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[spidersnakes]

Imagine reader being super artsy and wanting to go to fashion school and eddie just crushing on them for years in secret until they see one of his D&D character designs and compliment it and he just dies a bit inside.

[spidersnakes]

Ivar x Reader (Forced Marriage)

A.N: Do you guys want another part or is this just a horrible oneshot made by my daddy issues?

Summary: Being Sigurd's wife, you were used to him arguing with his younger brother, but when things get too far, you somehow end up being forced to marry Ivar.

TW: Forced marriage (?), SA, curse words, violence, abuse, bit of spitting. Generally a lot of heavy stuff that a lot of people aren't comfortable with.

You hated him. Absolutely. And you were sure he reciprocated the feeling, but his big fat ego and pride led you to this moment.

You had only bitten back a smile when Ivar and Sigurd were fighting, just after you had gotten married to the latter. It was a marriage of convinience for the both of you, knowing Sigurd wasn't at all interested in females and you wanted to escape the countless men thirsting after you.

Sigurd wasn't the easiest, but you had bonded with him throught your love for music. And next thing you knew, Ivar had grabbed you by the throat, a knife to your throat.

You were just a way for him to release his rage and grief. But when Sigurd spoke up and told him to leg you go, the usual snarky tone prominent in his voice it seemed to set the younger Viking off even more. Before your husband could laugh at his smart insult at his brother, prodding the matter that hurt him the most, he was laying at the floor motionless, his eyes empty of light and no sing of life in his limp body.

And so Ivar married you. He grieved Sigurd, you could see the regret and realisation in his eyes, but his stupid rage blinded him once again. You knew denying him would mean joining your friend, but a death like that would never get you in Valhalla.

Ivar paused, seeing you sitting on the bed already when he entered your bedroom. He closed the door behind him but by the time he turned around, you had gotten close to him, one hand grasping his tunic.

"What are you doing?" He took in a sharp breath, his eyes going back and forth on your hand and eyes.

"It's our marriage night, My Prince."

He hummed in acknowledgement at your statement, understanding the situation, but he still seemed confused. "Did my brother touch you?"

That made you pause. Being smart about it would only get him angry, you knew better than defend Sigurd right now. "Ivar, Sigurd was... not interested."

"Was that your fault?"

"My Prince, I think you are aware of what your brother's... preferences were. I think he wouldn't be interested in any woman." You stopped him before the conversation could progress, and your lips softly touched his only for a moment before you pulled away and locked your gazes.

He bit his bottom lip, seemingly aware that you didn't do this because you actually cared about him. He just wanted to believe you, and it made everything a lot easier.

He initiated another kiss, just as soft as the other one and let his hands rest on your waist and pull you into him. You almost forgot who he really was, meeting softness you could have never guessed this man was ever capable of. He was anxious everytime your lips parted, they wouldn't meet again even as his tongue entered your mouth and started to explore it.

You gripped the knife behind your back tighter, preparing to stab him. Albeit a Viking, you weren't a very good warrior, prefering to go on raids rarely and only to take care of people and get inspiration for your music. Stabbing Ivar like this... if you didn't succeed right away you would face horrible consequences. You barely missed his neck as he moved and lost his balance, landing right in top of you on the floor as the knife fell on some far away corner of the room.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?!" He yelled, his composure long lost. To think those soft kisses were only a lie so you could kill him... you weren't any better than him, you were not the prideful woman you presented yourself as, but a cunning, manipulative bitch.

"That's right. He wouldn't be interested in anybody with a smaller cock than his. And you don't even have one." He laughed, remembering your previous conversation. "You found your husband funny, no? You laughed at his last joke. I am your husband now, but you don't seem very amused."

"You are a bad joke, cripple." You muttered, titling your head to meet his eyes. The sadistic smile on his face didn't give it away, but you could see the anger behind his eyes.

They were so blue, so beautiful, but so cruel.

"Am I not man enough for you? Is that it? But my brother was?" He gritted his teeth as he pulled on your hair, forcing your head back. "Answer me."

You spat on his face, but he only wipped it off, amusement and hate prominent in his features. "You laughed when he called me impotent, perhaps I should show you otherwise. It is our wedding night after all, you said so yourself."

"Don't touch me--" He raised himself enough to flip you around under him, your face now against the furs on the floors.

"Or what? You will try to stab me? Who would justify your murder, just because I wanted to touch you on our wedding night?"

"Ivar-- Ivar please-!" You inhaled sharply, trying to contain the tears in your eyes as he ripped the back of your dress and pressed his clothed erection against your bare ass.

Ivar was shocked himself. He really did think he was impotent, he never lusted over a woman like his brothers, and the Margrethe incident didn't help his insecurities. So why did you, a woman that barely had any experience herself and tried to kill him have him hard because of a few kisses.

His wife, he reminded himself. He just wanted to scare you at first, but now he actually wanted-- needed to feel you. It felt like he knew what he was doing as he let his hand wander from your hair down your body and to your pussy, feeling the slightly wet area. He felt you shiver as he kissed your neck and slowly pushed two fingers inside you, the hands he had pinned on top of your head now struggling against his grip again.

"Unless you want me to finish inside you until I am sure you are bearing my heir, stop fighting against me, wife." Even he questioned his own actions. He could just use your velvety thighs, or just push himself inside you and be done with it.

So why was he, a man that detested you kissing your neck trying to get you wet and open you up, and savoring every little sound you tried so hard to bite back? It didn't make sense.

In reality, it hurt. Your wrists were sure to bruise from his grip, his teeth nibbling on your neck clumsily felt weird and your whole body hurt on the furs, his whole weigh holding you down. The tears you held back hurt the most of all, along with the sounds of pleasure fighting to escape you as his fingers moved inside you.

"Ivar..." You meant to insult him, but it only came out as a meowl of his name as he rubbed against you. You could feel his disgusting smirk against your neck at the clench of your walls around his fingers.

"If I didn't know any better I would say you are enjoying this." He groaned as you raised your hips in an attempt to roll him over and slammed you down, roughly biting your neck.

Your gasped in pain, your nails digging in his hands. He licked over the bite and took his fingers out of you to line himself up against you.

"Stop, stop please. Ivar, w-we can learn to get along and make this work, I know you didn't actually want to marry me because you care about me. Please don't do this." You begged him, but didn't dare to meet his gaze this time.

"Should have thought about that sooner princess." He mumbled and pushed himself inside you slowly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of your walls hugging perfectly around him.

"Y-You bastard!" You groaned and finally freed your arms and clenched the furs under you. He started moving slowly, testing the waters and you couldn't hold the tears in anymore. You let them run down, sniffling and whimpering more the harder and deeper he went.

His tongue sweeped across your cheek, wipping the salty liquid away from your face but that only made you cry harder. It hurt, but the fact it felt good and that Ivar was the one doing this were far wprse than the physical pain you were feeling.

"F-Fuck."He groaned m, his thrusts getting sloppy. You didn't even bother -or trust yourself- to plead him to pull out, the screams you held under your tears at the knot in your belly tightening would spill out right away if you tried to speak.

"Open your mouth." He panted, and seeing as you ignored his command he forced your jaw open and held your tongue down with two fingers. He spat in your mouth and closed it, watching you closely. "Swallow." You did as he said this time, gagging at the spit that went down your throat combined with all the crying.

"Do you want my seed?" He bit his bottom lip, he obviously knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear you.

"Ivar, no!" You screamed, and he pulled your head back. You hiccuped, shaking your head 'no'. He grabbed your hair and asked again, his hips rutting into you desperately.

"I don't care." He mumbled and thrust particularly hard inside you, sending jolts of pain and pleasure all over your body. Your own orgasm silently overtook you no matter how hard you tried to deny it, the feeling of your clit brushing against the fur and his warm seed filling you up send you over the edge.

He moved off of you and laid on his back next to you, confused by your reaction. He had passed countless warriors raping women, and every single one screamed and cried, and hit them, but you were quiet. He sighed and brushed your hair out of your face, meeting your tear stained face and puffy eyes.

You sniffled, shaking harder than before as you buried your face in his hand and leaned against the light touch. His breath hitched in his throat at the gesture. You didn't even seem to recognise that he was the one that hurt you. You just moved into him, desperately trying to hide in his embrace in an attempt to feel safe.

And against his better judgement, once more, he let you do whatever you want. Affection was something only his mother had ever showed him, and she wasn't the type to show it throught physical touch. He needed the soft touches, even though they felt foreign, the way his body tingled under your touch was more than enjoyable.

Strange how after he did something like this to you, he felt the need to protect you and take care of you. His guilt was nearly eating him alive while he watched you, passed out in his arms. How did the marriage he only agreed to out of spite and to end some rumors turn out like this?