#5cw: Ivar

[lisinfleur]

When she’s around

The request:

Author’s Notes | I decided to write this one from Ubbe's POV cause I wanted to focus on the changes and the impact of her presence in Ivar's life and someone who's out of a relationship but was present since before the reader's arrival - and knows Ivar as much as an older brother could know - gives the perfect point of view I wanted to this fiction! I hope you like it!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Ubbe’s POV

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW7

Words | 1901

⁑ Warnings: Historical inaccuracy.

She came into his life out of nowhere. But she already arrived showing what she was able to do.

"To be honest, the Ragnarsson has spread some good pieces over this table..."

In a matter of moments, she solved a deadlock that was keeping us from determining a plan for our next battle against the Christians through the last three hours. And she did it by clarifying to all of us...

...That Ivar was right...

 "It's a matter of prediction. Foreseeing what your enemy will probably choose to do and set up a trap in each one of his options; prepare yourself for each one of his possible movements. This way, wherever the Christian prince decides to move, we'll catch him. Here, here, or there. He's locked."

 Her fingers sliding through the map, making us all able to see what my little brother's blessed mind had already seen before us, placing little details that would complete his plan and make it practically foolproof... They caught Ivar's eyes pretty more than our attention. They convinced Ivar's heart pretty more than Björn's suspicious mind.

And I didn't let it pass.

She was completing my brother's plan, but I also could see there was a part of her that was causing her lips to curl in a smile whenever he would come to complete her sentences; every time their ideas would sound unison as if they were made to work together.

 "Imma losing an advisor, ain't I?"

 More than that.

Harald lost pretty more than just his advisor or one of his best warriors that day.

He lost her attention. Completely. Because their plan was a huge success, but it was with us that she came to sit and celebrate.

Beside my little brother was where she shared the mead of a victory we didn't expect to see coming so easily. And the gods are witnesses: Sigurd wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for her sweet voice into my little brother's ears; her tender hands over his trembling and tense hands.

 "It doesn't worth the price, Ivar. You're just giving him what he wants. You're losing control and proving him right. A child would throw this ax. But you're not a child... A man wouldn't be affected by such vicious words. So, what are you, Ivar, the Boneless?"

 I saw my brother hearing her low voice more than he ever heard my screams. Her words caused his hand to stop shaking when my speeches were never that effective. Ivar sat down once again and his eyes went from Sigurd into her orbs.

 "I won't let a childish stupidity ruin the victory we conquered today. Nor my plans to take the men who want to fight with me. We'll spread our fingers through these lands and they'll know and fear my name. And then..." his eyes got back into Sigurd's, catching that surprised expression in our brother's face. "Then I'll show you that crawling like a baby I'm better man than you'll ever be with your perfect walking-legs, brother."

 The ax fated to my brother's chest was sunk on the table that evening. And that same night, Ivar called her to come with us.

 "I want you with me. I want your words and your mind by my side. Together we are invincible!"

 But even at that moment, even under his praises, she had humble words full of wisdom.

 "No man is invincible, my prince. No flesh shall live forever. But two similar minds are pretty harder to be beaten than one. And like you, I want to see how much of these lands we can cover with the mantle of your fame."

 They covered the whole place... Wherever my little brother's chariot rode, the lands would somehow become his. In a matter of months, the whole East Anglia was taken. And Ivar's army was now advancing over Mercia. Sigurd stepped back to care for Aelle's lands. I stepped back to care for East Anglia's settlement. Harald stepped back being left with York under his care.

But the two of them along with Hvitserk... They were insatiable.

I saw that woman convincing my little brother that there wouldn't be vengeance bigger over our mother's name than forcing Lagertha to a long and peaceful life...

I watched my little brother smile over Lagertha's funeral boat, watching on the wrinkled face of our mother's murderer the proof she would be nowhere to be found in the halls of the gods to where I saw Ivar carving his way.

But the time came for him to come back even for our homelands. With his claws established and our people spread all over the places he conquered, Ivar came back to take our homelands from the Rus' hands with his iron fist. With our reinforcements - Sigurd's, Harald's, and mine - Ivar came back to take the crown from the prince Rus who dared to attack our homelands and claim the life of our older brother who perished by their army right after being made king of all Norway.

A messenger of our kind invited me with the news of my little brother's marriage...

 "The people of Norway invites with pleasure and joy your highness, king Ubbe from East Anglia, to return to your homelands and celebrate the marriage between king Ivar, the Boneless and his soon to be queen Y/N, the Crow."

 Today my feet were once again touching Kattegat's docks after years away. With a small fleet of my men, along with Sigurd - who had also come to honor our little brother's marriage - and a small part of his men, I arrived my homelands to see the market twice as big than I could remember, cleaner, more full of people with all parts of our kind.

"A deal placed the fisherman in Vestfold and the clean products in our lands to ensure a clean bay. It made our market more attractive, our merchants richer, and increased the number of tents." I've heard Hvitserk's voice - kinda hoarser than I could remember - speaking beside me where he had stopped without my acknowledge. "He made us bigger, brother. He fulfilled his promises. Ivar is known everywhere from Mercia to the ends of Ringerike, where I just came from to celebrate with you." he smiled.

A crown in his head, smaller, possibly something under Ivar's. But something I could see Hvitserk wasn't ashamed of walking around with. We exchanged an embrace before my eyes could run over the place once again.

"Everything changed," I mumbled as Hvitserk was hugging Sigurd before he could look at me once again.

"Biting my own tongue about him, after all," Sigurd mumbled and Hvitserk giggled.

"You better hold your teeth, brother. You might need to have your tongue whole to be bitten when you meet our little brother once again." he boasted.

His words were not enough to prepare me for what I would find inside our great hall. The braces in his legs were completely different from the ones I remember seeing him dressing the first time Ivar stood on his feet in front of my eyes. My little brother's hair was longer, braided tight, well cared. And so were the beard in his face, shorter than mine, but there: something I thought I would never see.

A heavy crown in his head - a huge sign of his power - was something I was already waiting for. However, Y/N's dress held an even bigger surprise for us all. One that made Hvitserk smile cockily over the confirmation of the words he had just spat on Sigurd's face.

"I told you to wait before biting your tongue there, Sigurd... Now I think you have more reasons to swallow it whole, uh?" he mumbled, joking as we followed the gorgeous image of Ivar's queen - belly swollen with his child - approaching to receive us as our brother kept himself sitting on the throne that was once Björn's; our father's, before his.

"King Ubbe, King Sigurd, welcome to Kattegat," she smiled, respectfully saluting us both, ignoring Sigurd's jaw almost dropping down to the ground in front of him.

I, however, felt my lips curling in a proud smile when my eyes crossed with the icy blues looking at us from that higher spot. If someday I had expected to see my little brother in a good situation, those were all my dreams for his life becoming true.

He had the crown he pursued so far, the heir his nightmares told he would never be able to produce, the name many believed he would never build. Ivar's broken legs had taken him further than any of us had reached with our bodies whole and I was proud of what he had conquered. Of him.

But inside I knew behind all that strength, was the anger. I knew behind all that wisdom, was the little man I saw crying inside his room, punching his bed, cursing the gods for his painfully broken bones. Behind the whole curve of that cocky smile Ivar had conquered the right to wear in front of each one of us, was the mark of the tears and sweat I saw rolling down his face since the beginning.

And if someone had helped him to find the right way to where he was standing now, realized, this person was her.

 Y/N, from Vestfold...

 The woman my people had learned to call "The Crow" for, like Huginn and Muninn to Odin, she was the crow cawing in my little brother's ears, whispering wisdom to his troubled mind, teaching him where and how to drive his strength so he could become the huge man I was alive to see in front of my eyes.

She was everything Ivar ever needed by his side. And because of Y/N, I saw my little brother flying higher than my best dreams could plan for him. Ivar has built himself, forged in his own strength, bathed in his own talent. But she was the hammer and the fire; the forge and the hits that turned him into the man he had become.

I held her hand Y/N had offered me in salutation. And there was a tender smile in my eyes. Proud for Ivar. Full of gratitude for her.

"Thank you, Queen Y/N," I said, smiling at her figure with happiness when she landed her hand over the beautiful belly swollen with my nephew or niece to come. "It was never this good to return to my home."

It was never that good to stand in Kattegat's Great Hall and look around to see the whole effort I made when our father was absent had turned into something so majestic.

He wasn't my son, but I was proud as if it was a child of mine with that crown in his head.

He wasn't my doing. And I was happy to see my little brother walking by himself.

Somewhere in Valhalla, our father was toasting for him, lowering his head in shame and apologizing for ever have doubted his strength - such as our brother Sigurd was doing now, shocked by Ivar's ability to prove him wrong.

Somewhere in the halls of the gods, our mother was smiling down telling everyone something I would be happy to hear if I could...

 I know I shouldn't say I told you so... But I told you so.

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[geeky-introvert]

Not Sharing . Ivar X OC X Sigurd

Summary: Tired of their consent arguing and fighting with each other, Ubbe gifts both Ivar and Sigurd with a thrall to share and work out their problems somehow. Still, they argue, confusing the thrall and even bothering her with their nagging.....One-shot.

Even though I’m not part of the 5CW event run by the lovely @lisinfleur and @honestsycrets I had to do this for the fun of it. Hope it turned out alright. I had fun with this! 

Word count: 3463

Warning: Bit of arguing and smut.

Tagging: @lisinfleur​ @mdlady​ @didiintheblog​ @alicedopey​ @lupy22​ @rekdreams247​ @mblaqgi​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @aphnxrising​ @happydaysandersen @therealcalicali @naaladareia @inforapound @captstefanbrandt @waiting4inspiration​ @tabalugax​ @p8tn0lish​ @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @lordsexmachine​ @tgrrose​

If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list let me know please. 

Katya was born into slavery, it was the only life she knew and grew to like with the few simple rules. Be polite, obey and always smile, the men loved it. She belonged to a very wealthy master who took good care of her as long as she satisfied his needs. It wasn’t the worst, it could be, but this was how it was since she was sold a little over a year ago.

She comes from the lands of Russia, a foreign land for most travellers and it was the only home she knew of. This all changed however when her long term masters wife poisoned him and sold her to a trader within a blink of an eye.

No surprise.

Over the coming months Katya was moved, sold, bought and sold for high prices, her value only rising more at each passing man who held enough gold for her and enjoyed the moment before moving onto the next man eagerly wanting to buy her. Nothing was ever permanent, this she understood and never held much hope for anything. It was all about survival.

She finds herself in another cold part of lands that was very different from her home. Curiously she looked around from the boat she was on with the other slaves, a thick fur coat wrapped around her gifted by the trader in exchange for worshipping his cock. It was warmth she needed after all, she didn’t care about much else.

Her raven thick hair blew against her wind as her creamy skin that had barely touched the sun shivered against the cold. Dark hazel eyes scanned around curiously at this new place and wondered just what her future might hold for her.

On the docks they were lead to a house where other slaves were being sold or traded. Eyes were on her, lustful stares making her smile a little from the attention she got. She always enjoyed it and wondered just who might be her new master now. She’ll be very satisfied for it to be someone wealthy and very handsome, but she’ll take whatever is given.

As they all waited to be looked at she was approached by a very handsome young man, blazing blue eyes and blonde hair making her eyes sparkle with excitement. She overheard him being a prince, a son of Ragnar, a name she’s heard of before, the eldest son from his second wife, name he held was Ubbe. Travelling everywhere she was familiar with the north man's language making her even more value.

“Greeting’s, my lord.” She spoke in her thick accent with a soft smile.

Ubbe noticed her the moment she came onto the docks and had to get a closer look at her and inspect. For weeks he’s tried finding the right slave that just might work out but hadn’t had much luck, until he saw her and knew she was very different from the others.

“Hello.” He answers looking her up and down. “You’re a long way from home? Tell me your name.”

“Katya.” She answers him. “Looking for some love, attention and care, my lord?” She asked battering her thick lashes at him.

“I only have one question. Are you patient?” His question did confuse her a little.

“Patient?” It was something she’s never been asked before however she still answered him honestly. “Yes, my lord. I’m a patient woman.”

“Good.”

As soon as the trader comes over Ubbe tosses him a large bag of gold coins which he eagerly accepted. Katya followed Ubbe out then with the fur coat still around her as the trader was too busy admiring his coins and no one said anything. Besides, it was very cold and she wasn’t wearing anything proper for the weather underneath.

“What would you like for me to call you, my lord?” She asked walking beside him.

“Just Ubbe.” He responds before stopping and gently pulling her aside so they were out from the crowds together. “Listen, I didn’t buy you for me.”

Honestly, she was a little disappointed, such a handsome man he was.

“You’re beautiful, very beautiful.” He smiles and she couldn’t help but smile back. “But I'm happily married man, I have no need for another woman.”

“That’s too bad, you’re very handsome. But you wouldn’t be the first married man to buy me, Ubbe. Your wife is very lucky to have such an honorable man like you.” She answers back as he gave a kind smile to her.

“Thank you. Anyway, I brought you for my brothers. Before I take you to them I must warn you, they have problems. I mean they’re always fighting with one another, arguing over nothing and just always shouting. I thought maybe a beautiful thrall for them to share might help them. That’s why I asked if you were patient, because you’ve got to need it with them.”

“I see.” She says nodding. “Don’t worry, I’ve had many men in my life, I’ve seen it all.”

What she didn’t realise was just how bad it was and how soon she spoke.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿

The moment they entered the cabin together they were met with the shouting and chairs being knocked over. She stood back by the door as she watched with wide eyes as Ubbe tried breaking up the two other men wrestling one another on the floor.

“Knock it off! Both of you grow up!” Ubbe shouts looking very frustrated with them.

“The snake started it!” Ivar shouts back as he pushed himself up onto a chair.

“The crippled baby thinks I stole his knife!” Sigurd responds.

“Enough!” Ubbe’s had enough, and just rubbing his face followed by a long exhale was all she needed to see from him to know this.

Katya shifted on her feet in silence as the brothers tried to sort out on their own but judging from Ubbe she knew he’s had enough trying to deal with them. Now it was up to her, at least she’ll try. She’ll do her best to try and ease whatever tension is going on between them.

“Brothers, this is Katya.” Ubbe then introduces her to them. “She is a thrall. I just bought her for you both to share.”

“Share?” Ivar narrowed his brows before scoffing. “I’m not sharing with the snake.”

“Like you could pleasure a woman anyway.” Sigurd snarls back.

“I said enough!” Ubbe once more snaps at the both of them and moved his way passed her to head out. “Good luck.”

When the door closes again Katya looks at both Sigurd and Ivar with a tender smile. Yes, both very handsome, Ivar even more so with those blue glowing eyes of his

“My lords.” She says fondly to them. “I’m here to serve you both to your desire.”

It was going to be interesting though with them, that she admitted.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿

As expected, it was very intense in the room with them. Never once has she been brought and never not had sex right away, it’s all men wanted from her but these two seemed to be not interested in that much to her surprise. All her life men wanted her in bed and she spread her legs for them like a good slave. Now here she was, sitting near the fire, board. She had been sitting for hours waiting for either of them to say something.

Sigurd had left, already half drunk and hasn’t returned while Ivar remained but ignored her. She felt his eyes on her every now and again looking unsure as he sharpened his daggers and kept himself busy with anything he could find just to pretend she wasn’t there.

The fur coat she wore was now off since it was warm enough in the cabin with the fire going, leaving her in the thin dress she still wore she her last master who’s wife wasn’t very pleased. That didn’t last long and now here she was, board.

Looking over at Ivar she looked down at his legs and studied the braces he wore wrapped around them, tilting her head curiously and this caught Ivar’s attention as he scoffed at her.

“Never seen a cripple before.”

“Actually I have, my lord.” She answers softly.

It was like her answer wasn’t what he was expecting and went back to sharpening the same dagger he’s been holding for the last hour.

Standing she then comes closer and sits in front of him, still watching as he nervously focused on his dagger.

All she did was watch him, smiling a little as he continued to hesitate so nervously trying to focus on what he was doing and not her.

“Why do you stare, woman?”

“Where else do you want me to stare, my lord?”

Ivar looks like he was about to say something back at her but decided not to before looking down twirling his blade. Katya then sat back on the fur rug on the floor and spread out on it like a cat, moaning lowly at the comfortable feel of it but to also tease Ivar.

“Why do you make noises?”

“Because it’s comfortable, my lord.” She giggles softly at him.

Ivar felt himself smirk before shaking his head.

“I don’t understand why Ubbe brought you for us. Sharing you with Sigurd wasn’t going to happen.” He says bluntly and she silently agreed with him after what she saw happen.

“You can decide that, my lord. I’m here and ready, all for you.” She purred turning over onto her hands and knees as she slowly crawled towards him like a cat.

Ivar watched her, a flicker of fear in his eyes as she then pushed herself up on her knees before him and slid her fingers under his waistband of his trousers.

“Don’t!” He grabbed her wrist tightly causing her to gasp from his sudden movement, an action she wasn’t expecting.

“Is something the matter?” She asked calmly looking up at him.

Ivar was breathing heavily and looked like he was about to kill something as his face screwed up in frustration. Katya then sat up, his grip still on her but sat beside him at the table.

“You can talk to me, my lord. What’s bothering you?” It wasn’t anything new for her masters to simply talk to her, sometimes men needed another’s ear to speak truthfully about what they were feeling.

“Like I would tell a slave.” He spat glaring. “All the same, fucking gossiping whores…” His words didn’t affect her, she’s been called much worse.

“I’m only offering ears for you to speak to. Whatever you tell me stays between us.” He scoffs as she told him this. “My lord, this is what I do. I make men happy, I’ve done so my whole life and I’m good at it.”

“If you’re so good at it then why are you here?” Good question.

“Because too many men who brought me had wives and no wife wants their husband seeking company from younger and more beautiful women. Either they were forced to give me up or they were poisoned before I was sold to the next highest bidder.”

Ivar narrowed his brows a little at her unsure by what she had just told him and seemed to ponder over her words for a bit while looking away from her.

“So...you’re good? You’re skilled?”

“Yes, very.” She answers proudly.

“Can you make any man, hard?” His question did confuse her a little unsure why he was asking such a thing.

“Yes, I can. Why do you ask, my lord?”

Now he looked like a frightened boy. His emotions and expressions shifted so much all the time and she knew this was something she’ll need to watch with him more.

“The last time....I couldn’t. I never...could.” There it was. She now understood.

“Was that your first experience?” He gave a shy nod as she smiled softly and tilted his head to turn and face her. “My lord, that’s fine, it happens. Not everyone’s first experience goes as they want. I’ve had men just like that when I was in the whore house for a time. They were so shy and had trouble getting it up but I helped them and now they go on pleasuring many other women.”

“So...it’s normal?” He sounded surprised. “I’m not...broken?”

“If you allow me I can prove that you’re not broken and give you an experience you’ll never forget.”

Leaning forward she then kissed him tenderly. He shied away for a moment before slowly leaned into the kiss as she caressed his cheeks softly. Breaking the kiss she smiled warmly at him before tracing her hands over his short hair like he was a small child seeking comfort.

“We can go to the bed to be more comfortable, my lord.” She says standing up and making her way over with a sway from her hips. When she sat down she beamed a little brighter in satisfaction seeing him crawling towards her and pushing himself up onto the bed.

She helped him lay back against the furs before she removed her dress leaving her naked for his view and helped remove his tunic before untying his trousers.

“Don’t remove my trousers. Just...a little.” She understood that he wasn’t ready to show her his legs or if he’ll ever be alright with that. Either way it didn’t bother her.

“As you wish, my lord.”

Katya only tugged down enough to free his cock which wasn’t hard but that was soon to change. She carefully took his cock in her slender hands and started to stroke him which rubbing her thumb over his tip. Leaning up she kissed him again, her free hand tracing against his skin to build up his arousal with different ways. All men had different desires and ways to get a boner.

Moving down his body Katya gently took hold of his cock and started to move her hand along his length. Further down she lowered her head and started to lick along his base causing his breath to hitch from the warm strange contact she gave him. Her mouth then started to suck at his balls, humming against him and slowly worked at his cock with patience. There have been many times she’s done this, it was nothing new for her.

Moaning more around his cock she then started to suck around his tip that was leaking salty fluids for her to taste and savour it all against her tongue enjoying it. She looked up at him through her lashes, smirking around his cock as he watched her with dazed eyes looking back down at her as he panted softly.

Slowly she started to bob her head around his length and stroke at his base while massaging his balls in her other hand. There was no doubt he was aroused already, she felt his cock twitch under her touch as she continued to work on him.

Removing her mouth with a wet pop she giggled lightly as she kept her gaze on him while still stroking him throbbing member.

“How is that, my lord?” She asked in a low husky voice.

“It feels strange…” He admitted with burning cheeks.

Smirking softly she then let go on him while he let out a small sound of protest but stopped and watched her as she carefully straddled his lap on him. Guiding his hand she lead it down to her core where she had his finger brush over her cunt which was dripping wet for him.

“You feel that, my lord? This is good. Women should be wet for a man’s cock, otherwise it won’t be pleasant for her if she’s dry.” She tells him so he’d know if he was to lay with any other woman for the future, but deep down she hoped he wouldn’t and continue to lay with her over again.

Ivar listened and nodded, understanding what she was telling him as his eyes filled with curiosity. It looked so cute on him she thought to herself.

“I think you’re ready for me now, my lord.” She purred biting her plump lips softly.

Gripping his now hard cock again she then started the rub his tip through her folds and slowly eased herself down onto him while letting out a breath of pleasure. Even though he was so young he had an impressive cock. She’s seen and had it all, but his was surprisingly formed close to perfection. He had a good both length and thickness which she liked.

Fully settled on him she placed her hands over his bare shoulders, eyes shining down on him as she slowly rocked her hips against him, rubbing herself against his pubes and letting out soft breaths of desire against his face.

“More.” His word whispers softly through his pants. “It feels so good, I want more.”

“Easy, my lord. It’s all about. Patience. Trust me, it’ll last much longer and feel better. Besides, why the hurry? We have all the time we need.” She says softly caressing his skin as she continued to roll her hips.

“Ivar.” He suddenly says looking at her. “Call me Ivar.”

“As you wish, Ivar.” Calling him by his name only added to her desire and started to circle her hips against him letting out a soft moan. “Yes, you feel so good in me.”

“I-I...Katya, I don’t think I’ll last much longer.” He warns her and before she could even say anything he suddenly erupts his seed within her depths and cry out half in desire and surprise. She wasn’t bothered by it, after all it was his first orgasm

“Sorry��.” He murmurs softly looking down in shame until she had him look back up at her.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s alright. Besides, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m all yours to your desire.” I say through a happy smile making him smile softly back, so calm for even just a moment before we both heard the door to the cabin shaming open.

Sigurd was back and he was really drunk.

“The fuck you two doing?” He slurs waddling over past them. “You’re not...a fucking man! Boneless!” His words seemed to hit Ivar hard as he snarled but I gently placed my hand over his chest still on him.

“He’s drunk.” I answered softly. “Drunk words mean nothing.”

“His words hold hate.” He says back and he wasn’t lying.

“Get off his limp dick…” Sigurd sits on the second bed pulling himself out from his trousers and let’s himself hang there. “Get over here...I’m a real man!”

“Don’t go.” Ivar hisses to her but Katya gave a tender smile to him.

“It’s alright. Remember Ubbe brought me for both you and him, I must do as he says as well.” She answers before kissing his cheek and removing herself from him with a wet pop and coming over to Sigurd.

Kneeling in front of him she smiles but not in the same way towards Ivar.

“What do you want me to do, my lord?” She asks and he gives her such a sloppy smile through his drunkenness.

“Worship my cock!” It was something she’s heard before.

“As you wish, my lord.”

She then starts to tug his cock watching him carefully. There was something about to happen, she saw this and continued to play along. Less than a few minutes Sigurd then laid back against the bed while letting out loud snores filling the room.

“Did he just fall asleep?” Ivar asks seeming shocked but couldn’t hold back an amused smirk either.

“I’m not surprised. He was very drunk and won’t wake up until morning.” Katya answers before tucking him back in his pants patting the area and eagerly returning to Ivar. “He’s not a man, you’re more of a man than him.”

Hearing this from her seemed to please him as she crawled beside him again tracing her fingers over his chest.

“Can we go again?” The way he asked was no innocently making her smile fondly.

“We can go as many times as you want, Ivar. There is so much I can teach you and many ways to bring pleasure to a woman. The women will be lining up for you soon enough.” She answers wanting him to feel special.

“No.” He answers shaking his head. “I don’t want any other women, I only want you.” This made her smile a bit brighter before she kissed him tenderly.

“I’m all yours, Ivar. Have me as many times as you desire.”

And he did, very much.

[lisinfleur]

I get your stress, love.

I have a WIP that was completely rejected by the fandom when posted, but it was requested by someone I love and and for my favorite character so I’m also struggling over the chapters wanting to finish it but not knowing if I’ll ever be able to (and when it started, I was so excited ... ). 

There are dozens of requests for me to fulfill (some still from Ivar’s last 5CW!) and I feel so exhausted by this year that it seems I can’t write a word. 

Believe me, every work of yours worth the sacrifice, but your mind also need some time. Take a break. Go make something you love to relax, see a movie, eat something delicious. The inspiration will come back when your mind is relaxed again

Yeah, I'm close to crying and feeling hopeless. I don't know why this happens or why it comes so suddenly, but I feel like I can't do this anymore...

[honestsycrets]

Ecbert’s Daughter || 5CW

“You see this?” Ivar asks one day.

You turn your head to the straps of metal at the blacksmith’s tent. Men cluster about Ivar, easing him into straps of metal. Norsemen are different from yours. More… beautiful, with softer features, but terrifying in dress and demeanor.

“Yes. What is it?”

“Bracing,” he answers.

When he uses a clutch to push himself up, its with a soft gasp from you. You knew he was a big boy. Of the children of Aslaug and Ragnar, he was large-- and the handsomest of them. But you never imagined him standing beside you, using a crutch to steady himself up. Your fingers find Ivar’s forearm before curling inward.

“You are… big.”

The men roar into laughter.

[honestsycrets]

The Wet Nurse || 5CW

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ word count | 574

❛ genre | drabble

❛ summary | as a wet nurse, you often need relief.

❛  warnings | breastfeeding, slavery

“Why are you stained?” 

The king had high standards. The best of the best, he claimed. After Baldur and his wife passed in childbirth, he had only gotten crueler. But your presence became a welcome change in his Great Hall while the older women were sent away. 

Now you clean after Ivar’s fits of rage. One he had just moments earlier a symptom of his loneliness. He sat at his table, drinking his rich ale and despite it all, looking put together.

“Oh.” You look to your king. “It is milk.” 

“Milk?” He asks. 

“Milk.” You hold the stick of your broom close, reaching to the bindings that hold your breasts in place underneath your dress. He leans up, placing the large pitcher down. 

“I am a wet nurse.” You clear your throat. “But there is no baby here.” 

Your king falls silent beside his table within his room. It was arranged that you would have been helping the queen with Baldur-- but there was no Baldur. Just s there was no longer a queen. 

“Come here, thrall.” 

You lay down your broom, holding the edge of your skirt to hop over a shattered bowl. Ivar looks curiously to the skirt you drop and admires the way you smooth it back over. You stand before him, hands lacing together. 

He pats his lap.

“My king?” You intone. 

“Well, sit upon me.” 

You swallow; hard and forced. The heavy metal braces of his legs secure his bones-- but in its place you worry that you might still be too heavy. This close, you can smell the ale and sweat mixing from his long day of rule. 

Ivar reaches around the dull brown dress you wear and brings you onto his lap, turning you to face him. He fully expects that you will look to him as he reaches into your dress, loosening the clip on your dress and shoving the bandages over breasts that are hard to the touch. 

“You smell of soiled milk.” He states and of course you do-- you’ve been aching all evening for such release. But first, as any thrall would have to do, you would see to it your work was done. Ivar brings his war pick to the front of your dress, making a small incision so he might more easily touch you.

“I’m sorry. I have no time to relieve myself.”

“You let this go to waste?” Ivar asks. “My mother would never have.”

She was also a queen. He takes your nipple between his finger tips, milking it so that you dribble-- and to your immediate embarrassment, squirt milk from his fingertips.

“Oh Frigg.”

Satisfied with himself, Ivar re-situates you upon his chair. You sit upon either side of him, clutching onto his shoulders as the king brings you forward. Your nipple connects with his lips and so the young king melds your breast in his hand, seeking to bring forth the milk from your breast. You feel the coursing of your let down into his mouth, reddened by Ivar’s passion in milking your breast free of the milk. Then when he is finished, he moves to the other. When he is finally done, he gives your round butt a playful squeeze that motions you to sit back down upon him. 

“Now.” He says. “If you ever need relief, come to me.” 

As he wipes the remnants of milk from his chin, you nod. 

“Yes, my king.”

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope,

[honestsycrets]

Decisions || 5CW: Spoiler

I couldn’t recall if I had posted a piece of decisions-- so here it is.

“(Y/N)?!” 

He imagines that you have fallen. Perhaps broken your hip this time on something as trivial as the floor. 

“The gods have healed you.” 

An impossibly thick voice says behind him. Strong, like a shieldmaiden. Aged, like a bitch. He turns and whirls his axe from its place on his belt. It careens into the wall. Lagertha’s chest twists, old and tired eyes serious, and his hand snaps to his belt. 

“Where is she?” Ivar asks.

[honestsycrets]

Let’s try something new. 

These are my many of my requests for 5CW: Ivar II. I don’t believe that I will be able to finish every single request, but, here is a sneak peek on all the work I have to do.

@alicedopey

[honestsycrets]

Lost Time

Author’s Notes | a sy’s choice to start off the day.

❛ pairing | modern!ivar x babymama!reader

❛ word count | 734

❛ genre | oneshot

❛ summary | ivar has been looking for her for years. he finally finds her

❛  warnings | panic, some angst, baby mama, mention of cheating.

You thought you had been careful.

Avoid all the places he frequented, keep to your side of town and avoid a huge social media life. Well, as far as your little one was concerned. You push through the supermarket toward the exit, nevermind the groceries you had gotten with your six month old cozy in her car seat on your arm.

“Wait!”

Before long you’re hitting asphalt, storming past the maternity and young mother parking toward the end of the parking lot where you had parked secretly, rushing to unlock the car with your hand in the grip of the car door. It had only been a little over a year since you last saw him.

“(Y/N)!”

“(Y/N) Enough!” He made it somehow to you, slamming the door that you were opening shut again. It was more than aggravating to be stopped by him and so you hopelessly look away, reaching again for the door. His muscular frame stands like a solid frame between you and the car. “That’s really enough.”

You bite your lip and turn from him, beginning to turn towards the street. If he was going to be this stubborn, you didn’t need the car. He underestimated how stubborn you could be too. As if putting your next actions together he hunches over, grasping your wrist and tugs you to face him. You hit his chest, your strappy powdery pink chest contrasting against his pure white top, a size too small like you always loved.

“Fucking look at me, (Y/N)!” He shouts abruptly-- and hard. There’s movement in the car seat draped over your arm, but then, nothing. “You leave me because you’re moving home and for some shit reason I can’t go but then, oh then, you show up with a baby on your arm?!”

“I’m sorry.” You swallow, having hoped years ago that you would have never had to have this conversation with him. Your words do nothing but confuse him-- were you sorry because you left him the way you did? Or because he found out?

“Whose baby is it? Because it sure as hell can’t be mine, right?” He inclines his head down, the fibers of his facial hair close enough that they might tickle your glossed lips. Your eyebrows push together and your eyes moisten.

“She is yours.”

“Bullshit.” He snaps. “If it was mine, you wouldn’t have ran.”

“She is your daughter.” You affirm once more. Your hand leaves his chest in order to bring the car seat upon the hood of your car, tucking the blankets on either side of the sleeping baby. You know him to be weak enough to the sight of a new baby that he has to come close-- to see the child that you have hidden away from him for over a year.

She has a tuft of soft, blonde hair-- just like his was as a small child. Minus that red bow headband you had on her head. A strong nose, much to your dismay, and cute little lips. Ivar runs his tongue over his lips dryly, reaching his hand out to caress her soft cheek.

“Then why would you run?” He asks. “Now Mother will want a paternity test.”

“After Freydis cheated on you…” You trail off, knowing that he had fallen for lies from her too. That was until Aslaug demanded a paternity test that left Freydis swallowing a host of pills and Ivar suddenly a new father to a child that was not even his. “...I was scared.”

“So you made me lose out on a year without her? And you?” He says-- hurt. As he speaks, the eyes of your baby spread open, shockingly blue. Ivar leans back in his surprise. He would have readily believed you that this child was his, but the proof, now that was a smack across the face. He visibly brightens, leaning in to run his finger over the girl’s soft cheek.   “I looked for you.” He says.

“I moved home.”

That explains it. He exhales a breath, slipping his arm under the arm of the car seat and looks back towards the store. With little else, he nudges you to take the other arm that works his crutch.

“C’mon, you didn’t finish shopping.”

“You’re staying?” You ask, shyly taking his arm. He ambles back toward the store, smiling toward you.

“Well yeah.” He snorts. “I’m not a deadbeat.”

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke@arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope,

[honestsycrets]

His Cupcake

5cw Modern au w ivar having a crush on you but trying so hard to hide it from you that you ACTUALLY think he hates you, until one way or another you find out his true feelings for you

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ word count | 1377

❛ genre | oneshot

❛ summary | he’s always been an asshole to her. he’d really just like to make up

❛  warnings | implied childhood love, hate and love relationship, embarassment

Boneless was an asshole.

Since grade school he had been the awful kid to put things in your hair, laughing at how your hair would keep onto it. He would steal your favorite snacks in lunch and give you things like, ugh, an apple.

Then in middle school, everything started to change. His low methods of torture began to change when you left away silly things for glossy lipstick and sassy bangles. There was a lot of hate-filled staring from afar. Now in boarding school, your skirts boarded the shortest they could be according to dress code. Hvitserk swore that you were wearing cute little lacy panties underneath.

“They were silky!” Hvitserk says in the elevator to the third floor with his brother. “Pretty little creamy ones too.”

“She’s a dancer.” He says. “She probably doesn’t wear any.”

None of the dancers wore any. They were all in this new age movement of liberation amongst other things. Weird ass shit, he said. He turns the corner to find you in your locker, slipping out your math book and putting back in the history one.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Ivar’s voice echoes down the hall, closing you between the door of the locker and his body held up by the crutch. You clutch the hardcover of your book close to the white button down shirt you wore, shifting in that tiny burgundy skirt.

“Please go away, Boneless. I’m not in the mood.” You say, shifting to leave. Ivar grasps the metal door of the locker and you let loose a short noise of annoyance.

“You’re in the mood now.” He says. His fingers fondle the long burgundy tie you wore, tugging it tight.

“Who the fuck showed you how to tie this?” He nitpicks. “It looks like a fucking mess.”

You duck out from under his arm, darting off toward your next class without so much as a goodbye. You tug your white thigh highs up, a little hiss on your breath as your black lace up flats slap against the tile floor. This was how it always went with him.

He would pin you, insult you and then in math class you would have to sit there and let him be an entire asshole to you. Today, today was special. You weren’t going to let Boneless ruin the fact that today.

There was very little for you to look forward to in boarding school. It wasn’t like there was any family here. As your father said: this is a chance for you to better yourself! Whatever that could mean, you weren’t sure. To your knowledge of what had happened in the past, you hadn’t been a bad girl. So what he was getting at-- anyone could have guessed. You tug the heavy wooden frame of the door open, creaking as it went and walk to your seat.

“Ohhhhhh (Y/N)!”

Fuck.

“Hello Mrs. Andreasen.” You look up. She’s already pushing the limits of your patience when she fondled with the blaring red ribbon of your hair. Her lips are in a bright, wide smile and with a harrowing high tune she squeaks.

“Happy VALENTINE’S day, my sweet! The delivery of flowers is this period! Did a special little somebody buy a special little someone a special flower?” She slaps her hands together.

This again.

“Ivar doesn’t feel emotion, Mrs. Andreasen. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be buying anyone flowers. He hates Valentines just like he hates me.” You report accurately. It was in grade school that Ivar had smashed the chocolate candy filled cupcake you made him in your long hair. That was after the fact that no one had gotten him an intimate gift.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that! You never know what a man is thinking, Miss (Y/N). Hate is close to love and when it comes down to it, all men want to be loved!” She bubbles over to her desk in a long red skirt with the cutest of pink hearts splattered over it. Mrs. Andreasen always had something quirky on. Her white ankle boots reflect her polo top, complete with a pin of big bubbly hearts.

“Where is it oh where-- there it is ah!”  

“Loooooooooooook what I found!” She wags a black notebook in her fingers-- labeled Ivar Ragnarsson. You look to it and your eyes had might as well have bulged because you recognize that notebook as being the personal diary he kept. Other students filter into the room.

“Mrs. Andreasen!” Your teacher pulls herself upon your desk, flashing through the pages. You lurch out to grab it from her but she raises it, wagging her red nails at you which also happened to have pink hearts upon them.

“How did you get that?!” You shout, hushing your voice when Ivar comes into the room.

“Oh just picking the locker at lunch, of course.” She giggles softly and when you lurch toward it again, she allows you to take it from her fingertips. A brief flip through it tells you all you need to know-- and your cheeks pink. Ivar sits in his assigned seat beside you, taking off his black blazer and draping it over his chair. Mrs. Andreasen slips off your desk and tacks over to the front of the class. All of the students pull out their supplies, including you.

“What was that about?” He asks with a sneer. “You failing already? I could tutor you if you want to beg a little.

God, you hated this fucker.

“No, Ivar. I just forgot my notebook in class.” You say curtly. The intercom trills with the final bells.

“Good afternoon class! Now, for today, we will be going over complex numbers. Now, I know how absolutely fun that is but first things are first!” She goes to the closet, scooting out with a little giggle. “Alysia could you help? Dagrún too, yes wonderful!”

You try to ignore the thought that there is any issue with Ivar’s notebook in your bag. You begin to dot out today’s notes with a blaring red pen. As you look up, there is a cart of sharp red roses and to a lesser extent, carnations of pink, white and red variation. Ugh. As someone that never, ever got roses or even cheap ass carnations, you weren’t looking forward to this.

“We have one rose for Tatiana, ohh two for Lucette and three with a carnation for Karni isn’t that sweet. I like the pink! It’s adorable! And (Y/N)!”

“Yes?” You say.

“Now Ivar has gotten you this!” She drops down to grab a vase of big, beautiful roses. You stare at her as she comes over with the clear vase, setting it down upon your desk. Your eye falls upon the roses, looking over to Ivar who wears a far too cocky face. There was at least one-- no, two dozen roses. As you look over to him, he bobs his head just slightly, coursing his tongue over his lower lip. The girls in the class break into their whispers but above all, you have one thought.

Oh, you would get him for this.

Complex numbers weren’t apparently that complex but there was only one thought on your mind when the bells trill again. Ivar had innocently went on his way thinking probably little of what he had done. You, on the other hand, had a lot on your mind.

How dare that asshole embarrass you like that?! Anyone that was anyone knew how you felt about being called out in class and this was the last straw!

“Ivar!” You run toward him, your roses in your arm. Ivar glances off toward them, and then, to you as you came to a stop short of the stairwell.

“Like your flowers?” He asks. You wretch your hand back, colliding your open palm with his cheek. The sound echoes down the steps and when you jerk your hand back, it’s with a forceful sneer to your lips.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve you dick!”

“What--” Ivar’s flat brows push together, mouth spreading apart to reflect his confusion.

“Shut up!”

Then you disappear down the stairwell. That was why a man should never buy a woman flowers, he thinks, they go crazy.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke@arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope, @chinduda

[honestsycrets]

Lies By Omission

❛ pairing | ivar x stripper!reader

❛ word count | 2562 

❛ genre | one shot

❛ summary | you love ivar, but you never told him what you did for a living.

❛  warnings | nervous reader, lies, betrayal, lapdancing on a brother’s lap, mention of drag queen.

Bachelor party.

One in a million.

“Who do you think booked it, Mama?” You ask, rubbing deep red lipstick upon your pouty lips. You twist the silvery portion of your mac lipstick to replace it where it belonged in your black travel make up bag. A heavy dousing of spray made sure your face wouldn’t move during performance. Because, after all, that wasn’t hot. It was only hot when your lipstick gave the slightest smear for those lucky enough to receive the slightest brush of your lips.

“Now don’t worry about it, Bunny. I hear it's some big shot, hot shot fresh off the line ceo. He’ll treat you real good.” Mama says from behind olive green feathers of her prop fan. She was into that whole burlesque thing. It suited her. She often led these strip parties on for the doomed man to be. You watch her drag the soft feathers of her fan across the green jeweled top that propped up her faux deep breasts dusted in gold. Mama always glittered like golds upon dusky rock.

You on the other hand sit on the supposed piece that Alfred advised you to wear that night. A muted red Chantilly bra with a matching g-string. It could have been classified as being sweet with lace fringe if not for the strappiness of the cage bra and strings that slap across your hips. You take a great sigh as you slip out of your previous outfit from just a hour ago and pull the bra carefully over pierced nipples. A combination pack when considering the fact your belly button was pierced too… and maybe, just maybe, something else.

“I’m overthinking Alfred’s promise.” You answer, looking into the mirror that stretches along the dressing room. You run your stiletto nails through your hair, mussing it into place. Mama stops applying the golden pad of makeup to her chest and spins her thick body around in her stool to run her thick fingers through a bouncy lock of your hair.

“He keeps ‘em.” She reassures you. You reach a manicured hand up to hers, teasing your nails along her long digits. You purse a smile, lips spreading while you give her a little sigh.

“But what if he finds out?” You ask.

“A real man ain’t gonna have you catering to his ego. Tell him or lose the bonus weight already, baby.” Mama turns back to herself, fixing her head full of bouncy ringlet curls. You step off of the stool to check your heels just as there is a knock on the door.

“Mama, the party is here!”

“Sounds good sweetheart.” Mama pops up onto high, high, higher heels than yours. Her vivacious green eyeshadow highlight deep chocolate eyes. She stands up higher than you, offering out her arm to yours. “Show tiiimmme!”

Alfred's faux classy dance bar was something that was considered the best of places. For the girls in this sort of ‘lifestyle’ or so Alfred called it, he promised a lot. For such a large clientele he had, there were separate areas. You had only been in this section a few times. Mama taught you how to dance and, well, that’s what you were meant to be doing today.

Mama would lead and take care of the whole arrangement from top to bottom. Drinks, company, a backstage arrangement to which the cops were thoroughly paid off for and Alfred claimed nothing over. Your hips chase the beat of Mama’s song choice long before anyone ever came in. You had to, well, get yourself in the right mood at first. You eyelids hood somewhat with your hand around the cool metal of the bar.

Opal would be spinning around the opposite pole in her white sheening lingerie, a sensual motion following ethereal fabrics until she would cast it off. Valerie and Fiona were thrown about, somewhere you couldn’t really account for with the rightful strobing of light. The music bled into your ears, fueling your hips to take to their own beat. Slide down, baby, do that slut drop those bad boys wanna see.

You’re a good girl, aren’t you?

Would I be here if I was? You recall telling Mama the first time you pulled those thigh highs way up your bare skin.

Not if you’re gonna make it.

The piercing whistle pulls you from your activity, focusing away from the cloaked figures watching mama’s show and--

“Hey Bunny.” Sitting just below you were two women. A blonde and a brunette, seemingly enamored with one another. But the voice belongs to a male. And… it isn’t your Mama, so who is calling you?

Then you do what you really shouldn’t have. But… what you had to, looking for the keeper of the voice. Two boys approach where you dance around a pole-- a blond with long hair braided back into a ponytail. His nearly non-existent eyebrows pull up, holding up a crisp twenty dollar bill in his lithe hands and in his eye, the look of the snake. You stop cold of working your ass around the cold metal of the pole, bent over so your breasts jiggle almost out of the chantilly lace.

Sigurd… Sigurd Snake in the Eye. His hand palms himself through his pants as he looks to you, square and deadpan in the eye. It isn’t so much him that you fear, but rather, the man on the other side of that tiny table. He watches you.

Dread hits you cold and hard-- seeing another set of blue eyes popped and wide. Then as if they come to peace with that realization, his eyes come back to speed. Barely watching, narrowed. His lips pull into a thin line.

“Don’t run.” He mouths sitting beside his brother. The look of a predator if you could compare it to one. Sure, all the men had a similar look. But he-- he knew what he owned and he owned you in that very moment.

You step down the steps, each step with a warm pop until you stand in front of him. Sigurd Snake in the Eye leans forward, tucking the wad of cash into the panty line of your pants. It was, after all, a topless bar. Then he leans back cognizant of how hard his brother’s head had snapped around, following him past the dark brown hair tumbling over one shoulder.

“How can I help you, Sigurd?”

“A lap dance.” The blonde hisses. “So my brother can watch.”

Shake it off, shake it off.

“No touching.” You start with a raise in your hips, dropping slowly on one side and then another between his legs. Sigurd watches with evident pleasure as you glide down, coursing your hands across his thighs and up his shirt. Your breasts rake their way against him. You raise and turn, bending your legs slightly. You set your hands to your knees, rolling your round ass in that tiny little string against his jeans.

A small hiss escapes Ivar’s lips.

Then-- you feel his dick straining his jeans. It’s obvious he’s enjoying this. The mix between tormenting his brother and feeling your ass barely touch down on his dick and lift up as you shake it up and down for no one else’s pleasure but his own. But you’re not so stupid as to ignore Ivar sitting across the table.

Hands flexing. Fingers tightening and releasing.

The tease drips into dangerous territory when you at long last drop your hips on Sigurd’s lap, grinding him in the best of ways. Ah, that was it. That was just what he wanted, his slender fingers dangled the rim of his cup, running his tongue across his thin lips. You slip off of his lap yet again, making him groan in disapproval. Soon enough though, you straddle his thighs, leaning in with a roll of your torso. The straps of your bra slip down your shoulders, giving Sigurd a nice eyeful of the tits that nearly spillover out. You shake your breasts at him, clearing your rising and falling upon him.

Then, with nothing else, you slip off his lap. Sigurd slides a crisp bill between your straps on your hips, then with nothing else to do, drinks the last of his drink. You nearly go back up the stairs when you hear it.

“M’ere, pretty bitch.”

With the music, you’re not really sure how Mama has heard. But she has, snapping her head around. You motion your fingers down and look to Ivar holding out his folded wad of cash with that tall tale look that says-- well, this was the one. Her puffy lip pouts out, a small shake in her head. She moves back to Ubbe and tips his cup, spilling the alcohol all over his throat.

You stride over in only a few steps, plucking the money from his fat, short fingers. A hundred. You pocket the money on your string that Ivar has an iron clad gaze upon, his nostrils flaring in what you can only deem is hate. You motion him in that direction. He shifts to sit up in his chair, abandoning his crutch and swirling his drink.

“Well?” He says. “Get on with it.”

“Ivar--”

“No, no you wanted this job. So go ahead. I paid you and everything.”

Like with Sigurd before, you step up to Ivar. Not quite in front of him, but not tar enough that he couldn’t touch either. You pull your hips up and down, rolling them and smoothing out the motions to your hips in front of them. Ivar sneers, unpleased with your motions. Even this pisses him off, you can see it in the intensity of his gaze.

The pump of the music isn’t the only thing giving you a headache now.

It’s the dread in not knowing what he was thinking. You know a portion of what he was thinking. All the days that you laid in his bed with lies. So, so many lies. I work as overnights, you had told him. But… nothing like this. You smooth your hips between his legs, and somewhere along the way, Ivar’s hand has drifted behind your neck to pull you up over his body. You allow it, letting him pull off your top. It was, after all, a topless nightclub for the right price. To be honest, that price could have been as simple as a dollar.

You lean forward over his chest, straddling his lap with unabashed effort this time. It was more than a shake of your tits and swirl of your hips. It was almost a fight for the relationship that you so desperately wanted with him-- despite the information that you hadn’t given him. Ivar senses that, dropping his hand down to meld your covered pussy.

It’s breaking all of the rules that Alfred set in place.

Clients couldn’t touch. No sex in the nightclub.

All of that for him.

“Turn around. Facing the stage.” You hastily obey with his command. After setting his drink on the empty table, Ivar’s free hand moves to your jaw. He snatches you, forcing your lips on his with every sweet roll of your hips rubbing down upon his lively cock behind his jeans.

“You didn’t tell me.” Ivar says, peeling away you thin panties. You turn your face toward him, closing your thighs around his hand. His fingers playfully stretch and wiggle around your inner lips, stroking you to front until he hit your warm entrance.

“You would have broken up with me.” You complain.

“Isn’t that my choice, mm?”

It was true… but, jealously you don’t want him to go. He was yours! You couldn’t imagine losing him because of something so trivial as a job. If Mama could see this now, she probably would have marched her glittering ass over there and smacked you a good one.

Do what you gotta to keep what you want, she told you once.

“How are you going to make up for your lies?” Ivar whispers into your ear, warm puffs of alcohol smelling breath against your ear. Your hips move on their own against his hand, grinding against him with a desperate need to feel forgiven.

“Anything.” You say. “I’ll do anything.”

After a long pause, Ivar lets out a small congealed moan of his pleasure. Then with no further words, he buries his middle finger within your moist walls fully expecting that your pussy will be ready for more.

“Ride my hand then. In front of all my brothers.”

It wasn’t just his brother there-- Mama, Alfred and other strippers were there too. To keep him though, you would do whatever necessary. Especially if you were in the wrong, rolling your hips down his fingers like it was Sigurd’s lap earlier. It isn’t long before he adds another finger, leaning back to drink his cup while you ooze over his fingertips. He finishes his cup, dropping it onto the table when Sigurd catches his attention. He’s come again, non-apologetically watching on the edge of the stage.

“You always were a creep.” Ivar says, bringing the hand on his alcohol around to gently massage your clit, forcing you to quake.

“Is he watching?” You whisper lowly under your breath.

“Yes.” Ivar says. “Keep going princess, you’re opened so beautifully.”

As you lift off his fingers this time, he adds one more finger. It aches your walls to take three of his fat fingers without the lube that he usually would finger you with when you were so close to orgasm. Ivar however knows that, shifting his nose to the side of your neck to lay soft encouraging kisses.

“You’re doing so good for me.” He whispers.

“(Y/N)?” Another voice-- this time, you recognize it as being Afred who stops in front of you. Your eyes close shut, enjoying the frantic pounding of Ivar’s fingers and love to your clit. It would be a big no-no what you were doing. “You know the rules.”

Fuck the rules, you think.

“Oh, c’mon Alfred.” Ivar lifts off your neck, pulling your legs up to your chest instead while fingering you in just the right place. “I know you’re not as innocent as you look.”

When you cum, its with a hard scream. You spill over his fingers, rather squirting upon Alfred who is close enough to be boot to boot with Ivar. He lets loose a small little laugh while you ride it out, but then smacks your ass to stand up.

“C’mon baby girl, let’s go.” He props his crutch under his arm, avoiding the mess you’ve made. Alred steps back so that you might look for your bra, clipping a bit in place. Even Mama has her hands on her hips-- but its with a mischievous little smile that she looks with you.

“Where are we going, Daddie?” You ask Ivar while putting on your bra.

“To get your things. Then to my father’s stripclub.”

“Why there?” You ask him, taking his arm while guiding him to the dressing room where you gather your things from your chair. When you turn back to him, Ivar lifts your chin up so that he might warmly kiss you.

“I don’t mind you dancing. But its going to be on my terms.”

He was always a jealous man. Sigurd would be your last lap dance.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke@arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope,   @chinduda

[honestsycrets]

Spoiling with Ivar

“How do we say please, baby girl?” Ivar held his newest present above his head. A white box with a beautiful dark red bow. Inside of the box was a gift. What kind of gift this time you don’t know. 

“Please Daddie?” You reach, sliding your core over his dark slacks. “Please?” 

He lowers the box to your fingertips. A smile brightening across his lips when you squeal in delight for your newest toy.

“That’s my name.” 

Just call him Daddie.

He likes to see the face on other people when you do it in public. 

There’s something attractive about the discomfort on other people’s faces.

And maybe the little blush on your cheeks too.

Babygirl is his favourite pet name but he’s known to use my love. 

Tends to prefer a girl that doesn’t ask for things.

That way he can spoil her blind without feeling as if he’s pressured into doing it. 

But wants a girl that will ride his thigh when she gets something pretty. 

Has learned from his mother to spoil with everything-- affection, money and his love. 

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope,

[honestsycrets]

First Kicks

A/N | I feel like this one would best fit Ivar and Reader during their first pregnancy.

❛ pairing | irreplaceable!ivar x reader

❛ word count | 936

❛ genre | oneshot

❛ summary | once baby uxi learns how to kick, he doesn’t stop. someone should tell him that you’d like to sleep.

❛  warnings | uxi being a shit

The midwives all told you that this was natural.

Some days would be better than others. On those ‘some days’ the baby would move. Or rather, Uxi would move. Your child was a wild little boy, twisting about in your stomach and keeping you awake. Since the little one had learned that he could move, god, you felt it all the time. It was easy to deal with on his nights with Kitta. It was a game. You would simply run your palm over the top of your belly and chase his little movements with ticking fingers.

Today was your day, and today, Ivar came to warm your bed. After some, ehm, more than active sex riding your king, Uxi had been on the warpath. After taking care of a late night squabble in Kattegat’s square, Ivar had fallen asleep and it only took a few moments rolled away from him for you to feel the strain of little kicks in your stomach. With those movements, you angled yourself so your stomach would not be upon the bed. A king was always busy. You didn’t want to be the source of his lack of sleep.

The hours ticked by. The clouds rolled past the night sky. You knew that it was soon to be morning as the raven that sat looking through the small hole in the wall had arrived as he always did, early in the morning. Eventually, you relent to Uxi’s little fit and pull yourself from bed. Your toes skim the thick furs under your feet.

“Where are you going?” Ivar rasps with a voice laden in sleep. 

The slippery man he was, he always seemed to notice when you escaped the bed. Usually to piss but with all the silent-not-so-silent twists you had been doing, obviously he took notice more than that. You stop from supporting the weight of your stomach, looking back towards him.

“I can’t sleep.” You say.

“I couldn’t tell.” He reaches up to the handle of his bed so that he might swing over and sit beside you. “What is it?”

“I…” You stutter, looking for another excuse. A man could not understand your pains and woes. After all, if you told him that your son was kicking, what would he do? Laugh and say that it was going to happen? “I feel cold. I was going to get another fur.”

Ivar slides off of the bed without another word, tugging his naked body through a puzzle of furs to the chest where you keep your warmest of furs from home. He slips out one of your favourite silver ones and slithers back to you. You look down upon your husband with a small, unwitting smile.

“Now can we go to sleep?” He asks while pulling himself back up on the bed. He pulls apart the covers expecting that you will move back into your side of the bed. Except this time, he holds his arm out to you. “If you are cold, lay in my arms.”

Oh god, there’s no getting out of that one.

If you denied him, he’d think something was wrong. If he thought something was wrong, you would never get out of this. But… on the otherhand, if you said yes, he would know. You clutch the fur, praying that your sweet son would stop his assault on your stomach and crawl into line under his tattooed arm. You set your cheek on the wings of the inky tattoo, bringing your other hand to rest upon his chest. Ivar sets the new fur on top of your bodies before lifting the warm sheets to drape over the both of you.

“What is that?” Ivar asks in no time at all. Your round belly was against his flat stomach and of course, he wasn’t being a good boy. No, he was squirming against Ivar’s muscles and making your cheeks heat.

“Your son…” You murmur, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“My son?” Ivar asks, pulling you back enough that your might affirm what he thought was going on.

“He’s growing strong.” You bring your fur up to your lips, hiding behind the fuzzy thing. Ivar doesn’t permit it a second longer, shifting up so that his forearm was propped himself up to hover over you. He removes the fur from your stomach, leaning down after gathering your nightdress over the swell.

He waits with evident excitement until the moment that he sees the movement of the little boy’s leg drift across your stomach. Delight strikes his face, immediately waking him for the day. On the other hand you wanted nothing more but to sleep!

“I think your mother wants to sleep, little one.” Ivar says, drifting his large hand down to your stomach. He delights in the comparison of his huge hand against the baby’s small one. Small, affectionate strokes of his fingertips attempt to soothe him back into his slumber.

“Or for your sonr to stop kicking my ribs.” You say.

“Is that possible?” Ivar asks. “He is showing you his love.”

Love hurt, that much was for sure. You look to your husband with heavy eyelids. Ivar seems to have woken up, bending down to plant several affectionate kisses over the round swell. Everything feels so, so--- so much!

“Ivar… I want to sleep.” You say, running your hands over his head.

“You can sleep when I must leave.” Ivar whispers to your stomach. “This is the first I have felt of him. You can’t deny me him.”

It doesn’t sound like you’re getting any sleep any time soon.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke@arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope, @chinduda

[honestsycrets]

Lips Shut

Author’s Notes | request finished for @lol-haha-joke

❛ pairing | ivar x reader, ivar x reader x bisexualdoppelganger!oc, implied!heahmund x ivar x reader

❛ word count | 1407

❛ genre | one shot (so not a drabble)

❛ summary | who is that fucker looking at his wife?

❛  warnings | bisexual tones, light violence

Like many men, Ivar thought that he had the most lovely bride that night.

But you were more than that, you were his beaming ray of light. Quite honestly though! The wedding dress you acquired was from your homeland. Where women wore clothes he considered scant and embroidered with tons and tons of gold. Wearing any pants would have been an absolute rejection from him. He had a clear dream filled belief of what his wedding night would be but this beautiful top was something he couldn’t deny. It was short, exposing some of your midriff and etched in gold. Your deep red skirt should have been modest-- but it was marred by the fact that anyone else could have been seeing what he thought only he should be seeing.

As you popped your wrists, dangling bangles from your wrist half way up your tattooed arms, Ivar had been watching. His eyes drape across the gold gaundy necklace gleaming under his eye, admiring a small pop of your hips in this silly dance that reminded him of his brother Sigurd stroking the oud.

But most of all-- he saw the sight of one of his earl’s watching your hips undulate and pop. The man was far, far too confident in his advances. Perhaps it was the striking likeness to himself that made him so confident. His hair was cropped short on the sides, combed back with long sweeps around his ears. The most striking feature was their likeness to one another. The same flat forehead and eyebrows, clear blue eyes…

The earl, however, had playful eyes. You smooth over the ground in long sweeps, exposing your ankles donned in gold and jingling bells. You had been uncomfortable dancing for all the men of his bridal party but your husband insisted. As a good wife, you obliged him.

But there was someone else at this bridal party-- someone that Ivar hadn’t thought twice of inviting. The man was strange. He watched you just as Ivar did. Yet when Ivar caught his gaze, the earl would bring his drink up to his lip and look at him with flirtatious excitement. The fuck did he think he was looking at? He was looking at his bride! As you laugh and make your way up to him, sitting on your newfound throne beside him, Ivar flicks his fingers toward the newcomer.

“Who is that?” He asks you.

“Hm?” You drink of his horn. The earl watches in the silence of his table, taking a long swig of his own alcohol. “Earl Andsson?”

“You know him?” Ivar asks in a voice tinted by dark interest.

“Well yes.” You giggle. “I thought he was you more than once.”

Before Ivar responds, you sit up in your throne. The earl has come up the steps, clearing his throat with his head bowed just slightly. He lifts his hand, a small wave in his fingertips. He holds in his fingers a fine necklace of pearl and gold.

“My queen, this-- this is for you.” He presents it to you, cautiously dropping it onto your lap. You reach down to take it as he looks to his king, coursing his tongue over the side of his lip.

“Oh-- It’s stunning.” You note.

“You’re beautiful.” He blathers out. “So I-- I thought you would enjoy this. My wife Mús thought it was too flashy. It suits you.”

“It’s beautiful… but it is so big.” You say. The earl clears his throat.

“I can… I can help you. If you’d like.”

He’s adorably awkward. Without Ivar’s permission you slide your hair over your shoulder, allowing for him to come forward. He loosens the clasp of your necklace and takes his own to apply it to your neck. When he steps back, it’s with Ivar’s disdain. Jealousy boils, then overturns. Ivar’s hand darts out to tug the man’s wrist forward, dragging him into his body. Ivar forces his face into the young earl’s.

“What do you think you are doing, hm?” He barks in the man’s face. “Seducing my wife on our wedding day?”

To his shock, and partial abject horror, the man doesn’t shirk in his fear. No, rather than do that… he shivers. The fucker actually shivers as if touching him in such a way was no threat to him at all! In the place of fear, excitement. He liked this. Andsson keeps his eyes on his, leaning into his touch.

“I hoped I was seducing you too.”

What. Ivar leans back from the man. He wears a dumb, shock filled look. After all, he never heard a man tell him such a thing! He heard rumour of Rollo and Ragnar sharing that witch Lagertha, all of his brothers with Margrethe… Floki with Torstein, so he recounted to him.

But to sexualize him? He was a cripple! Ivar brings his warpick to his hair, scratching his head with a small ‘hm’ slipping from his lips.

“You are an ergi.” He states, looking around as if to recoup his pride from what was going on. You hold your horn as Ivar speaks with the man standing in his modest creamy white tunic. He’s admittedly handsome with his brown slacks stuffed into dark leather boots.

“Partially.” He admits. “For the right men.”

Ivar shifts his head, darting his eyes place to place while trying to actually reason whatever the hell was going on. His hand rakes over the small fibers of his mustache. Then he looks to see you giggling behind your cup.

“Do I have the manners of an argr, hm? What interest would I have in the ass of a man?” Ivar snaps as if trying to search out his own unmanly behaviour in the lot of his overly masculine traits. Or what he thought were masculine traits.

“Have you never been curious?”

You saw it coming first. Ivar fists his hand in the man’s crisp white tunic, thrusting his forehead forward to collide in with the other man’s. Andsson drops back like a heavy weight, leaving Ivar with a bruising headache and, yes, probably a painful break in his face. It was worth it though for his manliness!

“I think that would be a no.” You answer for your husband, reaching over to take his hand. Andsson recovers sloppily on the ground as his men come to help him back up. “I would suggest leaving before he strips you of your earldom and burns you.”

As they exit the Great Hall, you turn to your husband with a smile.

“Did you have to be so harsh with him?” You ask. Ivar nurses his headache, hardly looking up despite his small grown.

“We did sleep with Heahmund, did we not?”

Ivar takes a swig of his drink. “You promised we would not speak of that.”

You nod with a gentle sweep of your head, standing up and moving in front of him. You reach out, taking his hands in yours while still giggling. Ivar doesn’t know why! He doesn’t find this so funny.

“Of course, husband.”

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope, @chinduda   

[honestsycrets]

Feels Like Home

Could I please request 42. You’re always on my mind and 44. You’ve always felt like home for your fluff irreplaceable 1k celebration? And congratulations!

❛ pairing | ivar x irreplaceable!reader

❛ word count | 995

❛ genre | one shot 

❛ summary | ivar returns home after a long time at home. he’s excited to have his hands on his wife again, but not for the reasons she thinks

❛  warnings | nervous reader

Being the one to travel outside of the marriage with Sverri, you supposed that you always had these fears that Ivar would find another wife. If it had happened with Kitta, though be it of her own choosing, could it be done to you? You had done your job well, carrying his children with no thought as to your own well being. The constant strain of children in your womb made you worry-- but none like not being with child.

It was… scarier than actually being pregnant.

Nevermind that Ivar’s heavy hand would be following you everywhere you went while pregnant-- it was the fear of Ivar’s eye not being upon you while you were. You sat upon the edge of your seat running kohl across your eyelid, body flat with the lack of child in your womb.

“The king is home, my queen.” Your thrall said beside you. You had been careful to care for yourself in his absence. You finish lining the last of the kohl and swiftly apply the foreign rouge to your lips before standing. Normally your hand would be upon your stomach, but now, it was flat. 

“Where is my queen?” Ivar bellowed from the Great Hall. You can tell-- as anyone could-- your husband was drunk. You breach the buckled divider of your room, walking out to stand before him beside your two oldest sons. 

“There she is, isn’t she beautiful?” Ivar holds out a gloved hand to you. You take his calloused hand. Swiftly he pulls you forward. You bump against his chest, resting your own hand on the side of his neck. His long braids drape down his strong back.

“You’re home.” You say softly. Ivar is overly affectionate. His lips trail dominant kisses over your neck to your shoulder while you giggle gently, looking away past Veifnr who clears his throat with purpose.

“It seems father is not going to wait the three days.” He tells his brother. Ivar turns you around in his grip, gently rocking you against his body.

“I’m home.” He whispers and though drunk, you certainly recognize your Ivar past the ale on his lips. He tugs the silken line of your collar stubbornly over one of your bare shoulders.

“Ivar don’t undress me!”

“Why deny me?” He hums. “You’re always on my mind.”

Your king sways with you to the backroom, rocking teasingly. He stops short of your bed, falling back upon it and motioning his fingers to your dress. You tug the ties of your dress before leaning down to take the silken edges. A short few seconds later you peel off your dress and loosen the banding about your breasts.

“Like this?” You say.

Ivar leans back in his bed, using his arms to tug him back upon the sheets. You crawl after him expecting the usual. Your husband would ravish you in bed and you both would pray to the gods that they weren’t offended by your lack of respect for their most holiest of traditions. Ivar holds his hand out to you, helping you crawl over to him.

“Like this.” He tucks you against the heavy armour of his chest, tugging one of your legs over his hips while he sits with you.

“Are we just going to lay here? Your men… they want to celebrate coming home.” You run your thumb over his short black moustache unable to deny the fact that several of your sweet little children were out there. The men were feasting, the women drooling over them and all lacked their king and queen.

He took her back already?

Of course he did! He makes her sing more than the skalds!

Your cheeks redden with Ivar’s large hand cupping your body, littered by the scars not of war-- but of motherhood. Ivar takes your lips with his, the rouge of your lips staining his with every movement. It smears upon his lips.

“Let them celebrate with theirs and I with mine. You’ve always felt like home.” Ivar hums. Even with Kitta? He reads the words on your lips, silencing your thoughts when he runs his dry lips against yours for a pleasant closed mouth kiss.

“Yes.” He answers. “More than Kitta. What is it, (Y/N)? You look uncertain.”

“I am always uncertain when I am without children.”

It was his fault-- he knew that those words he bellowed years and years ago had always stuck with you: The ONLY reason I took you as my wife was to have a womb to give me children! He cringes as he relives the moment you hid from him.

“I enjoy you being without child.” He states, rippling his fingers down to grab your ass playfully. You smack his fingers off when he continues. “I can have you all to myself.”

“What if you find someone else?” You ask.

“I won’t.”

“But how can I be sure?” You ask again.

“You are the only home I need to come to, my love.” He teases with his knuckle brushing your warm cheek. “Besides. If I have the dottir of Freyja, what woman would even come close?”

He’s gotten softer and softer over the years. Perhaps, though, that is welcome. He slides your hair over your shoulder, running his fingers through the long tumbling locks of hair. Your hair was always long and luxurious-- just like your mothers. He wears no sign of a lie upon his face. Your lips quirk with a pleased smile.

“You sound as comfortable with those words as fadir did. In fact, you begin to look like him, so the old women tell me.”

“Have I aged that badly?” He asks. Your fingers run over the stubble upon his chin, dragging out to his much more full sideburns. He could never grow a very good beard-- something that your people would have laughed at Hvitserk and he for.

“A little.” You respond.

“But you won’t get rid of me.” He hums. “Mm?”

At that you just smile. If you hadn’t got rid of him to this point, why would you? You settle for a kiss instead, caressing the side of his face. 

“I had chance to if I was going to, didn’t I?”

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[honestsycrets]

A Weak Spot

hi sy, can i request a fic where Hvitserk sells Ivar out to be king of Kattegat with a dark reader and non-dub con?

author’s note | this is the only non-con i’ll write today.

❛ pairing | ivar x obsessed!reader

❛ word count | 963

❛ genre | drabble

❛ summary | ivar wakes up somewhere strange. 

❛  warnings | kidnapping, victim-- ivar, selling brother, obsessed reader, bad witchy things, non-con, ivar’s first time.

Oh you knew he would try to kill you for this humiliation, but that was the fun in it. King Ivar the Boneless, king of Kattegat-- and he was all yours. It had been a feet to steal him away from Whitehair and Kattegat but you took your chances.

Here he was, warm in your bed. His wrists were delightfully tight above his head bound in shackles that he could not easily escape from. It couldn’t have been comfortable. Yet it was with the warm crackle of the fire inside the cabin and a sweet smelling grassy cauldron fresh with your latest of potions to fill his mind with the best of dreams.

He didn’t even feel you tear his tunic apart and slide his trousers off, looking over the bandaged section of his stomach where you had stabbed him prior to that day. Now here you were, trailing kisses down his broad throat to his smooth chest. Your fingers course over his nipples. You let your hand shift down to grind down upon his flaccid cock. Not for long-- slowly you worked him under the magic of this spell that tingles in the warm air.

“Nnn… Frey...dis.” He begins to moan. It’s slow at first under your warm kisses peppering down his stomach, his hips lifting and dropping as your mouth moved closer… and closer… and closer to his dick. Your lips barely graze his head, teasing him to hardness. When you suddenly reach toward the warmed oil, having let it cooled down in front of the fire you dare pour it over his dick, he lurches awake. It’s slippery and wet, pooling under his ass most uncomfortably.

The first thing he does is jerk his hands, just as you had thought. The shackles pull tight and so his legs shift forcefully. His jeweled eyes pop open, bright and wide looking around for his wife that is well, nowhere in sight.

“If you kick too much,” You hum. “You’ll break your bones.”

“Who are you?!” He snaps. “What the hell are you doing?”

You jerk him to hardness, slapping your hands on top of his tattooed chest. Ivar’s eyes dart down to his cock, hard against his lower stomach. To his shock you straddle him, rolling your hips over his hard cock with force. Your pussy could have been dripping, excited for him and him alone.

“U--ugh…” He grunts. “You stupid cocksucking bitch… did you really think I’d want this?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get into it.” The more you warm him, the more he’ll like it. His wild eyes settle over your shifting breasts while you rub over him, flicking your thumbs over his nipples. His teeth grit together, grinding foully while you move against him. His cheeks pinken slowly and its slowly evident that he begins to enjoy this. It was a pleasure he denied himself-- perhaps out of the stress of his life. He was into more interesting things: battle, for one, excited him more than he could say.

“Oh my king, it’s always hard until you let yourself enjoy it.”

With an abrupt shift of your hips, Ivar watches you alternate your hand down to line him up with your sopping wet hole, sticky in the slippery oil glistening your bodies.

“Don’t you dare--” Then, you slide him inside. Ivar lets loose a harsh moan, bouncing from wall to wall of your cabin.

“Fuck why is it so tight!” He cusses, his toes a tight curl. He’s never had a woman before. His soft cock had failed him with Margrethe, but this time, he was so evidently deep within you that he couldn’t even help himself. Your oily hands glide over your breasts, using your legs to support riding him with effort. Smoothly you glide up and down his cock, mashing him deeply inside when you come down upon his hips.

“Please-- please.” He gasps out, barely cognizant of what he is saying. The words spill off of his tongue like a wildfire, shaking under your round ass that takes him for all he’s worth.

“Please what, my king, hm?” You pinch your nipples then release hold of them. Ivar has shut his eyes tight to deny himself of the pleasure.

“I am going to cum--”

“Go ahead, my king. Make me a mommie, hm?”

Oh fuck-- no, no-- Freydis. The thought bounces around his mind, trying to convince himself not to cum deep inside of your pussy that almost feels as if its squeezing around him the closer he gets to his orgasm. It hasn’t been long, but he won’t last.

“I can’t.” He repeats a hundred times over. Your hand slips behind his neck, forcing him to look at you.

“You can.”

The King gives a forceful whimper when he cums, filling your pussy with thick cum that kisses your deepest of walls. The harsh sobs of his orgasm fill the wall-- catching the ear of the newcomer who closes the cabin door behind him.

“You’ve done it?”

Was that… Hvitserk? Ivar lifts his hand, panting with his chest rising and dropping.

“Of course.” You turn over your shoulder, lifting off of Ivar’s softening cock. You shift back to suckle the juices from Ivar’s dick. “It was a good trade, Hvitserk.”

“Done what?” Ivar sneers from the bed, lurching against his binds. Hvitserk glances over to his brother, a wicked smile on his lips. The innocent brother of all his brothers, or so he thought, just carries on.

“Then you can keep him.” He hands a bag of coins to you and oh how delightfully you giggle. It suddenly hits Ivar like a heavy brick-- the reason behind asking Ivar to come see a weak spot on the outer wall of Kattegat.

“I should have killed you--”

“Thank you King Hvitserk.”

[honestsycrets]

More Than Her Legacy IV: The Sword of Kings

Author’s Notes | see my masterlist for prior chapters. this is the last in this series.

❛ pairing | sigtryggr ivarsson x reader, sigtryggr x ivar (platonic

❛ word count | 1298

❛ genre | multi-series

❛ summary | sigtryggr returns home for his wedding empty handed

❛  warnings | heavy angst, deadbeat dad comes around

As he steps off the boat looking toward his uncle, he knew that he had failed in his mission. With all of his heart, he had tried to do what was asked of him. Yet-- he failed. He most definitely failed. He tried to reason with what he might tell Ubbe when he returned home. Perhaps that his father was curt and didn’t want to speak to him? He wouldn’t have his father’s sword at his wedding, and so, he had to work around that.

Ubbe steps up with his hair in tight rolls bundled into a braid trailing down to his ass. Torvi clutches his arm as they step together. Sigtryggr’s flat eyebrows push together, blue eyes twinkling in the softness they look to him with. They had always… always… been like this. They had always cared about him where father did not.

“Did he give you the sword at least?” Torvi looks out to Sigtryggr’s solemn eyes.

“No.” He answers. “He doesn’t approve of my marriage to (Y/N).”

There was no reason why, and yet, he hoped that for once Ivar could. For him-- for his son. Sigtryggr’s hand falls down from his black armour baring the mark of a raven. Torvi’s eyes dart about until she moves her other hand forward.

“He is Ivar the Pitiless, Sigtryggr.” She consoles. Her hand falls from his shoulder.

“I know.” He sighs. “I only wished…”

“You may use my sword.”

His uncle’s hand comes around to the shaved sides of Sigtryggr’s head, soothing him with his thumb massaging apologetically over the runes tattooed down the side of his head. His chest swells this time, full without the feeling that he was so used to-- rejection. The film of his eye seems to moisen with his glee but he holds it, looking down to his feet. Father tormented him with his softness. He couldn’t be soft yet again.

“Thank you uncle.” He nods, looking back to the boat where his younger sister hikes up her long skirts to step off the boat. A little clumsily-- and Sigtryggr darts in their direction. “I better get my sisters off that boat.”

The second that the young boy steps away, Torvi turns up her head toward Ubbe.

“He really rejected him?” She asks. Ubbe tilts his head watching Sigtryggr grab his younger sister just under her waist, hiking her up and stepping off the boat. There is a plank leading from the boat to the pier-- but they could never do things that easily, now, could they?

“He’s never gotten over her death.” Ubbe draws out a sigh.

“Then the solution was to reject his only son with her?” Torvi attempts to see the reason in that. There’s no way that he could to begin with.

“You know my brother. He’s stubborn.” He looks toward Sigtryggr who repeats the treatment to all of his sisters, pulling the youngest around in a little spin. “But I always hoped he could work it out for him.”

“My love!” Then at long last he waves toward you standing at the very end of the pier, waving. Almost adorably he winds his fingers through Helga’s and runs for your direction. Ubbe’s hand comes to Torvi’s wound around his elbow.

“We are more than enough family for him.” Torvi shakes her head just slightly. It’s Ubbe’s sincere hope that he was right. After all-- the wedding was in only days.

It was your wedding day. Everything was meant to be happy, good times. You had yet to see Sigtryggr but you were sure he would look like a little stud. You smooth over the hem of your dress as your father sets upon your head a red flower bridal crown.

“How does it look?” You ask your mother, turning around in the long dress. Blaeja’s hand comes to her chest, smiling.

“It’s beautiful, (Y/N).” She had been there through much of the marital preparations and now… well, it was about time. Sigtryggr’s jaunty laugh in sacrificing animals to the the gods had marked time to go!

On your way out of the tent, you encountered a strange sight. Torvi’s sword was drawn from her side. Initially you don’t recognize the older man with a soft, short beard. But then, upon second look, it’s your uncle’s cane. His hand is tight with tension around his sword.

“Why don’t you go home?” She leers at him. At your side, Sigurd drops his hand from his wife’s waist in exchange for his axe, stepping up to his sister in law’s side.

“I want to see my son.” Ivar says.

“You had your chance. Ubbe is with him now.” Your father says. Ivar meets his oh so favourite brother, exhaling air out of his nostrils.

“He is my son.” Ivar leers hatefully. “Is he an Ubbesson?”

“Better an Ubbesson than an Ivarsson, eh, Boneless?” Sigurd threatens.

“Are you questioning my wife’s honour?” Ivar snarls to your father. His axe raises-- and you quickly decide to intervene upon the issue.

“Please, father… wait.”

Sigtryggr was wound up waiting for his bride. He knew that this was a special day and moment for you-- but his stomach was in knots.

“Why is she taking so long?” He looks to his wish-father. Ubbe stands with his legs slightly apart, reaching out to affectionately massage his shoulder.

“It is her wedding day.”  

That it was. Sigtryggr calms himself to the tune of soft drums. He turns up his face toward the thin column that his bride would be walking down. It should have been the happiest day of his life really-- but his head just about does a double take when he catches just who his lovely fiance is holding onto on one side with Sigurd upon the other.

“Father?”

He does a double take toward his wish-father and then back toward his father. Oh no-- oh no oh no oh no, he was about to humiliate him again. He swallows long and hard, his hands forming a knot. Ubbe whispers something low under their breath into his ear before taking a step back in line. The godi looks toward Ivar and Sigurd.

“Who then gives the bride?” She asks.

“I do.” Answers Sigurd. He steps aside next to Ubbe but Ivar, holding his breath, draws out his sword beside Sigtryggr and you. His young son’s hand darts to the burgundy tunic before you hold up your hand to your intended.

“The sword of kings.” Ivar balances his sword upon his palm. “Take it.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes drop down to the sword his father offers up to him. As his father’s only son, he’s always dreamed of this. He’s sure that his shieldmaiden sisters have as well. His sister Helga is shaking her hands in excitable expectation. Sigtryggr is not so sure.

“You should save that for your heir.” Sigtryggr says. It hurts to say-- but he so desires to hurt his father like he hurt him all these years. Ubbe’s sword… he deserves it more than Ivar’s. That was his wish-father. His wish father.

They exchange a look between another. Almost as if… Sigtryggr can feel the moment Ivar changed his mind. Perhaps he was sitting on his throne, questioning everything up to this point. Questioning how he lost his son in Kattegat? Sigtryggr’s anxiety dissipates when Ivar offers him a rarely soft, wide smile. He returns the smile to his father.

“I have.” Ivar answers. “Take it.”

He takes it from his father’s hand-- and then, he turns to you. You give him a small nod and so he nods in return to the Godi. You smile brightly, laughing and god-- this shouldn’t have been a moment of laughter! But he is, he is laughing too.

The godi nods. “Now we are ready.”

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