pause, and then, you flung the knife again. It cut through the air with a hiss, glinting for just a second before it sank into the neck of the dummy, and the stray strands of straw fluttered down at the stab. Hytham grinned as your eyes widened, and drew back to look at you properly.

“Good job,” he winked, promptly walking back to the mannequin to retrieve his knives. “Remind me to never get on your bad side again.”

“So this is how you do it?” you asked, and Hytham’s smile softened at the awe in your eyes. “I’ve seen you fling daggers from greater distances with just the flick of a wrist.”

The man shrugged, at a loss for words. He was never good at taking compliments, especially when they were this genuine. “It’s a matter of practice,” was all he said instead. He nodded at the bureau just as you joined his side.

“In that case, I’ll have to whisk you away more often. I need you to teach me how to do that.”

Hytham repressed a grin, but he couldn’t hide the blush on his cheeks.

“You know I won’t complain.”

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

Complain? No, he could never.

Hytham didn’t know what it was that pulled him towards you. Other than his feelings, of course. Was it the way the fireplace of the bureau cast shadows on your face? The depth of your eyes, perhaps? The tender caress of your lips against his? Too many questions ran about in his mind, and no answer was valid enough to satisfy him.

There was one thing that did satisfy him, though; and he knew right then and there that he was doomed. The kiss started off with a peck –Hytham wasn’t sure who had leaned in first–; but then came a second one, and then another one, which turned into a lingering kiss. He felt the heat of your sigh, the gentle nudge of your nose, the caress of your lashes against his skin. The blood in his ears was roaring at your touch.

If this was how training ended every time, then Hytham wouldn’t have minded teaching you more often.

You had somehow found your way to the shelves. His body pressed you against them, caging you in his embrace as your hands cradled his face; and here, hidden away from any witnesses, your lips came to create a dance and language of their own. Hytham pulled back, desperate to relieve the burn in his chest but not leaning too far either. Your breaths intermingled once more as his finger skimmed over your cheek, and he whispered.

“I’m starting to think training was just an excuse.”

He felt you smile against his skin, like he had caught you in a lie. Perhaps he had, judging from the glint in your eyes.

“It wasn’t, at least not in the beginning,” you paused, interrupted by him as he surged forward to catch your lips again. Your words etched onto his skin as you whispered through the kiss. “But then you refused to dance with me at the celebration, and I had to come up with a new idea.”

Hytham stilled, and your smile widened at his reaction. He glanced between your eyes, trying to read you like he’d been trained to do in his novice years. It was so obvious now that he looked more carefully – maybe he was too distracted by his feelings in the past to even notice what you were plotting. That seemed to be a recurring problem for Hytham. His cheeks grew warm again, but his small smile said he was impressed.

“I was set up.”

“Took you long enough.”

“You’re devious,” his words were teasing, but the assassin felt his eyes soften the more he looked at you. Your arms around his neck had never felt so welcoming. “Perhaps we should make a Hidden One out of you.”

“Only if you continue teaching me how to use the knives.”

Hytham grinned, whispering against your lips. “Deal.”

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 20 - “I belong to Eivor Wolf-Kissed” || male!Eivor x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: The pleasure of using you is something Eivor can't wait to experience.

Warnings: smut without plot (unprotected)

Word count: ~ 1180

Author: Fenrir

A/N: The prompt for today is: Dirty Talk

During the ride home after the huge feast Sigurd threw, you giggled and rubbed slowly on Eivor's thigh from behind as you nuzzled his back, sitting behind him on his horse.

As Eivor helped you off the horse and embraced you with his strong arm, leading you to his room in the great hall, he leaned over for a kiss, hungry for you like you were for him. The building was empty at this time of night since everyone was still celebrating and having fun by the mead with Sigurd, giving Eivor time to push you against a wall and raise your skirt.

While checking to ensure no one was around, Eivor unzipped his pants enough to pop his hard cock on out and slide your panties to the side. He jerked himself a few times, looking hard into your eyes. “You like it, Y/N? You want to feel my cock in your little pussy, don’t you?”

The lips of your pussy slipped over his tip in response, making both of you shiver. “Yes, Eivor,” you whispered, licking your lips. “I want you to possess me in every way possible.”

Eivor grunted as the tip of his shaft pushed past your warm lips, directly into your wet pussy. Sighing as he sank deep enough, he started setting a pace as his hands rested on your waist. One hand was shaking as he read your body, while the other pressed over his. He didn't try to stop the slapping; Eivor felt himself thrust faster, the noise getting a little louder in the hall, but he couldn't stop it. You bounced as if you wanted to ride him like a horse and yearned to be buried in his mattress.

With enough reserve, Eivor slipped out of you, putting his cock back into his pants and pulling your skirt down, so he could lead the way into his chamber. “I want to fuck you in my bed. You’re such a little horny cunt, aren’t you?”

“I’m all your, Eivor,” you jumped on him inside, taking off your coat, easily wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck and shoulders. Biting your lip, you bounced once again on his hidden cock, throbbing in wait to finally possess you; your feet touched the ground as your hand laced with his, leading him to bed. Grabbing your skirt waist, Eivor made sure you were close again, unclasping it until it spilled onto the ground. In panties still to the side, he saw how you dripped down your thighs and he reached to taste; sucking his fingers clean, he smirked at the blush covering your cheeks.

Eivor undid his pants and stroked himself. He watched as you shifted your panties off, exposing those legs nice and wide, your juices still dripping; Eivor watched as you licked your fingertips and slowly started circling your clit. Both of your breaths labored bit by bit, anxious to see who would be first to savour the other's sugared gloss.

A mischievous grin adorned Eivor's lips as he teased, "You seem ready for dessert, my little slut, craving my cock in your tight cunt."

At first, you nodded without saying anything, until you heard a breathy moan from him as he jerked himself for you. "I'm more than ready, Eivor, I need your hard dick inside of me," you barely whispered, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him to watch.

While imagining himself inside you, Eivor stood between your legs, the heat from your pussy making him bite his lip. "You have such a pretty pussy, little one," he praised. "One of the prettiest cunts I have ever seen." As Eivor smiled at you, he touched your wetness and guided your hand to touch his hard cock. Finding a rhythm, you both were able to get as close as possible for a kiss without moving faster. "Are you missing the feeling of me stretching your little pussy out? Oh yes, you are so famished for my cock, aren't you?"

As you both became more comfortable, you shook at the feeling of him, his body doing the same.

You let out a pleasured groan as his fingers slipped inside of you. Inching him until he was lined up with your entrance again, your hand tightened around his throbbing cock as you rolled your head back at the feeling of his fingers fucking you slowly, making you even wetter.

“You’re such a naughty girl, aren’t you, Y/N?” He asked softly, lips parted. “Such a naught girl, a slut for my dripping cock.” Taking his hand away from your wet hole, Eivor heard a whimper of disappointment leaving your lips, though that turned into a whimper of lust as he pushed his tip deep and could feel you clench immediately around his shaft.

As Eivor held you in place, you wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders, and your legs squeezed his waist. When he threw himself back onto the bed, you took advantage of the situation and pushed him down in order to remain on top. Within seconds, your hands were on his chest, and you rode him hard without a moment's hesitation.

By gripping your hips so tightly, he forced you down, making your pussy swallow his member fully.

"That's it, baby. Give in," he panted, urging you on.

"Fuck… Fill me, Eivor, I need your seed filling my womb," you moaned. Those words came out without a second thought.

Faster you went, the tighter you felt. As Eivor steadied you, your insides gripped tightly onto his cock.

Holding you close, he sat up as you caught your breath; your foreheads touched softly, your hearts pounding. When Eivor leaned in for another kiss, your tongues met and slipped past to explore the other's mouth as your fingers held his bearded face, brushing through his loosened hair as your breathing got heavier.

Eivor flipped you over so you lay on your back, legs tightly around his hips as he thrust into you faster and harder than before. "That's it, dirty cunt," he whispered into your ear after kissing your neck. "Like me fucking your cunt like that, huh? Treating you like a whore, using you as I please?"

“Mark me,” you begged Eivor, rocking your hips back and forth in response to his thrusts. "Make me fucking yours, I want everyone to know I belong to Eivor Wolf-Kissed,” you pleaded dearly.

With Eivor coming inside you, your bodies started clapping louder as all his pent-up energy finally spilled out. His lips trembled as he whispered, pushing a few more times to spread all of his semen within you, "Oh, dear Odin, your cunt feels divine."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your voice muttering that you felt how hot his cum was and that his cock twitched in a way that made you shiver. As you slid back together, your warm pussy still wrapped tight around his softening shaft, you cuddled in the middle of the bed.

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author-morgan · 2 years

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Title: Persuasion Pairing: m!Eivor x fem!Reader x Alexios Rating: M Summary: It takes both Eivor and Alexios to convince you to join them on their summer raid to England. Blame @mrsragnarlodbrok for this filth. ❤️

THE WATER IS warm and relaxing after a long day’s hunt, but the reprieve is interrupted by a messenger from the south named Ragn. He brings word from Eivor Wolfsmal —a summons to meet and discuss plans for the summer raiding season. The arrival of the raids means good plunder for those who partake, but for your people, it means the time to start planting rocky fields and making stores for the next winter is nigh approaching too.

There is a reason your people have not gone a viking in so long —the winters are growing longer and colder, and you cannot risk losing the menfolk, else everyone starve. But Ragn tells you Eivor has set his sights to the west, to the foretold riches of East Anglia and beyond. You thank him for the message and sink further into the cooling water before calling for one of the members of your vanguard, asking her to call upon your bannermen to prepare for departure. At dawn, you will travel south and meet Eivor of the Raven Clan’s call —for old time’s sake, if nothing else.

It is not an overly long journey south, nor is it a short one traveling across rocky crags and rushing streams. It takes nigh two moons before you can see the walls of Eivor’s settlement rising on the horizon —guarding the dark and frigid waters of the fjord beyond. Horns sound to announce the arrival, and Eivor rides out to meet you and your traveling party. People have trickled in for the last fortnight, and you are among the last to arrive —the one he’s wanted to see the most.

He dismounts his white mare as you slide from the back of your mount too and approaches you with welcome arms and warmth in his smile. The years have not changed him. He is still handsome and kindly as ever. He embraces you, a quick greeting between old friends. “Welcome,” Eivor says, then he spares a moment to look you over from head to toe. He feels as though time has not been as gentle to him as it has to you. “You look well,” he remarks.

You reach out, resting a hand on his scarred cheek, and smile up at him. “As do you.” Eivor covers your hand with his own, fingers curling around yours. He pulls your hand from his cheek and places a quick kiss on your knuckle. You ride at Eivor’s side, your traveling party trailing along, single file with the wagons at the head through the streets, stopping at the heart of the settlement before the great hall. Dismounting, you look around at the wood and stone buildings, noting how much the once small harbor has grown in recent years.

“Come with me,” Eivor says, motioning for you to follow him through the muddy streets to the harbor. You wave to your bannermen, and they disperse among the barracks and market —offloading crates and barrels of goods from wagons and carts for trade. Horns sound again, marking the arrival of three longships bearing white sails with a dark eagle clutching a serpent in its talons. The last of those who Eivor summoned for the meeting.

A man wearing pale brown leathers, a mantle of grey fur, and blue wool disembarks from the arriving longship, drawing back his hood. Most of the gathered Jarls you are familiar with, but this is a new and strange face. One who does not belong so far north. His dark hair is matted into locks shorn at his shoulders and adorned with golden beads —his skin is sun-kissed, and his eyes dark. Eivor approaches the man on the wharf, and they both size each other up in a moment of tense silence. The façade quickly breaks with Eivor’s laugh. “Alexios!” He greets.

Alexios clasps Eivor on the shoulder, smiling. “It has been too long, my friend,” he remarks —dark gaze straying to where you wait beneath an arch of wood and stone. But curiosities can be slaked later; for now, it is time to prepare for the feast.

NINE OF THE eleven Jarls who have answered the call retire for the evening. Their absence leaves you sitting between Eivor and Alexios at the table strewn with overturned cups and empty plates —still unconvinced it’s in your people’s best interests to join the summer raids of an all but unknown land. Too much is at stake for you to carelessly venture west.

“You’ve yet to persuade me, Wolf-kissed,” you note, setting aside your cup. The promise of riches alone is not enough to send men to an early grave. “I have my people I must care for and women and children who will lose their husbands and fathers.” Where others could make do with the absence of menfolk during the warm months, your clan could not —only a handful of men joined the raids each year. Every person contributed to the survival of the whole so far north. “Our winters are longer than yours here in the south,” you remind him.

Alexios regards you carefully, a smile tugging at his lips. He’s not said much this evening, but his dark eyes have been busy —watching. He sees a strong will, a sharp wit, and a gentle heart. The makings of a leader loved by the masses. That’s without considering the respect you commanded from the others who have seen more summers than you. He has to admire that after encountering so many weak-willed leaders in his years.

“Perhaps another drink will help ease your worries,” Eivor says, pouring a fresh cup of mead and sliding it across the table for you to take. Even drunk, you do not think you’d willingly throw away so many lives for the spoils of the summer raids. He’s adamant, though. “I know there are riches and fertile land to the west,” Eivor tells you. “You need not endure the harsh winters if your people can call Anglia home.”

“It’s true,” Alexios supplements, “I’ve been there before.” He has wandered around the world for centuries and knows Eivor and others speak the truth about the land once named Britannia. “Thick forests and rolling green hills as far as the eye can see.” It sounds too good to be true —like a dream. “You see,” Alexios continues, “the true riches lie not in gold or silver, but the fertile earth. There’s more than enough land for your people to make a new home,” he tells you.

“Still,” you say, looking between the two men flanking your sides, “I shall have to think on it.” It is no small thing to ask that you uproot your people on a whim for an uncertain future in a strange land, but perhaps you could join them to see this land and its riches for yourself. Though, it is still something that must be considered without the strong mead fogging your senses.

Alexios leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. He looks past you to Eivor —who seems to be in the same mindset as him. He’s certainly not immune to the charms of a woman such as you, and neither is Eivor, considering the looks he’s shared with you over the course of the evening. “Perhaps we can convince you to join us,” he says, voice gruffer than just moments before.

Eyes flitting between both men, you catch onto the game they’re playing. You’re not one to shy away from such games, and it’s an easy choice to decide to play along with whatever they might be scheming. “And how will you do that?” You challenge, lifting a brow.

“Do you know how to wield a spear?” Alexios asks —you catch the double meaning of his question easily enough. Had any other Jarl asked such a thing, you’d have emptied your cup over their head, but there’s a certain allure and charm to Alexios with his sharp features and tawny-gold eyes.

“I do,” you answer, letting another sip of mead wash away what little inhibitions are left for the evening. “I can skewer a boar and bring a man to his knees,” you note. Eivor knows you can do both with ease —he’s seen you hunt before, knows what it’s like to have you writhing as he fucks you.

“How about you, Alexios? Can you wield a spear?” You query, lifting your cup to hide a bold and enticing smile. He moves as soon as you set your cup on the table, drawing you into his lap, hands instantly finding the ties of your soft gambeson and the pale tunic below —as though he’s been waiting for this moment since first setting eyes on you hours prior. The gambeson slips to the floor, and you rid yourself of the thin tunic without care. His lips are warm and soft against yours when he kisses you, palms pressing flat against your breasts.

He leans down, mouth latching onto your neck with a gentle bite that makes you gasp. Alexios moves down your chest until his lips wrap around one taut nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud and drawing a moan from your traitorous lips. You feel him smile against you —the press of his teeth against your chest in a broad grin. You catch Eivor’s gaze, and the color on his cheeks as your hands trail down Alexios’s chest —you can feel the firm muscles in his abdomen beneath your hands and his half-hard cock pressing into your thigh. He offers no resistance when you start unlacing the ties of his pants.

His cock is thick, heavy, and hot in your hand as you wrap your fingers around him —feeling each rigid vein. You can’t help but imagine the feel of them dragging along your walls as he fucks you. Your cunt tightens at the thought —a shiver crawls down your spine, and warmth pools in your belly. What you’d give to mount him like a stallion —you can already feel the aching burn of him stretching you open. But for now, you’ll settle for this. Alexios’s head tips back. The muscles in his neck tense. You lean into him, lips dragging along his jawline, and when he groans, it reverberates through you both. His breath stutters as you start slow. A teasing, languid pace —letting your entire hand explore him.

Eivor shifts in his chair —you can feel the heat of his stare without sparing him a glance. “You’re awfully quiet, Eivor,” you muse, still peppering kisses along Alexios’s neck and letting his calloused hands explore what skin they can. “Still not over that night?” You tease, breath catching when Alexios nips at your collarbone —the scruff of his beard leaving a burning trail that his tongue soothes. “Must’ve been, what? Four years ago, now?” Eivor does not answer. He won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing how many times the thought of you has kept him warm at night.

Your gaze drops to Alexios’s cock as you give him another long stroke from base to tip. Flushed, thick, and throbbing against your skin. You stop holding back —hand moving faster and wrist twisting on each upstroke— and Alexios cannot restrain himself any longer. He feels a fool for coming undone so quickly, but there’s magic in your touch, especially after a long voyage at sea.

“Is this any way to treat your host?” Eivor japes, and you can hear the bitter jealously in his voice as he watches. “Casting him aside to watch?”

“Come now, Eivor,” you chide. “You’ll have your fun later.” The way you say it, taunting and teasing with your hand wrapped around another man’s cock makes this all seem like a competition. If it is, at least it is a game where you will all be victorious.

“Is this not part of the sacred guest-rights?” Alexios asks, his voice half-strangled from how your hand works his cock but amused too. His body arches into you, pulling you against him, and his lips part as he moans unabashedly. It isn’t loud, but it is guttural and desperate, and it makes your core ache with want. Your hand doesn’t stop working him even as he spills himself over your fingers, drawing out his orgasm for as long as you can until you slow to a stop, and he begins to relax —catching his breath.

But he’s quick to begin taking what he wants. Alexios kisses your neck, moving down your body —the rough pads of fingers trailing along your sides, but it’s not enough. He needs more, wants more, and it’s impulse and desire when he sweeps his arms out, knocking the plates and cups in front of him to the floor. Alexios lifts you from his lap onto the edge of the table —hurriedly pulling at the ties of your britches as you toe off your boots.

Eivor inhales sharply, seeing you bare and splayed out on the table. His tongue darts out to dampen his lips. Memory reminds him of how sweet you tasted and how prettily you’d moaned for him, and he can barely stand the thought of not being the one between your thighs.

Alexios slinks down to look upon his second meal —eager to devour. You feel the stubble of his jaw tickle the crest of one hip and then the other before feeling his breath against your aching center. He kisses the inside of each thigh, then suckles and bites a mark in the same place on each side, laving over the little marks with his tongue. Alexios does not know what will come of this night, though he will leave a lasting impression on you to remember him by for the coming days —and maybe have you coming back to warm his bed on these cold northern nights.

He nuzzles his face against your cunt, inhaling the heady scent —drunk off the smell— and Alexios wrenches an incredulous noise from your throat when his tongue darts out, licking a flat stripe over you, stopping to circle your clit. He repeats the action thrice over, each time adding more pressure —devouring your cunt with attention like a man supping on his last meal, and he will be sure to have his fill. Reaching down, you twine your hands into his dark hair, and he peers up, dark eyes almost black with desire but still shining gold in the firelight. It’s easy to forget you and Alexios are not alone.

His tongue and mouth are insistent but soft, warm, and wet —a practiced lover— and he groans in delight against you when he feels your hips rise from the table and start to roll against his tongue. Alexios thinks himself a simple devotee worshipping at the altar of a goddess.

Every time you make a new noise, it just makes him more voracious —makes his cock stir again, but right now is about you and he’s determined not to stop until you’re shaking. He loops his arms under your thighs and moves his fingers to spread you open farther —letting his thumbs rub up and down your folds, gathering the slick. Then he eases one finger into your cunt, curling, and stroking, then adds a second. It’s devastating —the gentle pressure with each flick of his tongue on your clit— your breath comes in short gasps, chest heaving until it all erupts in slow sparks and smoldering flames.

It's the plummet of a longship’s prowl after cresting a wave when gravity takes its full force. The slow build of heat low in your belly takes to flames fanned by bellows. Alexios curls his fingers just right and feels your body tighten and seize. Your back arches off the tabletop and your ragged cry of ecstasy fill the room as you quiver.

Alexios raises his head, lips and chin glistening in the low light of the empty mead hall. He eases you down, hands stroking the insides of your thighs, and his lips find the skin below your navel before he draws you off the table and back into his lap. You tremble still when he drags the scruff of his jaw over your breasts and clavicles —promptly burying his face into your neck and listening as your heartbeat slows.

Fingers threading into Alexios’s matted locks, you glance at Eivor —his eyes are dark and filled with lust. His breathing is quicker and more labored than it had been during the feast too. Eivor splays his legs open, and you can see the outline of his hard cock through the wool of his britches. You smile for him —knowing it drives him to insanity and jealousy to see you like this because of another man. Alexios’s rough hands slide over your sides and around to your backside, pulling you down and forward against him —so you can feel his cock twitch back to life. A promise the night is not over yet.

But Eivor’s patience has run dry, and he will resign to being a bystander no longer. Rising from his seat, Eivor steps to you and Alexios, tugging your hair and forcing you to look up at him. He cranes down close to your ear and smirks. “My turn,” he rasps, pulling you off Alexios’s lap before scooping you up and over his shoulder and parading through the Great Hall toward his chambers. “Come, my friend,” Eivor calls back to Alexios, “guest-rights would have you take her cunt first.”

Anticipation burns low in your belly as Eivor pushes open the door to his room. Alexios trails a few steps behind —cock half-hanging out of the untied laces of his britches— his hands already fumbling with the ties of his tunic. Then Eivor lets you down from his shoulder and seizes your face in his hands, lips finding yours with burning lust and consuming passion.

You break away, breathless, and start to slide your hands beneath the hem of his tunic, pushing up the coarse crimson wool until he finally rids himself of it. Then your lips trail effortlessly along his heated flesh as you kiss your way from his scarred neck down his chest, then to his stomach, ghosting over the familiar blue-black ink of the runic tattoos accenting his middle. They’re a shade or two lighter than when you last saw him like this.

“Didn’t I tell you you’d have your fun later?” You muse, stopping just below his navel where a trail of hair a shade darker than that on his head begins. His response is a breathy groan as you continue down the path you’d started, falling to your knees in front of him, alas. His hands tangle in your hair as he moans quietly for you, feeling the blood rush as your breath trails dangerously close to the swell of his still-clothed cock.

His jaw clenches in frustration when you slow down, working the ties of his britches. You push the soft leather down his thighs, letting his cock fall free —hard, heavy, and weeping with want. Eivor steps out of his britches, and you press a to kiss his inner thigh, feeling the muscle twitch in anticipation. You kiss his inner thigh and feel the muscle twitch in anticipation. His fingers brush over your jaw, and your lips part to run your tongue across the length of his cock.

You look up at him before circling the head of his cock with your tongue, and he growls, running a hand through your hair affectionately. Your thighs squeeze together, knowing how much he wants your attention makes you feel flushed and warm in the best way. You give him a small smile before you open wider to take the head between your lips and are rewarded with his pleased sigh.

He hisses as he watches his cock disappear into your mouth —can feel the wet of your tongue lapping at him when you hollow your cheeks in. Your eyes are fixed on him, firing with lust as you watch him slowly fall into a haze. His brows furrow, his eyes slip shut, and his mouth parts from the sudden peak of pleasure. He doesn’t expect you to stop so suddenly, though. The aching emptiness between your thighs is enough to drive you mad. You look back at Alexios —he’s bare as you are now, his clothes tossed in a heap at the door, and he’s stroking his cock as he watches.

Rising from your knees, you press your hand to the center of Eivor’s chest, pushing him back toward the bed. He goes without complaint, falling backward into the furs, and you join him, perching on hands and knees —placing a long lick up the underside of his cock before a small sucking kiss on the head and presenting yourself to Alexios for the taking.

Alexios steps up behind you, his hands running over your hips and backside. His fingers dip into your soaked cunt before curling around his cock, stroking himself before pressing into you —slowly, so you can feel each ridge and vein dragging along your walls, filling you. It draws a low moan from you as he bottoms out, then starts thrusting shallowly as you lick a stripe up Eivor’s cock again. You give no warning as you open wide, mouth closing around the head of his cock and slipping halfway down his length. His fingers instinctively yank at your hair, moan cracking in his throat like he’s choking on the sound.

From behind, relentlessly to his snapping hips, Alexios fucks into you. Hard, rigid, merciless through a string of guttural groans and stumbling profanities spoken in a tongue you do not understand. Needy and pitifully pathetic, your aching cunt burns with each thrust, rough pads of his callous fingers digging into the skin of your bare hips. You lay there for him, hands twisted into the fur pelts next to Eivor’s thighs, body jolting and humming with pleasure. You can’t see him, yet you know how he must be —satisfied— and how he must look —chest flushed as incoherent grunts of pleasure bolt his lips.

His thickness splits you inch by inch while he slams in relentlessly, ceaselessly, persistently. Each vein, each ridge, each curve of his cock skidding along the walls of your cunt, driving your body further into oblivion. Alexios’s teeth scrape over your shoulder when he lowers his mouth to your back. One of his hands stays on your waist, anchoring you against him, the other palms your breast, fingers tweaking one nipple then the other. You’re vaguely aware that Alexios and Eivor are saying something to each other, but you’re too distracted by your work to pay attention. You shiver a bit when you feel warm hands come down to grope your breasts, and you let your throat squeeze around him, mind shrouded in a fog of sex.

Alexios looks down at the display of his cock moving in and out of your wet cunt. It’d be a shame not to enjoy what you’re offering in the moment. He leans over you, chest pressed against your back, and kisses your neck —the feel of his hot lips sends a shiver down your spine and makes you clench around his cock. “Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing a handful of your ass to spur you along. You feel the familiar tension blooming in your stomach as he thrusts inside you again and again. The needy little sounds you’re making for him are muffled around Eivor’s cock. Alexios’s bottoming out with every rock of his hips against yours, and this won’t last much longer for either of you —his cock is already throbbing with the prospect of release.

Eivor’s fingers thread into your hair, keeping you against his groin and looking at you like you’re some kind of benevolent goddess. It only makes that heat inside you flare up more. This all feels so good, but you can only offer muffled whines as both of them enjoy your body. You whimper, and the low reverberation and hum of your mouth around his cock is enough to finish Eivor —and you swallow the bitter salt of his seed.

Rough fingertips find your clit, rubbing and stroking until your cunt clamps down tight around his cock, and you lose all sense of focus as the wave of pleasure washes over you —breath reduced to tiny gasps and your thighs shaking. You slump forward, head pillowed on Eivor’s stomach, content to let Alexios work himself to his own finish with your body, and it doesn’t take much time. He comes inside you after a few more sloppy thrusts, cock spasming deep in your cunt, pressed so close against your back you can feel his heart beating fast behind you. The two of you stay together for a minute to get your bearings before he pulls out and steps away.

Eivor’s waited long enough to have your cunt, and he’ll not give you long to recover from how Alexios fucked you. He crawls between your thighs. His eyes hold a certain darkness you’ve never seen before —rooted in jealousy— and his mouth is slightly a gape with his chest rising and falling in heavy heaves. He takes hold of his cock, stroking himself as his spare hand plants to your hip, spreading your legs open wide for his taking. Eivor’s lips quirk into a faint smirk as he guides his cock into you as if to say you’re mine now.

Low and throaty, he hisses to the sensation, eyes momentarily clenching shut to the feel of you as he sinks to the hilt. His thrusts start slow but quicken —he’s thought about having you like this again on many a cold night— cock throbbing and twitching inside you, slipping from your cunt messily each time before plummeting back in. He grunts and curses above you as you plead with sobs of frustration and nigh overstimulation. You’ve never been so well-fucked before.

Your nails dig into his biceps, each thrust presses your breasts tighter to his chest. Eivor dips his head down, teeth scraping over your neck —just above a thrumming pulse. Your body involuntarily reacts, arching into him, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer every time he rolls his hips into yours. His fingertips press hard into your thighs, holding you tight against him, and your back arches with jolting shocks. Eivor’s eyes blacken when his eyes glaze over your body —wanton and bare, completely exposed for him, with your breasts bouncing as he rams in, cock burying deep, deep inside you with each thrust.

He grunts, jaw tightened, his pace never faltering. Your cunt pulses and throbs —Alexios’s seed leaking onto the furs below. Eivor breathes your name, face lowering to yours —mead-tinged breath hot against your lips as he quietly growls, teeth barely grazing your jaw. Persistently, he nips at the soft skin of your neck, leaving marks to match those left by Alexios, as if marking his claim too. “Fuck,” he grits, his eyes frenzied and primal, wild as he asserts his dominance —taking what should have been his all along. It’s the way his throbbing cock works your cunt, the way he perfectly fucks you into pure and utter bliss.

Throaty and gruff, he lets out rough moans, breathy and raggedy, and hot as he shudders, sending shivers of wanting down your spine when you know he’s close. Your head tilts back, and you can see Alexios reclined behind you —watching contentedly. With a few particularly harsh thrusts, you yelp in pleasure, ascending another peak, searing your nerves as he continues to fuck into you, chasing his own end. Eivor’s cock hits your end with a halt, a satisfied grumble of his chest rumbling against your breasts as he finds release, filling you with tingling warmth. Then his head falls forward, forehead pillowed on your breasts, and he lets out a breathy exhale, chest hot and puffing from the exertion. Drawing in a long sigh, Eivor slides his cock from you, rolling off to the side.

Shifting, you rest your head on Alexios’s stomach and drape your legs across Eivor’s. He smooths his hand over your calf and turns his head, watching the seed drip from your ruined cunt. Sleep weighs heavily on your chest after the length of days of travel, and now this. It calls sweetly. “Have we persuaded you to go to England with us?” Alexios asks, half-laughing as he runs his fingertips over your stomach and stops to fondle one of your breasts.

“Will the two of you be having me like this every day if I do?” You ask in turn, voice airy —dreamy— eyes slipping shut. Both men exchange a look, and neither will object to such a proposition. You can feel the low rumble of laughter in Alexios and Eivor’s chests. You certainly wouldn’t object to the proposal. Eivor kisses the bend of your knee, and Alexios takes your hand, lips pressing to the center of your palm —each kiss like a promise of what’s to come.

[taglist: @alessyaraven @alexandra-alle @ananriel @callmemythicalminx @certifiedlittleshit @chaotic-spooky @darkravenqueen98 @edelaen @elluvians @erzsebetrosztoczy @finick94 @hc-geralt-23 @idkjj04 @itseivwhore @kitkitvm @ksziggy @letsloveimagines @maximalblaze @missmannequin @mrsragnarlodbrok @novastale @overratedsun @qhbr2013 @queenyalo @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @thedragonqueenfan @theelvenvalkyrie @thepreciouspurrsian @vanillabeanlattes @wallsarecrumbling @withered-poppies @xxdearlybeloved ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor, Alexios, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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thebigbadbatswife · 2 years

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Let's Not Get Caught | Male!Eivor x Fem!Reader

Summary - You and Eivor almost get caught in a compromising position

Warnings - 18+ content, minors DNI! Smut. Oral (male receiving). Public Sex. Fluff.

A/N - Another Eivor drabble I found in my drafts that I thought I'd share! Enjoy <3

Word Count - 346

The sounds of music and exceptionally drunk singing was loud from inside the longhouse. Loud enough that it drowned out the sloppy sounds of your soft lips wrapped around Eivor’s cock.

You hummed as you bobbed up and down his length, your hands massaged what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. Eivor’s head was titled back, resting against the wooden wall of the longhouse. His eyes were closed and short breaths had his chest rising and falling quickly. Under his breath, he muttered curses in Norse.

It had been so long since you and Eivor had last been together that the second a chance to slip away from everyone had arised, the two of you had taken it.

You were so exposed out here. At any point someone could walk out and round the corner and see you with your Jarl’s cock down your throat. The thought of getting caught sent excitement buzzing through your veins and between your legs.

Eivor moaned low and quietly. He loved the feeling of your mouth around his cock, your tongue caressing his shaft. It was taking all of his willpower not to take control. Amongst the curses he muttered were also words of praise.

All of a sudden he was pulling you off of him and tugging you back up, whilst he used his free hand to make himself decent. Confused, you were about to ask him what was wrong when, just over the sounds of the feast, you heard a man drunkenly singing and getting closer to where you two were. A few seconds later and Holger rounded the corner, swaying, stumbling and spilling whatever drink was left within the drinking horn in his hand. He was so drunk it seemed that he didn’t notice you and Eivor standing there. Once he was out of earshot, you and Evior chuckled.

“Well, that was close,” you said, your cheeks burning.

“It was,” he replied. His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against his body. “How about we find somewhere more private, my love?”

You agreed eagerly.

#eivor x reader #male eivor x reader #eivor varinsson #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #ac valhalla #assassins creed #reader insert #x reader #drabble #my writing

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visndcaitswhore · 2 years

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I started becoming interested in assassin's creed and i want to write an Eivor x Fem!OC, Kassandra x Fem!OC, and a Soma x Fem!OC (my boss queen is very underrated r u kidding me?).

(not one shots btw, fanfics with multiple chapters on AO3 and maybe wattpad mainly)

Would anyone be willing to read any of that if I published it?

#eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #assassins creed eivor #kassandra #assassins creed odyssey #soma jarlskona #eivor x reader #kassandra x reader #soma x reader #eivor varinsdóttir x reader

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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years

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Helooo! Saw your requests were open! I’m kinda new to tumblr so please forgive me

I was wondering if you could do a Female!Eivor x reader, it could be that y/n could have such intense anxiety, she can’t go outside and talk to people anymore, and eivor could help her out with that? Thanks!!

notes: ahhh! I've missed my requests for characters like fem Eivor and Kassandra!

pairing: Female! Eivor x Reader

word count: 0.8k

☾ ⋆ﾟ MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

Anxiety

“I know you’re stronger than you let yourself believe, my love.” Eivor murmured softly as she leaned down to bring her lips close to your ear, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. You held her bicep firmly in your hands as you walked alongside her on her arm, weakly nodding your head in reply at her words. “And what’s the most important thing to do?” Her rough voice came out in a soft tone and it always comforted you to know that no matter how calloused this woman could seem, she would always have a soft spot for you. “Do you want to walk through what you’re going to say? I know that helps you.” She offered, wrapping her arm around you and you were grateful for the way her fur cloak covered you with such a gesture.

“I’d like to upgrade my bow.” You spoke quietly, “The limbs are too weak for a good shot.” There was a kiss at your temple that made you smile softly.

“That’s great! That’s all you need to say and I’ll do the rest of the talking, just try to make sure that you’re loud and clear, alright?” You swallowed hard and nodded your head, feeling your chest become tighter as you made your way closer to Gunnar’s forge. Eivor watched as your chest quickened with each rise and fall of breath, growing deeper and sharper, your hands practically crushing her one that you held as it was slung over your shoulder.

Your blonde lover quickly pulled you aside, under the shade of a tree and stopped to face you, taking both hands in yours and squeezing gently. “I’m so, so proud of you for doing this, I know you can see it through. People can be terrifying, I know but I’ve seen you fight off a wolf with your bare hands.” You looked away bashfully – admittedly you had been caught off guard while inspecting a shot rabbit, having set your weapons down when the wolf attacked you. You were beyond lucky that Eivor had been with you that day, swooping in to save you as you held back the creature that was gnashing its teeth at you. “You’re much braver than you know. You can do this.” You threw yourself at her chest, wrapping your arms around her torso and squeezing tightly, as though it would flush the anxiety out of you. “Go through it one more time.”

“I’d like to upgrade my bow. The limbs are too weak for a good shot.” You repeated.

“There’s my girl.” The vikingr grinned, a hand coming up to cup your cheek, tilting her head as she looked down at you. “You’re brilliant, really, I’m so proud of you.” And her arm was back around your shoulder, leading you to the forge.

“Gunnar!” Eivor greeted, shaking the man’s hand with her freehand.

“Eivor! And Y/n, it’s great to see you!” He greeted cheerfully, “What can I do for you?” Your mouth felt dry and you were wringing your hands, leaning into the safety of Eivor’s body as you tried to mentally prepare yourself, speeding through the words over and over in your head as you removed your bow from your back with trembling hands. Eivor looked down at you, a silent cue for you to speak.

“I’d like to-” You raised the volume of your voice, “to upgrade my bow. The limbs are too weak for a good shot.” You set it down on the table and cringed as hot tears built up in your eyes, feeling Eivor’s hand begin to soothingly rub up and down your arm.

“I’ll have the payment brought to you on delivery as usual.” Eivor added.

“A worn bow indeed, we can’t have our settlement’s most notorious hunter going out with this! I’ll make some arrows for you too.” You tried to thank him but, as your lips moved, no words came out.

“We’ll be back in two days. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Gunnar.” Eivor led you off and you did your best to try and keep your breathing under control, a single tear running down your cheek against your will as your whole body trembled. Neither of you stopped until you were back at your shared room in the longhouse.

“You were brilliant, my love!” She exclaimed, pulling you in for a tight hug and you nodded your head quickly, squeezing her tightly. She pulled back to cup your face in her hands, thumb swiping away the stray tear, “You did everything perfectly, there’s no need to cry. No one thought badly of you, Gunnar was even joyful to see you! He asks about you all the time when I go to him for my own upgrades. The people around here love you and would love to see you feeling comfortable when you go out. It’s something we’ll work towards together, ja?” You could have melted in her hold at how supportive she was of you.

“I love you.” You whispered. Her patience with your anxiety meant the world to you when you knew that she was such a confident woman.

“I love you more than you can imagine.” She replied with a lingering kiss to your lips.

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

🏷️ @writing-noah

#eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor varinsdóttir x reader #eivor varinnsdóttir x you #female eivor #assassins creed fanfiction #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed #assassins creed valhalla #f! eivor x reader #f! eivor x f! reader #female eivor x female reader

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sweetmeldies · 11 months

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guess who started AC Valhalla 🤗

#assassin's creed #ac valhalla #assassin’s creed valhalla #eivor x reader #eivor varinsdóttir #acv eivor #fem!eivor #assassins creed eivor #eivor of the raven clan #eivor wolfsmal #ac eivor

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samuwhores · 2 years

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Writers: *write a fic for a niche fandom with barely 100 fics in first pov or a self insert*

Me: “i can’t do this. why would you do this to me?”

(Like don’t get me wrong as a writer I know writing is difficult but as the reader I just can’t get into it.)

#ac valhalla #eivor x reader #female eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #ac odyssey #kassandra #kassandra x reader #kassandra of sparta #kassandra the eagle bearer #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #fanfic struggles #soma jarlskona #soma jarlskona x reader

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demigoddessqueens · 8 months

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more fluff 💞

a fluff headcanon companion piece to this Haytham request

Ezio

Oh he’s pulling all the stops to impress you, night life in Florence and all over, the most romantic dates, and though he’s flirtatious, there’s a genuine feeling to it

Edward

Lets you take the helm of the Jackdaw sometimes, brings you along to his missions, tells you of life back home, long talks under the stars that light up the sea

Jacob

Likes spending time with you by sneaking away to any of the pubs or rooftops

Eivor

Watching the Northern Lights with you whenever they pass over because of how your face lights up in joy

Bayek

You’ve taken riding trips with him sometimes and also found an oasis refuge

Aveline

A bit of a shopping trip, canon or au, can turn your frown upside down

Connor

Very fond of taking nature walks with you, hunting trips, or tasting whatever delicious dishes you’ve concocted

Yusuf

He’ll want to take you all over Istanbul, admiring her night life and numerous shops to offer

Altair

Likes talking philosophy with you, training or admiring the views from the rooftops of Masyaf

Evie

She likes a good book/library date with you

Kassandra

There was a grotto spot you two stumbled across to get away from the more city life

Arno

A tragic romanticist that takes you along to see the Paris skyline, dates at the Cafe Theater or dancing under the chandeliers

Henry

He likes making you tea or recommending a book for you, maybe even cuddling you with a good book

Aya

She likes practicing archery with you, or just using it as an excuse to hold onto you 😉

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iridescentmemoria · 2 years

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Anyone out there interested in being my beta reader for my Sigurd x Eivor fanfic? 👀

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 11

masterlist

it’s 1:40 am and I finally finished proofreading this thing, thank god. in this chapter eivor and the reader fight it out, then fuck it out.

content warning for choking/breathplay, nudity, rough lesbian sex, spit and just general filth. if you’re not into that, you can stop reading when the reader and eivor go back to their hut and come back for the next chapter.

inspo pic by @classicnovaproductions

Sapphism

“What are you talking about, Eivor?”

You were standing with your back to the wall of the longhouse, Eivor’s hands pinning your shoulders to the cold wood. Her eyes were full of rage and her face completely white with anger, making the red rune on her forehead stand out even more.

“I’m talking about you snuggling up with that little roach all day. Were you actually right where you belonged when I pulled him off of you the other night? Have I made a fool of myself chasing after you while you enjoy yourself with Norvid?” She spat out his name like a curse.

“Eivor, I did nothing of the sort! He apologized to me this afternoon and I forgave him, he was a drunken fool after all!” You shot her a meaningful look. “After that, he just kept appearing at my side, which was neither my desire nor my fault!”

She shook her head and now there was not only anger but also hurt in her gaze.

“I had you on my mind all day, through everything, and I come back to see you huddled together with Norvid, whispering sweet nothings and not even noticing me. What is it, did he offer you a bed to sleep in as well? Was I just a temporary solution until you found something better?”

You had enough of this nonsense. In one quick motion, you slammed down your hands on Eivor’s arms so her elbows bent and she had to let go of you. Then you grabbed her and pulled her around you, knocking her against the wall and pressing your forearm against the base of her throat. Her eyes widened in surprise. She could have easily fought you off and thrown you halfway through the village, but she stayed where she was.

“That’s enough!" you yelled. "I have never shared more than that stupid drunken hug with Norvid! He is a nice person and he just so happened to turn up at all the wrong times today. But that does not change how I feel about you! Put yourself in my shoes, I spent all day waiting for you!" Y ou added more pressure to your arm on her throat and saw the anger in Eivor’s gaze fade slowly, leaving behind only confusion and sorrow.

“Imagine running to meet your lover and being greeted with a blonde corpse!” You slapped her chest in frustration, tears streaming down your face. “I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea how that felt? And when I finally saw you, you did not even look at me, not a single word of greeting. You did not even give me a chance to comfort you, to tell you what I had been waiting forever to tell you! Instead, you run away as soon as you see me talking to Norvid and ignore me for the rest of the day. And now this! What gives you the right to insult me like this, to put all the blame on me when all I wanted was to be yours ?!”

You let go of her and pressed your palms to your cheeks, trying to regain control of your breathing. Eivor stared at you, a storm of emotions washing over her face. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“I wanted to tell you today. Tell you that I am ready to face this new year with you at my side, that I choose you for now and forever, that there is no one else I would rather give my heart to.”

Your chest was convulsing from the cries you were trying to hold back.

“But I cannot give you my heart anymore...” You let out a desperate sob and Eivor’s eyes widened in fear. “- because you have already stolen it from me the day you rescued me from my terrible fate and brought me here with you. I am yours, I have always been only yours. Why can’t you see that?”

Eivor pushed herself off the wall and started pacing back and forth. You turned around to her, waiting for the final blow. It felt like your heart was slowly eating itself, the pain was unbearable. Finally, the warrior turned to you.

“Freya’s tears. I have been so stupid.”

She took a few steps toward you and fell to her knees in front of you.

“Oh Y/N, I have been so terribly wrong. Gods, I was blind. Blind with love, with passion, with jealousy. I should have trusted you more, but I was so scared of losing you, I could not see that you felt the same. My love, will you forgive me one more time? I know I do not deserve it after all the pain I have put you through -”

She fell forward and wrapped her arms around your hips, pressing herself against your legs and looking up at you, her cheeks wet with tears.

“Please forgive me Y/N, forgive me for my foolishness! I promise to cherish and care for you for the rest of my life and eternity in the afterlife, I promise to never doubt or hurt you again. Just please, please, take me back. I love you!”

You gently placed your hand on the top of her head and traced the red sigil on her forehead with your thumb.

“Get up,” you whispered softly.

She stood up and took both of your hands into hers. Her skin was warm and rough, her fingers calloused from hard work and fighting. Her eyes were full of desperation and you could feel her breath on your face.

“I forgive you. I wish I could say this was the last time, but I know I could not hold the worst crime against you for long. Our hearts are bound together, as painful or wonderful that may be.” You brushed a strand of that beautiful blonde hair behind her ear.

“I love you, too, Eivor. I will love you fiercely, deeply, and sincerely until this world turns to ashes and even after that.”

Your hand rested on her cheek. Carefully, you raised yourself on your tiptoes, your faces now at eye level, Eivor’s shaky breath dancing over your lips. Time seemed to stand still when your lips finally met. Eivor’s lips were incredibly soft and did not move against yours, not yet fully taking in what was happening.

You kissed her again, with a little more pressure this time and finally, your drengr reacted. You both drew in a breath at the same time, desperate, as if you had been underwater for too long and now finally breached the surface. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you in, her lips still innocently closed until you ran the tip of your tongue over them. She opened her mouth for you and for a moment, you both just breathed each other’s air. Then Eivor pressed her lips to yours again, her tongue pushing against yours as she pushed you back against the wall.

When your back hit the wood, you let out a small whimper and Eivor immediately pulled back, concern on her face as she cupped your cheek with her hand.

“Have I hurt you?”

“No,” you mumbled before wrapping your hands around the back of her neck and burying your fingers in her beautiful blonde hair, gripping it tightly and pulling her closer. Something changed in her expression, a spark ignited behind those icy blue eyes and she kissed you fiercely, teeth clashing together and her tongue dancing around yours as her hands on your back wandered lower.

You lifted a knee to her side and she immediately picked you up, wrapping your legs around her waist and pressing you against the wall. You felt almost drunk, completely encased in the beautiful chaos of the last minutes. Was this really happening? Eivor rolled her hips forward against you and you sighed into her mouth. Yes, this was real. The tension between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second. You grabbed another fistful of hair and pulled the drengr’ s head back so she had to stare up at you, her throat exposed and her jawline as sharp as a knife.

“Take me to bed, Eivor.”

You could actually see her pupils widen, her eyes almost completely black as she slowly let you down. She took your hand, then you both walked in silence, passing the great bonfire and the people around it without paying them any mind, and finally rushing up the path to Eivor’s hut. She opened the door with shaky fingers. The room was dimly lit by the fireplace and Birna was still laying on Eivor’s clothes. You sighed in relief - you would have felt guilty for banishing her from the bed.

You had just stepped over the threshold when Eivor turned around, pushing the door shut behind you and trapping you between her and hard wood yet again. You leaned your head back against it and let your eyes wander over your lover’s face, her smooth forehead, her fiery eyes, the deep scar on her cheek, her chiseled cheekbones, the other small scar splitting her upper lip. You could not imagine how much pain and violence Eivor had seen in the course of her life.

You lifted a hand and slowly drew your digit along the scar on her cheek. She closed her eyes. You went on to her lip, feeling the notch where the scar was, a healing cut on her bottom lip, the soft skin on her chin. She swallowed as your hand wandered lower to her throat, caressing the little dent between her collarbones and then slowly pulling the strings that held the fur around her shoulders, loosening the knot and letting the fur fall to the floor.

In turn, Eivor gently slid her hands under your coat and slipped it from your shoulders. She smiled as her hands encased your waist, content with your choice of clothing.

“Beautiful,” she mumbled as she loosened the golden buttons on the short, pale blue overdress, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the side. You were left in the forget-me-not-blue long linen dress that was closed with a golden brooch at the back. Giving Eivor an eager smile, you turned around and placed your hands on the door while you waited for her to open the brooch.

She gently brushed your hair to the front before opening the clasp and letting the dress slip to the floor. The only thing still covering your body was a long strip of linen wrapped around your hips and covering your most intimate places. Eivor softly whistled through her teeth and you suddenly remembered the runes Valka had painted on your skin. You could feel the drengr trace them with her fingers, slowly wandering down your back until your entire body was covered in goosebumps.

You turned back around and Eivor let out another small, surprised noise when she saw the rune on your chest. She lifted a hand and placed it between your breasts, closing her eyes as she took in the warmth of your skin. You opened the clasps on her belt and the holster around her chest, letting the heavy leather fall to the floor, then you pulled on the strings that closed her pants. They immediately fell to the ground and Eivor, now only wearing a tunic, stepped out of them, pulling you with her toward the bed.

She let you sink on the mattress first, then she lowered herself on top of you, her legs intertwined with yours. You placed both of your hands on her face and pulled her in for a kiss. It got heated quickly, the pressure of her thigh between your legs a godsend. When Eivor pushed her hips forward, grinding into you, you moaned into the silence, immediately covering your eyes in embarassment. What were you, a little harlot?

Eivor gently took your hand from your face, grinning down at you.

“Don’t hide. I love hearing your voice, especially when it tells me how good I make you feel.”

Before you could reply, she had pinned down your wrists next to your head and started kissing your jaw and your neck, nipping the soft skin there and sucking on it, making you arch your back involuntarily. You had to fight not to cry out when Eivor rocked her hips forward again, her hot breath in the crook of your neck and the skin tingling where she had bitten into it. Your fingers found her tunic and pulled it toward you, revealing the same undergarments and a tattooed back, muscles dancing under pale skin. Eivor let out an annoyed grunt and ripped the tunic over her head, throwing it to the side before returning to you.

She kissed her way down your chest, grabbing one breast while sucking on the other and leaving red marks where her mouth had been. You had seen those marks on some of the other maids and stableboys before, but you had never understood how they had come by them. Now you knew. Oh, what a beautiful pain.

Eivor’s lips wandered lower, softly kissing your stomach while your fingers frantically worked the linen around her chest until the strip finally loosened and you could pull it off. She was now kneeling between your legs and you felt a strange thill come over you. How perfectly scandalous, how hot, how wonderfully forbidden this moment was. Flushed and spread out before her, your Viking lover gloriously decorated with tattoos, her breasts illuminated by the light of the fire, her small, hard nipples standing out in the cool air.

She lifted up one of your legs and kissed her way from your ankle up to your hipbone, then her nose wandered over the thin fabric that still separated her from you. You knew far too well how drenched the linen was, how wet you were with anticipation, ready for her to take you, to do whatever she wanted with you.

But Eivor was slow, she was careful and gentle. You knew she was still scared of hurting you. You lifted up your hips and caught her gaze as she began to tug on the linen, revealing you in your entirety.

“I am all yours,” you whispered. “Only yours.”

She nodded, her eyes nothing but dark abysses of lust, and lowered her head, her breath on your sensitive skin sending shivers up your spine. Finally, she opened her mouth and dragged her tongue all the way from deep between your legs up to that sensitive spot that was already pulsating in tune with the drumming in your ears. You could not resist pushing your hips up against her and Eivor took that as a final yes, wrapping her arms around your legs and holding down your hips as she attacked your core with her mouth.

Her tongue that had been so soft at first was now roughly pressing against your folds, tasting your juices, prodding into you, and making your gasp her name. You lost all sense of direction and reason, dragging your nails over her shoulders and fighting against her hands on your hips, burying your fingers in her hair as you begged her for more. She took her time driving you to the brink of madness, one moment licking you with broad strokes, then flicking the tip of her tongue over that little bundle of nerves, then pushing it deep inside you, making you jerk up and fall back into the soft pillows. You were yearning for her to fill you, to put those long, strong fingers to use, but you could not bring yourself to ask.

When Eivor finally looked up at you, you saw a vicious gleam in her eye that could mean nothing else but her already knowing what you wanted and toying with you anyway. She knew you were still shy despite everything and she would not go any further without you asking for it.

“Eivor… more… please,” you mumbled while taking her hand and pushing it down between your legs.

“What do you want, dove?” She was teasing you and she knew you would have to oblige.

“Your fingers.” You felt yourself blush, but before you could think any further Eivor had pushed a slender finger inside you, just halfway, looking up at you as her pink tongue slowly ran up and down over your folds. Your breath stopped as you watched her push in further. You were mesmerized by her eyes, her magnificent mouth, and her digit that slowly curled inside you. Slowly, you let your head fall back and closed your eyes, feeling Eivor pump her finger in and out a few times before adding a second, stretching you out while dragging her tongue over you lazily. Your eyes rolled back into your head as she started stroking you faster, her mouth joining in the rhythm of her fingers until you started to feel a familiar pull between your hips, all of your muscles beginning to flex and cramp up as your breath got quicker and your whines louder.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking down at Eivor as you came closer and closer, your legs starting to shake on her shoulders. There was an explosion of heat in your core, sending sparks through your limbs and making you cry out in ecstasy. Eivor was still caressing you with her tongue, your flesh becoming more and more sensitive until you had to push her head away, breathing hard and not yet fully in control of your senses.

The blonde gave you a devilish grin and made her way up your stomach, then she kissed you hard. You could smell yourself on her skin and taste your juices on her tongue. It was incredibly dirty and so, so heavenly. Eivor wanted to roll off of you but you held her close.

“Lay on me, my love. I want to feel you, to prove that this is real.”

She hesitated for a moment, then she lowered herself down on you, resting her full weight on your body. You felt as if she might crush you, but it was the most wonderful feeling. You could feel her heartbeat echoing through your chest, the thin layer of sweat between you both, her hips pressing down on yours, her thick thighs between yours. Slowly, your hands wandered over her warm back, exploring the soft skin interrupted by old scars, the tiny hairs at the back of her waist, the linen still covering the parts of her you wanted to see the most.

Your hands wandered lower, caressing her firm, round ass and squeezing it playfully. Eivor immediately rolled her hips forward, chuckling into the crook of your neck. You hooked your thumbs under the linen bandages around her hips and she lifted them slightly so you could loosen them and pull them off to the side.

She let herself roll off to the side, one leg still between yours, both of you completely bare now.

“How do you feel, little dove? We don’t have to do anything you do not want, we can just sleep.”

Sleep was the furthest thing from your mind. You brushed some stray hairs out of Eivor’s face.

“I feel reborn. You truly are a master at anything involving your hands.” You grinned at her and she had to smile, too. You could almost swear she was blushing.

“Eivor, I never want to sleep as long as I can love you. I want to explore every inch of your beautiful body, I want to learn about every kind of pleasure from you. I want you to show me heaven with a single twist of your fingers.”

She placed the tips of her digit and middle finger on your bottom lip. You slowly opened your lips and sucked her fingers into your mouth, your tongue pressing up against them. Eivor’s mouth hung open in awe, her breath hot on your cheek. You kept eye contact as you sucked her fingers in all the way to the knuckle, your hand slowly making its way down her toned stomach. She was paralyzed by your gaze, incapable of doing anything but letting out a shaky sigh as your hand finally found soft curls and her hot, wet cunt. You had never felt anything like it. You wanted to make her feel the way she had made you feel before, make her moan your name, taste her and feel her, fuck her until she lost her mind.

You dropped her fingers from your mouth while pushing the leg she had draped over yours away so she lay open and bare, her legs spread wide for you. You drew your fingers along her drenched lips and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. Without thinking, you pushed two fingers inside her, moaning as you felt her soft walls encase you. Eivor gasped, pressing her forehead to yours. Slowly, you pulled your fingers out again and played with her pulsing lips, choosing to torture her some more.

“Again…” Eivor whispered. “More. Please.” She stretched her neck to kiss you and you dragged your tongue over hers, pushing your fingers inside her at the same time and relishing at the sound of her moaning into your mouth. Her cunt made a deliciously filthy noise as you continued to thrust into her, plastering wet kisses on her neck and chest.

Your drengr was writhing beneath you, her breath quick and her hands all over you as your mouth finally reached her hips. You dug your fingers into the firm muscles of her thighs as you settled between her legs, then you lowered your head and inhaled the wonderful musk of your lover, the familiar mix of sweat and tree bark, pine soap, and the sweet scent of her juices. Eivor was getting impatient, burying her fingers in your hair and pulling you toward her, yearning for some kind of friction.

With a sigh, you obliged and dove in. You had never even seen another woman’s private parts before, let alone touched them, but somehow it was the most natural thing. You dragged your tongue over her slowly, then you spread her lips with your fingers and began swirling your tongue around her pink nub, answered with hissing and cursing from the top of the bed. You decided to take it slow, lapping at her at a more moderate pace and massaging the insides of her thighs with your hands.

“More, please... Y/N, your fingers…”

You ignored her and when she pushed her hips up against you, you stopped altogether, giving her a stern look. She mumbled an apology and you had to force yourself not to laugh. She was all flustered and sulky, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her cheeks flushed and her stomach convulsing every time you touched her. You began your slow pace again, your hands resting on her hips. She groaned but did not dare to rush you again.

Finally, you ate her out harder and faster, sucking on her folds, pushing your tongue inside her, drowning in her wetness and in sweet bliss at finally tasting your lover, having her all to yourself. You dragged your nails along the inside of her thigh and Eivor started whining as you caressed the skin just next to the center of her pleasure.

“Please, Y/N, dove, please don’t make me wait any longer, this is torture!” she cried out, her voice breaking in desperation.

You pressed your tongue to her pulsing nub and slowly pushed two fingers inside her. Her cunt sucked your fingers in eagerly, contracting around you as Eivor moaned in relief. You curled your fingers upward and she cried out your name, grabbing your free wrist so hard you were certain she would leave a bruise. Having found her sweet spot, you continued to fuck her while leaving lovebites on her hips and thighs, the sting making her hiss and close her thighs around your head. Her moans got raspier, her breathing faster and her curses more ungodly.

Just when you thought she would reach her peak, she hooked a leg under your hip and flipped you both around in one swift motion. You were now lying on your back and Eivor was straightening up on top of you, her thick thighs framing your face and her shins pinning your shoulders to the mattress. You took in the breathtaking view, her flushed face, looking down at you with blown pupils, her round breasts, her slender stomach, and her throbbing heat right over your mouth.

Eivor wasted no time getting back to where you left off, grinding down on your face and almost smothering you with that perfect, swollen cunt. You gave up any autonomy and just opened your mouth, reveling in the softness and the sweet and sour taste of her juices on your tongue. Eivor leaned back and braced herself on your hips. She looked glorious riding your face, her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders and shining in the light of the fire, the droplets of sweat on her chest sparkling like diamonds. She threw her head back and moved faster, her moans getting higher and higher as you tried to control your breathing. You would have been happy to die right there on the spot, smothered by Eivor’s thighs as she found her release on your tongue.

And she did find it, panting and moaning on top of you, her legs beginning to shake as she pushed down into your mouth, her body twitching and her hands digging into your hips as she rode out her high. Breathless, she fell to your side and lay splayed out on her back, her eyes closed as she tried to regain control of herself. You were just as thunderstruck, staring at the ceiling and trying to comprehend how monumentally your world had changed in the course of an hour.

“You’re going to be the death of me, little bird. Tell me who taught you to torture a woman like that, I will kiss them and then rip their head off.” Eivor’s voice was shaky and as you turned your head, you could see her thighs still twitching. You reached out and gently brushed your fingers over her pulsing mound. She jerked up and slapped your hand away.

“Don’t make me punish you. You’ve done enough.” Her expression was stern, but her eyes were still cloudy from the high. You just threw her an innocent smile and she gave you her wonderful crooked grin.

You sat up. How could you tell her that this was your first time without scaring her off? She had been gentle with you at first, yes, but that was surely because she knew of her own strength and did not want to hurt you.

“No one taught me," you said. She raised her eyebrows.

“So you just naturally know your way around a woman’s loins and did everything right from the first time?”

You lowered your head.

“Well, you tell me. Did I?”

She sat up as well and lifted your chin with her fingers, forcing you to look at her. The fire lit her face from the side and her eyes were practically smoldering.

“Are you telling me this was your first time? Come on, don’t joke about those things.” You swallowed.

“It was. Forgive me for not telling you, I thought it did not matter. You were perfect, everything was perfect.” You cupped her cheek with your hand. Her expression was a mixture of disbelief, concern, and astonishment.

“Freya’s tears,” she mumbled, “you should have told me. I would have been more gentle, more careful. My love, did I hurt you?”

You smiled at her, overwhelmed by your love for your gentle warrior.

“Eivor, as I said, you were perfect.” You crawled on her lap, straddling her thighs while holding her face in both hands. “In fact, you were almost too gentle. I am not made of glass, my fierce drengr .”

You licked your lips, grinding your hips against her. Eivor rolled her eyes at you. She wrapped one arm around you and held you tight to her chest, then she pushed herself up with the other and scooted up to the headboard, leaning her back against it. She ran her fingers through your hair, looking up at you in awe.

“Y/N, you are incredible. You amaze me every day.”

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before moving on to her jaw and down her neck.

“I’m learning from the best,” you mumbled against her skin and gently bit down. A small moan escaped Eivor’s lips and you rolled your hips forward again. Her hands wandered up your thighs and around to cup your ass, gently at first. As you left another love bite on her neck, her grip on your ass tightened and she began guiding your hips, rocking them against her, grabbing your cheeks so hard you felt your already wet cunt open up for her.

You moaned and pulled her hair back so she would look up at you. You could see her strained throat contract as she swallowed. She opened her mouth and you let a string of spit drip from your bottom lip onto her tongue. Her eyes were full of raw desire, a hunger that you had only seen in them when Eivor had set out for her last raid. A wave of heat came over you and you lowered your head, running your tongue over your lover's and mixing your spit with hers, your tongues dancing between you as more blood rushed between your legs and you could feel your own wetness run down your thigh.

You placed one leg between Eivor’s and began rocking back and forth on her thigh, her hands so tight on your ass you knew she would leave more marks. As you looked down, you could see her skin glisten where your dripping cunt had slid over it. The sight only made you hungrier and you pressed down on her, groaning at the friction. You grabbed Eivor’s jaw and made her look at you, then you pushed your thumb into her mouth, watching as she sucked on it, her hands never leaving your body. God, she was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

One of her hands wandered further down between your cheeks and suddenly you felt her fingertips at your entrance. You let out a deep, almost feral moan as you pushed back against her and they slid in easily. Continuing to rub yourself over her thigh, you arched your back so Eivor could go deeper and she did, pushing them in to the knuckle and twisting them until your eyes rolled back and you could not even scream, your lungs giving out at the overwhelming sensation.

“More,” you whispered. Eivor grabbed you and threw you to the side. You landed on all fours, her fingers still inside you as she knelt next to your hips and thrust into you from behind. She added a third finger, filling you up, stretching you, and making you cry out first in pleasure, then in pain when her hand came down hard on your ass. You pressed your face into the mattress to stifle a scream. The sting was delightful.

Eivor was ravenous, thrusting into you at a relentless pace, slapping your ass again and again, the sound ringing in your ears and the sharp pain making your blood rush. You were almost there, a whining, moaning mess beneath your warrior, and she knew. She reached around your stomach with her other hand and began rubbing circles into your pulsing flesh, brushing the rough pads of her fingers over your sensitive nub, riding the knife’s edge of not enough and too much. You saw nothing but red, heard nothing but the wet sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of you and her groans, then something inside you dissolved and your high hit you like a gigantic wave. It knocked the wind out of your lungs at first, then it made you scream out, Eivor’s fingers pressing on the perfect spots inside and out as your juices covered her hand and you collapsed on the bed, devoid of all control of your muscles.

Eivor lifted you up with ease, pulling you into her arms so your head could rest on her shoulder and pulling the thick quilt over your body. Her fingertips caressed your back as you fought for air and she pressed her lips against the top of your head, humming into your hair.

“I think you broke me,” you mumbled, your voice cracking. Eivor chuckled and pulled you closer.

“I think I finally wore you out for the first time. I always wondered during training how much you would take without complaining or tiring, now I know.”

You wanted to protest, to tell her you were still ready for more, but you could not even lift your head. Instead, you sighed and asked for a kiss. Eivor smiled at you and gently pressed her lips against yours.

“Sleep now, my precious dove. We have all the time in the world.”

The last thing you felt was Birna jumping on the bed and curling up at your feet. You had completely forgotten about her. Sending her a mental apology, you drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

When you woke the next morning, you were no longer in Eivor’s arms. Your eyes flew open in alarm - had she left again? But she was still next to you, a thin blanket covering only her legs and hips while her bare chest lay free, her muscular arms thrown over her head. Her long, blonde hair was splayed out on the pillow around her head, making it seem as if she was blessed with a halo. Her breath was deep and steady, her mouth hanging slightly open. God, she was a sight to behold.

The next thing you noticed were your sore muscles. Every part of your body hurt, partly still from training, partly from what had happened last night. You felt blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of what you and Eivor had done. How excitingly forbidden, how perfectly blasphemous, how deliciously vulgar it had been to finally give yourself to the woman you loved. And for her to give herself to you as well. You laid flat on your back and stretched your arms over your head, trying to get rid of some of the pain, but it was no use. You closed your eyes and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep again.

The second time you woke, you kept your eyes closed for a moment longer, drinking in the beauty of the morning. The fire was crackling again - Eivor must have already woken up and started it - and the air was so warm you had balled up the blanket next to you in your sleep and now lay naked on the mattress. You could feel Eivor lying next to you, the heat radiating off her body and her breathing, now different than before. She was no longer asleep.

“I know you’re awake,” came her voice from next to you and you opened your eyes, turning your head to look into the deep blue eyes of your lover. She gave you a vicious smile.

“Spread your legs.” You blinked at her in confusion, instinctively closing your thighs at first. Blood rushed right to your core and you noticed how swollen you were, your cunt still sticky from last night’s juices and already wet again, ready for your drengr to take you. You felt untamed and fantastically filthy.

“Eivor, I’m still so sore from yesterday,” you whined, but you knew your eyes were saying something entirely different, wandering over her lips and down to her breasts, finally resting on her hand that casually waited on the bed between you.

“Open up,” she ordered, her voice deeper and more stern. Slowly, you opened your knees and let them fall to the side, the muscles in your thighs screaming at the strain.

Eivor’s hand began to move over your breasts, your nipples hardening right away at the mere thought of her touch. She rolled one of them between her fingers and you gasped at the sensation. Her fingers slowly brushed over your stomach and hipbones, then she scooted closer, bracing herself on her elbow and cupping your mound with her hand. You could not keep your hips still and they buckled up into her touch.

She hummed in satisfaction, then one of her fingers dipped into your pooling wetness and dragged it up between your folds. You bit your lip to keep yourself from crying out, but Eivor gave you a fierce look and you let your mouth hang open, taking a deep breath to brace yourself for what was to come. Before you could tell what was happening, she had pushed three fingers deep inside you, sending shockwaves through your body. Eivor swallowed your moan with a deep, wet kiss, then she began pumping her fingers in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace, opening you up for her and making you hers.

After a while, she sat up and knelt between your legs, her eyes fixed on your swollen cunt and her fingers inside you. Slowly, she reached down and her hand vanished beneath the dark curls at her center. She looked down at you through half-closed eyelids, her tongue quickly running over her bottom lip before she let out a low groan. Part of you wanted to get up and touch her, another part wanted to lay down and watch her in all her glory.

Eivor made that decision for you when she lifted one of your legs and scooted closer, straddling your thigh at first. Then she rolled her hips forward against you and your cores suddenly touched. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. Hot and wet, her pulse beating against yours, connected at your most intimate points as Eivor let her head fall back and groaned your name. You quickly found a perfect pace, both of you grinding your hips together and interlocking your fingers with each other as your voices got louder and your moans got higher.

You were close and you could tell Eivor was, too. You wanted to reach the peak with her, to experience this high together. She lowered her head and your eyes met. Her movements got smaller and she increased the pressure, the smacking noises of your cunts rubbing against each other filling your head along with the rush of your own blood.

“Come for me,” Eivor growled and just like that, you were over the edge. You held on to her hand for dear life as you watched her arch her back and cry out on top of you, both of your moans and whines building a beautiful song of pleasure.

Your warrior collapsed on top of you and you relished in the feeling of her weight pressing down on your chest, her body encasing yours and shielding you from the world while you laid in intimate togetherness and breathed each other’s air.

After a few moments of silence, Eivor let herself fall to the side and stroked your cheek with her thumb. Her gaze was full of love.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back, wrapping an arm around her waist.

A meow from the door made you both lift your heads and look over to a grumpy Birna. Eivor laughed.

“I’m sorry my dear, I will free you in a moment. You will get a feast from me tonight, I promise.”

She turned to you.

“Fancy a bath?”

Author’s note: As always, thank you for reading, I hope you’re doing well! If you like my work, feel free to drop me a message or buy me a coffee 💕

#eivor x reader #lady eivor x reader #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal x reader #f!eivor #f!eivor x reader #ac valhalla #assassins creed valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla #im so tired #fluff #angst #smut #good night

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legends-of-apex · 4 years

Text

Eivor Wolfsmal x Reader Headcanons (NSFW)

Listen, dude is a big boi and know’s it but probably doesn’t quite know his own strength so rather than risk hurting you he’s going to be gentle af until you ask him to do otherwise. Definetly prefers for you to be on top at least initially because it would minimise any damage he could do plus he seems like the kind of person who would just like to watch you do your thing and give you a hand or grip your hips and help you along when needed.

That being said when you don’t feel like riding him or like things a bit rougher, he’s more than happy to switch it up. Him absolutely pounding into you, bracing himself on his elbows so he can get the best possible view of your face and angle of which to be inside you. He wants to see every little expression on your face and hear each tiny noise that leaves you. Has definetly cracked a headboard or four.

Drag your nails over his back and he fricking melts. It lets him know he’s doing something right plus it has the added bonus of feeling pretty nice. Similarly, cover his neck or shoulders in love bites and he wears them with pride. Speaking of, let him tuck his head into your shoulder or chest whilst you ride him and you can bet you’ll be covered as well.

Probably prefers for yall to take your sweet time but sometimes, just sometimes, one or both of you near-falls in the door all blood, war paint, sweat, dirt and adrenaline that things get a lot rougher and move a lot quicker than usual. This definetly involves wall and nearly fully-clothed sex btw.

Eats p*ssy/ sucks dick like a man starved idk just look at him. Would probably hold your hips down to keep you in place and I doubt he’d stop after one round of it either. Loves it when you tug on his hair as well, he’d just look up at you and wink when you pull particularly harshly. Probably grunts or moans the whole time as well but the louder he can get you the better

Post-sex cuddles with Eivor are the best. He’s so big and so warm that he manages to keep the cold largely away from you both. He loves it when you just collapse and lay right on top of him, your arms encircling his neck or fingers tracing the scars and tattoos on his chest whilst he’d wrap his arms around you as though you’d slip away from him should his arms go lax. Kisses your hair and forehead a lot during these times, also sometimes just takes your hand in his and holds it to his lips and kisses your fingertips or palm.

Thank you so much @dragon-chica for your help with these!! x

#eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfsmal x reader #assassins creed valhalla #eivor x reader #eivor imagine #assassin's creed #assassin’s creed valhalla #headcanons #lemon #my writing

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author-morgan · 2 years

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Eivor has really started grow on me (honestly that boy is 🥵 - could I ask for a Eivor/reader where the reader misinterprets a moment between Eivor and Randvi and gets upset, thank you 😊

here you go! sorry it took so long. I'm finally getting caught up on everything. hope you like it! as always, @mrsragnarlodbrok helped develop the plot. m!Eivor x fem!Reader

“DO YOU EVER miss Norway?” Ceolbert asks, untangling his fishing line. The young ætheling has been in Ravensthorpe for no less than a full moon’s cycle. He’s good company —eager to help and learn under your and Randvi’s tutelage. The River Nene burbles past the growing settlement, flowing out to the sea. A fish takes the bait, a piece of three-day-old bread, and you start hauling in the line. A small perch is on the hook, too small to worry with. You free the fish and let it back into the river, searching for a larger catch to add to the evening’s pot of stew.

“At times,” you answer —knowing you miss the snowcapped peaks, the winter lights dancing in the sky, and the pink-purple sunrises most of all. England is not so poor a substitute, with green rolling hills, pale sea cliffs, and the lonely ruins of a once-great civilization. “But all my friends and those who I love is here now” —you smile— “what more could I ask for than to be among them?” And for you, home will always be where they are, regardless of where in the world you may lay your head to sleep. Though, of late, Ravensthorpe has felt a little less like home with Sigurd and Eivor gone so often.

Ceolbert echoes your smile. He’s heard stories from Eivor and his brother about you, and now that he’s grown to know you, he realizes none of them held any embellishments. Despite only being a handful of years older than him, there is already a dignified shrewdness surrounding you, especially when compared to his compatriots. You’ve already taught him a great deal, and he’s eager to learn more. “Eivor often spoke of your wisdom,” he notes.

“So,” you muse, “he does listen.” The young ætheling laughs and starts pulling in a decent size brown trout to add to the basket. You often cursed Eivor for his stubbornness and how it seems he often disregards your counsel in favor of the more reckless options, but it does soothe your heart to know he remembers your words —even if he does not listen. There’s a tug on your line, and you begin to pull in the catch, a bullhead just the right size to join the evening pot.

A familiar squawk draws your attention to the sky —a raven circles above before diving down, eager to make off with a small fish or two from the basket. But you know the raven and his oil-slick colored feathers, and instead of making off with one of your daily catches, he settles on your shoulder and begins to preen his belly. “Hello, Sýnin,” you greet, offering one of the bait worms as a snack. Casting your line out into the river again, you wait for another fish to bite; knowing where Sýnin goes, Eivor will not be far behind. But until then, it feels like time has slowed.

You spot the sails emblazoned with the Raven Clan’s sigil coming around one of the river's bends, and Ceolbert notices how you seem to light up —and your smile when you first spot Eivor Wolfsmal standing at the prowl. The ætheling takes your fishing line and the basket holding the day’s catch and starts back toward the heart of the settlement as you make your way to the docks.

“Eivor!” He steps from the longship, not sparing a moment before engulfing you in his arms. You press your face into his scarred neck and breathe a long sigh —now Ravensthorpe feels like home again. Eivor’s lips brush against your temple before he parts, keeping you close at his side as the others unburden the longship with goods and supplies. “How did you get on in East Anglia?” This journey was not planned, but one made in haste after Rued’s Clan attacked in the night, an offense he could not let stand.

He drapes his arm over your shoulders. “The Raven Clan has new friends,” Eivor tells you. Oswald is an unlikely ally for sure, but one who will answer the call should it ever sound.

“That is good to hear” —you smile. “We must celebrate,” you tell him, knowing the people would want to hear of his tales, just as they had when he returned from treating with the Sons of Ragnar. The thought of readying a feast sets your mind racing with a long list of chores.

Eivor shakes his head and steps in front of you. He settles his hands on your cheeks, thumbs running over your cheekbones. It nigh stops your heart, and then he smiles. “Ah,” Eivor sighs, “seeing you once more is enough for me.” He steps closer and bends at the waist, pressing his lips —cracked and wind-chapped— to your forehead. And he’s home again.

RAVENSTHORPE FEASTS IN celebration. It is good to have new friends —new allies in what would be a hostile land. The evening passes with boisterous tales of battle, roast boar, and Tekla’s mead. It is good to have everyone, save Sigurd, present once more too. You sit back, leaning against one of the great wooden pillars of the longhouse, and let out a long and tired sigh, wondering how much longer it would be before you end up like Revna beside you —slumped over on the table and fast asleep.

Nigh everyone is far enough into their tankards and ale horns for the night that they will not notice Eivor’s absence. His gaze flits around the longhouse, finding you sitting at the far end with Sýnin perched on your shoulder. The raven croaks at his approach and ruffles his feathers. You look up at Eivor and smile —and his heart swells and flutters with the sight. Sýnin hops from your shoulder to Eivor’s then settles in the rafters above.

“Come with me,” he whispers at your ear, offering his hand. His fingers curl around yours when you place your hand into his, and you only hope the warmth rising to your cheeks can be blamed on the mead.

Eivor leads you to the waterfall just behind the longhouse. It’s one of your favorite spots to come in the settlement —the constant rush of the water is enough to soothe your heart and mind, and the rippling pool has served as a place you often frequent to reflect.

Tonight, a full moon turns the water silver. Eivor eases his hand from yours and reaches behind him, pulling out a small earthen vase with a piece of fabric stretched over the opening. He pulls back the fabric, and a dozen little insects take flight toward the water —lighting up with a yellow-green glow. “They’re called fireflies,” Eivor explains, extending his hand over the water’s edge. One of the sparking bugs lands in his palm, and he reaches for your hand, letting the firefly crawl from his hand to yours.

You watch the bright flashes of light —like tiny stars— and smile, yet another wonder of England. “How lovely,” you muse aloud, holding your hand out for the firefly to rejoin its brethren. They flutter around the waterfall, twinkling in the night. You sit, and Eivor sits next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours —it sets your heart aflutter, but you gather the courage and lean your head on his shoulder. Instinctively, Eivor wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close to his side. “Can I expect you to stay a while this time?” You ask, hoping he will not have to leave again so quickly.

He shifts and presses his cheek to the crown of your head. “Until Sigurd sends for me,” Eivor tells you, watching the fireflies flit around above.

IT’S ONLY TWO days after his return that you see Eivor and Randvi ride from Ravensthorpe in the early hours of the morn. Seeing him go without a word makes your heart fall. It isn’t like Eivor to go off without telling you, and given one of the late-night conversations you’d had with Randvi in Sigurd’s absence —well, you refuse to dwell on the thoughts. Ceolbert leaves the stables from helping Rowan when he sees you approach, crestfallen though you try to hide it. “Did they say where they’re going?” You ask, looking toward the east and the direction Eivor and Randvi had gone.

“Grantebridge,” Ceolbert answers, still unsure why they were going there unless Soma had sent a message —but you nor anyone else had mentioned receiving anything from the jarlskona. He looks between you and the morning sky and tries to think of something that might help cheer you up. “There’s an orchard to the north,” the ætheling supplements, hoping he can help remedy the crushing waves of despondency which have overtaken you so quickly. “Perhaps we could go?” He asks. “It’s only a short ride.”

You smile, and Ceolbert can see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Very well,” you agree. Rowan helps saddle two horses —one speckled and one chestnut— and the two of you ride out before midday. It’s a slow and steady ride across the hills and rivers to the orchard just south of Ledecestre. A bramble of unkempt trees heavy with green-red apples too tart to eat raw but good for stewing and baking. It’s easy to fill two small sacks, just enough for Tarben to make a pie or two.

Ceolbert secures his sack of apples to his saddle and pulls himself back into the saddle as you do so, starting back to Ravensthorpe. The ætheling asks about a story from childhood that Eivor told him at the feast —he’d fallen from the roof of the longhouse in Fornburg and on his arse, right in front of you, only you’d been carrying a basket of deer offal.

The memory makes you smile and laugh, the first time you’ve genuinely done so today. You dropped the basket in surprise —it landed on Eivor, spilling guts and blood over him. It took several washes to clean the stench from his clothes and hair. Ceolbert glance at you and smiles too, and from the fondness in your voice, he thinks it’s obvious. “You love him, don’t you?”

Yes, but for some reason, you struggle to say it aloud, Regardless, Ceolbert can tell, and despite what you may think, he believes Eivor loves you too —if only you could both see it. You look ahead at the winding road, wishing to change the subject away from your feelings, away from Eivor. “They say Ivarr the Boneless was also your mentor.” You’ve heard stories of Ivarr Ragnarsson from other Northmen and Saxons alike, part of you envies Eivor and Sigurd for getting to meet the renowned Sons of Ragnar —let alone being able to call them friends. Ceolbert nods. “Will you tell me about him?” He nods and weaves a tale of his time with Ivarr, helping distract you from the woes of life.

The sun is close to setting when you and Ceolbert return to the stables of Ravensthorpe, passing off your horses to Rowan. “I’ll have Tarben make us a pie,” you tell the boy, collecting the small sacks of apples to take to the bakery. But hooves thud, fast approaching —Eivor and Randvi have returned. You do not stay to greet them, quickly slipping away.

“Ceolbert,” Eivor greets, leading his dark mount back into one of the stalls. “Where is…” his voice trails off as he turns to look for you, wondering where you’d gone.

“She was here a moment ago,” Ceolbert says, turning to look around the stables, but you’re already gone, and so is Eivor when he turns back.

EIVOR FINDS YOU sitting beneath one of the great trees near Valka’s hut —knees pulled up to your chest as your look over the ripping pool of water. He kneels in front of you and reaches out, rough fingertips brushing along your jaw to gently lift your chin and gaze. Tearstains are not the sight he wishes to see. Eivor frowns, brushing away the dampness under your eyes with his thumb. “Why are you crying?” You do not answer. “Has something happened?” He asks, unsure what could cause this bout —just last night, you and he were both laughing and drinking without care.

“I am not sure,” you admit. It's heartbreak and a tinge of betrayal. With his return, you had thought, had hoped, but it seems it’s only foolish and childish wishes. You meet his gaze, clear and blue like the sky, and feel a lump grow in your throat. Sýnin croaks from the branches above —the raven has refused to let you be alone since he first perched on your knee and dropped a smooth river pebble in your lap after finding you so distraught. The raven croaks again, and Eivor’s eyes flit up to see a pair of beady dark eyes staring down at him. Sýnin takes your side in whatever quarrel this may be.

His frown deepens. “You can tell me anything,” Eivor breathes. You’re his best friend —have been since the two of you were children all those years ago.

But I can’t, you think, not wanting to risk a lifelong friendship over a dream. You inhale shakily and shake your head, pushing his hands away. “I need a moment, is all.” It’s a trembling whisper, and Eivor does not want to leave you in this state, but he relents, knowing nothing good will come of forced words. You always gave him time and space when asked for it; the least he can do is offer the same. He sighs and stands, hesitant to leave —a look back, and he sees Sýnin swoop down and perch on your shoulder, offering a golden oak leaf.

Eivor goes to the longhouse and grabs an empty cup, filling it from the cask of ale before taking a seat at the table across from Ceolbert —picking at a hunk of bread and slab of pickled fish. “Do you know what’s upset her?” He asks the ætheling, thinking the boy might know given the time he’s spent under your guidance.

“I” —Ceolbert looks down into his cup of ale. He didn’t think it would be difficult for Eivor to figure out. Almost all of Ravensthorpe knows. Everyone but him. Ceolbert frowns. “I do not think it is my place to say,” he tells Eivor.

It feels like Thor has brought Mjölnir down upon his chest when the realization hits him —and suddenly, everything makes sense now, or at least he thinks it does. Eivor feels his heart clench, then fall into the pit of his stomach, and all he can say is a soft, nigh inaudible: “oh.”

IT’S ONLY A short ride to the south, near the border of Grantebridgescire, but Eivor convinces you to go with him even in the dead of night. He cannot bear the thought of you being upset —let alone upset with him. You’re quiet, unusually so, but when he pulls the reigns of his horse to a stop by the edge of the mire, you gasp —albeit softly. Skirting over the still surface of the water and into the air are hundreds of fireflies, all flashing and twinkling like little stars come to settle in the darkness. He dismounts and helps you down too. “There are so many,” you breathe, smiling.

Eivor stands behind you, his hands settling on your waist, chin resting on your shoulder to watch the fireflies with you. But the closeness and how your heart begins to ache and beat quicker, it’s too much to bear after today. You shake your head and step away from him, feeling dampness prick at your eyes again. “I wish you would not play so carelessly with my heart, Eivor,” you tell him, hugging yourself.

“It’s not careless,” he whispers, gently pulling you back to him. Eivor takes your hands, his gaze drawn downward to see how perfectly your hand fits in his —as though the gods always meant for the two of you to be together. And then he looks at you, eyes shining in the moonlight, glimmering with the reflection of fireflies flitting around his head and yours.

It makes your breath catch —how he looks at you. How he’s always looked at you. “You’ve always been at my side,” he tells you. It’s the truth, even when he was a boy and at odds with Sigurd, you were there —you were always there, and he’s been a fool not to tell you sooner. “It’s only ever been you.” Eivor lets your hands go but is quick to take your face into his hands, thumbs brushing over your cheeks with gentle reverence.

“I love you.” But he gives you no time to respond or react even as one of his hands slips back into your hair and he leans forward. Eivor’s lips find your own. His kiss is everything you’ve dreamt of and more —a sweet paradox with his rough but gentle lips and the tickle of his golden beard.

He pulls away too soon but only to watch the soft smile overtake your lips. You comb your fingers through his beard and lean toward him, arms draping over his shoulders, fingers locking at the nape of his neck. You kiss him back, and he wraps his arms around your middle, keeping you close to him —where he had always kept you in his heart.

“Ek ann þér,” you breathe against his lips, and a weight lifts from your heart at finally being able to tell him. You can feel his lips twitch into a smile against your own. When you part, it’s to turn back to watch the fireflies, and now Eivor’s arms are around your middle, his nose nuzzled into your neck. You lean back into him and sigh, almost thinking this is all a dream, but Sýnin’s low croak from the trees above is enough to assure you it’s real.

[ taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @overratedsun @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @erzsebetrosztoczy @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @edelaen @darkravenqueen98 @callmemythicalminx @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @certifiedlittleshit @queenyalo @thedragonqueenfan @alessyaraven ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. tumblr was giving me a lot of grief with the tags this time, apologies if I missed anyone! if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #requested #shamelesspsychicpursebuscuit #lil-monitsu #my writing #remember if you liked this pleases reblog it #also can we appreciate how stunning he looks #valhalla finally gave me some decent lighting and it was a cutscene #also i call these lightning bugs bc thats just how we do in the south

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