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collecting-stories · 6 years

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Santa Lucia - Ivar the Boneless

Hi 👋🏻can I have a tommy Shelby & an Ivar Ragnarsson imagine please! If it’s too much for u at least can I have one of them. I want it about Christmas 🎄 Thank you love 💕 Obsessed with your blog 😳.

Santa Lucia - Ivar the Boneless |warning: mild smut|

You stood in the great hall, simply white shift hanging down to your ankles. It offered no indication of your body beneath it but Ivar was watching you as though he could see through the fabric. Your feet were bare and a wreath woven by some thralls sat atop your head. Your hair, usually braided, was loose around your shoulders and wax from the candles that sat burning atop the wreath had begun to drip and harden on strands of hair. You held a tray of bread and drink in your arms.

The winter months had set in and with it the tradition of the winter solstice. The eldest girl was meant to bring her family breakfast as she wore a wreath of candles and holly around her head. It was to honor the light and bless the families in the coming months. You had been chosen to carry out the tradition for the four sons of Ragnar and their mother, the queen. You had practiced the tradition in your own home for years but it was different when the people receiving the blessing were not your parents. Instead the four young men and Aslaug sat at the table, watching you as you walked toward them. It was Ivar who you couldn’t take your eyes off of though.

He was turning this completely innocent tradition into something much more suggestive with the way he looked at you as you came upon the table. You offered each person food from the tray, leaving Ivar for last. Ubbe and Sigurd thanked you appropriately, as did Aslaug. The smile on Hvitserk’s face as you offered him food suggested that he was aware of the Ivar’s teasing. He glanced at his youngest brother and nodded his head to you subtly. Enough that the others didn’t notice but you did, feeling your skin heat at the look Ivar gave his brother.

“Prince Ivar,” You bowed as you were meant to and his eyes flicked up to the candles, perfectly balanced on your head.

“You’re very good at that.” He stated, voice low so no one else could hear.

“The gods would not look kindly on me if I were not. It would be a dishonor to you as well, as my prince.” You replied politely.

The smirk that crossed Ivar’s face as he took the goblet of mead from your tray made the warmth in your face spread throughout your body. You suspected that Aslaug knew, and wouldn’t be surprised if that was why she asked that you perform this ritual, but for the last few weeks you had been spending your nights in Ivar’s room. Your elder sister had been quick to alternate between telling you that nothing would come of you warming the prince’s bed and asking if he was as Margarethe had said. She claimed that no prince would want to entertain the feelings of a farmer’s daughter, especially someone as ruthless and power hungry as Ivar.

“Indeed it would.” Ivar finally agreed. His eyes glanced down at the gold torc around your neck and he resisted the urge to smile. He’d left it for you last night as a present, hoping that you would find it this morning when you awoke.

When the ritual was finished you made your way back out of the great hall, quick to bundle in the furs you’d worn over your dress to walk there from your house. There was a heavy sheet of snow on everything and your bare feet ached as you hurried home, too excited for the rest of the day to worry with putting your shoes back on.

That evening there would a feast in the hall but before then the celebrations were confined to households. Your family had travelled a days journey outside of Kattegat to spend the solstice with your mother’s sister but you had stayed back because of Aslaug’s request that you serve as Lucia girl for the morning. The fire was still lit in your house and you were quick to warm your feet at the edge of it. You took the wreath off your head, something you’d not taken the opportunity to do before walking home. You were going to blow out the candles when you heard a noise at the door and went over to open it.

Ivar crawled through the door. His speed always surprised you, it was only moments ago that you’d gotten home and he had already made it here. This would no doubt look more suspicious, him coming to your house so quickly after the ritual. If anyone had seen him they would be sure to talk.

“I do not know how you manage in this weather, it’s horrid out there and just the soles of my feet had to touch the frozen ground.” You mention, watching him working himself up onto the chair with your furs on it.

“Am I meant to stay in bed all day in the winter months then?” Ivar asked, looking as if you had offended him.

“Don’t try to make me feel sorry for you. I was only saying that it’s cold out.” You replied. You walked over to your bed, beginning to pull your nightdress off so that you could dress for the festivities tonight.

“Come here.”

“I’m changing. In a moment.”

“Come here before you change.” Ivar stated, waving you over to him.

“What is it?” You were not so small and shy when it was just the two of you. Aslaug and his brothers made you nervous but without the audience you felt like you could be yourself with Ivar.

“I’ve left you a present and you’ve not even thanked me for it.” He all but pouted as he met your eyes.

“Was this from you?” You asked, resting your hand on the torc around your neck, “I thought maybe Hvitserk had left it for me. Or Ubbe…it came with no note. No one laid claim to it.”

“Do not play with me. You know very well who it was from.” Ivar replied, reaching for your arm and pulling you toward him. “Now take a seat.” He motioned to the table in front of him.

“Ivar…”

“Sit. I’m pass due receiving my gift from you.”

“I’m almost certain I already gave you this gift last night.” You replied, “multiple times.”

“You are terrible at listening.” He swatted at your hip in an attempt to make you obey the request. The buckle of his brace stung your skin through the fabric of your dress and you jumped at the sensation.

“I’m not giving you anything if you hit me.” You stated.

“I would not hit you if you listened.” Ivar replied, though he pulled you closer and leaned forward to place a kiss over the spot he’d smacked.

Satisfied, you gathered up your dress and sat on the table, legs falling open just enough to give him a glimpse. Ivar smiled, hands going to your knees and running his fingers over the soft skin of your thighs. His gaze flitted to the wreath, candles still blazing.

“Ivar…” You warned again, this time for a completely different reason.

“I want to see how good you are at honouring your prince. That shall be your gift to me.” He replied, his smile absolutely insidious.

You lifted the wreath up and placed it on your head as you had earlier that morning. Ivar’s hands slid along the outsides of your thighs, fingers gripping your skin as he scooted you forward on the table. You sat just on the edge, feet balancing on the chair on either side of Ivar’s legs. He pushed your knees further apart and you gripped the table in order to keep your balance. He had not even touched you yet and already you feared tipping the wreath.

A drop of wax fell onto your forehead and hardened almost instantly. You waited anxiously for what you knew was coming. For the moment, he busied himself with running his hands up and down your thighs, warming the cold skin and laying kisses over your knees. His used his upper body strength to shift the chair closer to you and then leaned forward, nipping your inner thigh.

“I am not a meal Ivar.” You let go of the table to yank the short tail of his braid.

“I am not certain of that.” He grinned, his blue eyes looking up at you eagerly.

You let go of his hair and grabbed the table again as he moved forward. He buried his face between your thighs, tongue coming out to give a lick, as though he was experimenting with the taste. One hand stayed on your outer thigh, pressing into your skin to keep you in place while the other went between your legs to assist his mouth. He nuzzled your clit with his nose before moving his face up to nip at it gently with his teeth.

The sensation made you squirm a little, more wax falling onto your hair and face as the wreath moved on your head. You whimpered as he sucked on your clit. You felt his fingers just lower, teasing you as he dipped one in your vagina but quickly removed it. You clenched around nothing and moved one hand back to the tail of his braid, yanking hard enough to let him know you were reprimanding him.

He smiled and gave your clit another nip in reply. He shifted again, tongue replacing his fingers as he explored. Ivar had a way of pleasuring you that made you feel like he both knew every inch of you and was discovering you for the first time. His tongue curled the same way his fingers might, tasting you as he dragged it along your inner walls. He licked up from your vagina to your clit, swirling around the bud as you let out another moan, shifting. His nails dug into your outer thigh to keep you still. Ivar slid his fingers back inside you, going all the way to his knuckles. He rested his forehead against your skin, angling his face so that he could watch his hand as he fucked you. Your hand still held his braid tight, yanking it every time his fingers curled inside you.

As the pace of his fingers picked up he took another nip at your clit, sucking it harshly. He was never gentle. The sounds coming from your mouth sounded half like his name and picked up in volume. You tried to keep yourself steady when all you wanted was to lay back on the table to ease the ache going through your back at this position. You were so conscious of the wreath that everything Ivar did seemed to catch you off guard.

Your hands flew to the wreath to keep it in place as you leaned forward, unable to stop the sudden forward jerk of your body as you came. Ivar stayed between your legs, fingers slowing until they stopped altogether but his mouth did not ease up, his tongue licking up every ounce of cum that he could find.

“I think you were wrong.” Ivar whispered, the movement of his lips against your skin as he spoke making you twitch slightly.

You were still slumped over him, one hand on his shoulder while the other held the wreath steady. You wouldn’t remove it until he told you to. “How’s that?” You asked, voice shaky.

“I feel as full as I do after any feast.” He replied. His hands held your waist as he moved you enough that he could sit back in the chair. He ran his fingers down your thighs to your knees, eyes still fixed between your thighs, as though he could go again.

You gave no reply, instead grabbing one of his hands, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing gently. He nodded and you took the wreath off, laying it beside you and watching Ivar blow the candles out. They were just stubs now, nearly disappeared in the holly leaves.

“There is wax on my face.” You finally said, aware of the hardened wax that dotted your cheeks and forehead.

“You have never looked more beautiful. The gods are sure to bless you.” Ivar replied, the same devilish grin as before lighting his face as he kissed your knees once more.

Santa Lucia is a legit Swedish Holiday that my family celebrates every year in the form of a festival at our church…its a really wonderful, family oriented, Christmas celebration that I’ve totally ruined with this imagine lol.

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