Ivar the Boneless Imagines

His Gift

Gift, they said. You were a gift to the new King Ivar the Boneless. In exchange for the lives of the royal family, which later ended up being killed off anyway, you were given. All of the royal family but you: an illegitimate princess who was at the moment, squirming on the King's bed. Your hands shoved the braided edges of Ivar's head down. The sweat beaded down your neck, coursing around your body as you pled with Ivar to give you a break. His tongue had been at it for what felt like hours, swirling inside your entrance and drinking you up like a potion.

"Please– please! I can't cum anymore." You sobbed out. Ivar's fingers entered you abruptly, sliding in and out of your body.

"I'm not yours, little girl. You're mine. You'll do what I want you to do." Ivar said, scissoring his fingers if only to see you squeal.

"Oh fuck! I'm your gift but– but I need a break."

Ivar didn't answer. Instead he dipped back down, flicking his tongue along the little nub that was your clitoris. Everytime you thought you couldn't– He made you. Everytime you wanted the pleasure to break, Ivar made you ride it out like a good girl. Another orgasm ripped through your body, juices spilling from your cunt as you rode his fingers, desperate for more stimulation than this. Ivar's face was buried deep in your cunt when you realized something.

He wasn't just addicted to seeing you cum. He was addicted to the taste of you. You shuddered as he worked his fingers again within you, eyes knit tightly shut. "You're mine regardless of what you think..." You muttered, finding that the King was far less interested in your words than your juices.