#ivar the boneless x reader

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Four

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 2146

Warnings: drinking, Sigurd making a cripple joke, drunk reader

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three

Masterlist Here

Something your arrival seemed to have distracted from was the success of the latest raid. “You’ll love it,” Hvitserk told you over breakfast. He, you had soon noticed, was the only morning person of the bunch. Ivar looked even more homicidal while Sigurd was still too asleep to piss him off. Meanwhile Ubbe was still in bed, threatening to cut off whoever’s hand tried to wake him, “We pull out all the stops. Wines, mead, ale, -“

“Is anything not alcohol related?” you joked just as Bjorn walked in. You’d honestly expected him to have breakfast with his father, but Bjorn said nothing as he took a seat beside you. You knew he was tall but him sitting shoulder to shoulder with you made you realise just how not only tall, but wide he was. The man was built like a bear.

“Hello?” Hvitserk said, waving his hand in front of your eyes, “I swear none of you appreciate the morning,” he tutted.

“Die,” Ivar grunted, earning an agreement from Sigurd. You chuckled a little at seeing them finally on the same side.

Still, you shot Hvitserk an apologetic smile. “Sorry Hvitserk I just spaced out,”

“Spaced out?” He asked, even Bjorn looking down in confusion.

“Like got distracted?”

Hvitserk nodded in understanding, but Bjorn wasn’t satisfied, his head tilting even further in confusion. “Why do you say ‘like’ all the time? You always say like at the start of everything its strange,”

“I guess it’s like,” you said, pausing to chuckle at the accident though he didn’t laugh, “I don’t know it’s just how we talk where I’m from. Like how in every conversation someone threatens someone’s life here,” you said, finally earning a crack of a smile from him, “Where I’m from that would be the weird thing,”

“It’s not as if we mean it,” Hvitserk said.

“It’s brotherly love,” You turned to look at Ivar and Sigurd who both just kind of shrugs.

“It’s something all right,” Sigurd muttered. Ivar’s glare said enough on his behalf.

You ignored them both and turned back to Hvitserk with a laugh. After all they were brothers after all. It was all just talk. Surely. “So, if I go wake Ubbe up right now he won’t actually cut off my hand?” This time they all shared a concerned look. Okay maybe not.

“Take back up with you,” Ivar said. “Just encase,”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at the dramatics of all of them “Seriously? Right come on then,” you said, nodding your head at Ivar as you stood.

For a moment you actually saw a slight look of fear wash over his face, “But I’m still eating,” he tried to weasel his way out of it making Sigurd laugh. That was until you turned to him, hands on hip and his eyes suddenly dipped to the floor and the laughing stopped.

You threw your hands up, “He cannot be that bad!” you protested as you headed to Ubbe’s room.

As you headed for the door you heard someone’s chair scrape against the floor following you. You knocked on the door before quickly pushing it open, “Rise and shine sunshine- “

A loud groan came from the lump under the furs that was presumably the grumpy Ubbe everyone had warned you about. He quickly went to sit up and you jumped back when you saw the axe in his hand. Right back into what you soon realised was Bjorn’s chest.

Realization dawned over Ubbe’s face when he saw you, “Oh,” he said, dropping the axe onto the furs, “Sorry I didn’t realise it was you,” he mumbled, collapsing back into bed.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you mumbled, stepping away from Bjorn and hoping he didn’t see the blush covering your cheeks from the previous closeness. Then they went even redder when Ubbe sat up in bed and you realised he had nothing on. “I’m just gonna,” you span around, trying to leave, before almost smacking right back into Bjorn’s chest. You almost gulped before looking up at him, “Sorry,” you mumbled, rushing out past him, not noticing the smirk on Bjorn’s face or the way Ubbe laughed at your antics.

-

Ivar had finished eating by the time you’d returned, and you very quickly insisted on him showing you the market like he’d promised last night. He almost jumped at the chance and debated flinging his knife into Sigurd’s chest when he insisted on joining you both. However, you weren’t out for long before Aslaug sent a thrall to fetch you.

Aslaug had arranged for you to receive another dress for tonight’s festivities since “our guests represent our honour,” and you weren’t going to turn down the clean clothes.

The boys had gone out to do some training leaving you to get ready. You debated doing some makeup, you did have a couple items in your bag after all. “What is that?” Aslaug asked as she and a woman you recognised as Helga walked into the room. You’d been sat at a table in the middle of the house to utilise the little light inside and hadn’t heard them walk in, “Its eyeliner,” you said, showing them the black on your eyes, “Like how you use charcoal on yours,”

“Can I watch?” Helga asked, excitement written on her face as she sat across from you, “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the liquid blush, “It’s so bright!”

“It’s blush,” you laughed, “It’s for your cheeks,”

Aslaug sat next to her, eyeing over the cosmetics, “Like berries?”

“Kind of?” you said, gently taking it out of Helga’s hand so you could put it on to show them,

“See?” you asked patting it in, “Same sort of thing but this lasts a bit longer,”

“Can we try some?” Helga asked and even Aslaug looked interested at the idea. For the next while you helped them apply some moisturiser and blush to ease them into it. you were honestly scared to show them your eyeshadow pallet considering how Helga reacted to a pink blush.

then it was your turn. Apparently, the hair problem was long overdue. Helga was gentle when she brushed but you winced as Aslaug took over the intricate braids. “Do all girls fuss where you’re from?”

By the time she was done however you had to admit it looked beautiful. “You almost look like one of us,” there was almost fondness in Aslaug smile.

Helga looked up with a large grin, “You’ll get used to the pain. You looked wonderful though,”

-

Walking into the bustling hall by Aslaug’s side was both comforting and terrifying. On one hand it meant no one would question you but on the other, everyone was staring. When the boys finally returned Hvitserk was the first to greet you and you happily accepted the ale he offered.

You were sat at a table with the five of them, Hvitserk and Ivar on either side of you, and Bjorn, Ubbe, and Sigurd across from you. However, something the group were quickly realising was their tolerance to ale was far higher than yours. “Do you not drink where you’re from?” Ubbe teased as your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“We do! I swear I’m not a lightweight. This stuffs just strong!” you laughed.

Apparently, the laugh was infectious as soon they were all giggly. All but Bjorn but for once there was a permanent smile on his face, “What’s a lightweight?” Bjorn asked.

“Someone who can’t hold their alcohol,” you told him, very matter of factly making them all laugh at your drunken confidence, “You lot wouldn’t last one second on a night out at my campus. I’m talking tequila shots, body shots, Jello shots,” you began to drunkenly list off as the boys tilted their heads in amused confusion.

“What’s a shot?” Hvitserk asked making you face palm.

“Oh, I have so much to teach you,”

-

Unfortunately, while the boys were great company and had adjusted well to you being in their groups your presence seemed to disrupt everyone else. It was Hvitserk who first noticed everyone staring at you, but you were too tipsy too care. However, as Ivar and Ubbe drank more both began to glare at the men whose eyes stayed too long.

Despite all the boys warning you about Ivar’s temper they all seemed to ignore Ubbe’s even when he insisted on you all leaving because a drunken Viking tried to hit on you. You however were happy enough to follow them all the edge of the lake and sit on the cold sand with a flask of ale being passed around.

As you were all walking down to the lake Hvitserk, and Sigurd were in a heated debate over which slave girl was hotter while Ubbe carried a giggling Ivar on his back. somehow, you’d ended up at the back of the pack, stumbling down the hill beside Bjorn.

“Woah,” he gasped, grabbing your waist before you could stumble and fall over a tree branch. “Steady,”

“Careful Bjorn,” you grinned up at him, holding onto the arm he offered you so you wouldn’t risk falling again, “Someone might think we’re friends,” you teased.

A smirk quickly showed on his face, a teasing light in his eyes, “Oh? Are we not friends already? I am wounded,”

“Friends don’t try kill their friends,” you pouted but you weren’t able to keep the charade up for long before grinning again like a Cheshire cat.

Bjorn just rolled his eyes with a smile however, “We weren’t friends then. We are now,”

“So, you won’t try kill me again?”

Another eye roll, “I won’t try kill you, no,” he said, shaking his head as he helped you to where the rest of the group had begun to sit.

“Pinky promise?” you asked, pulling out of his grip and extending his arm.

His eyes narrowed, head tilting, “What’s a pinkie promise?”

“Its where,” you said, stepping closer to grab his hand, “You lock pinkies,” you said wrapping yours around his, not noticing the smile on his face, “And promise something. And if you break it, I get to break your pinkie,”

“So, an oath?”

“An oath with a threat,”

“Of breaking a finger?”

“Pinkie specifically but yes,” you grinned, “So do you promise?”

“I promise,”

“Good,” you grinned, pulling your pinkie away from his grip before turning to join the group. You plopped down on the ground next to Ivar who was staring off into the sea, “Hi,” you grinned.

Ivar turned to you, laughing when he saw the wide grin on your cheeks, “Hello,” you could hear a slight drunken slur in his words. “Want some?” he asked, passing you, his ale.

You gladly accepted it, taking a drink of the alcohol you first hated but soon grew to love, “Thanks. You’re always so sweet to me,” you smiled before taking a drink, missing the way Ivar’s cheeks went red at your sweet words. Sigurd however didn’t want you to miss it.

“Aww look at the cripple,” he teased making Ivar scowl, “He’s blushing like a baby,”

You passed Ivar his drink back, noticing how tense his jaw was and quickly checking to see how close he was to his axe. After all you didn’t need to be here when the fall out happened, “Why do you care so much Sigurd?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

Everyone’s eyes seemingly went wide, shocked that your bubbly attitude had so quickly dropped. “you don’t get it,” he tried to brush off, “you’re not from here,”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, sitting up straight, “Explain what’s so funny about Ivar’s legs. Ill wait,”

“Well its just,” he tried to stutter earning a snigger from Hvitserk, “I don’t know it just is. Why do you care?”

You were honestly a bit hurt by that, “because he’s, my friend?” you said it like a question because the answer seemed so obvious.

“Okay well I’m sorry,” Sigurd shrugged, his eyes focused on the ground.

Luckily the night quickly moved on from the brief ugly confrontation however Ivar couldn’t get the reaction out of his mind. He was so used to fighting his own battles that he never even expected someone else to back him up, let alone speak up before him. Despite his bruised ego Sigurd thankfully stayed civil for the rest of the night.

A few hours passed before you all decided to walk home. You were in a world of your own at this point, your eyes fixed on how bright the night sky was with stars with no city skyline or factory gases to ruin your view. You didn’t even notice the stares from the boys or hear Hvitserk and Ubbe talk about how you stood up to Sigurd. For the first time this week you didn’t have a care in the world.

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[fragileheartbeats]

"He's not good for yo-"

YES! but have you seen his eyes???

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Finnish polka" - Ivar the Boneless x Reader

SUMMARY: After helping one of the northern Jarls, the Lothbrok brothers attend a celebratory feast. There, they're faced with a tradition of warriors catching flower crowns that belong to young women. How surprised Ivar is when you almost shove your crown into his hands.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.1k

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Ivar is tired.

Of course he's glad that Jarl Thorstein came out victorious. And that his brothers are fine. Still, he feels weary as the adrenaline leaves his body. His legs start to ache. Ivar downs the rest of his mead in hopes it makes him a little more deaf to his mood.

The upbeat, bright music fills his mind like an obsessive thought. His heart beats to the rhythm tapped by the feet of dancing women. They spin, jump and run around with flower crowns sitting atop their heads. How the wreaths remain immovable, he can't quite say.

Ivar is also angry.

As the local tradition entails, when the song ends, all the dancing young maidens will throw their flower crowns to the crowd. Whoever catches it, is believed to be the girl's lover chosen by the gods. However, whether the couple indulges and trusts gods' judgement is a different story. But if the wreath falls to the floor, the girl is said to remain unmarried for the next five years.

Ivar knows the chance of him somehow catching one of those is near zero. He's sitting quite far from the dancers. Even if he did catch it, he's disillusioned about the imminent dissatisfaction of the flower crown's ownert. Not only is he disabled in a way that almost entirely excludes him from fighting but he's also infamous for his ruthless nature and vengeful heart. Hardly a man who invokes desire. Still, some naive piece of him remains hopeful that maybe he's wrong. Maybe he can be terrible and loved all the same.

He shakes those weak delusions away from himself before they sour his mood further.

His piercing eyes have been following one of the dancers for the better part of the song when he catches himself. Her movements look effortless even when the musicians pick up the tempo. Clearly, she's done this dance one too many times to have any doubts about what she's doing. Joy beams from her in a way that makes her appear almost shining. The wreath on the top of her head is mostly green with white and red flowers. It makes Ivar think of the woods surrounding Kattegat; it makes him think of home.

Ivar leans toward Oddleif, one of the Jarl's men, who's sitting next to him.

"Who is she?"

Oddleif looks at Ivar out of the corner of his eye. He scoffs, takes a large sip of his drink and only then decides to answer:

"If you're thinking of catching her flower crown, don't." His blond braids dance slightly as he shakes his head. There's a hint of laughter hiding in the back of Oddleif's throat. "Half of the surviving army wants it."

"I have no care for flowers," Ivar lies through his teeth. "They have no use. They wilt and die and soon no one remembers them. I am simply curious about her."

"Her father is the blacksmith. You might have seen him in the battle, swinging that damned sledgehammer." Ivar silently nods. He remembers that man - tall as a pine tree and wider than a stable. The blacksmith invokes respect even when he's not decimating enemies like a troll equipped with a tree trunk. "He said once that he'll let any man marry his daughter but only if he can lift an anvil. Tried it once myself. Not that I had any success as you can imagine." Oddleif laughs bitterly and continues drinking. His eyes are glued to the dancers but Ivar knows that right now, the two of them are admiring the very same girl with a flower crown like a forest.

The melody continues to quicken. Despite being out of breath, you don't want it to end. Your feet ache but they do not falter nor do they stumble. It seems that their muscles know the dance better than your mind. There are a dozen girls dancing with you but you do not see them. Not really. They appear worlds away from you and the song of bagpipes and strings.

And then appears he.

A slouched, dark figure flies before your eyes as you're doing another pirouette. The man simply sits there, in the corner, but his presence is overwhelming. Or so you think. He does nothing and yet he tears his way into your microcosm of quick footwork, turns and lively polka.

You recognize him. Of course you do. Many whispers, equally frightened and amazed, have spoken of him. You have believed in all of them until the moment you met his gaze for that split second. Right then, somewhere between blinks and breaths, you renounce every gossip you've ever heard about him. A voice in the back of your head, a trickster or an oracle, nags at you to learn the truth yourself.

When the lively, fast melody comes to a stop, you find yourself shaken awake from the thoughts about Ivar the Boneless. The end of the song seems somewhat abrupt to you as you've been letting your fantasy run wild without paying much attention to what's going on around you. Dancing the last part purely by the memory of your muscles. The moment musicians stop playing, a small crowd begins to form in front of you. Men of different class, age and ancestry reach out their hands. Each one of them is more determined than the other to catch your wreath. They start to yell something but considering that the inside of the long hall is awfully loud anyway, you can't make out any words. Reading their lips, you can only tell when they're exclaiming different variations of your name.

They're only pushing towards you, shoving each other away. You keep taking steps backwards but the distance you create with each step is quickly shortened with the men calling out to you. You knew there would be many of them in front of you but never assumed that many. Instead of somewhat flattering, the siege is terrifying and imposing.

Looking for help or advice, just something that will ease your tension, you silently look around the long hall. Your gaze falls on the same slouched, dark figure. Strange peacefulness washes over you when his eyes meet yours.

The dim candlelight seems to bend around Ivar, making his corner appear darker than anywhere else in the long hall. He's simply sitting there. Maybe he's not interested? But the way he's staring at you shows nothing if not burning curiosity. The sons of Ragnar aren't know for their patience. No, they're said to take whatever they want the moment their desire sparks. Despite that, the youngest of them, and arguably the most famous, appears to be waiting. But for what exactly?

The fresh pine needles prick your skin. You furrow your eyebrows. Your gaze falls to the wreath and then comes back to Ivar. Could it be...?

It isn't much of a throw, really. You toss the flower crown towards him without looking anywhere else but into Ivar's eyes. Without as much as blinking, he catches the wreath with ease as though he has been prepared for that. Low murmurs hit your ears but quickly the sounds of disappointment fall silent as it's made clear who caught your wreath. Despite their initial determination, the men who had been reaching out to you suddenly disperse like fog does in the early morning. They knew better than to get under the skin of a Lothbrok. Especially that one.

"I believe this belongs to you."

Ivar is holding up the wreath. Despite his words, he makes no effort to offer it back to you. His eyes are bright and glistening, the corner of his mouth is tugged ever-so-slightly upwards. He appears amused.

At first, it was nice to finally sit down after dancing for what seemed to be hours on end. But now, when you're facing the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment decision, the tension sets in once more. This time, however, it doesn't feel threatening. In turn, the nervousness is somewhat welcome like the jittery state before a surprise is revealed.

"If I wanted to keep it, I wouldn't have thrown it," you answer in a light tone.

"And why should I keep it?"

The blue eyes study you for a moment. It's a strange feeling - you can't help but think that the longer you are in Ivar's presence, talking or not, he's reading your mind and soul. He stares at you in a way that tells you he already holds all the answers but wants you to confirm them.

"It's said to bring good luck." You shrug your shoulders. "Until the wreath wilts and dies, Freya and Freyr will look after you."

Ivar looks at the flower crown again. Only now, when he's holding it, does he realize that for a flower crown, there aren't many flowers. A few sandworts and poppies, yes, but the wreath is made mostly of evergreen plants. It might take weeks until the crown wilts.

The microcosm seems closed again. Now it's not you and the bagpipes but you and him. It's strange and it's new but it's not threatening. It's not the kind of presence a man of his infamy should have. Or perhaps you've simply fallen for his honey trap.

"Why did you throw it to me?" Ivar tries to make the question seem unimportant, just curiosity brought to light. But he can't quite convince himself that he doesn't care. There's a hint of something vulnerable and genuine when the words roll off his tongue. It's easy to miss like a dandelion clock carried away by a gust of wind.

You wish you knew the answer yourself.

"I don't know really," you say honestly. "Perhaps it was one of the gods that threw the flower crown for me." You make a pause. Ivar's face is unreadable. "Or perhaps I have no interest in urgent, desperate men."

Ivar chuckles. A deep shadow is covering part of his face, making him appear kind of sinister. For a moment, you question whether he's laughing with you or at you.

"And what exactly makes you think I'm not urgent or desperate?" he continues. You notice his smile is growing wider. That glint of amusement in his blue eyes has changed in mischief. "What if I'm worse than all of them? You surely know who I am."

"Of course I do, Ivar the Boneless," you drone the words. In a barely noticeable fashion, he clenches his jaw when you say his name. It makes him feel a strange, burning sensation in his stomach but Ivar is left unsure whether he likes it or detests. "The whispers of your ruthless character are unending."

"But you're not afraid?" he asks with both disbelief and suspicion. A girl with a flower crown doesn't necessarily strike him as fearless in any way. Or this whole strange situation is a little too good, too dream-like, for him to accept it at face-value.

Ivar's smile falters when your face takes on a confident, maybe even arrogant, expression. He's taken aback.

"I'm a woman of the North," you say while leaning towards him on the table. The distance between your faces shortnes. "The only person I fear is my own reflection."

The sudden closeness makes Ivar inhale sharply. The strong smell of pine needles fills his nostrils. For a moment, his imagination runs wild but it's not his fault - he has no grasp on it:

How those big eyes glistened in the semi-dark of the long hall as you were staring at him. Your smirk, somewhat challenging and beckoning him to push on. Then, the smell of conifer that shakes all senses awake. His fantasy leaves the northern snows and travelles to forests, to him brushing pine needles from your hair and your naked, flushes skin smelling of evergreen trees.

But quickly his shaken awake, to his utmost displeasure, by you:

"Well, if you don't want it, I suppose I should take it back, no?"

Your hand unsurely reaches out for the wreath in Ivar's hand. He's quick to pull his arm back.

"It's bad luck to take back gifts," he states plainly. In an act of nonchalance, Ivar is playing with the wreath, spinning it around his finger. "I should like to keep it."

Sometimes you come back to the night you've met the infamous Viking, when you're rendered sleepless while he's calmly breathing next to you, getting the rest he desperately needs. How funny all of it seems - that a flower crown in bloodied, merciless hands could lead to having a genuine crown on your head. Maybe you were right, after all, and it really was the hand of one of the gods that threw the wreath for you.

[starogeorgina]

Redemption

Warning: Swearing, smut, hints of violence

Pairing: Ivar × reader

1.01

“Ivar!”

“What?” He whines like a child before placing a soft kiss on your bare hip and pouting up at you, his lips still slightly red and swollen from kissing you so roughly. “I told you I wanted us to have a child of our own,” he states, pushing himself further down the bed so he can have a full view of your own puffy lips. Ivar had a fascination with watching his cum drip out of you. He would often try to push it back in with his fingers or clean you up with his tongue. “I want to see you around with my child, a creation of our love.”

“I know you do.” You let out a soft groan when his finger lightly brushes over your clit. “But I’m so sensitive, I just need a moment to…”

“You’ve spilled too much of my seed,” he says, ignoring what you previously said. “I’ll need to put more inside you if we wish for this to work.”

“Hmm… fuck!” You moan loudly as he places a strong hand on either side of your head before thrusting himself inside you for the third time that evening.

Fucking was one of your favourite things to do, but Ivar would push you to the point of exhaustion with how many orgasms he gave you. He always made sure you came at least once before fucking you into oblivion.

—

You nip at Ivar’s bare chest with your teeth, and he flinches slightly, causing you to giggle. Burying your face into his neck, you mumble, “How long will you be gone for?”

“I am unsure, but I will return to you,” he says, kissing the back of your knuckles, “to our family as a proud man, not as a cripple.”

Shuffling into a more comfortable position on your back, you let out a huff. You understood why Ivar needed to go to England with his father, but you still didn’t like it. Usually you remained close by his side, but being pregnant, you decided to stay behind in Kattegat, despite Ragnar asking you to join them personally. Queen Aslaug had a dream of her husband and son drowning because of a storm, but neither of them cared much for her warning, so you tried not to worry too much; you needed to believe Ivar would always find his way back to you. Letting out a deep sigh, your hand moves to cradle your ever-growing bump.

“My sweet, sweet Drifa, I can see the doubt in your eyes, but I assure you I will not die on this journey.”

“You better not; I’ll need you by my side when I deliver our child. I don’t want to do it alone.”

“You won’t be alone. If I’m not here, my brothers and mother will remain by your side.”

“I know,” you say, toying with strands of fur from the blanket covering your chest, “but they aren’t you.”

Ivar kisses the crown of your head, stroking your hair as you start to fall asleep. There was no possible way he could assure you he wouldn’t die, but he would try to comfort you the best he could. You’d grown up alongside the sons of Ragnar, with your mother and Aslaug being so close, so you’d known Ivar all your life. You had considered him your closest friend before any romantic relationship had developed between you, but the flames of desire had been burning ever since he killed a boy who tried to force himself on you.

It would absolutely break your heart if Ivar didn’t return home.

—

You opened your eyes, scanning the dimly lit room to see where the sound in the distance was coming from. You saw nothing but recognised the heavy breathing as your husband's, so you closed your eyes again. Leaning your head back, you try to enjoy the warmth surrounding your body as Ivar drags himself into the room. You had the slaves fill you with a bath as soon as you woke, scrubbing continuously to wash away the blood that stained your skin. Your thighs and groin were red and raw, but you continued to clean each time you saw the blood from your miscarriage reappear.

It seemed like the right decision at the time to remain in Kattegat, but you were there when the village came under attack and witnessed Lagertha killing Aslaug while her back was turned. Moments later, you fell to the ground, screaming as a pain ripped through your lower abdomen as you lost your unborn child.

Lagertha had spared your life after you attempted to kill her by throwing an ax at her head. She thought that by letting you live, the sons of Ragnar wouldn’t seek revenge for their mother. Oh, how wrong she was.

“They say being in water so warm isn’t good for you, my love.” Your husband says he's propping himself up by his arms, leaning them on the side of the tub so he’s level with you.

You shrug.

“I can have one of the slaves help you get out and dressed if you’re in too much pain.”

Shaking your head, you press your forehead against Ivar’s. To most, he was a sadist and bloodthirsty man, nothing more than a man who craved violence to fill the void in his heart, but he had never treated you with anything but kindness and respect. Ivar found the love he always craved from you in spite of others thinking your relationship would fail. Since Margarethe spread rumors claiming Ivar couldn’t please a woman sexually, the other sons of Ragner enjoyed teasing Ivar, saying it wouldn’t be long until you left him for someone else, not that you ever would.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Besides, I want to stay in here until the water cools down.”

Ivar brushes damp hair behind your ear as tears start to roll down your cheeks. “Perhaps the gods took our child early so that my mother wouldn’t be alone.”

“Perhaps,” you sob. Ivar had been furious upon learning of his mother's death and had sworn to kill Lagertha one day, but he was trying his best to contain his rage around you. “Queen Aslaug deserved better. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop what happened to her, but her death will be avenged.”

“We will have our revenge on Lagertha, but for now we will bid our time. First you will regain your strength, then we will have revenge on those who are responsible for my father's death, and then we will have retribution for what happened to my mother.”

—

A mixture of dampness and thick smoke hung heavily in the air as you stepped outside for the first time in days. Hiding away wasn’t going to change what happened, and you wanted to at least appear strong on the outside. The first person to greet you is Ubbe, who pulls you into a hug. “I’m sorry, Drifa; I know how happy you and Ivar were to finally start a family of your own.”

Hvitserk hugs you next but says nothing. Behind you, Sigurd makes a crude comment about Ivar losing his mommy and then his surrogate mommy right after. You keep your composure, not wanting to give him satisfaction. Sigurd had attempted to seduce you several times since you married his brother, but each time you rejected him, making him bitter towards you.

“That’s enough,” Ubbe snaps.

Irritated, your fingers tap against one of the tables loudly, gaining all of the brothers attention. You narrow your eyes at Sigurd as your fingers slide over the selection of weapons already laid out on the table for the purpose of gutting fish.

“Just ignore him,” Hvitserk says, attempting to calm you down. “My brother is just jealous; he doesn’t even have a woman to stick his cock in.”

“Is that right, Sigurd? You are making jokes at the expense of my dead child because your dick is lonely? I’m sure we could find a nice pig for you.”

His face reddens with embarrassment when his brothers all laugh at him. “You’re nothing but a whore; we all know Ivar couldn’t possibly be the father of that thing that was growing inside you. He isn’t man enough.”

“Do not insult Ivar in front of me!”

“Why? Nobody cares. Nobody gives a shit about a cripple.”

You grab hold of the knife next to you and aim it at Sigurd. The edge of the knife scrapes across the side of his face, cutting it in the process. When Sigurd goes to take a step towards you, Ubbe steps in between you and says, “No more; you’ve upset our sister enough for one day.”

Another reason Sigurd hates you is because his family accepts you as one of their own. Aslaug treated you like a daughter, and his brothers were very protective of you. They admired your loyalty to Ivar.

“I am counting down the days until my husband finally kills you!” You hiss.

Hearing a laugh, you turn your head back to see Ivar observing the scene with a smile on his face. He had managed to crawl so quietly that nobody noticed him sitting on the opposite side of the table from where you stood. He claps his hands in amusement and says, “Isn’t she fantastic? Beautiful and violent.” Ivar licks his lips before sitting back in the chair. “Now, let us begin to plan our next move.”

Ivar motions for you to come over to him; when you do, he guides you till you’re sitting atop his thighs, his arm wrapping around your back while your legs dangle over his. He kisses your cheek and says, “Good girl, your aim is getting better.”

Admittedly, you weren’t the best at welding a weapon or firing an arrow until Ivar decided to teach you. You whisper, “I still think I’ll need a few more one-on-one lessons.”

He smirks before turning his attention to his brothers, who seem unfazed by you sitting on his lap, all aside from Sigurd, whose glare is burning into you.

[zapreportsblog]

❝army of ivarrsons❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings

✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”

✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.

"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"

Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."

Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.

Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."

Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.

She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."

The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.

Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.

And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.

The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.

Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.

As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.

Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.

"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."

The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."

The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."

Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"

(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.

Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."

The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.

Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."

The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."

(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."

The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.

Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."

Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.

Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.

The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."

Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."

Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"

While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).

It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.

Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.

Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.

Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.

The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.

As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.

The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.

As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.

Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.

But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.

Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).

Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.

The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.

[multific]

In Love with a Monster

Ivar the Boneless x Reader

A/N: Dedicated to the one and only @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage, you told your husband was a monster.

"He is a monster, yet you want me to marry him?!"

"It is best for our kingdom. And it is final, you will marry Ivar!" your father's words sent shivers down your spine. You have been arguing and trying to reason with him for the past hours to no avail.

Your father was a stubborn man, ever since you lost your mother, it got worse.

But having you marry a Viking? 

He said it was to ensure the relationship since Vikings were great at fights.

He explained that soon, a carriage will arrive for you and you will be taken to Kattegat to your husband.

And it was final.

You felt betrayed by your own father.

But what did you expect?

You knew he had been looking for a husband for you. You just never expected that he would find such a man, or as he said, a monster.

You had a terrible nightmare, dreaming of monsters as you woke up in cold sweat. 

Your life might as well end now.

But the next day, just as your father said, the carriage arrived and soon, you were on a boat sailing towards your demise and misery.

To be married to a Viking monster.

---

Ivar on the other hand was rather excited. When his mother told him about a Princess he will marry, he found himself to be rather excited and nervous.

He walked with his brothers towards the waters, seeing the boat, Ivar let out a sigh.

Hoping his bride would not be too afraid of him.

---

As you got off the boat a kind woman stepped forward. She was the Queen, wife of Ragnar, Aslaug. 

"Meet my sons, this is Ubbe, Sigurd, Hvitserk and your husband to be, Ivar." you kindly bowed to all of them and you could feel them staring at you. You wondered if your dress was possibly too much. You knew better than to stare but you did notice the weird contraption around Ivar's legs.

"He is a cripple, he cannot walk but do not let that fool you, he is a monster, a terrible murderer who would take down an army by himself." your father's words rang in your head.

"Currently the wedding is being planned so I think it would be best to let you rest, I'll show you to your room." said Aslaug, breaking the silence. 

You nodded one last time and the men in front of you before turning to follow their mother. She guided you to a house and inside she showed you a room. "Now, this would be only before your wedding, of course after it, you would be with Ivar. Welcome to Kattegat." she smiled before leaving you alone in the room to get ready for the wedding.

You let out a sigh.

"Are all monsters this handsome?" you said to yourself quietly before two servants arrived to get you dressed.

---

"You are lucky, Brother!" said Hvitserk as he patted Ivar on the back, they all walked off the docks, heading to their business. "She is a beauty!"

"And a Princess! You are clearly mother's favourite child, giving you such a bride. OR she just feels sorry for you." said Sigurd but Ivar didn't pay any mind to him.

His mind was filled with you.

How beautiful you looked, how shy you were. He was certain you have seen his legs, or at least heard about them. 

Ivar couldn't stop thinking about you. His senses were filled as he could recall a small whiff of your scent. Such a sweet and innocent woman you were, he could tell.

You will be the perfect wife and a great Viking.

His princess.

---

You looked at yourself in your gown as the servants left and gave you some space. 

You felt your hands shake, you knew you were about to be married to a monster.

You were terrified.

You learned a long time ago that people with beautiful faces can be the most cruel. 

And it is what you expected.

---

Ivar watched you walk towards him. Looking like a goddess, Ivar's breath was taken away immediately.

He could tell his brothers also had the same thought. 

Soon, you will be his wife, only his. 

He could see your hands shake as you said your vows.

You were his now.

His woman.

His wife.

His Princess.

His.

As the wedding concluded, now it was time for celebration. Everyone danced, drank and ate.

Ivar saw you looking around, as if trying to learn the habits. Ivar liked that you were willing. 

You, on the other hand, stared at all these people while feeling the burning looks coming from your left, Ivar kept staring at you, making you nervous.

You didn't want the night to end. You were terrified of being alone with him. You did everything that you could just to avoid being alone with him. 

You were rather surprised that Ivar didn't do anything that evening. He showed you his home but that was it, he soon headed to his bed and slept. Leaving you and your thoughts alone.

You were thankful he didn't force you.

---

This went on for a couple of days.

Ivar either ignored or barely acknowledged your presence. 

And you, were terrified of him. Being how your father put all these ideas into your head before he sent you off. 

Slowly, you started to believe they weren't true.

A monster would surely have hurt you or forced you. Ivar never did.

A monster would hurt you or leave you out in the cold. Ivar never did. Instead, he invited you into his home, his bed even, gave you furs and always made sure the fire was crackling away in its place.

During the first days, you would be afraid to fall asleep, fearing he would try something while you weren't aware of it.

But not anymore.

Slowly but surely you were coming around. 

You often heard his brothers tease him about his legs. You wondered if you should say something, but you never did.

Until tonight. When Sigurd decided to be cruel. Ivar was crawling on the floor towards Sigurd when he laughed and pulled the chair back, making Ivar fall. 

You hit the table and stood up. Your eyes locked with Sigurd's you felt everyone staring at you as the room went completely silent.

Sigurd smirked.

"Would the princess like to say something?" his mocking tone changed something inside you.

"We already know you have a tiny cock Sigurd. No need taunt my husband to try and prove otherwise." Sigurd's eyes nearly fell out of his head as Ubbe and Hvitserk laughed. Sigurd looked at Ivar before he walked out of the room, you sat back and finished your meal.

You had no idea what came over you. But you certainly didn't regret it.

"So, you do talk." said Ubbe and it made you look at him.

"Of course I do."

"You have fire in you. You'll be a great Viking." he said as he leaned back in his chair, smirking but you only looked back at your food as you ate. 

You didn't look at Ivar intentionally.

But he was looking at you.

You actually stood up for him. While everyone just sat there laughing, you actually stepped up and defended him. 

And he was grateful.

He had a feeling it wasn't out of pity but rather you had enough of his brother's teasing. 

Ivar smiled to himself as he headed back to his bed. Having his little wife defend him felt truly great. Before, only his mother stood up for him, but now, you did too.

Ivar knew you are afraid of him. It is clear in your actions. But as he pulled his shirt off and laid back in his bed, closing his eyes, all he could think about was you and how beautiful you looked as you told his brother off.

When you entered the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to Ivar. He looked to be asleep on the bed, furs pooling around his waist and his chest on full display.

You were rather taken aback. 

You have never seen him like this before. 

You were shocked. He looked so peaceful and soft. 

The tattoos adoring his chest only made his skin more stunning. The fireplace gave his skin a gorgeous glow. 

You wanted nothing more in that moment than to run your fingers over the ink on his skin.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss every inch.

He looked so comfortable, you wanted nothing more than be held by his arms.

Those strong arms.

You took silent steps, fearing you would wake him. But as you moved to lay down, he stirred as he turned and looked at you.

"I didn't mean to wake you." you said with a low voice. His eyes searched yours, slowly he moved in bed, slightly getting closer to you.

"Are you still afraid of me?" his sudden question made you question yourself.

Sure, during the last couple days, he had been nothing but kind to you.

And it did make you wonder.

He was surely not a monster.

"I don't know." your answer was honest, but you wouldn't say you were scared it was more cautious. 

Cautious because you feared you might have fallen in love with him. And you weren't sure what to do with these feelings.

"My father told me about you before I arrived and I don't think he was right."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me you were a monster, covered in blood with a wicked smile. Tole me you were a rough man and I would be happy to live a day within your claws. But, I believe he was wrong." you looked down at your hands before looking up into his beautiful eyes. "You have been nothing but kind towards me. I heard you in the kitchen making sure everything was to my liking. You asked your mother for advice and I heard her talk with you about me. I judged you prematurely, and for that, I apologize."

"You are very different from us." he said moving to sit against the pillows. "Your dresses, your hair, the way you speak, eat. I'm simply mesmerised. I feel like I'm falling in love with you, yet don't know anything about you."

There was a moment of silence as you tried to process what he just told you.

"You can be angry and proud, but you can also be gentle and caring. I wouldn't say I love you Ivar, but I can say that I can see myself falling in love with you. I believe we could be happy together here in Kattegat."

"You defended me today. Only my mother did that before."

"I simply had enough of your brother. He believes teasing you would prove his strength but it only shows his weakness. I do like your family however. I do not have siblings, so it is nice to see."

"How many times did Hvisterk try and bed you?" you let out a sigh.

"About... five. But even so, he never touched or forced me. He just simply asked, which I always declined."

"I know you did. He would have told me if he fucked you."

"D-Don't say it like that, please! I wouldn't... sleep with your brother anyway. I believe in the unity of marriage it is sacred." 

"I know you do." Ivar smiled. "Whatever should I do to make you love me, you name it."

"I believe you are already doing enough just by being so patient with me. If you could... I-I would like to be your wife, not just the woman who sleeps in your room. I wish to be a real wife to you as you would be a real husband."

"Tell me what is it you mean by that." Ivar moved even closer, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. You looked deeper into his eyes.

"I wish for us to find love in one another. A companionship. I wish to be the one who can calm you when you are the most angry. I wish for us to kiss and make love. To have a future and a happy life."

"You speak so sweetly. Your father was not fully wrong however. I did kill many before and I will continue to do so. If that bothers you-"

"I doesn't. It is who you are. I see it now. It is how Viking's are. I do not want to change you. I quite like you the way you are."

"Even my legs?"

"I do not care for your legs. I believe God had to take something from you otherwise you would have been too powerful." your hand moved to his neck as you pulled him closer until your lips met his. 

You were still why and Ivar could sense that, so he decided to take lead and kiss you with passion.

He soon pulled back, "Now that we kissed, I believe it is time to make love." the way he said it, his accent made a shiver run down you spine, he moved you close to him, his lips finding your neck as his hand held your waist. 

You felt your hands shake but this time, it was more excitement than nervousness.

---

The next morning you woke up to a feeling rather strange, someone was holding you and you felt more tired than you should.

Then after just a second, the memories came back. 

Suddenly, you realized who the arms belonged to and just why you were naked.

It was very early as you could tell, Kattegat was still asleep.

And judging by the soft snores behind you, so was Ivar.

Last night was the first ever you spent with him, it was the perfect night. 

And now, feeling his breath on your neck as his arms held you to his chest, you felt at ease. You felt happy.

You managed to fall in love with the monster.

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[angelltheninth]

Viking Men Being Possessive

Pairing: Ivar, Ragnar, Rollo, Ubbe, Hvitserk, Harekr x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, protectiveness, jealousy, possessiveness, neck kisses, markings, threats, fights, injuries

A/N: There isn't enough Viking content out here. Why is that? Do I need to feed you?

Because a lot of people tended to underestimate him due to his legs he's developed a very aggressive and protective attitude towards you. He never ever lets go of your hand when you're sitting together and taps his hand on the hilt of his knife whenever any man asks you to drink with them. He always keeps an eye out for anyone who might be dangerous to you and when he does see someone like that he leans over and whispers in your ear to not look, its about to get ugly if they approach you.

Ragnar always lets you wear his cloak regardless of the temperature. As his future wife you should get used to wearing his clothes don't you think? He is pretty strict with his men when it comes to them interacting with you, he trusts you and most of them but there are a few that he knows would just love to get their hands on you, the most beautiful woman there is.

Rollo takes a swing at everyone who is a threat to you with no hesitation. He will beat them up first and if they survive ask them who they think they are, approaching his woman. He's the only man who can touch you, the only man who can kiss you, the only man worthy of being with you and protecting you. Some of his fights have a tiny bit of a flare to them, for your amusement and his... later.

Before you became a couple Ubbe's gotten into quite a few fights over you and the men calling you names. You were the woman he's had his eyes on for the longest time, he will not tolerate any slander towards you. His face might be bruised and his lip split when he pulled you into a kiss but he wanted to send a message to the other warriors there. If anyone would like to come forward and challenge him now that he's made his feelings for you known they are welcome to, but he can't say he won't fight with all his might and leave them standing or capable of it.

Hvitserk loves to ride with you, with you being in front so he can wrap his arms around you and have easy access to your neck. A neck that he can mark, that he wants to mark every night. Likes to joke around with everyone else about how gifted you are in certain areas but if they even think that he's sharing you they've got another thing coming for them. He's the only one who can talk like this about you, and he's the only one you'd allow it for because you know its his way of bragging that he has the best and most beautiful lover.

Harekr has you in his lap almost all the time, sitting on his thigh or if he feels like he needs so display that you're his then he will have you sitting on the furs next to him and pressing your cheek against his thigh. He kisses the back of your hand either way, very softly too. Despite his harsh nature he does have moments of calm and love towards you, mostly in private, in public he sprinkles in a few neck kisses to make your pretty skin, and make you moan if he feels like people are looking at you too much.

[milkb0nny]

The Aftermath of Intimacy

Ivar The Boneless x gn!reader

Comfortember Day 9: Aftermath

Summary: The shared moments after your intimate hours always were your favorite. His aftercare and love embraced you in Ivar's vulnerability. You loved it so much.

Note: Aftermath, but not violent. I thought of throwing in a different vibe after the rather sad 8th day. This one is sadly very short due to my very stressful week. Life was too much to handle this day, but I managed to create a very comforting prompt. Enjoy! 🤍

Warnings: aftercare, mentions of smut, slight nsfw

word count: 595

Ivar descended, lowering himself onto your body, his head coming to rest upon your chest. His breaths were deep and ragged and he was exhausted from the intimate moments you both shared before. Your hand traced soothing patterns up and down his spine, you enjoyed his weight on your body. The two of you were a sweaty mess, relieved yet exhausted. The air hung heavy with a heady mixture of shared desire and the intoxicating scent of your entwined bodies.

Both of you lay in the aftermath, a sweaty and tangled tableau of passion. Ivar’s heart pounded so strongly you felt his heartbeat on your lower stomach. It was a moment of vulnerability and closeness - a bridge between the raw intensity of your lovemaking and the quiet tenderness that followed.

Ivar, panting and visibly tired, slowly began to lift himself from your body, his blue eyes glancing at your smile. He reassured himself that you were okay, not hurting and alright. Soon his expression softened to a tender smile, as he dragged himself off of you. The room was filled with a gentle hush as Ivar, still catching his breath, shifted to rest beside you.

His fringes gently brushed against your face, an act of adoration. In times like these his anger vanished from the earth. No one else but you knew of his loving side, where not a single madness tormented him.

“Are you alright?” He murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble. His questions was simple, but in that moment, they carried a weight of sincerity. Your eyes avoided his blue focus, looking down on his body. You rolled over, getting closer to his body.

Your voice hummed, “Yeah, Ivar.”

In this private sanctuary, away from the chaos of the outside world, he allowed himself to be not a warrior but a companion in the aftermath of shared intimacy. Leaning in, Ivar pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

His kisses after your shared intimacy were your favorite. His care and love flowed through your whole body, telling you how much he admired you. As Ivar deepened the kiss, the warmth of his embrace enveloped you. His arms dragged you closer you, pulling you on his warm body. Breaking the kiss, Ivar rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or unspoken need. He didn’t want you to hurt, feel used or being scared.

“Trust me, I feel good,” you reassured him, whispering these words in his ears.

The man you shared your bed with hugged you, petting your head. His voice once again filled the room. “I worry that I am too rough with you, my love,” he admitted, looking down at you and meeting your sparkling eyes. Once again you reminded him of your angelic presence, of your strength and love.

You chuckled, kissing his collarbone as a response. Your touch comforted him and his body relaxed further, not needing to worry about your potential discomfort. Suddenly you shifted, sliding off of his body and slowly standing up. You covered yourselves in a long garment.

“I’ll get us something to drink and eat. Do you want something special, my great warrior?”

Ivar’s eyes lightened up, he nodded and smiled. Your pure, naked body in that see through garment charmed him, so much he almost wanted to drag you back into the bed.

Though, your sweetness was too kind and the young Ragnarsson wanted to feel loved and admired.

“Ale, and you as a dessert,” he replied to meet your chuckling laughter.

[1-800-choke-me]

Hvitserk: I sleep with an axe under my pillow

Ubbe: I sleep with a knife under mine

Y/N: you're both pathetic

Hvitserk: oh yeah, than what do you sleep with?

Y/N: Ivar

[ubbesbabymama]

Their friend is pregnant, pt. 2.

↳ Pairing. Hvitserk The Berserker, Sigurd Snake in The Eye, Ivar The Boneless.

↳ Summary. How would they react to their dear friend being pregnant. [I imagine this with them having the same kind of friendship that Ragnar had with Athelstan but with the reader].

↳ Warnings. Violence, death, abusive relationships, smut/mention of sex.

↳ Note. A second part so I could write the ones that are left because is just so much fun to write this plot.

Part one.

Hvitserk The Berserker.

He adores you, he genuinely thinks you’re the only perfect person on earth and he would do anything to protect you from anybody, even himself.

He is busy between a thrall’s legs, making everything in his power to make her scream his name, thrusting like a madman when he hears his name being called and he stops right away. That’s not the thrall’s voice.

“Hvitserk,” You sob and he can’t help but to pull out and push the woman, running to you while fixing his pants.

“Come here, come here,” He mumbles, taking you in his arms and walking to another room that doesn’t smell like sex.

He sits on the floor in front of a bonfire with you on his lap, and you move around till your legs are around him just like he is around you. You move again and he grunts.

“D-Don’t move too much,” He whispers.

“O-Oh! I’m sorry, forgive—,” You try to move but he grips your thighs. “Hvitserk.”

“Forget everything else and tell me why are you crying,” He says. “Talk to me.”

“Why do I have to talk to you while your cock is poking into my backside?” You ask him and he grunts again, this time because of your stubbornness.

“That is because I got interrupted while I was getting it down, now, talk to me or I am going to take my axe and go look for the information myself.” He threatens.

You sigh and clean your face a little before looking at him.

“I am with child.”

“That’s not true,” He chuckles and panics when your eyes start to fill with tears, and he takes your face in his hands. “Wait— no, no, no sweat heart.”

“Y-You don’t believe me either,” You sob in his hands and he shakes his head.

“I thought it was another one of your pranks, I apologize little one,” You nod, sobbing. He frowns. “Either?”

“He kicked me out of the house… literally,” You whisper, rolling your dress to show him your scratched knees, you show him your hands and they’re scratched too. “He said I cheated on him, that a whore like me could find a man to breed me really fast just so I could trap—,”

You stop talking when Hvitserk moves you around, standing up and taking you with him. He puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the room and back to his room. In silence he takes off your dirty dress and tosses it to the side, he looks around for a moment and comes back with a shirt of him, he helps you put it on.

“I’m going to be right back, get under the covers,” He quietly says, you shake your head, and he sighs. “Under the covers, please.”

“You’re going to kill him.” You whisper.

“Of course, I’m going to kill him, for starters, I gave you that house, he has no right to kick you out, and second, while you’re with child?” He snorts with malice.

“Hvitserk,” He looks at you and holds your stare to let you know that he is not backing down. You nod to yourself and kiss his cheek. “I’ll wait for you awake.”

You know he is back when some thralls enter the room with the tub, he enters right behind them and you gasp, he is bathed in blood, from the hair to his boots.

“What in Odin’s green earth did you do to him?!” You ask alarmed, he shrugs and starts to take his clothes off in front of you and the thralls. “Hvitserk!”

“I tied him to a tree and started beating him,” He looks up slowly, his eyes cold. “I beat him till his last breath.”

“You’re insane,” You whisper, getting out of bed when he gets inside the tub. You start to undo his braids.

“For you, I can be worse than Ivar, you know this already.” He chants, not a single trace of regret on his face.

“Yeah well, you killed the abusive father of my child,” You roll your eyes. “So it’s safe to say that you’re now a father.”

He smirks.

“Great.”

Sigurd Snake In The Eye.

Everybody could see how much you mean to him, it was as obvious as the fact that the sun would shine every day. When it comes to you he knows no reason or shame, going as far as to beg if he needs to.

“I-I can’t find her,” He murmurs when all his brothers are gathered to hunt.

“Who?” Ubbe asks.

“What do you mean you can’t find her? It’s almost as if you live together,” Hvitserk jokes.

“I think her husband has something to do with her suddenly disappearing.” He swallows and just now everybody feels the tension in the air. “I-I need help, please.”

Suddenly Ivar starts crawling away and everybody looks at him, he stops and looks back directly at Sigurd.

“What are you doing there? We have to find her.” He grunts and in no time Sigurd is by his side.

That’s how much you mean to Sigurd, so much that even his younger brother whom he always argues about anything not dare to joke around.

And he finds you, in a small cabin deep in the woods, thanks to Hvitserk’s insight in the town he founds that your husband owns this cabin for when he goes hunting alone.

He enters the cabin and sucks a breath when he sees you in a corner hugging your legs. He takes one step and your husband comes out and pulls you by the hair, you yelp.

“If you get close I will kill them both!” He screams and Sigurd frown.

“Who’s them?” He whispers to himself, and you sob.

“You didn’t tell him? You’re carrying his child and you didn’t—,”

“Because it’s not his!” You cry, looking at Sigurd and his stare makes you stop trembling a little. You’re safe, Sigurd is here.

Suddenly an arrow enters from behind Sigurd, right on top of his head, and embedded right onto your husband’s head, him being so tall makes it easy for the archer to shoot without fearing it would hit you.

Sigurd looks behind him and nods to Ubbe, who just nods back and starts walking back with his brother, leaving him with you.

He opens his arms and watches how you run and jump on him, his arms sliding around you, one on your thigh and the other on your waist.

“I’m here now, shh…” He comforts you while walking till he leans on a wall. “Nobody can’t hurt you anymore.”

You sob on his neck and he hums.

“I’m tired,” You murmur and he nods.

He takes you back to the town and directly into his room and orders the thralls to prepare a bath for you. When everything’s ready he undresses you and lets you get inside the tub, he’s about to start looking for clothes for you but your grip on his hand stops him.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m getting in with you,” He says to calm you down and when he sees you expectant he undresses and gets inside too, behind you.

He starts to caress your belly, he supposed you haven’t seen your monthly blood and that’s why you know you’re with child since it’s not clear in your belly.

“You’re going to start living here,” He whispers in your ear. “So I can take care of you better.”

“You have obligations,” You whisper.

“And you’re the main one,” He hums. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Ivar The Boneless.

Nobody understands how you can stand Ivar, with the man being borderline obsessed with you. The only reason why you can lay with men is that he is certain that he can’t satisfy a woman and he would rather be burned alive than disappoint you from all people, but other than that, he lets no man get close to you unless you directly tell him that you chose that man to warm your chambers, he has bodyguards for you, thralls for you, he gives you a quarter of everything he owns or gets. Even when he goes raiding everybody knows that a lot of the goods are yours and yours only. That’s how obsessed Ivar The Boneless is with you.

Of course, it’s almost impossible to hide things from him, more so with the people in town being so eager to bring him information about you just to be favored, so as soon as you’re being yelled at and tossed around by the Viking Ivar is notified.

“You think after three times you can already be with child?! Do you think I’m stupid?!” The man was yelling at you, but you weren’t backing down. No sir.

“After ONE time of laying together, I can already be with child, or do you think your seed is so weak you need more than once? even more than three? Poor you.” You mock and gasp when he pushes you, making you fall onto your backside, you whimper at the burn in your hands for breaking the fall.

“I should just kill you and that bastard right now!” He yells, and you spit on your side in response.

“Who?” You freeze, feeling chills run down your spine. That voice only means problems, and a lot of them. “Who are you going to kill? My woman?”

You feel him right beside you, leaning on his crutch. He looks down at you and nods and you nod back, slowly standing up.

“L-Lord I-Ivar,” The man stuttered.

“So? You’re going to kill my woman, you say?” Ivar says, his tone friendly but his eyes, oh those eyes.

“N-no, no my lord,” The man keeps stuttering. “It’s this woman who says she’s carrying my child.”

Ivar face snaps to the side, looking at you while anger starts to bubble in his system, a burning feeling in his chest, he squints his eyes at you and silently you start to pray to the gods for the life of the man.

“When I was hunting and you were keeping me company, that was your last month bleeding, right?” Ivar says and he’s not actually asking, he knows that information, for he’s the one you always go to when you’re in pain, but you nod anyways. “And he pushed you while you’re carrying a child?”

You nod again.

“Yes, Ivar.” The man grimaces when he hears you call Ivar by his name and without honorifics, why nobody told him he was laying with someone so important? “He did.”

Ivar’s face slowly turns to the man, and he grins.

“Now I have to decide whether you die—,”

“Ivar can I—,” You start but are interrupted.

“NO!” He snaps, pointing at you with his finger. “You do not get to save him from this, you do not get a saying this time!”

“Ivar,” Your own anger makes you grind your teeth. “Can I go home? My feet are hurting and I need to get a healer for my hands.”

He blinks and looks down at your bloody hands from the fall before, he sighs, feeling bad at the way he talked to you when you weren’t even trying to help the man.

“I’ll finish this quickly,” Ivar says and in the blink of an eye, the man is being dragged by Ivar’s men while crying and babbling apologies.

You don’t let Ivar say anything more and start walking home and when you get there you ask for a healer and after being done with your hands and a quick checkup on your overall health you ask for a hot bath.

“It’s ready, my lady,” The thrall says just in time for Ivar’s entrance, she gasps and starts to tremble.

“You can go now, don’t come back again, you may take the tub out tomorrow,” You whisper tiredly.

Ivar is covered in blood and even you get a chill run down your spine. It looks grotesque, never has he had so much blood on him from just one person, he looks demonic even.

“I’m—,” He starts but you lift your hand.

“I honestly don’t want to hear it,” You murmur, starting to get undressed.

He looks at you with attention, watching you moan when the hot water gets in contact with your skin.

“I’m sorry.” He finishes what he was saying earlier and you roll your eyes.

“I’m with child, I got pushed by the father of the child and then he got killed by you and I imagine it was in the most animalistic way you could think of,” You tell him coldly. “I’m tired, I didn’t need you snapping at me when I was the one being mistreated, you may go now if that’s going to happen again.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he says, he looks emotionless, his voice too. But you know that those words coming out of Ivar’s mouth is already a blessing.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He says, crawling more closer.

“You look scary.”

“I’ll get clean after you tell me how are you,” He whispers and you sigh.

“What am I going to do now?” You whisper to him, getting close to him.

“Nothing, you don’t need to do anything,” He whispers. “Just let me take care of you. Both of you.”

“You already do that,” You smile.

He smiles and leans, giving you a soft kiss although you could tell it doesn’t mean anything more.

“Yes I do, until the gods call me to Valhalla.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Summer Rose - An Ivar the Boneless/Reader Smut Short.

Bit of smut and fluff, some softer Ivar? I was feeling a certain way about him today, so now so can you, too!

Words - 633

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Ivar is a man who wears many faces. The unflinching stare of contempt perhaps being his most famous, or the unnerving grin of a man working four steps ahead of his enemies. For you, though, your favourites are the ones he saves for when the two of you are alone.  

The look of sheer bliss as you top him is perhaps the one you love most. 

“Fuck, my love. How good you feel around my cock.” The words pour from his beautiful, full lips like wine, his hands grasped tight upon your hips while you work in serpentine against him. His thick cock ruts you fully, hitting every angle, every depth, your body cast in pure gold from the firelight, the sight of you atop him warming his heart as much as it does feed his lust.  

For this Viking, he never thought love could match the roaring flare of carnal desire, until he met you. Until you showed him, told him, made him feel it in his very bones. It mingles in waves of ebullient delight, his thumb moving to drag heat across your aching bud, sparks roaring up your spine as you cry out.  

“You are always at your most beautiful when you...” he trails off, his words deafened by your ascension, grinning with a deep chuckle as he witnesses it, your complete undoing that leaves you a shaking wreck atop him. “...when you fall apart like that for me.” 

Gathering yourself, you continue to roll your hips against him, wanting for his own pleasure to streak through him wildly, his eyes closing tightly as he groans, deep and rolling, whispering curses as the flutters of your cunt make lightning begin to flicker within his depths.  

His mouth drops open, panting hard, the icy shards that are his eyes opening to fix you with a lust drenched stare, the thickness of him splitting you wide causing pleasure to spark over your nerves, hitting the heights of a swirling tempest again with him as he fills you with thick ropes of hot spend.  

“Gods,” you breathe, fingers weaving through his as you chuckle, “I am tired now.” 

“Hardly surprising,” he pants, pulling you to him, offering kisses steeped in soft heat. “Come, love. Let me make you comfortable.” You climb from him, carefully taking to your back, Ivar pulling the pelts and blankets up over your legs, arranging the pillows plumply beneath your head. When he gazes down at you, you feel as if your heart could burst.  

He caresses your cheek, nuzzling your neck, his hand slipping down to stroke the rounded swell of your belly, shifting to kiss it. A tiny foot kicks against his mouth. “Child, you dare kick your father in the face?”  

Your laughter fills the room, Ivar prodding your bump with his finger, waiting for it. A tiny foot kicks back immediately. “She is all fire, just like her mother.”  

Ivar has stated with every confidence ever since you told him you were with child that she would be a girl. He felt it, knew it, he said, that your first would not be a son. Unlike many of his brethren who keen for an heir, he did not care an ounce that your baby would be female. “You will be a fine fighter, a fearless shieldmaiden, my little summer rose. You will be all that your mother is, and so much more. I know this, my tiny daughter. I long for the sun to grace our lands once more, for that is the time I shall meet you at last.”  

Watching him talk to your baby, seeing the look of complete adoration as he strokes your belly, you change your mind. Of the many faces Ivar wears, it is this one you love the most.  

[axelsagewrites]

Truth or Dare

Pairing: ivar x reader

Word count: 1101

Warnings: ivar being insecure, drinking, brief mentions of sex, kissing

Masterlist Here

Growing up with the Ragnarssons got you in a lot of well questionable situations but tonight was also one of them. Except at least no one wanted to kill anyone. Yet. The night is young after all. “I dare you to,” Ubbe began, drunkenly waving his cup at Sigurd, “to down that whole horn of mead in one,” he said as Sigurd rolled his eyes while Hvitserk, Ivar, and you cheered him on.

“Fine, fine,” he eventually gave in with a smile, drinking the alcohol he’d been avoiding all night in 10 seconds flat. “Now,” he said, eyes wandering the circle. You were all sat a few feet from the bustling hall where they were celebrating their return from the latest raid, but this was far more your style. Even as Sigurd pointed his finger at you, you smiled, “Truth or dare?”

“Hmm,” you wondered which would get you in worse bother considering the four drunk men you considered your closest friends. “Truth,” your response was met with groans and even Ivar leaned over to whisper ‘coward’ in your ear.

“True or false,” he started, his eyes dancing in a way that made you nervous, “You and Leif,” he said, eyebrows raised making Ubbe and Hvitserk ooo at you, but Ivar stayed silent.

You rolled your eyes at Sigurd, “That wasn’t a question,”

“Please you know what I’m going to ask,”

“Whatever do you mean dear Sigurd?” you smiled, batting your lashes at him.

“You’ve fucked?” Hvitserk jumped in and the boys’ cackles almost covered up the low growl from Ivar but none of them seemed to notice.

You shot him a quick look before answering, “No,” you said and Ivar’s shoulders finally untensed.

“But you’ve kissed?” Ubbe said, making things worse instantly.

You rolled your eyes once more before taking a drink out of your flask, “No you only get one question. Now Ivar truth or dare?”

As you turned to face the blue-eyed boy you did your best not to stare too obviously at his face. You weren’t sure why or when your crush started on Ivar, but it was getting harder to ignore the older you both got. However, after a few beats of silence he finally spoke, “I do not wish to play anymore, I am tired. goodnight,”

All four of you watched after him as he dragged himself away however he wasn’t heading home. “What’s wrong with him?” Sigurd asked as Ivar disappeared into the forest tree line.

“I’m gonna go- “a staggering Ubbe said as he tried to stand but you quickly pushed him back down and stood.

“I’ll go,” you said, not even turning back to chastise their whoops and Woo’s.

It didn’t take long to find Ivar with his eyes closed and back against a tree. As you walked you tried to be quiet, but you heard a twig snap and Ivar sigh. You grimaced as you moved to sit down next to him though he still would not open his eyes. “What is the matter Ivar?”

“It’s nothing,”

“Please Ivar,” you said, sighing before deciding to try make him laugh, “You’re never this calm when your upset,” you joked but he only sighed once more.

Finally, though he opened his eyes, but he looked straight forward. He took a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he spoke, “You never answered the question,”

“What question?”

“Ubbe’s question,” he said, his voice straining as you noticed him gripping his hand into a fist.

You paused for a moment before you realised, letting out a sigh of relief, “No Ivar. I haven’t kissed him. Is that what upset you?” he said nothing again, closing his eyes once more. “Ivar please what is wrong? Why does it bother you who I kiss?”

“It doesn't- I mean I- “he sighed, his breathing becoming heavier, “I just didn’t want to be the last one to have ever kissed someone. That’s it. okay?” he said, finally turning to look at you with a glare behind his eyes. Most would flinch under his gaze, but your face softened when you saw the hurt behind his eyes, “And I didn’t want to wait around for someone, even you, to ask me a stupid question like that,”

“Ivar- I wouldn’t have asked you that,” you said as his eyes fell to the floor, “I didn’t know you hadn’t kissed anyone either,”

“You- “Ivar paused, lifting his head, “You’re lying,”

“Am not!” you protested, “Why would I lie?”

“To make me look less stupid?”

You laughed at that, shoving his shoulder, “Where would the fun in that be? If anything, I’m more surprised you haven’t kissed someone,”

Ivar rolled his eyes, “Yeah right. Who would want to kiss me?” he said as he turned his gaze to you. his eyes knocked the wind out your lungs and for a moment you considered not saying anything.

“I would,” you finally said, your voice soft.

His eyes perked up at your words though, no longer able to take it back, “You would?” he asked, and you nodded gently. Another few moments of silence passed before he cleared his throat, “Perhaps it would be better for us to be each other’s first kiss. So, we can um learn what to do,” he said as his eyes fell once more to the floor.

“Perhaps,” you said, shuffling closer, “Ivar?” you said, your head instinctively leaning closer to his so that when he looked up his nose brushed yours, “Would you like to kiss me?” you asked, his breathing fanning your lips.

Ivar swallowed hard, his eyes darting to your lips, “Yes,” he eventually breathed out, “I would like that very much,”

He stayed frozen but slowly your lips dipped in till they brushed against his. Fuck it. you closed the gap, your eyes falling shut as you felt his lips against yours. the kiss was soft and gentle and lasted only a brief second before you pulled away, but you were still nose to nose.

“Ivar?” you tried to ask but his lips moved too quickly, capturing yours again but you were quick to catch up. Your hands moved to cover his, bringing them over to rest on your waist before yours moved to his shoulders which you could finally feel how muscular they’d become.

You kissed till you couldn’t breathe anymore and when you pulled away his lips tried to follow as you both gasped for air. “I think,” Ivar began to pant, “I like kissing you,”

“Good,” you grinned, your hand moving to cup his face, “Then lets never stop,”

[fragileheartbeats]

⌗ 𝘝𝘐𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ( ♱ )

— 𝘙𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘳, 𝘉𝘫𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘜𝘣𝘣𝘦, 𝘏𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘬, 𝘐𝘷𝘢𝘳 <3

˚꒰🌼꒱‧ it was a request, but I deleted it by mistake. Anyways hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐑 | 𝑳𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑲 ─ ♕ . ♡𝆬

The Charismatic Leader

Ragnar is the strategic and deeply passionate yandere. His obsession is rooted in a profound emotional connection and intellectual fascination. Ragnar treats you with a curious mix of reverence and possessiveness. He sees you as his equal, his partner in both love and adventure. "My Heart," a term that signifies your essential place in his life. Ragnar’s love is shown in grand gestures and the sharing of wisdom. He wants you involved in his plans, seeing you as integral to his vision of the future. Ragnar's jealousy is a slow burn; he's confident but can become cold and distant if he feels he’s losing your attention. When vulnerable, he shares tales of his fears and dreams, often gazing at the stars with you, pondering the gods' will. Witnessing Ragnar’s intense conflicts, both internal and external, could be harrowing. His determination to achieve greatness can sometimes overshadow his attention to you, leaving you feeling isolated amidst his ambitions. Ragnar envisions you by his side as he makes history, exploring new worlds and standing together as equals among the legends.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐁𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐍 | 𝑰𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑬 ─ ⸸ . ♡𝆬

The Fierce Warrior

Bjorn's obsession nature is that of the protector, almost knightly in his devotion. His love is fierce, and his protective instincts are strong. He treats you with a protective warmth, always ensuring you are safe and respected by all. He call you "My Shieldmaiden," even if you do not fight, it’s how he sees you—brave and strong. Bjorn’s demonstrations of love are in his protective actions, ensuring you never face danger alone. His gifts are often symbolic, representing his commitment and your shared strength. Bjorn’s jealousy can erupt into fierce displays of dominance, though he tries to keep it in check. His vulnerability comes out in quiet moments when he shares his doubts about living up to his father’s legacy. The worst experience would be getting caught in the crossfire of his ambitions and the dangers that accompany his life. Bjorn dreams of a future where you both stand as legends, with a legacy of strength, courage, and unity that echoes through the ages.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐄 ─ 𖤐 . ♡𝆬

The Compassionate Strategist

Ubbe’s obsession is more measured and thoughtful, rooted in a deep emotional and intellectual connection. He treats you with a gentle respect and an eagerness to share everything with you, from the mundane to the profound. He will call you "My North Star," guiding him through life’s tumultuous seas with your wisdom and compassion. Ubbe shows his love through acts of service and the sharing of knowledge. He’s always teaching you something new, ensuring you feel valued and heard. Ubbe experiences jealousy more quietly, preferring to outthink rather than confront. His vulnerability is in his fear of loss, often sharing his nightmares of a life without you. Perhaps the most challenging aspect of loving Ubbe is coping with his internal conflicts, particularly his struggle to balance his ambitions with his moral compass. Ubbe envisions a peaceful future, one where wisdom and compassion have created a world in which you both can thrive, surrounded by family and a community that respects the land and its history.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐇𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐊 ─ ✦ . ♡𝆬

The Wild Spirit

Hvitserk’s obsession is impulsive and volatile. He’s the embodiment of a storm—unpredictable and wild. He oscillates between intense affection and moments of distracted restlessness. But in his good moments, he's exhilarating and deeply attentive. He will call you "My Tempest," capturing both his perception of your captivating allure and the tumultuous nature of his affection. His demonstrations of love are spontaneous—adventures in the middle of the night, unexpected gifts stolen from far-off lands, and passionate declarations. Jealousy can drive Hvitserk to reckless actions, sometimes endangering himself to prove his worth. He’s surprisingly open about his feelings, wearing his heart on his sleeve. The inconsistency and his struggle with his own demons can leave you feeling insecure about where you stand with him. Hvitserk sees a future filled with adventure and unpredictability, always chasing the next thrill but doing so together, forever entwined in each other’s chaos.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐑 | 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 ─ ✞ . ♡

The Ruthless Tactician

Ivar's love is intense and all-consuming, marked by his cunning and ruthless nature. He views you as his ultimate prize, his reason for victory. With you, Ivar is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to his usual ruthlessness. He shares his strategies and thoughts, making you the confidante of his deepest ambitions. He will call you "My Queen," placing you above all, the only one capable of understanding his true self. Ivar’s expressions of love are possessive and grand. He eliminates any threats to your safety, often before you’re even aware of them. His jealousy knows no bounds, and he can become dangerously cold towards perceived rivals. In vulnerability, Ivar reveals his fears of inadequacy and his deep need for your affirmation. Witnessing the lengths Ivar will go to secure power and protect you can be both awe-inspiring and terrifying, as his methods are often merciless. Ivar dreams of a future where you both rule, unchallenged, with a legacy that will be remembered and feared throughout the ages.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

[disasterofastory]

Relax (Ivar x Reader)

Relax Ivar x Reader Warnings: handjob

Summary: You help your husband relax.

You don't even bother with knocking. Every nerve in your body is on edge. Your heart is in your stomach, throbbing with worry and the need to see your husband. You can feel your insides turn. The door closes shut behind you with a loud thud. The walls shake for a second at the force. Both of them jump at the loud, sudden sound. Ivar's bright blue gaze lands on you with a raised brow. The thrall's eyes are wide and panicked. The pitcher with warm water is still in her hands. A few dark strands of her hair stick to her skin because of the steam that dominates the room. The air is heavy and suffocating with it. "I will help the King with his bath." Your voice is sharp and loud. You need a few deep breaths to check your feelings and change your tone. A gentle smile spreads across your face as you step next to the thrall to take the water from her. "Go to sleep," you tell her, making sure your tone is light and much nicer than before. She doesn't deserve to be at the end of your mood even though only worry, and tiredness makes you much more snappy than usual. "We all deserve some rest after this day." "Thank you, my Queen," she says before leaving.

Your attention wanders to Ivar, who still watches you without a word. New wounds and bruises decorate his skin. His dark hair is a mess of knots and braids. "How are you?" You ask him, pouring the still-warm water into the bath. "I'm fine," he replies. "It looks worse than it feels like." Putting down the pitcher, you grab a rag to soak it in the herb-smelling water before you kneel down next to him and start to wash away the dried blood and mud off his pale skin. His muscles jerk at your gentle touch before relaxing against the bathtub. A relieved sigh leaves his lips. "Did you kill him?" You ask after a few seconds. The satisfied smirk tells you the answer even before he forms it into words. "He will never bother us again." You nod. "I was worried." You knew the battle was inevitable, but when you saw the brightness in Ivar's eyes, you couldn't help but think of the worst all day. Seeing Ivar coming back through the gates of Kattegat was such a relief you almost fell onto your knees at the view of him. "I'm fine," he hums, grabbing your hand to kiss your palm. "I will always come back to you." "You can't know that," you argue. You watch the small droplets of water running down his broad shoulders. Your lips find the fresh bruise on his shoulder blade. Your fingers run up to his hair to get rid of the ruined braids. His head falls back against your touch.

"What's wrong?" You ask him after a while, washing out the soap from his hair. Your nostrils are filled with the smell of herbs you mixed together just for him. It always calms him down and puts him in a better mood. Well, almost always. "I don't know," he replies, fidgeting. The water ripples around him with every move. "My head... There is too much thing going on in my head." A smirk pulls on your lips as you adjust yourself at his side. Your head rests on your arm on the edge of the bathtub. Your other hand plays with the surface of the water. It's still warm. "I can help, my husband," you tell him. "If you want." You don't even wait for his answer. The pleading glint in the depth of his bright blue eyes is enough for your to move your hand to his chest. Pressing your hand against his chest, you feel his heart beating for long seconds. The thuds are strong and stubborn.

He is already half-hard when you reach down in the water. Your fingers curl around his shaft easily, and you can feel him twitch in your firm hold. A trembling breath leaves Ivar's lips. A smirk pulls on yours. The curve of his cock is familiar as you run your fist up and down his length a few times before releasing him to tease him a bit. He hisses at the feeling. Your finger smooths down on the underside of his erection until you reach his balls. "Y/N!" He groans out your name. His hoarse voice goes straight to your pussy, making your thighs clench for some friction. You keep your eyes on him the whole time. You still don't understand how a vicious man like Ivar can be so beautiful. His cheeks are dark pink, almost matching the shade of his lips. "You are so pretty," you state, and Ivar smirks through the bliss. "Squeeze me, wife." A moan follows his words when you do as he says. You palm him, curling your fingers around his shaft again to pump his length firmly. Your thumb traces the head of his cock, slipping up to the small hole. The grip of Ivar's hold on the edge of the bathtub is so tight you can almost hear the wood creaking. His chest moves up and down rapidly as he gulps down the air to bring it back into several moans and groans. "Kiss me," you order him, leaning closer to him. "Kiss me, husband." He doesn't even open his eyes when he brings his lips against yours. The movement is clumsy at first, with all teeth and tongue. Ivar is so deep in his own pleasure, he doesn't fight back when you start to dominate the kiss. You lick his lips, following the soft curve of his bottom lip and tangling your tongue with his into a fierce dance. Your free hand finds the back of his head, gripping his wet hair between your fingers. His groan is muffled and vibrates in your throat. Your pussy pulses and aches, meanwhile, Ivar gets closer and closer to his orgasm. You can read him like an open book, and when you are sure he is close to the edge, you make your hand move faster on his cock while pulling on his hair at the same time. His erection jerks in your hold as he cums with several shots.

"Can you help me out?" He asks after a few minutes. His breath is still rapid. "I'm not done with you yet."

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Kinktober Day 26: Overstimulation- Ivar Ragnarsson

Summary: Ivar shows his new wife just how much pleasure a cripple can give her

Word count: 2, 002

Many people would think that being wed to a prince would be a blessing, especially if he was a brave warrior as well, but those people did not have to marry Prince Ivar. Your mother had assured you that he couldn’t be too bad, but you had heard differently. The many awful stories from many people ran through your mind when you had to walk up that aisle.

Now you sat beside him at the celebration of your arranged marriage and he had still not spoken a word to you. He’d barely even glanced at you since you’d wed five hours earlier, even the kiss he had to give you was barely a peck. Although it was disappointing to have such an inattentive husband, from what you heard it was better than the wrath he could inflict on you.

Despite Ivar’s actions you still managed to have a good evening thus far, his three elder brothers being a lot more charismatic and funny than your new husband. Your previous anxieties were beginning to dull as Hvitserk and Ubbe continued to make you laugh with tales of their childhood and adventures.

While the alcohol seemed to make you feel more excited and Hvitserk and Ubbe to be more funny, it seemed to have the opposite affect on the youngest of the three, Sigurd. The more he drank the more passing comments and glares at Ivar he seemed to dish out. The other two brothers did a good job of distracting you to not notice, but the elder brothers, and unfortunately Ivar, definitely did notice.

So far others had managed to distract Ivar enough that he didn’t react as violently as Sigurd had hoped, that was until a certain comment seemed to cut just a little too deep.

“You know, Y/N, if you ever notice that Ivar is lacking as a husband, I’m more than happy to keep your bed warm in the evening. I mean hahaha I am sorry to say but he is a cripple with a cock that doesn���t work!” He loudly laughed, unknowingly embarrassing himself as he was the only one laughing.

The room stood still, most people in the large hall having heard the suggestive comment.

At hearing such a crass comment you couldn’t help but choke on your wine. It was the forwardness of such a suggestion that caused you to cough out your wine, but unfortunately Ivar thought you were laughing.

“This is my wedding, Sigurd! Y/N is my wife!” His intimidating voice boomed at his brother, startling you slightly.

“Ivar, careful.” Ubbe gently warned as all eyes landed on your table.

With dangerous eyes, Ivar snarled at both you and Sigurd before angrily hobbling away on his crutch.

Even though Ivar was apparently a brute and hot-headed, he was still your husband and you believed his reaction was warranted.

“Wait! Ivar!” You found yourself calling after him as you ran to catch up with the surprisingly fast Viking.

Ivar made you follow him all the way to your shared bedroom, his steps fast and full of understandable rage. If you hadn’t been quick enough to catch the door with your palm, it would have slammed right in your face.

Stepping into the spacious room you make tentative steps towards your rage-filled husband.

“Ivar?…” you quietly call to him.

His head quickly whips around to you, a rage-filled look etched onto his face. Before you could even attempt to calm him, he had you pinned to the door, his strong forearm digging into your chest.

“You are my wife and you laugh with my brother about me.” He angrily growled at you.

“Ivar- I-I…” You began, before his strong hand around your throat stopped you in your tracks.

Seeing your startled reaction to his anger seemed to switch something in Ivar. Though he was infamous for his rage and his bloodthirsty reputation on the battle field, you were his wife and though many saw him as a brute, he didn’t want you to despise him. Ivar had worried what you’d think of him or that he’d ruin his chance at this relationship working out, that’s why he’d been so distant.

His breathing seemed to calm, his breaths coming out in slow huffs through his nose. Though his grip on you loosened and his breathing slowed, he still had a dangerous look in his eye.

His eyes never leave yours as his hand around your throat descends. The light touches across your chest and abdomen surprise you, there was fire in his eyes but grace in his touch. As his hand makes its way to your hip, he grasps it tightly in a strong hold. Though his hold was strong, it was not violent, it was filled more with passion then pure anger.

“What my brother says about me is true, my cock does not work. Though I can not bare you a child, I can however still bring you pleasure and consummate this marriage.” He confidently declares to you.

His gaze was so intense and his voice so powerful, you had not noticed that both of his hands had moved to the neckline of your dress. It wasn’t until you heard a loud ripping sound and you were pulled slightly away from the door that you noticed where his hands had moved to. Your eyes widened and your body shuddered, but whether it was from the strength your new husband had just shown or from the sudden warmth of the fire on your exposed skin, you couldn’t be sure.

Taking his eyes away from yours, they traveled down to your now exposed breasts. His strong calloused hands began holding and squeezing them, looking upon you with marvel.

“You are a beautiful woman, and you deserve someone who can provide you with the pleasure you deserve. Let me show you how much pleasure I can provide.” He tells you, his eyes once again landing back on yours, his gaze softer now.

One of his hands leaves your breast, making its way to cup your cheek lovingly. You lean into his soft touch as he brings his face closer to yours. His lips press against yours in a kiss that is both gentle and passionate. Your tongues do not meet, but he seems to have no problem showing his passion and causing your core to flutter in excitement.

“Take off your dress and lay on the bed for me, my beautiful wife. I will show you just how much pleasure a cripple can give you.” He tells you, his forehead resting against yours as dominance returns to his voice.

Intrigue filled your body and mind as you quickly pushed off the door, the eager way you rush to remove your clothes causing your new husband to chuckle. His eyes never leave your body as new skin is exposed to him.

Finally laying on the soft furs of the large bed, you find your breathing getting heavier just from watching Ivar make his way over to you. Though he walks with support from a crutch, there is still dominance and power in every step.

Finding his place on the edge of the bed, his fingers lightly trace from your ankle to your inner thigh, goosebumps following the path of his light touch. His passion filled eyes meet yours again as his fingers inch closer to your core. Your legs instinctively bend and spread at his touch.

Taking his other hand, his strength surprises you once again as it wraps around your thigh and drags you closer to his seated spot. Your surprised yelp quickly becomes a moan as his fingers make contact with your warm wet core. He has barely touched you and already your body is alight. Dragging his fingers up and down the length of your pussy, his eyes marvel at the way your body responds.

“You’re so beautiful and you’re all mine.” He speaks softly, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

“All yours, Ivar.” Your soft voice speaks up, causing his head to shoot up, like you’re a dream he’s just realised is real.

His eyes become slightly dangerous again as his strong fingers begin to push into and circle your sensitive bundle of nerves. The way your head pushes back into the soft bed and the sweet moan that escapes your lips, drives Ivar wild. He craves to hear more of your sounds as he positions his body to be between yours legs.

Leaning down he begins to bite and kiss your already quaking thighs, desperately trying to pull more of those sounds from your gorgeous lips.

The feel of his fingers on your clit mixed with the hot kisses he leaves all over your sensitive skin is quickly pushing you to your release. You can feel your core tightening, desperate to come undone.

“Oooh-Ooohh! Ivar, I’m gonna cum!” You call out, your nails digging into his strong forearm.

“Mhmmm. Do it, my love. Scream my name and let everyone hear who makes you feel so good.” He demands, the force and speed on your clit growing more intense.

“Oh fuck! Ivaaarrr!” You scream out in pleasure as your head shoots back in pleasure and your nails dig into his skin harder.

As you lay there catching your breath, you barely register your husband manoeuvring your body to lay against his against the headboard, until you feel his fingers on your sensitive clit.

“Ooohh Ivar! It’s too much!” You pathetically cry out.

His strong arm wraps itself around your centre, holding your squirming body still. You attempt to escape the intense pleasure by closing your legs, causing Ivar to growl and bite at your neck.

“Do not deny me your sweet sounds, my darling wife. I wish to draw as much pleasure out of you tonight as your body is able to take. Be good and keep your gorgeous legs open for me.” He growls lowly in your ear.

Though the overstimulation begins to hurt slightly, you can not deny such a command.

Your next orgasm approaches embarrassingly quickly as you loudly shout Ivars names once again, your head slamming back onto his chest. Ivar chuckles delightedly at your state of overstimulated pleasure.

Once again giving you no time to come down from your orgasm, Ivar deftly thrusts two fingers into your wet pulsing pussy.

“Oh fuck!” You shout out in surprise at the intrusion.

Wasting no time, his fingers begin to curl and thrust into you as his arm holding your middle moves slightly to rub your clit. The combined pleasure of Ivars skilful fingers hitting the sweet spot inside you and rubbing deliciously on your clit is too much for your body to handle, and once again your body thrashes and scream out in overstimulated ecstasy.

“No more, Ivar, no more.” You weakly beg him, your mind feeling fuzzy and your body heavy at the way he’s now made you cum three times.

“Just one more for me, my gorgeous princess. I know you can give me one more.” He almost begs you, sweetly kissing the side of your face as his hand strokes along your inner thigh.

“Just one more.” You weakly nod to him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He excitedly chants as he kisses your cheeks and his fingers return to your clit.

The light chuckle that his sweet kisses cause are quickly cut off by a loud moan of pleasure. This being the fourth time of the night you will cum, your body takes barely twenty seconds before it is thrown into a feeling of blinding ecstasy once more.

The pleasured scream that leaves your body is animalistic as your body goes completely limp against Ivar. Breathing heavily, your eyes begin to close as you feel sleep taking over you.

“You did so well, my love.” He gently coos as he positions you under the soft furs.

His strong arms wrap around you and you feel a sweet kiss on your forehead before you fall into a blissful sleep.

[honestsycrets]

Neglection [Ivar x Healer!Reader, Past!Hvitserk x Reader]

❛ pairing | ivar x reader, past!hvitserk x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | touched with eir's healing powers, it's your custom to care for the great heathen army. ivar doesn't appreciate the order you care for others in.

❛ tags | NSFW, non-graphic mention of ivar's wound, healer!reader, blind!reader, religious references, past!hvitserk x reader, heavily jealous!ivar, jealousy.

❛ sy’s notes | forgive the looseness of this piece, i'm attempting to complete random freewrites to get into producing more works.

Stubborn, that was how you would define Ivar. Even if he was one of the commanders of the Great Heathen Army, he was also as stubborn as a mule. Pain, he claimed, was one of his deepest allies. He was surrounded by it from birth. 

“Ivar,” you trilled, coming into the great church where Ivar set up his base. “Ivar-- are you here?” 

You tiptoed past sleeping comrades holding the bottom of your skirts, prancing over a viking’s sleeping body, egged on by the nagging urge to chase your injured commander. His rich scent filled your nostrils: blood and breaks, smoke and honey. His slight huffs of pain, slight as they were, led you to this room.

“Commander?” 

“Hush,” came the snapping reply. “My brothers are sleeping.” 

Your foot bumped against cold stone steps. “Where are you?” 

“You’re close.” 

The night was always a trying time for finding the right man. Ivar’s thick candle, flickering in the moonlight, casted little light by which you could guide yourself through the large room. You climbed over the heavy steps by sliding your feet slowly over the stone floor. Then, bumped into another body. 

“Ivar?” 

There was no answer. You bend at the knees and casted your fingers over the crumpled body on the floor. It wasn’t right-- no, his sides were too narrow. His hair in long braids. And when he moaned, your ears were full with a gruff but inviting voice. “Prince Hvitserk,” you mumbled.

“Yes, Prince Hvitserk,” Ivar chided. “You always loved Hvitserk.” 

You left his side with the assumption that Ubbe would be sleeping close by. Wherever Hvitserk was, Ubbe was. You knew that. Bjorn wouldn’t be in this room-- he was keeping watch tonight. “I don’t choose who to heal first, Ivar. The goddesses do.” 

“You can lie better than that.” 

“Please don’t mock me, Ivar. I just want you to be safe--” 

“Safe?” He hummed. “I’m not interested in being ‘safe’, my sweet.” 

Sweet, you flushed. You hoped that the bright light wouldn’t illuminate your cheeks, flush with embarrassment. Then again, you would never know. “You’re blushing, hm, do you like that?” 

“That’s enough. Just come to me.” 

“Why should I? If memory is escaping you,” he bit out. His voice clear, filling your ears with dizzying certainty. He really was close. “I was shot in the thigh. Find me yourself.”

Seconds later, your knees collided with a great wooden chair. Then betrayed you. You fell forward and caught yourself by slamming your hand down on a firm, but fleshy surface “Gods!” he shouted. 

“By Eir!” you snapped back, hands flailing to find the proper wooden surface. “My Ivar, I’m--” 

“Sorry, yes, I know. Congratulations, you’ve found me. Now get on with it.” 

“On-- on with it?”

“Did you not come here to heal it?” he asked. In the hazy field of your vision, you knew he was scrutinizing you. You ran your hand over your long skirt, smoothing it down. Whatever he was staring at, be it your thick braid over your shoulder or the dry blood caked over your hands from a long day of work, you weren’t sure. “Or are those magical hands only for Hvitserk?” 

“Why do you insist on Hvitserk?” 

His head, angled toward his brother, snapped to you. “Given how much time you spend with him--” 

His body tensed. Your fingers ghosted the scratchy fabric of his pants, still splattered with blood, and you realized he too hadn’t washed down. You hovered over the wound, the place where his scent originated from. 

“I do not.” 

“You only serve him breakfast and dinner,” he spat to the side again, stiffening as you moved up to loosen his belt. His hand snapped to your wrist, grip crushing the bone. You lifted your head to him, coming close enough that you could make something out of the face you once knew.

“Don’t do that.” 

“I need a clear working area. It isn’t as if I can see your…” you snaked your hand away from his grip to try and loosen his pants again. He snapped his head one way, then another, watching as you kneeled between his legs. He remained silent as you slid his pants down his thin legs to his ankles. 

 “You’ve seen Hvitserk’s,” he huffed under his breath. 

“How many times do I need to tell you? I’ve not been with him. For years,” you searched through your bag for the right essentials. Yes, another healer had cleaned the area on your request-- but it wasn’t done to your liking. The cloth was loose, the area unpurified. “I don’t even remember what he felt like.” You mumbled.

Ivar’s lips parted with a slight smack. He was wordless for an instant, his head shifting to face his brother. “He was that… immemorable?” 

The air was thick. He, curious. You, exhausted. Ivar’s large arms turned one over another. He twitched his thick muscular thighs as if to urge a response from you. Your hand came over his firm muscles to keep him in place. 

“We were so young. Ubbe was training him,” you said, cleaning the area with a soaked cloth. When you bumped into him, the wound oozed. Your lips pursed and you would blow soft air over his thigh which caused his muscles to tighten. “Besides, I don’t remember much from before Eir took my sight, Ivar. Only the small memories we shared.” 

“But not the dick,” he laughed. Your fingertips swatted the side of his thigh. 

In your mortar, you mixed a mixture of herbs that he only recognized from his mother’s witchery cabinet to soothe his aches. Your lips moved in the strangest of prayers, sanctifying the blend to aid in his healing and pain. Then you slathered it on his thigh, tingles ripping through his thigh to his spine. He wasn’t sure if the mixture or your lips healed the soreness, sweeping over his thigh with a soft kiss. He trembled. 

“You have nothing to be anxious about.” 

“Hm?” 

You lifted his thigh, drawing the bandage in sturdy loops around his thigh. Then, securing it in place, removed his musty pants and boots. It took a moment to locate his other pants. Ivar took them and drew them on, clicking his tongue against the roof of his tongue to urge you on. “I don’t want to be his.”

“Then whose?” 

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you were aware of what he was about to say. Though you couldn’t see, you could feel. Feel the intensity of Ivar’s presence, his eyes following you around camp, his endless neediness. His hand shot out and snatched the cords of your dress. You knew you shouldn’t have worn his dress to deal with Ivar. There was no way to unpeel his strong grip from your cords by will alone. 

“Be mine.” 

There were certain things that you knew the gods wanted. Healing of their finest warriors, the mitigation of pain, and hard workers. Your eyes, glazed as they were, served only to be a liability. To a man like Ivar-- your hands connected with his naked shoulders. His muscles enticed you-- far-- far too well. It had been years since you last had a man. Perhaps, in part, due to Ivar’s consistent scowls and glares.

“I can’t, I-- I swore to Eir,” you murmured. Though the words came of your lips, they did not convince you. You traveled his sturdy shoulders to his neck, then his jaw-- peppered with stubble. God, he knew what the sensation did to you with waves of excitement dancing over your skin. You weren’t convincing anyone.

“What does she care? Does she demand some silly Christian oath?” 

“No, but I--” He grasped your backside, pulling up the skirts over your knees. Then, jerked you onto the throne with legs on either side of his own. His voice softened into a soft honey-like hum, rivaling the soft slick that gathered between your legs. “Let me convince you otherwise, hm?” 

“Hvitserk is here.”  

“Forget him.” Ivar coursed his hand underneath your skirts. It was frustrating how often he could not listen. You could tell Ivar that the sky was blue and he’d debate you! With his calloused fingers guiding there way to the junction of your legs and pelvis, you knew there was nothing that you could tell him. No, nothing that you wanted to tell him, that would change this. Even with your complaining, you longed for the attention. It had been years.

Ivar inhaled air as he brushed your vulva, dancing his thumb across your neglected lips. He slid between the slit, parting your lips with ginger care. It was nearly embarrassing how easy it was for Ivar, running the pad of his thumb up and down. “See? You want me.” 

You wracked your mind for the last time this had happened. The last time a man had his eye on you-- oh, but you remembered, the night you lost your vision. Hvitserk-- whose kind heart soothed your grief-- warmed your body to comfort you. As you traced the memory, the ache of his absence panged strangely in your heart. Oh, how easy a man’s heart was to sway.

“Focus on me,” Ivar sank his fingers into your warm cunt. Your hips shifted in response, flush against his chest, breasts in his face. Your body tensed around his fingers to keep him in place. Ivar wasn’t the sort of man to be held back. Not by a pathetic cry, no. He was guided by the things he was passionate about. “Good--” 

“Please, Ivar, I’ve not--” he curled his fingers, massaging your walls as you hadn’t in years. It was warm, wonderful. His other hand came to your front, massaging a soft spot that only one other had. He rolled in the softest of rhythms, circling purposefully slow. Then quick. The pleasure bloomed-- the ugliest of flowers that you told yourself you wouldn’t have again. That you would devote yourself to Eir, swear off all thoughts of lust and love. All at once, Ivar stopped. He drew his fingers back from massaging your soaked walls and flicked your clit with a soft laugh. 

“So?” 

“No,” you lowered your hips, yipping as you settled against the bulge between Ivar’s legs. “I should-- I should go.” 

“Then go.” 

You didn’t move. No, your hands were knit to Ivar’s shoulders like thread and cloth.

"That is what I thought." You felt frozen in place even as he pulled himself free of his pants and fondled his shaft. The tip of his cock eased along your lips: forward, backward, and forward again. 

“If you stay,” Ivar breathed, slapping his cock against your mound. His breath was warm against your chest, urging you to slide your chest against his. Oh, you knew you were doomed. The memory of sex was all too enticing. Your body clenched, aching at the memory of how it felt. “I won’t let you go.” 

And though he said that, you reached between your legs and lined the warm head of his cock with your aching hole. He snapped your hips down an instant later, his wide grin widening with every bit of his cock that filled your core. Your fingers cringed on his shoulders as he seated himself comfortably in your cunt. Your lips parted, shaking loose noises that you knew would wake up his brothers. 

“Hush,” he leaned in, rocking his hips despite the pain wracking up his thigh. Your hips shifted, rolling down along his cock alone. He didn’t even have to move, no, you were too happy to do this on your own. His thumb found your nub again, spazzing along the little button as you rode him. You missed how it felt: how his warm words filled your soul with bliss, and his dick filled the places you didn’t know needed to be filled. It was what Ivar did-- with his voice, as desirable and silky as honey. 

It ruptured a hole straight through you. Blossoming low in your belly, the pleasure ripped through your cunt. Your body clamped on his, working his orgasm free. He seized your chin, aiming it toward him. And though your unseeing eyes could only see the shadows of his face, your mind was scarred by the memory of his haughty eyes and the bob and weave of his head. You didn't need to see to know what he was about to say next. “You’re mine.” 

You were wrong for this. But it was too late to take it back.