#finan

[whitedarkmoonflower]

"Ladders" // The Last Kingdom // S4E1

[lord-aldhelm]

The Last Kingdom behind the scenes in season 4 with the foley team

[aneurins-barnard]

MARK ROWLEY as FINAN SEVEN KINGS MUST DIE (2023) Dir. Ed Bazalgette

[lady-wyrd]

every time I watch The Last Kingdom I feel the feminism leaving my body because, wow, I love men

[lionneee]

Sweet Osferth

English is not my first language, please be kind.

Osferth x found!reader

•Warnings: piv•

“So we’ll reach the village in the morning, eh?” Finan laughed, the ale still running in his body.

“Yes, so we can bring her back home.” Uhtred said as she looked back at the tent where you were sleeping. “I don’t know what came through her head. She’s lucky we found her. Wandering through the woods at night…” Uhtred sighed and shook her head.

“Osferth! Oh, Lord —“ You moaned as you clenched your hands around the furs beneath you, your face red and hot, your core aching as Osferth kept pounding mercilessly inside you from behind.

“She’s fine. She’s safe now.” Sihtric said. “And she’s kinda funny. We talked during the day.”

Osferth looked down at his soup as his friends talked.

“I’m happy she’s bringing us to a village.” Finan said with a big smile. “Women, and ale!”

“And prayers.” Osferth said, smiling shyly.

“Maybe you’ll finally hump some girl, eh Osferth?” Finan laughed loudly as Osferth's cheeks burned at his words.

“Come on, Finan…” He scoffed as he looked away.

“What? Maybe you’ll learn something! How to properly satisfy a woman!” Finan laughed, followed by Sihtric. Uhtred simply smirked and looked at Osferth, amused by his embarrassment.

Osferth slipped a hand between their bodies, quickly finding her bud, flickering his fingers against it, making you arch your back. He was panting loudly, he let out low hums of pleasure and shy moans.

“Oh — Osferth — N-not there-“ You panted as you whined. For a baby monk, Osferth knew perfectly how to play with your body, he had made you come already two times with a surprising ease.

“No -“ He said. “I know this is the place.” He kept moving his fingers against your clit. “I know this is good -“

“I would know how to please a woman.” Osferth mumbled, making Uhtred laugh out loud as Finan made a strange face. 

“Do you?” Uhtred asked curiously. 

“We… we study the human body as we train-“

“Trained? You get trained to pray?” Sihtric looked at Osferth, surprised and amused.

“You’re being too loud.” He panted. “They’re gonna hear us.” 

“O-Osferth, I can’t — Ah!” Osferth quickly moved forward and covered your mouth before you would almost scream in pleasure. Osferth let out a low moan in your ear, pulling back quickly and grabbing your arm to make you turn.

“I- I am- Coming —“ He panted heavily as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

You sat in your haunches as Osferth kneeled in front of you, pumping his cock quickly until he let out another low moan, his body shuddering as his hips jerked forward, springs of white cum painting your skin and breasts.

Osferth rolled his eyes and got up, putting down his bowl of soup.

“I’ll go rest.” He said as he walked away from the fire.

Finan and Osferth looked at each other with a smirk.

“So it looks like his studies were indeed useful.” Uhtred said, noticing his companions’ smirks.

“Yeah, we all heard them last night.” Sihtric laughed. “Maybe you’ll ask him for some advice, eh Finan?”

They all laughed soundly.

“The baby monk is not a virgin anymore.” Finan laughed before taking a sip of his ale.

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy @agoldenwoe @sapphirevaghar

[ealdormanink]

Can you write one with Ivar? ❤️

Reader is daughter of King Harald and shes friends and in love with Ivar and she has to marry one of the Ragnarssons and they all want her and she ofc chooses Ivar and he cant believe it.

Written in the Stars

Ivar the boneless x female reader!

A/N: thank you for this request! I hope you like it!!

King Harald's fleet's sails cast long shadows over Kattegat's iron-grey waters. Y/N's fingers traced the wooden railing of her father's ship, her eyes fixed on the approaching shoreline. The familiar silhouettes of the great hall and the busy docks stirred memories that made her heart flutter against her ribs.

The salty breeze carried whispers of past winters spent poring over maps by candlelight, of shared laughter echoing through empty halls when everyone else had retired, of piercing blue eyes that saw her - truly saw her - for who she was.

"The winds have favored us." Harald's voice broke through the symphony of creaking wood and splashing waves. Y/N's fingers stilled on the railing, though she couldn't quite suppress the way her lips curved upward.

Through the morning mist, familiar figures emerged on the docks. There, among his brothers, sat Ivar in his chariot. Even from this distance, the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. Their eyes met across the narrowing stretch of water, and five years of friendship hung in the space between them.

The ship's bow cut through the last few meters of fjord. As they docked, Ubbe's voice carried across the harbor, "Welcome to Kattegat, King Harald." His eyes lingered on Y/N, calculating and considering in a way that made her spine stiffen.

Hvitserk stepped forward, extending his hand to help her onto the dock. "Princess Y/N." His smile was warm, practiced. "The gods have blessed us with your return."

The wooden planks creaked under her boots as she accepted his assistance, but her attention was drawn to the subtle shift in Ivar's posture, the way his knuckles whitened around the edge of his chariot.

"The journey must have been tiring." Ivar's voice cut through the pleasantries like a blade through silk. His eyes hadn't left her face since she'd first appeared on deck. "Perhaps the princess would prefer to rest before tonight's festivities."

"Always so concerned, brother." Sigurd's words dripped with mockery. "Or perhaps you're simply eager to monopolize her time, as usual?"

Y/N's fingers unconsciously found the silver pendant at her throat - a gift from Ivar, carved with runes they'd deciphered together during one of their many late-night conversations. Those nights when they'd abandon the noise of the great hall, finding solace in ancient sagas and battle strategies that only they seemed to understand.

The great hall buzzed with activity as servants prepared for the evening's feast. Y/N's chambers overlooked the main square, where memories lingered in every corner. Her fingers traced the windowsill where, years ago, she'd first found Ivar alone, poring over his father's old maps.

"Your form is wrong." The echo of her younger self's voice played in her mind. She'd corrected his interpretation of the English coastline that day, earning not his usual sharp retort, but a look of genuine surprise. That was the first time he'd smiled at her - really smiled.

A knock at the door pulled her from the memory. Astrid, one of the servants, entered with fresh water.

"The sons of Ragnar are asking after you, Princess." Astrid's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement. "All of them."

The weight of unspoken words hung in the air. Everyone knew why Harald had brought his daughter to Kattegat this time. Alliances needed to be strengthened, and marriage was the surest way.

Y/N's feet carried her to the courtyard, where she found Ubbe first. He stood tall, every inch the eldest brother, watching the training grounds with calculated interest.

"You've grown more beautiful since we last met." His voice was diplomatic, measured. He stepped closer, close enough for her to see the political ambition in his eyes. "A union between us would bring great strength to both our people."

Before she could respond, Hvitserk appeared, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Brother, you sound like you're negotiating a trade deal." His easy smile didn't quite mask the hunger in his gaze. "Our princess deserves poetry, not politics."

Y/N's eyes drifted past them both, landing on the familiar figure by the weapons rack. Ivar sat cleaning his axe - the same one she'd helped him choose three winters ago. His movements were precise, following the pattern she'd shown him: three strokes down, one across, just as her mother had taught her.

"Still pining after the cripple?" Sigurd's voice slithered from behind her. "You could have any of us, yet you waste your time with him."

The familiar surge of protective anger rose in her chest, but before she could speak, Ivar's axe embedded itself in the post beside Sigurd's head.

"Your aim is improving," Y/N said, the words falling naturally from her lips, an old joke between them. "Though you're still pulling slightly to the left."

"Perhaps I need another lesson." Ivar's eyes met hers, and for a moment, they were back in that first winter, when she'd spent hours helping him adjust his throwing technique, never once mentioning his legs, focusing only on his strength.

The feast hall glowed with firelight, casting dancing shadows across faces both familiar and strange. Y/N sat at the high table, her father's words still ringing in her ears: "You must choose one of Ragnar's sons before the next full moon."

Her eyes drifted across the hall, watching the brothers in turn. Ubbe stood among the warriors, every gesture calculated to display his leadership. Hvitserk charmed a group of shield-maidens, though his gaze kept finding its way back to her. Sigurd strummed his oud, his song carrying notes of barely concealed mockery.

And Ivar... Ivar sat in his usual corner, away from the crowds, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. The same spot where they'd spent countless evenings discussing everything from battle tactics to the gods themselves.

"Do you remember," his voice caught her off guard as she approached his table, drawn to him as always, "the night you taught me about the stars?"

How could she forget? They'd stayed up until dawn, her finger pointing out constellations while he told her the stories behind each one. She'd never told him that she'd already known them all - she'd just wanted to hear his voice, to see the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of the gods.

"You were a terrible student," she teased, sliding onto the bench beside him. The familiar scent of leather and metal wrapped around her like an old blanket. "You kept making up new constellations."

"And you kept believing them." His smile, rare and genuine, made her heart stutter. "Until you realized I was describing shapes that looked like Sigurd falling off a horse."

A comfortable silence fell between them, filled with years of shared moments and unspoken words. Around them, the feast continued, but they existed in their own world, just as they always had.

"They're all watching you," Ivar said finally, his voice tight. "My brothers. They all want you."

"Let them watch." Her fingers found the edge of the table, inches from his. "They don't see me the way you do."

"And how do I see you?" His question came out barely above a whisper, vulnerable in a way only she was allowed to witness.

"Like I'm more than just Harald's daughter. Like I'm..." She paused, remembering all the times he'd challenged her mind, valued her opinions, trusted her judgment. "Like I'm me."

The firelight caught the silver of his arm ring - the one she'd helped him forge two summers ago, their fingers working the metal together as she'd steadied his hand.

The moment of choice arrived with the rising moon. The great hall fell silent as Y/N stood before the assembled crowd, her father's expectant gaze heavy upon her shoulders. Four brothers stood before her, four possible futures stretched out like paths in the darkness.

Ubbe stepped forward first, ever the diplomat. "Choose wisely, Princess. The future of our peoples rests upon this decision." His words echoed against the wooden walls, practiced and perfect.

Hvitserk offered her a playful wink. "Choose with your heart, not your head." His charm sparkled like sunlight on water, beautiful but fleeting.

Sigurd simply smirked, his fingers still wrapped around his oud. "Though some choices," his eyes flickered to Ivar, "might be less... conventional than others."

And Ivar... Ivar remained still, his eyes fixed on the ground. She could read the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped his crutch - a gesture she'd learned meant he was preparing himself for disappointment.

Y/N's feet carried her forward, past Ubbe's calculated smile, past Hvitserk's outstretched hand, past Sigurd's mocking gaze. She stopped before Ivar, close enough to see the subtle tremor in his hands.

"I choose Ivar Ragnarsson," her voice rang clear through the hall. "I choose the man who saw me as an equal before he saw me as a princess."

Ivar's head snapped up, disbelief warring with hope in his ice-blue eyes. "You can't," he whispered, for her ears alone. "You deserve someone who can-"

"I deserve someone who challenges my mind," she cut him off, her hand finding his cheek. "Someone who values my thoughts as much as my title. Someone who taught me to read the stars, even while making up constellations to make me laugh."

The hall erupted in murmurs, but Y/N heard only the sharp intake of Ivar's breath. His free hand found hers, trembling slightly.

"You've always been my choice," she continued, soft enough that only he could hear. "Since that first day when you argued with me about the English coastline. Since every night we spent planning battles and reading sagas. Since every moment you saw me for who I am, not who I was born to be."

"But I'm-" he started.

"You're Ivar," she said simply. "My Ivar. The only one who's ever matched me, challenged me, understood me. The only one I could ever choose."

Slowly, like dawn breaking over the horizon, a smile spread across Ivar's face - not his usual smirk, but the real smile she'd come to treasure. His fingers tightened around hers, and in that moment, they were back in every shared laugh, every quiet conversation, every silent understanding that had led them here.

"The gods themselves couldn't have given me a greater gift," he whispered, and Y/N saw in his eyes the same truth she'd known all along - that some choices are made long before they're spoken aloud, written in the stars they'd watched together all those nights ago.

[destinyisall-tlk]

[finan]: uh, what are you doing?

[avalilsbfss]

‘Little princess’ ivar the boneless short

Domestic Ivar the boneless x wife!reader

Warnings: none.

Description: ivars “little princess’ wants to train so you help her out

you and ivar had 3 children together now. Uhtred age 10 and the twins Finan and Iselut age 7, and another one on to be born very soon. (or so the healers say.)

You were beginning to think that ivar was going to get you with child as many times as possible, just to prove he could.

Ivar took up training the boys, they were natural fighters already, they were skilled in there own ways just like him, but they just needed some tutoring to rein in there stubbornness and there egos that caused them to think they were better than each other.

every time they would train, iseult would sit close by, aimlessly picking at the threads and the seams of her dress or trying to build the confidence to ask to join. She didn’t know why she was frightened. She was her father ‘little princess’ who could do wrong, any harm done to her ivar would chuck the culprits into the water and hold their heads down until the bubbles stoped and then offer there corpse to the gods.

But in truth she was scared her brothers were going to embarrass her or she was going to embarrass herself infront of them.

you were a shield maiden for most of your life before you married ivar and you were a darn good fighter as well, you only stoped fighting when you got pregnant and ivar wanted to keep you safe. And iseult looked up to you.

you watched the boys train occasionally when you were bored of being confined to your chambers and you tried not to snicker as the boys fell sometimes, then your eye caught iseult, she was always sitting on on top of a barrel in the yard anxiously picking at the seams of her dress as she kept looking over to ivar and her brothers.

it broke your heart at her being nervous to ask to join, she was a good girl, shy, sweet but she had a temper like ivar and the rest of her family. she was just nervous and you wished ivar would notice that.

One day you had enough and walked over to her. “You know. If you want to join just ask them” you told her, making her jump.

“I-I can’t ask them, uhtred said I’m to small and won’t even be able to hold anything.” she pouted softly and glanced over to the pile of weapons in the yard.

“Uhtred also thinks he will grow up to marry a Valkyrie” you said matter of factly and iseult giggled. “Besides who said anything about a heavy weapon?” You asked her and she looked at you confused

You looked around and found a small bow and arrow on the table, you picked it up and gestured her to jump down.

She hopped down and you handed her the bow and slotted in the arrow for her. “Ok keep your hand here…and draw back to your cheek” you instructed and she did as you said.

You helped her position and aimed it at the barrel that was in the direction off ivar and the boys. “Ok���when You’re ready ok” you told her and she nodded nervously before letting go.

The arrow file past the ivar and the boys. Almost catching finan on the cheek as it hit the barrel.

And all the 3 boys turned to look at her and ivar let out a suprised laugh

Masterlist

[honey-im-hotdog]

Pretty Boy

Finan x Reader x Sihtric

Author’s Note: Hi! This is my very first time writing for The Last Kingdom, so please cut me some slack if the characters are a bit ooc. There simply is not enough poly stuff for these two in my humble opinion. I need to be between them both so bad. Okay, please enjoy!

As always, reader is supposed to be gn+vague, so if you catch any mistakes related to that please let me know.

Words: 0.4k — a quick one since I just wanted to get it out :)

Warnings: fluff; pet names (love, pretty boy); kissing; reader is said to have hair with braids but no description of length or color, etc; cheesy as fuck.

Summary: A cute moment spent within Sihtric and Finan's arms.

Check out my other stuff :)

———————————

“What are you thinking about?” Thick with sleep, Finan’s voice is a warm blanket.

Your head tilts to the side as you brush a leaf down his face, smiling softly as his eyes close in bliss.

“Hmm,” you hum as his eyes open and pin you with his stare, “just that you are too pretty to be real.”

His eyes widen, “‘Pretty?!’” he says in mock offense. “I am ‘pretty’ to you? That’s all?! I am a fearsome warrior, I’ll have you know!” His hands fly about as he exaggerates his words.

You can’t help but giggle at his grumbling, feeling your chest warm as he shakes his head side to side in your lap. Your fingers are quick to find the short braids Sihtric wove into the Irishman’s dark hair, the metal beads matching the ones in your and the Dane’s hair.

“Fine, fine! You aren’t pretty.”

As if it were possible, the man grows even more bewildered when you leave your sentence at that. “Excuse me!” His accent thicker than ever.

The laughter bubbles out of you, “What? You didn’t wanna be pretty!”

His mouth opens and closes like a fish as he tries to come up with a response.

You feel the vibrations of Sihtric’s laughter against your back before you hear it. His arms squeezing you just a little tighter. “Keep tormenting him, my love. Misery looks good on him,” his words are said into your shoulder, eyes also peering down at Finan. The smile clear as day in his voice.

“You fucking heathen, you!” Finan sits up in faux rage, but you’re quick to grab his arm and pull him into your chest; smothering his face in light kisses in between your quiet laughter.

“You are the bravest, scariest, toughest, handsomest warrior to have ever walked Wessex. And I am in awe everyday to call you mine.”

The Irishman cups the crown of your head to pull you into a soft kiss. The both of you smiling through it.

You feel Sihtric nuzzle his nose into your neck after a while, “And what about me?”

You and Finan pull away from each other with a laugh.

“You, my friend, are an oaf.”

“Finan!”

He just laughs at your gentle smack against his bicep.

You rest your head back on Sihtric’s shoulder, the hand not holding onto Finan reaching up into his hair. “You are the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most fearsome,” you lightly pinch Finan as he starts to protest, “warrior, Sihtric. My pretty boy.”

He kisses the spot just below your ear, mumbling his thanks and returning your praise tenfold.

Finan tilts his head back, humming in disapproval. “You got that last bit wrong, love,” it’s Sihtric’s turn to be pulled down, “he’s our pretty boy.” Sihtric moans the second their lips connect.

The embrace between the three of you tightens as you get lost within kisses and caresses for the rest of the night.

[ms-oswald]

the last kingdom, S04E10 | osferth, finan & sihtric

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Why are you shitting yourself? // The Last Kingdom // S4E6

[spider-stark]

WHERE LOVE LIES

Finan the Agile x Reader

Summary - Abandoned by your lover, you turn to closest friend for comfort.

Warnings - fem!reader, platonic, abandonment issues, self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood/injury/slavery, will probably deviate from canon at times

Word Count - 1.4k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

A metallic tang clings to your tongue, having chewed your nails to the point of ruin. How long has it been? Since you first began to drown in the insufferable sound of your own footsteps, pacing along the floor of what was meant to be your shared guest room at Lady Aethelflaed’s estate. 

The minute’s feel like hours—or perhaps the opposite is true. Time seems to melt and blur, reality distorted by the most awful, unavoidable truth. 

Sihtric is gone. 

Something crumples in your chest. You stumble over nothing, barely reaching out in time to catch yourself. Bloodstained fingers curl around carved wood, gripping the footboard of a bed that’s much too big for only one person. You stare at it—at the absurd number of plush feather pillows, all neatly stacked atop thick furs.

Aethelflaed had done this on purpose. Given you and Sihtric the guest room with the biggest, nicest bed. The kindness of a friend, now turned to salt in an open wound. 

Sihtric caused this. This yawning chasm inside of you, an emptiness that threatens to swallow you whole. He caused this. 

Tears sting the back of your throat. Blur your vision.  

The walls start to cave in. Begin crumbling around you. 

You whirl towards the door, unwilling to be trapped in this room for even a second longer. 

Antique sconces line the hallway, their dim flames fighting to stave off the thick shadows skulking in the corners. This late at night, an eerie stillness seems to cling to the air. You drift through it like a wraith—hopeless and stumbling. 

When you reach the door at the end of the hall, you don’t knock. Pushing it open, you step inside without a thought. 

A lone candle burns atop a desk on the far wall, the only light illuminating the cramped, windowless room. Weapons and armor are strewn about as if they’d been stripped off and carelessly discarded, exhaustion taking precedence over neatness. 

You find Finan straight ahead, sprawled out on the bed with an arm tossed over his face. 

Relief almost sends you crumbling to your knees. 

At least he was still here. At least he hadn’t abandoned you. 

You take another step, the floorboards creaking beneath your weight. Finan shifts, arm lifting just enough to reveal tired, squinty eyes. 

One look at you and he’s shoved himself upright, concern etched into every line of his face. 

Your voice is shaky, the words clawing up your throat. “Sihtric’s gone. He.. he left.” 

Finan’s mouth opens, then closes again. He shakes his head, as though contemplating and then discarding several replies, unable to find the one that might actually comfort you. 

Eventually, he settles on the truth. 

“I know,” he admits, running a hand through his beard. “I noticed a few hours ago. I went to check on the hostages after Uhtred set out and…” A deep, frustrated sigh. “The cell was empty. I put two and two together quick enough—figured the little runt must’ve made a deal with ‘em so they’d take him back to the Danes.” An apology flashes in his eyes. “I’d hoped you were already asleep. That you wouldn’t have to deal with this until tomorrow.” 

Silence pools around you, the melancholy blues of Sihtric’s absence boiling into violent hues of betrayal. 

Suddenly, you have the insatiable urge to pinch yourself. As if this is all some sort of cruel mind trick. A nightmare you might still wake up from. You fumble with your hands, fingers picking at the already torn flesh around your nails. You feel pain—and yet nothing changes. 

Sihtric’s still gone. He still betrayed you. 

Betrayed all of you. 

Your head shakes. Warmth begins to spill down your cheeks. “He’s a coward,” you grind out, teeth clenched. “A goddamn coward!” 

A heartbeat and Finan’s up on his feet, closing the distance between you in only a few hasty steps. 

Calloused palms wrap around your wrists, stilling your restless, bloodstained fingers. He pulls you toward him, your knees buckling as you collapse into his chest. Strong arms keep you upright, slipping around your shoulders as another sob tears from your throat. 

Finan holds you like this for a while, rubbing circles against your back and mumbling soothing words against your hair—I know; It’s okay; I’ve got you. 

It’s not until your tears finally slow to a stop, his tunic all but drenched with them, that he tries to say anything of merit. 

“He’s not thinkin’ straight.” You feel the words rumble through his chest, but you’re not certain you heard him right. “It’s all this mess with the curse,” Finan mumbles. “It’s gotten in his head.” 

You push back, not leaving his grip entirely, but enough to look up at him. “Are you seriously defending him?” 

His gaze flickers over your face. A twinge of pity tightens his expression, taking in your flushed skin, streaked with tears. “No,” he answers simply. “But I am statin’ a fact. He would’ve never done this if not for that damned devil-witch.” 

A fair point, perhaps. 

The witch Skade had sunk her talons into Sihtric the moment she spewed that curse from her nasty mouth. She poisoned his mind with paranoia, feasted on his fear like a glutton. 

Skade’s played a hand in everything Sihtric has done—undermining Uhtred’s authority, threatening to fight against his friends, betraying all of you by going back to those filthy goddamn Danes. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you bitterly relent. “But it doesn’t matter. You can blame the witch all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that he made a choice! To betray and abandon us, and to leave me just like—” You catch yourself, mouth clamping shut on the vulnerable words. 

Finan doesn’t speak, only watching you as the dim firelight dances over the handsome, yet despondent, planes of his face. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Brushes a knuckle along your cheek, wiping what remains of your tears. 

Your tongue glides over dry lips, mind reeling slightly. He’s always so patient with you. So kind. 

And he’s here. 

Through damp lashes, you hold Finan’s soft gaze. “I’ll never forgive him for this,” you utter of Sihtric. You’ve been hurt so many times by people you cared about. Been left by too many of them. 

Finan gives a terse nod full of understanding. “You don’t have to.” 

“And I won’t sleep in that room,” you add. Your jaw clenches, fighting another wave of bitter emotion at the thought of laying in that big, lonely bed. “I can’t.” 

All too quickly, he says, “Then don’t. Sleep here.” 

A small wrinkle forms between your brows. 

With one hand still on your back, he lifts the other in mock surrender—an awkward gesture given the closeness of your bodies. 

“No funny business.” His vow is tinged with subtle amusement. A bit reluctant, he adds, “It’ll be just like the old days.” 

Back when he and Uhtred were first recovered from the slave ship—before you took Sihtric as your lover. 

You didn’t know Finan then, but you’d tended to his wounds all the same. Cleaned each brutal gash and stitched every cut; sat hunched in a chair until your back began to ache, plucking tiny splinters from his palms, the skin ravaged and raw from tireless hours spent rowing and rowing and rowing. 

But the worst wounds had been the ones unseen. 

The way his muscles tensed whenever he sat by the fire, the crackling logs too similar to the sound of a whip; how nightmares regularly tore him from sleep, blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s not. 

You treated those wounds, too. As best you could. 

Distracted him from the sounds of the fire with terrible quips and embarrassing stories. Spent late nights together in your room, talking about anything and everything until exhaustion would finally win out. And you’d still be there whenever he’d jolt awake, too, when the blackness of the room felt all too much like the hollow belly of the slave ship. 

A faint smile touches your lips. In spite of the awfulness, something beautiful had been born in those dark months. Something light. 

“The old days,” you muse, voice still hoarse from crying. “You mean back when you were always leaving your stench all over my bed?” 

Finan scoffs. “My stench?” He makes a real show of it—leaning in close, his wiry beard scratching at your cheek as he sniffs your hair, only to recoil with a look of exaggerated disgust. Deadpan, he jokes, “I think you must’ve been gettin’ a whiff of yourself, sweetheart.” 

Your laugh is a broken sound, but a laugh all the same. 

“You’re insufferable,” you tell him. 

The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin. “I think you mean irresistible.” 

Your eyes roll as you slide from his embrace. 

“I don’t.”

a/n: i wanna apologize to sihtric for making him seem like a total bitch in this, but tbf it's kinda his fault. maybe tell ur gf w/ all the abandonment issues about your plan, y'know?

anyways, i've been suffering over this piece for a full week now, so if you like it, please leave a comment/reblog/or write me an in-depth love letter about it!

[aneurins-barnard]

MARK ROWLY as FINAN THE LAST KINGDOM 4.05

[lady-wyrd]

some pictures to brighten up your tuesday 🖤

[tlkfaerie]

Ribbons ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: Finan x reader

a/n: Response to a lovely request! My first request, actually! Finally doing a solo Finan piece :) A bit soppier than I had originally planned, but I love it and I love Finan soooooo. Also the circumstance / sequence of events aren't entirely accurately in line with the events of the show but we move.

MDNI!18+ : TW finan x reader, dom!finan, virgin!reader, virginity loss, manhandling, kissing, very brief mentions of loss, fingering, p in v sex, confessions of love, slight breeding!kink

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Things were tense when the men staggered back to the stronghold. They had won their latest battle involving Mercia and Bloodhair, though at the cost of a disastrous curse upon Uhtred's family. You selfishly prayed for Finan's safety, despite the two of you not being together. You were great friends, and though the others were familiar to you too, it was Finan that you truly wished to return in one piece.

You spent your time at home praying for the souls of those who had been lost, thinking about the wise words that Hild so graciously bestowed on you. You felt her absence more than ever, needing her sweet guidance, but aware that she was already spread thin. Everyone was.

As winter crept into your home, you wallowed slightly, missing everyone. But you had a duty, an alehouse to run. It was where you had met everyone originally, and had turned into somewhat of a cornucopia for Coccham. You knew that in order to keep spirits high, you'd have to open it up and welcome everyone in. Your hearth was where you had first met Finan, sitting with Uhtred as the two of them laughed. Hild had introduced you, and your speechlessness was the source of several laughs.

You had sat with them on the table that night, laughing with Hild, who you truly saw as your aspiration. Uhtred noticed this, joking about how you reminded him of his children, which had made you huff slightly. You were embarrassed of this, but Finan assured you that you were alright, muttering some joke about how you clearly had the spirit of a warrior within you to deal with these drunken men.

It had been a slow night, but you would rejoin them when you could, smiling at Finan every now and then. Finan's eyes had scrunched up too, but his lingering look had you blushing all throughout the night. From then on, the warriors had frequented your place. You and Finan would often sit and chat. He loved that he could talk to you. For once, it was not about war, or combat, or blasted shield walls. He was sick to death of hearing the names Alfred or Edward, and you gave him peace from all of that.

It filled you with warmth to see everyone so carefree and jolly, especially as it was your father's wish when he opened the alehouse to make an honest place of it. Every now and then, a regular face would vanish, and you felt it like a sting in your core, but you carried on nevertheless.

You lived just above the alehouse, walking down the steep wooden steps as you tried to alleviate your chill. Nothing seemed to work. Lighting candles and preparing some food for the hungry travellers that would arrive soon. You had heard news that the travelling party were returning from Winchester within the next few hours, feeling sadness at the inevitable loss and pain that would be felt all through the town, but also the deep, hidden feelings of desire that you so heavily pushed to one side.

Every time you saw Finan leave, you felt a tinge of regret within you. After all, he was Uhtred's right hand man by all accounts, and great responsibilities were often given to him. What if he were to never return? You supposed it was silly to think more of your confessions being told than him returning with his life, but you were sick of pushing down these feelings. You felt like some sort of angel when his gaze fell on you, which it did, often. And when he would come in for a final glass of ale, though what you didn't know is that he was really just looking for an excuse to talk to you.

He had seemed grave when you saw him last, trying to keep smiling at you but looking away darkly every now and then. You, none the wiser, had given him a cheerful departure, promising a full meal for him and his friends upon his return. You had assured him that the plate would be waiting for him, only if he came home in one piece. The gesture was halfhearted, though to him it was a challenge. He had left beside Uhtred, meditating upon his horse about you.

You.

Finan really, really loved you. He was always incredibly outgoing, and so you assumed he would just wed someone more like him, but Finan dreamed of you almost every night. It tortured him that he was so quick with his words, and yet they seemed to disappear from him whenever he saw you. Your plump lips, your wide eyes, full of life and unsoiled by the rot of death. You were the exact opposite of what he encountered on his missions and tasks, and though he loved his life alongside his trusted Lord, he wanted something to do it all for. And that something was you. He would make sure of that.

As both of your feelings nearly spilled over each other, it was time for someone to do something.

It seemed like you had wasted your whole day, silently waiting for the evening to come, when finally, you heard some commotion - your heart sent flashes of longing through you. You felt somewhat pathetic, watching the door of your alehouse for that specific person to come through. But, when you know, you know.

Suddenly, a stream of townsfolk walked in. Some came holding hands, some even came with their children, which you didn't mind, offering them some meat pies and ruffling their hairs. You spoke with some of the women, delighted to have their husbands back and eager to get you away to spend time with them soon. You joked about being stuck behind the brewery, handing out copious pints of ale. Within the next twenty minutes, your hands were so sticky that you started flapping them furiously.

Finally, you made your way outside, wanting to do a round of everyone sitting on the benches. There, you found Finan and Osferth. Sihtric was over in the corner, with his wife, the two of them beckoning you towards them.

Giving them quick greetings, you drunk in some of the news from Sihtric, who informed you that Uhtred was still in Winchester for some time with Hild, and that he had suffered a great loss. Your head bowed at that, not wanting or needing to know any more. You wished the both of them and their children well, before granting a weak smile to the two men now before you.

Osferth gave a weak smile, fondly remembering happier times in the alehouse and wishing he could match his previous energy. You hugged him tightly, knowing he was more sensitive and newer to the trade of being a warrior, though you didn't expect him to hold on so tightly to you. You sunk into his unfamiliar embrace for a moment, before Osferth pulled away.

And there he was. Finan. You had never seen him looking more tired, slightly long hair giving him a dishevelled look. Though equally, he was beautiful. No amount of sadness could take away the kind, observant look in his eyes. He seemed to be in his own world, and you didn't want to disturb, but then he looked at you, and the faintest smile stretched onto his lips.

You wanted Finan to hold you. You wanted his warm embrace then and there, but something told you it would take a little more time. His brows are furrowed and a strong wrinkle emerges between them, telling you that he is far from relaxed. You gulp slightly, the promise of a meal still hanging in the air.

With a hand still on Osferth's shoulder, you said nothing as you gave him an empathetic nod, tilting your head and smiling as best as you could. Your chest filled with relief when his little wrinkle disappeared. The shadows lifted just slightly, and there he was. He understood you somehow, an unspoken look flittering between you, and then you were gone.

There was so much you wanted to talk to Finan about. You ached to have your friend back, even if that dynamic did pain you. He still came to the tavern, even when Uhtred returned, though he was unusually silent as weeks flew by. Even as things picked up and spirits were back to normal, Finan seemed to be stuck somehow.

You entertained mostly Uhtred and Sihtric most nights, helping them heal ever so slightly with perhaps a little too much ale. You had even begun watering it down less, which did not go unnoticed by them. You prayed with Osferth too, mostly to keep him company.

It wasn't until a whole month had passed that you could no longer take it. Finan's usual loud voice could no longer be something of the past. You needed to tell him how you felt. You knew that you had to do something tonight.

You spent far too long in the mirror during the hour before you would open. You knew it would be a busy night, as the snow had finally ceased, and people were no longer cooped up in their homes. They would want warm drink and entertainment, and you would give them just that.

"Come on, Y/N." You nudged yourself, looping two ribbons into the two braids that you had meticulously gathered with your unruly hair, pinching your cheeks before letting out a slight laugh. You hadn't realised just how much you truly valued Finan's entire personality until it changed whenever you came near. Surely freshening up a bit would impress him?

Meanwhile, as though he was mirroring you, Finan ran his hands through his hair, sitting patiently in his own company. He had been surrounded by his loud companions all day, laughing and working, enjoying any semblance of peace that he could. The Irishman thought of nothing but you, however, and felt that if he did not do something soon he would combust into a million pieces.

Truthfully, after his last visit to Mercia, he had pulled back from you slightly. He needed you so deeply, but couldn't bear the thought of making you wait around for him, worrying if he would come home or not. There was also the additional danger of his weapons everywhere, his being at Uhtred's side constantly, and the threat of having something so precious to him be so targeted. He wanted you more than he wanted to breathe.

After that first day where you had been babbling to Hild in your alehouse, he was stunned. He was in awe of how you ran the place, even with the death of your father, never allowing anyone to step on your toes, even though he would have been more than willing to help. He admired your trust in things, never fearing of the worst, unlike he had. Since his days on the ship, all he had craved was something, anything, to come home to.

Nothing had filled that space until he saw you prancing around the alehouse, clumsily spilling drinks and shaking your sticky hands in his face to annoy him, your loud laughter echoing in his mind even now as he had tried to pull you into the mess you had made.

The memory shone in his mind, so prominent that he quite literally couldn't think straight. He didn't want to be absent towards you now, but his very existence intermingling with yours was a threat to your life, and perhaps your happiness. Could he do that to you?

As the tavern bustled into life, you couldn't stop fiddling with your braids. Some of your friends had offered to touch them up, which only worried you more, but they teased you still, pinching your cheek when you had confessed to them what you were going to do tonight.

You would your hands into the handles of at least ten cups, delivering them to the table of several hefty warriors who barely fit on your stools, making a mental note to get some warrior-friendly seating arranged.

"Here you are boys," you greeted them lightly, recognising a few, particularly Uhtred, who looked like he had seen better days. His hair was loose, strewn all over his face, but a smile graced his face, which reassured you.

"You might want to slow down, Lord," you teased, anticipating his reaction. He cocked his brow, piercing blue eyes observing you graciously. "Y/N, you're too good to me. Too good." He raised a glass to you, and you playfully rolled your eyes, a renewed sense of confidence overtaking you.

As you were about to turn around, you collided with hard leathers, belonging to a very firm chest. Towering above you was Finan. You quickly fiddled with your braid, hoping he would be enticed by them. So stupid, you thought to yourself.

"Have you forgotten what incredibly handsome men look like, or are you just surprised to see me?" said Finan, voice just above a whisper. Your eyes widened at his question, hand coming up to slap his bare arms. He hadn't been this perky in a while, and it shocked you, to say the least. You were happy to see him back to normal. Though he always carried an air of dominance with him, the softer side of him was always welcome.

There was a strange determination in his eyes, as if he had woken up. "Trust me, with you in front of me every day, I could hardly forget what a handsome man looks like." Your emboldened state of mind matched his newfound confidence, and the two of you were back to being the same people that you were when you first met. Finan forgot, just for a second, about the reek of death and its hanging in the air.

Instead, he took you in. Your fresh braids, which he suspected you had done just for him. He felt so warm, even in the bitter winter, and your eyes gazing at him as though he was the kindest man on earth brought him more security than anything else in the world.

His presence alone was enormous. You had to shake your head to remember what you were really here to say to him. He had laughed at your previous remark, taking the confident proudly.

"You look so beautiful, Y/N." he stated fondly, content to spend the rest of the night with you. Your cheeks heated at his words, and you looked away, but not before his strong hands found your chin, raising your face to meet his brown eyes once more. He simply could not wait any longer.

"You always look beautiful, and I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you aren't", he huffed, acknowledging his own mental absence. You felt the tenderness in his touch, against the rough scarring on his hands. You smiled sadly, wishing he didn't have to be treated so roughly. Your softer hands found his, holding them tightly.

"I suppose I sh-" but before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a loud crash. You were quick to inspect the commotion, not realising that the two of you were still firmly holding hands. It hadn't occurred to you until his grip tightened, dwarfing your entire hand in his. You couldn't help but smile, especially when you discovered what the scene before you was all about.

Two women were having at it, fighting like animals. These were women you knew, and so you were shocked to see them go at one another, enough even to draw blood. You considered for a moment why two familiar faces would be fighting, but the two had recently mentioned their escapades with Osferth, who was a babbling mess at the scene before him.

Finan cursed. Truly, he couldn't help but laugh. Of course, this stupid baby monk would intervene in some way, he thought to himself. You giggled at Osferth's expression as the women were finally separated by Finan, who begrudgingly let go of your hand. He felt so juvenile, clinging to you like a crush, but he simply couldn't help himself.

"Umm, I thought monks weren't allowed to hump," was all he said, before leaving the poor boy to defend for himself, returning to you. As he walked over, you felt the life reemerge within him. He was smiling so much you almost couldn't take it.

"Now that's a hero," you laughed as he spread his arms out, congratulating himself. You couldn't keep yourself from moving about, however, unable to stay still in his presence. Your mind constantly filtered through possibilities of what he was about to tell you, meanwhile your own looming confession was being stuffed further and further back in your mouth. You weren't entirely sure what he was going to say to you. Perhaps he was going to tell you to stay away from him . . .

Any suspicions of his rejection, however, were entirely forgotten when both of his hands came to cup your face. The act felt so intimate that your legs almost quivered, and you braced yourself to fall over. His head leaned back slightly, and he breathed heavily, taking you in. Finan, filled with confidence, had bee brought to his knees by you. You and your ribbon braids.

"Can we talk somewhere, please. Perhaps when it's a little less busy, lady?" you understood, but couldn't help the frustration that grew within you as your conversation was prolonged yet again. You simply nodded, but that didn't seem to be enough for him, judging by his widening eyes.

"After closing, Finan, come up the stairs, I'll be in my room." You hadn't realised just how suggestive that sounded until Finan's eyes widened even more, and he cocked his head with a cheeky grin, retorting something about you being more forward than ever. You slapped his chest, mocking his childishness, though before you could fully manage to hit him, he grabbed your wrist with ease.

His arm flexed, and he quickly pulled you in, your feet stumbling to keep up with his strength, until you felt his breath on your face, and you were close enough to be touching his lips.

"Quite the invitation, lady," he half joked, but in reality, he as already counting down the hours. "I will be there, Y/N."

After what felt like the longest night in history, the last of the crowd finally retreated from the alehouse. You were itching to see Finan. Since the two of you last spoke, you had barely seen him. Uhtred was shamefully taken home by Sihtric, who you were amazed was sober. The rest of the men and women left together, and you said your final goodbyes, closing the doors. This time, however, you didn't lock them.

You trudged upstairs, tiredness hitting your body. After hours, you finally took a seat on the edge of your bed, fiddling with the silly plaits that you had worried so much over. You sensed Finan's presence when there was a slight moan of old wood being pressed as he walked up to meet you. You had so much to say to him you could hardly contain yourself, rising from your sitting position.

Finan gave a polite knock, but didn't bother waiting, bending under the doorframe before returning to his natural state, giving you an incredibly sheepish look. You stuttered slightly, but told him to sit. You quickly realised that a man had never been up to your room. It was spacious enough, with a large bed of furs and enough space for plenty of candlelight.

"Please, sit, Finan." you held your hand out as if to show him the way, guiding yourself to the edge of your bed. Finan let out a small laugh at your sudden formality, bending as if giving you a mocking bow before sitting next to you.

Even though he had been the one to initiate conversation last time, you made it your mission to get there before him, wanting to get your own point across before he said anything to you.

"Finan, I have to tell you," you started, feeling an awful mist of tension heating up your body suddenly, " I just - I hate," you sighed in frustration, groaning as you could hardly get the words out. Finan seemed heavily amused, beckoning you to continue.

"I just really enjoy when you're here." Pathetic. "And I don't like it when you're gone away for weeks. And I worry for you when you're not here, even though I have faith in you."

Once you break the seal, you can hardly stop. Finan takes in every word as though it is gospel, but you hardly notice as you babble on.

"Obviously you're strong, and umm, and handsome, and you speak well enough to get yourself out of trouble,"

"Oh, do keep going, lady. I've never been so flattered." he raised a hand to his chest, feigning shyness. You glared at him, embarrassment curling itself around your neck, blocking any clear thought from entering your head. Finan quickly sensed your frustration, placing a hand on your thigh to steady you.

But that just made it worse.

"And then I think we're good, but you don't speak to me f-for weeks, Finan. And then you touch my thigh like this!" You could almost laugh at yourself, truly, "and I just want you all of the time, and I think we . . . I think we should be together."

With your final declaration out of the way, you feel a fatal sense of worry overcome your body at his shocked face. The hand on your thigh doesn't move, however. It tightens.

"Y/N," he starts, and you brace yourself for the worst, "Please, I want to be with you too. I stayed distant, because, well because I didn't want anything to happen to you. If I am with you, then I'll have something to actually fight for," he looked down as he continued, clearly stressed, "but then if I have something to fight for I'll have something to lose as well."

You began to understand him clearly. With what he had seen, particularly with recent events, there was always a risk involved. Perhaps what made him so good is that everything he previously needed to protect was always on the battlefield with him. The two of you together would be a constant source of worry for him. You could be kidnapped, taken hostage, injured while he was away.

"But, Finan, every time you've left, nothing has happened to me. I'm here, aren't I? Entirely whole."

"But it's different, or, it would be different," he stressed, hands flying up as he spoke.

"The only difference is I'd be yours. And I want to be yours, Finan."

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. His hand ran through his beard, and any semblance of composure that he had snapped when you bit your lip. Perhaps he was being ridiculous. Perhaps he was thinking about things too deeply. After all, he was an entirely competent warrior. If anything happened, he would be able to solve it.

He could barely control himself any longer, when your hand came to fiddle with the ribbons weaved into your loosening braids. You had never looked more innocent and enticing - he physically couldn't stand what you were doing to him.

Meanwhile, you took note of his chest heaving, feeling your own heartbeat gain speed. You decided to let even more out, noticing his gaze shifting to your hair.

"I plaited these for you, I thought they would impress you." The sheepish truth had you looking down, realising that the two of you had been stupidly restricting one another whilst simultaneously trying to impress one another in a hideously drawn out back and forth. Sorrows had settled, and now you wanted him. You needed Finan.

"They do impress me, most definitely," he assured you, teasing you slightly with his reaction. He found you utterly adorable, that you had done some little change to please him, "but you already caught my attention without the ribbons, Y/N."

The cross around his neck gleamed as it dangled, moving slightly as he leaned down to meet your face as you sat beneath him on the bed. The tenderness of the moment had been replaced by burning passion.

"Finan, I-"

"Say my name again."

"Finan-" You couldn't even finish before his lips crashed into yours. Everything melted away when you kissed. Every semblance of a problem disappeared, and it was just you and Finan. He revelled in the idea that you were his woman, spoiling himself with the very thought of it.

You, meanwhile, were growing incredibly impatient. The man in front of you was something else, his muscles straining as his hands trailed down to your waist and picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his strong waist, arousal beginning to leak from within you as his grip tightened. He couldn't get enough of you, and he never wanted to let you go.

"I hope you know, love, that I'm keeping you forever." He smiled, adjusting you a little so that you felt the bulge of his crotch just underneath your sex, friction causing you to whine slightly. You weren't entirely sure if Finan was aware that you were a virgin, but the feeling of his body against yours prevented you from saying anything.

"Let me hear you." he demanded as he looked up at you, and thought he was still the Finan you knew, an air of seriousness had overcome him, and the words that came from him were dominating. You understood now how he managed to control armies the way he did.

You buried your head between his neck and shoulder, drooling slightly as you let out a moan at Finan's undying strength. With your undergarments pulled to the side by the stretch of his fingers, he made sure to move you up and down ever so slowly, rubbing against his crotch even more until your naked sex could take it no more.

The fabric of his trousers was an obstacle that you needed to be removed as soon as possible. Though the friction created waves of pleasure, the way he was holding you had you panting for more.

"Please, Finan, take them off." you looked into his eyes, which held an amused stare. He took your worn out image in, unable to believe how lucky he was. Any negative thought about the relationship between you two could be dealt with later, right now he had you securely in his arms, entirely fucked out without him even properly touching you yet.

You fastened your legs around his waist, which made him laugh. "You're telling me what to do now, is it?" truthfully, he would let you do or say anything you wanted. He was wrapped around your little fingers, and he knew it well.

"Love, I can't do what you ask if you continue to cling to me like a pup," he wore a toothy grin on his face, amusement growing in time with your own frustration. You loosened your thighs from his hold, and he set you down gently on your own bed. You fidgeted when you realised what would happen once his trousers were off, if you even managed to wait that long.

You watched him undo his breeches, only to around halfway, not even letting them slide down his legs before he came to you again. You leaned your head into his arm, nuzzling instinctively into his hold like some trained animal. You felt you would burst, declaring "I love you," before he could say anything else.

"I love you too, you and your ribbons." he flicked your braid with his finger, drawing you in to a loving kiss. You were slightly stunned at his lack of hesitation, any precaution having been abandoned by him. Finan felt it as well, the swell of pride that filled him as he announced his love for you, not even questioning the words. He knew them to be true, and he knew that with you as his woman, he was entirely complete.

Your next words, however, did catch him off guard.

"I've never been with a man, Finan." you confessed, maintaining eye contact with him as you waited for his reaction, worrying that he would be less eager to bed you with your inexperience. Finan tried to fight the impure thoughts as they wavered in his brain, unable to keep his hands off you as he thought of a way to reassure you without sounding too patronising, as he usually managed.

When he still didn't say anything, it prompted you to finally look away from him, wondering if he really cared about it as much as you thought.

"Hey, where's my lady gone?" he moved to sit beside you, feeling somewhat of a fool that his bulge was straining against the half of his breeches that still hung from his hips, and you with your dress bunched up so high that all he could think about were the stockings slipping down your delicate thighs. You didn't have the faintest idea of the impact you had on him right now.

He wasn't entirely sure how much more restraint he could exercise. "I don't care about that, I want to be the only man that ever gets to touch you from now on, anyway." he buffed his chest to try and make you laugh, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of laughing, too engrossed in lulling over the words he had just uttered.

"I want to be your only woman, Finan." and with that, you kissed him forcefully, adjusting your body so that you could straddle his frame, his heavy arms wrapping around your waist, bringing you further into his kiss. His hands moved down to your ass, squeezing firmly. Your mouth remained open when he allowed them to slip further down your thigh, toying with the hem of one of your stockings. They were cheap things, made for you with the purpose of convenience, and yet he was treating them like they were pure gold.

"I don't think I'll be sharing you with anyone anytime soon, love," he managed to whisper into your ear, your hands finding his hair and gripping tightly when he inserted two fingers into you, the promise of 'getting you ready for him' hanging in the air. The feeling was unlike anything you had experience, a welcome intrusion to your core. You felt his fingers curl, pushing up as far as they could go, meanwhile his thumb also occupied a space on your clit, rubbing ever so gently whenever he could to bring you pleasure.

You felt your thigh muscles trembling as you still straddled him on your knees, his head on your shoulder, occasionally kissing your neck, creating his own little mark on you. Finan knew he was possessive. He had to remind himself to be gentle with you, however, removing his fingers and inserting them again, wanting to tease you slightly.

You gave a quick tug to his thick hair in retaliation, which he seemed to like as he groaned and leaned back in order to see your face. You couldn't help a satisfied grin, otherwise looking rather empty as you thought of nothing but pleasure.

"Careful there," he said, returning his attention to kissing your neck, marking it with a slight bite. His warm lips on your skin affected you in ways you hadn't thought possible. You wondered why he hadn't put his fingers back inside of you, but you felt him fidget beneath you, until his cock was fully out, brushing back and forth against your sex. The two sensations together, of his lips and his cock, very nearly sent you over the edge embarrassingly soon.

The ghost of pleasure kept pulsating at your core, his hand moving his cock back and forth ever so slowly, sometimes seeming as though he was about to slip in and then releasing altogether from you. You hated it, the absence and the longing, playing tricks with your mind and turning you into some kind of depraved whore.

"Finan, I swear-"

"You swear what, lady?" he taunted you, still not close enough as his arm adjusted its claim around your waist, your breasts squishing into his own chest as you practically kneeled over the top of him, wanting to push him down to finish the job yourself.

"If you don't hump me soon, I will personally ban you from this very alehouse." shocked at your own feistiness, you hadn't imagined Finan to take your word so literally. Before you knew it, your back hit your bed of furs, and Finan now kneeled above you, playing with himself, tugging back and forth, his hard cock so prominent you felt it would break you.

And break you it did. His tip finally breached your walls, before his entire member felt your insides. Your core was so full, so unbelievably full. The pressure seemed to build before he even began to move, and you released several short pants, biting back a moan that he seemed to want to encourage out of you as he moved his hips just slightly, his muscled core meeting your soft, pliable thighs, now up in the air, hanging from his grip.

You were entirely at his mercy, so pliant for him, and so good for him. "I hadn't expected you to listen well, and you proved me right," he started, moving in and out once, so tantalisingly slowly that you felt every curve, vein and pulse going through him, "I told you to be careful, didn't I sweet girl?"

Though he was teasing, he still wanted to make sure you were okay. He didn't move until your face lost the scrunch and your eyes opened to look at him, heavy breathing turning into moans as your impatience move.

"Move, Finan." And that was all he needed to hear, moving in and out of you with some force, his hands clamping into the soft flesh of your thighs, still admiring the stockings that you wore, reminding himself to ask you to wear them more often.

Your lips fell open in a gasp when he sped up even more, soft 'good girls' coming from his lips in murmurs. He let go of one of your thighs, letting your leg fall to the bed, while his free hand now moved to your stomach, pressing down on your core and feeling exactly where he was inside of you. He pumped so rhythmically that you began to think you'd truly reached heaven, the additional pressure applied by his strong hands becoming too much for you.

He watched your face, assessing you to ensure you were still comfortable. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you in any way. You felt funny, a strange tingling, almost like a warning, reaching your core.

"F-Finan, I think . . ."

He shushed you, understanding what you meant. Who was he to deny such a lovely maiden what she wanted? "Just breathe, Y/N, don't fight it, sweet girl," he guided you, the pressure of his hand increasing. He maintained his pace, feeling your walls tighten and squeeze around him, clamping so hard he struggled to keep up.

"Come on, there we are," he further encouraged, and normally, you'd tell him to shut up, his words embarrassing you slightly, but you were so filled with delicate pleasure that you couldn't risk losing it. The immense pinch in your core finally snapped, and you were coming around him, pumping him for all he was worth as your arousal came to its peak. Your face made him positively weak at the knees.

"There we go," he cooed, his hand coming to your clit to stimulate you more, though you began begging him not to, trying and failing to grab his wrist in the process. You bit your lip instead, eyes all glossy and strained as you looked at your lover as though he was God. Perhaps he was, because no mortal man should have been able to make you feel so good.

"Please come, Finan." you whined sweetly, and he could never deny you as he had done before. He would listen to you if you told him to do anything, let alone come, which he did gladly, pumping you full of his seed, thinking briefly about the pups you could share. The pups that you would share.

His heart pumped ten times as fast as he bred you, vowing to be the only man to touch you ever again. His possessiveness had seemed to grow in the last hour, and he lifted you suddenly onto his lap, caressing the top of your head as you panted in unison.

"We'll speak properly tomorrow," he began, stroking your now undone hair. Your ribbon barely hung on, and you wound it around his fingers, the fabric reminding him of your sweet confession, something that he knew he would tease you about for years to come, but secretly loved, "sleep for now, love."

He stayed awake for most of the night, observing you every now and then, mostly focusing on the sway of the candlelight. He had seen his lord go through so much, and now he had something too precious to lose, he vowed that the same would not happen to him. Even if it cost him his loyalty.

[lord-aldhelm]

June 29, 2020 Cast of The Last Kingdom Season 4 behind the scenes photo posted by James Northcote on Instagram. Sihtric (Arnas Fedaravicius), Aethelflaed (Millie Brady), Finan (Mark Rowley), Osferth (Ewan Mitchell), Uhtred (Alexander Dreymon) and Young Uhtred (Finn Elliott).