#Bjorn Ironside x male reader

[gulnarsultan]

hey i don't know if u write for vikings but if u do could you write some yandere headcanons for bjorn ironside nsfw and with kids

if your comfortable

Hello dear. Yes. I am writing for Viking. I hope you like it.

Yandere Bjorn Ironside headcanon.

~ Maybe you are his childhood friend. Or someone who was captured during a raid. It doesn't matter who you are and how you met. When Bjorn falls in love, your fate is sealed forever.

~ He has a very high desire to prove himself to you. He will try to show you that he is a real man, a worthy husband. He will not hesitate to show off his talents.

~ He is possessive, protective and jealous. He cannot stand other men approaching you. He enjoys dueling with his rivals and eliminating them.

~ He has a fear of abandonment and loss. His parents' broken marriage makes him somewhat paranoid. Losing his sister at a young age is a factor that strengthens his paranoia.

~ He will provide you with furs, jewelry and anything you want. He wants you to stay at home. He will never let you participate in wars and raids unless he has to. He will make sure that there are soldiers and shield girls around you to protect you even when you stay at home.

~ (Nswf) He will have sex with you for hours when he gets jealous. He will make you scream his name. He always likes to leave love bites on your body. He is obsessed with your belly swelling with his child.

~ He tries to be a good father to his children as much as he can. He is protective of them. He will try to meet all their material and spiritual needs.

[lokifromvalhalla]

A nice punishment

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Ivar The Boneless x [gender neutral] Reader Genre: Smut / Comfort Words: ± 2 100 Kind of content: Oral fixation / Nipple play

Playing with his chest does get Ivar to shut up for a little. It feels way better than it should.

Not proofread! Sorry for any mistake!

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“How many times do I have to tell you?” You sighed as your hands ran across his warm back, feeling every muscle and the bump of every scar under your fingertips. That was something you had done so many times already that you almost memorized his whole back, always knowing if there was any new scar, as small as it could be.

Ivar scoffed, his back vibrating with each word. “And what do you want me to do? Simply not go anywhere? Just sit here like your little doll, is it?” Of course he would be dramatic, twist your words just so you could feel guilty and let him do whatever he wanted, but you already had a resistance to his whining just like Ubbe and Hvitserk, even if it wasn’t as strong. Dealing with Ivar wasn’t any new to you; you were there long before Ragnar returned, then with him when Ragnar came back and took him to England, helped avenge his father’s death, and now dominate York.

The flames from the torches hanging from the stone walls illuminated the room. Ivar had taken over the cathedral so he could establish his base, and used one of the  main rooms—probably the bishop's—for himself. It was wide, rather luxurious, as a noble's place. In the first days, you would just hang around the room, but with how he kept asking you to help him with massages or undoing his braces until late at night, now it was also yours.

Today was something like this. A long day of unnecessary efforts and blueish eyes by the morning had Ivar’s muscles protesting in pain, so you were there once again, your hands rubbing oil against his rough skin in an attempt to help him despite all the complaints. He did appreciate what you were doing, though. You knew it was some sort of facade because, even between four walls and a closed door, Ivar still had to keep his goddamn posture at least in a few points to ‘keep you humble’. As if you couldn’t shape him exactly the way you wanted, just like Ubbe would do with his younger brothers sometimes.

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” you chuckled against his skin and pressed a kiss to the back of his ear. “My pretty little doll, all for me to use, hm?”

Ivar was silent for a moment, choking on his own words to the same level his cheeks heated up, just seconds before he was turning around and throwing his hands in the air. “What do you think you’re saying? I’m going to feed you flaming hot iron if you keep it like this!”

Another chuckle escaped your lips as you pushed him to face forward again. “And what?” You pulled him against you so his back met your chest instead. “Lose your best warrior? Best strategist? I don’t think you could handle even a day without me, knowing I’m not coming back,” you mumbled, chin over his shoulder and arms under his whilst watching your hands work against his ribs, slowly going up.

Whatever was going on in Ivar’s mind, vanished at the moment your hands started running over his chest. Instead, there were only quiet and incoherent grumbles that you could barely make out. “(Y/n), what...” His words trailed off, breath caught in his throat—he tried to fight against the will to arch his back at the feeling of your fingers tracing his nipples, running around them until they were hard. "Wh..."

"I'm just doing the massage you asked for," you scoffed, hands going down his torso just to come up and stop right under his pecs, proceeding to go up slowly. Ivar hissed at the friction as he arched his back; his hands tugged a little on the sheets before they found their way to your thighs, hence his nails sank into the skin messily in an attempt to both ground himself and warn you. Fruitlessly, of course. "How was your day, Ivar? You just mentioned why you're in so much pain, but never really told me what happened while I was gone.”

“Quit playing.”

“I asked you a question.” The weight in your voice had him shutting up for a moment, though the silence was quickly broken by a moan. Your fingers pinched his nipple, and it shouldn’t feel so good.

Ivar sucked in a breath, at first just spitting out stutters until the way you squeezed his pec had him speaking. “I—I was training, but then got... got in a fight.”

Got in a fight? You clicked your tongue. “Ivar. You woke up with blue-ish eyes, why would you even do that?” It was entertaining to watch how sensitive he was, slowly starting to squirm just because of his chest being fondled.

An indignant gasp came from Ivar, but he paused for a moment; his head leaned back against your shoulder for a moment while his hand adjusted against your thigh. “No...! I couldn’t let that happen! H—He was challenging me! Provoking!” His voice cracked once you pinched his nipple, playing with it between your index finger and your thumb, daring to give it an experimental tug. A louder gasp escaped his lips, back arched against you.

Oh, the old discourse about how a cripple can’t rule properly, you thought. It was already getting annoying to deal with.

“Of course, you ignored everything,” you mumbled, continuing to pinch his nipple, though now also doing the same to the other, and it was enough to start reducing him to pieces—the already uneven breathing lost its pace completely while his fingers trying to grip onto your skin however they could, almost having him throw his hips in the air in search for friction. “and grabbed your little sword so you’d kill the poor man.”

“Not a poor man!” Ivar growled. “He dared to doubt... of one of the sons...” He never finished his sentence, words lost into the dark corners of the room once you let go of him so you could get off your position. “Hey! What are you doing?” The blue irises were nothing but thin rings around the dilated pupils that observed you in desire.

Your chuckle had his eyebrows lowering, mouth pursing. “I thought you didn’t like it?” You raised an eyebrow, moving around until you straddled his thighs, pushing him back against the pillows. Whatever answer he had on the tip of his tongue, it died down with the way you parted his legs with a knee, carefully, instead earning yourself a glare, but it would take a lot more to discourage you. His hips were warm under your hands as you held onto them while leaning down to press kisses to his neck, sometimes nibbling on the skin. “You complain so much, sometimes I don’t know whether it’s real or not. How do you feel being so annoying?” 

“I think that you should shut the fuck up before getting yourself killed.” Empty words, of course. Ivar liked the teasing, if anything. In contrast to his words, his arms wrapped around your shoulders at the same time he threw his head back into the pillows to grant you more access.

You breathed a chuckle against his skin, feeling it rise with a shiver according to how you trailed down. “Oh, honey, you still insist on tricking yourself that you can live without me? Pitiful.”

It was fun to tease Ivar then silence him, watch the frustration build up in groans and quiet complaints, his nails sometimes pressing into your skin a little too hard. He was once again silenced, letting out a hum instead at how your lips worked on a spot some inches down his collarbones, sucking and nibbling on the skin until a purple spot was left behind. You knew he had some sort of sensitivity when it came to his chest, but you never knew it was that great until you decided to start exploring it that night; it probably was greater that time, given how long he had gone without being touched like that.

The way he shuddered and breathed shakily just because of how your tongue ran flat over his nipple was truly rewarding. You did it once more, this time snatching a moan that extended itself by how his crotch found a nice source of friction when meeting your thigh on the way once it pushed up. Your grip on his hips didn’t really prevent him from moving, more of guiding his movements and limiting his freedom.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you came untouched,” you mention. You could taste the light herbal taste of the oil on your tongue—it wasn’t bad, actually.

Ivar clicked his tongue, glancing down at you with a glare that would’ve made anyone else start praying for their life, but not you. Never you. That look didn’t give you anything more than entertainment. “Do you wish to die?”

“To kill you would be fun, actually.” A grin tugged on your lips, easily having Ivar more flustered. He wasn’t in position to criticize anything anymore, nor had enough coherent thoughts for it; he just turned his head away instead.

At first, soft kisses surrounded his nipple, soon being replaced by your teeth softly tugging on the skin, and there it was—whines spilled from his mouth with every nib until he clasped a hand over his own mouth in an attempt to muffle his sounds. It had you pausing, taking a moment to observe his messy form. Sweat had some of his hair strands stuck to his forehead, skin already flush and glistening softly under the dancing light of the flames. His chest heaved up and down with the deep sharp inhales.

The lack of interaction had Ivar’s eyes slowly turning to look at you, and that fucking deathly gaze had something stirring in your lower stomach.

“I wanna hear you,” you finally said, pressing a kiss to his fingers before you started to tug his hand away from his face, finally kissing his lips instead. His hands somehow felt in the way of something, something he didn’t know, but it still didn’t really feel right to just grip onto the sheets while you worked on him. He whined softly against your lips, kissing back with little care because all that mattered was how good you treated him, nibbling on his lips and letting your tongue meet his.

His back started arching once you started trailing down his neck once again, this time starting to nibble on the area around his nipple right away, this time working on the opposite one, with your hands back around his hips, tightly. “Fuck,” he whispered softly, voice tight in his throat, soon replaced by a moan. Your lips wrapped around his nipple to suck softly on it until he was arching his back and fighting against your hands, so you’d change to running your tongue flat against the nub instead.

It was slow and agonizing. Every single time the feeling would start to take over Ivar, erase the thoughts away from his head and have his eyes rolling back, you were there to pull him down, ground him again. Ivar crashed back into reality with quiet complaints and groans that only motivated you to continue, even if your lips would be left sore later. Then, there it was, finally. This time, you weren’t pulling away at the moment his hips started pushing up; you continued to suck on his nipple, even letting your teeth tug on it, and he wasn’t even that restrained anymore, with one of your hands letting go of him to instead fondle with the opposite side of his chest.

A string of curses escaped Ivar’s lips, though soon interrupted by the lack of air in his lungs, his teeth gritted and eyes pressed shut. His hips dragged slowly against your thigh, sending sparkles up his body and down again, right to his lower stomach. His shorter breaths had each time more space between them, as if just breathing would drive his focus away from his release, but then, there it was; a long moan was drawn from his lips at the same moment he finally came. As much as you wanted to see the face he was making, it seemed more of an advantage to continue messing with him until he was squirming, on the edge of oversensitivity.

You pressed a kiss to the bright red skin before you finally brought yourself up to look at him. He had his eyes shut, mouth moving lightly in inaudible mumbles to himself until he opened one eye lazily to observe you.

“You good, love?”

Ivar nodded lightly. “Do you need me to...?”

“No, no.” You shook your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “For the gods, Ivar,” you chuckled, “look at you. Came untouched, in your pants!” And just a few words had the haze that took over him fading away, replaced by his usual annoyance, curses and threats that escaped his lips seemingly unstoppingly.

[king-of-the-underworld-hades]

You could do It wednesday x male ivar the boneless reader (vikings)

The Boneless. (Male)

Ivar is the 3rd best Vikings Character(in my opinion) Bjorn Ironside 2nd, Ragnar Lothbrok 1st

^ by Abimanyu on pintrest ^ link

The morning light hit your face and caused you to wake from your slumber. You grunted as you sat up, grabbed your legs, and swung your legs over the edge of your bed. Grabbing your walking cane, which you kept by your bed, using it to help you stand. The cane was a black ebony wood with Nordic runes running down it, the handle was the head of a silver raven with sapphires as its eyes. You gritted your teeth and groaned as you stood up stumbling slightly, you inhaled before letting out a sigh as you walked to your bathroom. You leaned on your bathroom counter and looked in the mirror. You had slight bags under your eyes and your neck long hair was slightly disheveled. You changed into your usual street clothes running your hand through your hair you looked in the mirror you heard your dorm room doorknob turning Instinctively you grabbed the one-handed axe that you kept in your bathroom, and you looked out the bathroom doorway and saw the door opening. "It's me," the monotone voice of your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams was heard as you sighed and put down the axe. "You almost ended up with an axe in your head," you said, your Scandinavian accent slightly showing, as she walked to you. She leaned on the bathroom door frame her eyes scanning and studying you. "What's wrong?" She asked in her usual tone of voice. "Noth-" "Don't lie," she said cutting you off. You sighed and ran your hand through your hair once more. "It's just..." "It's Parents Weekend or for you the weekend your brothers visit. And in turn some of the army," she states as she grabs the fold-up chair nearby, opens it, and forces you to sit as she starts to braid your hair. "I'm aware that your relationship with your brothers isn't the best but you can't be as Enid says "A Debby Downer" because of that fact," Wednesday says as you sigh once more. Ever since you two met she was probably the only one who could read you. And when you two started dating she was able to know why you were upset. Whether it be, because it's Parents Weekend or it's the anniversary of your mother's death. Wednesday finishes your braids and walks around the chair to get to the front of you cupping your face. "I am aware it's hard to see your brothers. Especially, Bjorn, but you can't let that affect you, Every. Single. Time," She said looking into your directly into eyes. You nod silently before she leans down and kisses you softly, you kiss her back matching her softness and love. She soon pulled away and helped you to your fest handing you your walking cane. You took it from her hand as she grabbed your free hand before leading you to the Quad.

Most of the day had gone smoothly. You met up with Pugsley, Uncle Fester, Morticia, Gomez, and Uncle Itt once again. You spent most of your day with the Addams Family but then you heard the steps of multiple soldiers coming into the Quad. Many of the families turned to looks as twenty Vikings emerged and lined up shoulder-to-shoulder. Then your three brothers walked down the path. Bjorn at the head, Ubbe to his left, and Hvitserk to his right. You stood at the end of the row... staring... and waiting. All eyes were on you and your brothers and Bjorn was the first to speak. "ᚺᛖᛚᛚᛟ, ᛒᚱᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱ,(Hello, brother)" he spoke in your native tongue. You simply kept staring at him. Not saying a word. Hvitserk was the one to break the silence as he walked past Bjron and grasped your shoulders smiling. "ᛁᛏ'ᛋ ᚷᛟᛟᛞ ᛏᛟ ᛋᛖᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ Y/N,(Its good to see you Y/N)" He said smiling. You smiled back. "You to Hvitserk," You said smiling until Hvitserk moved away leaving Bjron and Ubbe in front of you. "Well. Shall we sit?" You ask motioning to a free table. Bjorn and Ubbe both walked to the table Hvitserk followed soon after patting your shoulder as he passed you the soldiers soon following after. Letting out a sigh you felt the familiar cold hand of Wednesday cup your cheek. You looked at her for a second a small smile gracing your lips. "How was that?" "Good. You're keeping your anger under wraps," She said softly as she grabbed your hand and led you to the table where the other Vikings were. You sat down across from Bjorn, Ubbe, and Hvitserk with Wednesday to your right. Ubbe observed her for a second before turning to you. "ᚹᚺᛟ ᛁᛋ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ?(Who is this?)," He asked you before you could answer Wednesday answered for you. "ᛁ'ᛗ ᚺᛁᛋ ᛚᛟᚡᛖᚱ,(I'm his lover)" Your brother each looked at her surprised as you took a sip of ale.

The first day went fine but the second day was when all things went to shit. While conversing and eating with Wednesday's family you caught sight of someone... a blond blue-eyed woman. Anger surged through your veins as you stood up grabbed a knife and threw it at the woman barely grazing her shoulder before she could react to reach her axe in hand you tried to strike her but Ubbe got in your way stopping your axe and throwing you back with Hvitserk catching you. You tried to break free but both Hvitserk and Wednesday held you back as you screamed. "What the fuck is she doing here!?" The woman was still behind Ubbe staring at you and Bjorn checked the cut you caused. "Lagertha has every right to" "Bullshit!" You yelled cutting him off as you freed yourself from the grasp of your brother and girlfriend. "Y/N you need to forgive her," Ubbe spoke hand on your chest keeping you from getting any closer. "I can never forgive Lagertha for murdering our mother so how you, hm?" You asked as Ubbe shook his head turning away angering you more as you shoved him back. "Our mother! Of course, I'm going to kill her." "You can try," She said looking eyes with yours. "Oh, I will. That I can promise."

Reasonably they all left afterwards to avoid any further issues with you and Lagertha. You were sitting in your room sharpening your axe when Wednesday walked in. "Why did you never tell me Lagertha killed your mother?" She asked anger lacing her voice. "I thought you said no secrets." "It's not something I like to think about... it didn't matter to me because Hvitserk had said she stayed in Kattagat with no reason to leave. I don't know why she came," you said throwing your axe into the target across from your bed. "Doesn't excuse you for not telling me," She said as she grabbed your chin to make you look at her. "When my mother died and I found out it was Lagertha I tried to kill her. And failed. Over and over. My mother was a seer and said she would be cursed if she killed her," you said calmly. "I will kill her," she has no reason to even be although in your head. Wednesday sighed and caressed your cheek. "Let this be the last secret you keep. Understood?" You nodded as she climbed into bed with you putting your head on her chest and began to stroke your hair as your anger subsided.

[ryuzakemo128]

Vikings Writing Prompts

Trigger Warning:

Mention of Death, fighting, miscarriages, suicide.

If anything mentioned above triggers you. Please remove yourself and continue with your day. Your mental health is just as important as your physical health. Vice versa, as the mind can affect the body in equal measure.

Prompts for either imagines, headcanons, one-shots, anything you possibly desire. As long as it is clearly stated as to what character you want it written for. Otherwise I will not be able to satisfy the particular itch you might or might not want itched and scratched.

Characters from the Vikings Show that I am willing to write for as follows:

Male Characters

Rollo Lothbrok

Ívar Ragnarsson

Björn Ragnarsson

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Athelstan

Hálfdanr Hálfdansson

Haraldr Hálfdansson

Female Characters:

Lagertha Lothbrok

Aslaug Sigurdsdottir

Personal Note: I would also preface that I will not write things that trigger me. Things like Cheating and Affairs. At least not in incredible detail as it will harm and hurt my mental health in the long run. And if you respect my mental health, you will respect my personal boundaries as well.

If you would like to peruse my previous works in the past feel free to do so. I will not prevent nor shame those who would want to read them.

Here is a link to two masterlists that contain them.

Masterlist 01 / Masterlist 02

Prompts

Listed below are prompts to choose from if you want to make a specific request for a specific character. First list being SFW and the second one being NSFW underneath the cut.

SFW - Dialogue Prompts

"Whatever souls are made of, yours and mine are the same. As much you might dispute that fact."

"You could just tell me things instead of insinuating them. Communication is important."

"Let me eat my feelings in peace and quiet. Otherwise we are going to have many, many, many problems."

"I know I can't go I'm the one getting nearly all the time."

"I don't trust anyone who would place value of one child above another. Regardless of what someone else may or may not have said."

"For a mother you play favourites quite a bit."

"Depends on what you consider to be fair."

"Aim better! Stop trying to hit me and hit me!"

"You are not my problem. You are theirs. I plan to keep it that way. So neither begging nor pleading to me will not work."

Canon Character x OC/ Reader - Dialogue Prompts

"I am well enough to fight. I am well enough to move around do things myself. Do not coddle me as I were a child and I will not do the same to you."

"I was in exile, I did not abandon anybody, least of all my brother."

"I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you."

NSFW - Dialogue Prompts

[TBD]

Vikings Headcanons - Link

Food for the heart and soul - Halfdan the Black x Female Reader - Link

Tarnished and Unveiled Intentions - Bjorn Ironside x reader - Link

Life After Death - Bjorn Ironside x female reader - Link

[zaceouiswriting]

Brothers

Character: Bjorn Ironside x male reader

Universe: Vikings

Warnings: Cheating, mention of rape

At the horizon could they finally be seen. After months and months of hard waiting, the ships finally came back. Of course, nobody knows who and how many would be back. But it was enough to get everyone excited.

People running around, cheering and hollering all over the place. Getting everyone to stop what they were doing, to wait at the docks for the ships to finally arrive. It took a while but, as they did dozens of older men, pulled the ships at the docks and bound them.

Laughter, tears happy as well as sad got shed. One of them did not even notice his partner and children missing, too far into the fog of excitement that he was the leader of this raiding party and had brought back immense wealth.

While the docks were full of happy people, you strived around the woods with your children to teach them how to hunt in the wild. Your daughter with her bow, because of her young age and her older brother is already fighting with sword and shield. Both were needed on a hunt.

You had your fun and even got many small animals, even one deer, that someone else needed to get to the town.

As you decided to get back, bring your children home, and sent someone out to get the dead animal, the cheers became audible to you and also the children. Their faces lit up, like the stone in the sky, when day turns to night.

For some odd reason, your stomach twisted and turned. It was a horrible feeling, that you had never experienced before.

Before your children could run off, you hold them back, reminding them that they had goods in their hands, their hunting trophies. In reality, you wanted to hear around if something strange had happened, because of your gut feeling.

You only needed to walk into the town to know that something was up. People began to stare at you, mostly the women even in pity, which made this entire thing so much worse. Telling the children to stay in the house was problematic, especially because they missed their father, just as much as you did.

Still, something seemed to scream at you, that there was a problem, that your children did not need to be faced with.

Walking to the big hall, where you believed would your husband, father-in-law, and the rest of his family be. Drinking celebrating their victory, and dividing the treasures they got.

On the way there, you finally heard from a friend of yours, what happened and why everyone was so strange to you. Anger boiled up quickly, as you stormed over to a guard, taking his spear and storming into the hall.

Without saying a word, on silent feet, you walked in and searched for Bjorn. The moment you saw him laugh, a young man at his side, you threw the spear. Wishing he would move his head, so the spear would kill him, but he did not in the few seconds it took for it to fly. Instead, only the last bit of the metal ripped the skin on his cheek open.

With widened eyes and anger on his own, he stood up, ready to kill. Until he saw you. Anger dissolved in white panic, as he saw your determination to kill him for what he did.

The anger growing in you only worsened as you saw the young man at your husband's side. Not because he was beautiful but because you knew him.

„Phillipe?“, you asked in childlike wonder. It was the first time, the young man had looked up. Immediately tears formed in his eyes, as he saw you. Without any fear, he ran up to you, embracing your taller and more muscular statue.

You missed your little idiot. Leaving him when he was a child, was already hard, but now seeing him back and at your husband's side, was not really something you wanted to see.

„What happened? Why are you here?“, you asked him in a language no one except for Ragnar could understand. Your little brother didn't want to say anything. Alone because of the anger you had shown to his capturer. But he never was able to hold your stare. 

„Father put me in a monastery. Jakob is now his heir. When we got attacked, Bjorn saved me. But later took me to his bed. Since then-Since then, he forces me every night.“

To finally hear someone tell you about what your husband does when he wasn’t home, was refreshing, but to hear that your own brother got raped by the man who you thought loved you, got your blood boiling even more.

The worst thing was his silent cries, his tears soon after completely wet your shirt. 

„Ubbe, would you be so nice and bring him into my house? He does not need to see what will happen next!“ Even though the queen, Ragnar's new wife you hated with a passion, disagreed Ubbe did what you had told him. Not only because he is a good, young soldier, but also because he fears and loves you as a brother.

Phillipe was reluctant in following Ubbe, knowing that he was aware of what Bjorn had done to him, but trusted you nevertheless.

With him gone, you finally looked back at Bjorn. On the way, you saw Ragnar’s eyes, drilling holes in his son's head.

„Did you have fun, Bjorn? Running through villages? Taking advantage of the weak? And even force men, without knowledge of experience with weapons under you?“, you asked him, while still getting nearer to him. His fear only grew. You were smaller and less muscular to him, but he had lost one too many times against you in a fight.

Finally, as you stood directly in front of him, you asked the most important question, „Did you do it before? Or was this the first time?“

He wasn’t able to answer, but Ragnar did it for him, „It was the first time.“ His teeth grind off one another. Understanding that even when it was the first time, he would most likely lose you as a son.

„Oh, really Bjorn? Which luck! Your first time, going outside of our marriage, you do it with my little brother. He has only lived for sixteen winters!“

As he heard that this was your brother, every single bit, that was still smug vanished. He never thought that you could leave him, with the amount of love you had for him.

But now everything was different and he knew it. „Please, love let's talk about this!“ He never talks like this, until he knows that he did something bad and now also unforgivable.

Instead of hearing him out, you knocked your own husband out cold. He laid on the floor, still breathing, but not awake anymore.

„When he wakes up, tell him he is not allowed to come back to our house. And if he dares too, we will fight to the death.“

As you turned around, an immense amount of sadness and guilt washed over you. If you hadn’t left, your brother never would've been at this place. A monastery, really? You wanted to strangle your father for this. Forcing your brother to become a monk.

Before you left, though, you looked one more time back. Seeing no one aiding Bjorn, filled your heart with love. As you looked at your father-in-law, you nodded in his direction with gratitude and a question on your mind that you could not ask him outright. Maybe when he wasn’t surrounded by his men. And you needed to find Bjorn's mother to tell her and asked her for advice as well. Even though you lived a decade there, many things were still a mystery for you.

[Masterlist]

[slutforragnarssons]

Shells

Synopsis: When Bjorn meets a slave in a new land, he starts to develop feelings.

Pairing: Bjorn x Male Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex

A/N: I’ve had really bad writer’s block and every time I start to write I just feel so dry as far as creativity goes. ☹️☹️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The ships arrive at the docks early morning, just before sunrise, as I walk to the beach to grab shells for my mistress. She loves them, and often tasks me with creating various crowns and jewelery with the objects.

Upon finding hundreds of pink and orange shells, I fall to my knees and grab the beautiful shells with my worn fingertips. As I crawl along the beach, collecting them and placing them in my apron. I scramble towards a very large and beautiful shell, only to see another man’s hand scoop down and grab it. I peer up at him, and the rising sun slightly obscured my view of his face. I rise from my knees and stand in front of the man.

“Good morning sir. That is a beautiful shell you have found.” I say, wiping my filthy hands onto my apron. I smile at the man and he grins back at me, extending his hand, opening it to reveal the shell.

“Good morning to you too. I agree, this is a beautiful shell, but it seems you are collecting them, so I suppose I’ll let you have this one.” He winks and places the shell into my palm. My cheeks redden as I flash a grin at the tall man.

“Thank you, very much. I certainly appreciate your kindness. Forgive me for saying this, but It doesn’t appear that you are from here.” I say, and he nods, taking a seat on a flat rock near where I stand.

“You would be right about that. I come from the north. I travelled here with an associate to collect treasures to bring back to my home, Kattegat.” He explains, and i take a seat across from him, smiling and listening to his heavily accented words.

“That must have been a far travel, I imagine it would have taken years!” I comment, head turning as I hear my mistress yell for me. I scramble to my feet. “I apologize for leaving so soon, I’m glad that we met. I hope you enjoy your stay here. Goodbye!” I say and run to the other side of the beach to my mistress.

She is truly beautiful. Her light brown hair reaches past her slim waist, and her perfect facial features seem to fit the unrealistic flawless ness of the rest of her. She treats the other princesses and foreigners with such respect and kindness, but her slaves receive the worst treatment.

When I was born, my father owed the king for a loan he had taken in order to start our farm, and when he was unable to pay, my parents were forced to give my brother and I up as slave workers. In my early years I had relatively hard time adjusting to working, and received more beatings than any of the other slaves.

As I grew, it felt like for a short period, my master ignored me, giving me no attention at all- Good or bad. I would often hear the other slaves whispering about how our mistress had been caught whispering my name in the night. I ignored the accusations, but when she found out, I was given the worst beating I had ever received. My eye seemed to be swollen shut for a week, but I went on with my duties.

I enter the home on the far side, slipping through the various servant quarters in order to reach the main hall, where mistress sleeps. I dart into her room, shells in hand. She points at the small chestnut table, with wires and small tools scattered upon its top.

“I needs neacklace for tonight. It turns out a foreign prince is visiting, and he is quite handsome. I need something to impress. And I need a new dress as well. Something that shows of my figure. Can you do that by tonight?” She asks, tone surprisingly sweet, but still ever so demanding.

“Yes, Princess. I will start now.” I walk briskly over to the low table and take my seat on the small pillow, setting out the shells, and stringing together each shell on a string.

After finishing a new dress and jewelry, I set the items out o her bed and go to my quarters, fingers bleeding from the amount of work. After sitting in my bed for only a minute, I decide to go down to the beach. It was the only place I felt truly at home.

This time there’s no one in sight. Every slave is no doubt busy cooking or cleaning, but I’ve snuck off to have alone time. This is why my beatings are so bad. After I’ve had time to think, I walk back up to the home. I enter my mistress’ room to help her dress, only to see her participating in what I could only assume was her favorite activity. It’s not something unusual, so I close my eyes and exit the room.

I head down to the kitchen, walking quickly through the dining room in order to not be seen. I glance over and see the man from the beach. He grips my wrist and stops me.

“Was it you? “ He seethes, and I look at him with a questioning expression. “Did you take her? The princess? The one who promised to join me?” He asks, and the men beside him laugh.

“Him? No, he’s one of the filthy slaves, wouldn’t be caught dead with a woman. Saw him once with a hand down another slave’s pants.” The men laugh, and I cower in shame. Finally I release my hand from his grip and run into the kitchen. I hear his thudding footsteps as he catches up to me, but I ignore the sound.

Once I get to the corner of the open kitchen, I sit next to my brother on a stool, resting my head on his shoulder. He’s maybe a decade older, with emerald eyes and dark hair. Although he has more than his fair share of burdens, he never shuns me when I come to him with my own problems.

The man continues to follow, placing a large hand on my shoulder. I close my eyes and listen to his heavy breathing. “You. Come with me. Now.” He says, and I glance at my brother, whose soft stare tells me to obey the man, and be cautious. I walk with him out the small door in the kitchen, And down into the alley between the homes. “So, you’re a slave? You didn’t tell me that when we met.” He comments, and I sigh in response.

“Well... I didn’t see it to be necessary. Yes, I am a slave, but that does not define me. I am many other things. Forgive me sir.” I say, voice low as my eyes stay trained on my dirty bare feet.

He nods in response, and I watch as he stops, tilting my chin up to look at his face. “I can take you away. I can take you to Kattegat and teach you our ways. If you’d like.” He says, and i nod eagerly in response. I watch as his eyes light up and he gives a nod. “We leave tonight. Gather anything you might want.” He says, squeezing my hand in his large one.

“We meet on the beach?” I ask him and watch as he nods, before walking back into the home. That night I brush mistress’ hair, and hang the dress in her wardrobe before blowing out her candle. For the first time, I’m thankful that she falls asleep quickly. I gather the shell necklaces and bracelets I had crafted for her over the years, as well as some of the beautiful gold items I had always admired. I race down to the quarters I share with my brother, and slowly wake him.

He sits up in his bed and looks around, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Brother? What is it?” He asks, and I embrace him tightly.

“Brother, I am leaving this place. I am traveling to a new land. Take this to remind you of me. I will never forget you.” I say, pressing my necklace into his hand. He sits up and hugs me back, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.

“Don’t feel bad. I always intended to help you escape. Go live a proper life. I love you.” He says, before I run down to the beach. The ships are already loaded, men scrambling to get on. I run down to the area by the rocks, and see the man.

His gaze meets mine and I throw my sack over my shoulder as my feet carry me to him. Grabs my hand in his and pulls me onto the ship.

“I’m sorry we haven’t had time for proper introductions. I’m Bjorn. And you are to be my husband.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@pxstelrainbow @readsalot73 @kitkat1690 @attorneyl @sea-phoam-qyueen @bang-kim-bap @tephi101

[plus-size-reader]

Just Stars

Bjorn Ironside x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2391 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Stargazing with Bjorn at night on his ship, headed to Sicily 

—————————————————————————————————

Bjorn wasn’t surprised when you asked to voyage with him.

You clearly had an adventurous spirit, and given that your father had been a well known traveler all his life, it didn’t shock him that you’d be comfortable with the idea of a months-long journey on the open water.

If anything, he expected it.

Still, it would be a lie to say that you didn’t manage to find another way to surprise him.

Most of the crew was rather calm, with the air taking on an almost solemn edge, only increasing as the sun fell from the sky.

The ship had been on the water now for a week and already, a lot of the men were tired. There wasn’t much to be done aside from the menial task of operating the ship and resting their weary bodies.

Not that you seemed to share in their experience.

By some gift of the Gods, you were just as chipper and energetic as you’d ever been, fluttering from both ends of the ship and surveying the near black water as it swirled around the boat’s edge.

It was kind of endearing.

At least, at first.

You clearly wanted to carry on your father’s legacy on the water, and the very opportunity to do so had filled you with some sort of childlike glee.

A glee that slowly turned more tedious than entertaining for most of the crew.

After what felt like hours of this, the surrounding warriors were growing tired of your incessant wandering and it looked almost as though you were growing tired yourself.

If you didn’t slow, Bjorn feared you may even make yourself seasick.

Not that he bothered to physically stop you.

Unlike the others on his voyage, Ragnar’s oldest son got some amount of joy out of watching you flitter around like a bewildered child, experiencing the world for the first time.

For him, it was far more entertaining to watch you from afar as you unknowingly drove the rest of the inhabitants of his ship out of their collective minds.

He couldn’t help it.

Bjorn was curious about you.

Now more than ever.

The male had seen you around Kattegat before, and his father had sailed with your own on several occasions but he’d never gotten the chance to be this up close and personal with anyone he didn’t already know.

Except you, of course.

You were an enigma to Bjorn, like a riddle he couldn’t figure out no matter how hard he tried, and that was something he enjoyed.

He never expected to, but nevertheless, he did.

So, he made him content to just watch you hang over the side of the ship, your fingers curled into the wood beneath them in the cold, hiding against your palms.

…and he stayed there for quite a while, resting his strong back against the pillar of the mast.  

It wasn’t until you eventually stopped on your path around the ship and sank down onto the deck that his interest peaked.

After all, it was the last thing he could have been expecting given your insistence that you weren’t interested in rest like the others were.

Each time someone suggested you take a seat, you shrugged them off and continued on your path, but not now.

Now, you seemed to be searching for the solace the damp wood had to offer.

“What are you doing?” Bjorn called out, finally standing from his place after deciding he’d had enough of the crew’s staring and whispering.

They clearly wanted him to do something about you, and who was he to argue? Obviously you were up to something acting that way.

He just didn’t know what.

“I have decided to look up at the stars” You explained, not bothering to give him much more than that.

As the sun retreated from the sky, you found it more difficult to watch the rippling waves in the cover of the night than you would have liked.

Thankfully, there was more than one thing to occupy your mind on a journey like this one, and when one alluded you, the Gods provided another.

You expected the hulking man to go back to his post, where he’d been stuck all day, but Bjorn didn’t move from where he was above you.

Instead, he stood in his place, that puzzled look still prominent on his face as he tried to figure out if you were serious or not.

Surely you weren’t.

Bjorn had never known anyone any older than eight to do such a thing, not that his skeptical demeanor or furrowed brow was stopping you now.

You didn’t seem bothered at all by his presence, in fact.

“Would you like to join me?” you offered, closing both of your eyes for a moment as you settled against the stiff boards of the ship’s deck. After being on your feet for so long, it was nice to have a break.

Even if you weren’t necessarily tired.

The man remained silent, still shocked that you had made yourself comfortable like this, given the circumstances.

This wasn’t exactly the vacation you were treating it as so far.

“Would you like to join me, Bjorn?” you repeated, cracking one eye open to make sure that he was still there, though you knew that he was. A man of his size couldn’t have gotten far without alerting you.

It was something else you had in common.

You had never been the most graceful of women, something your mother often chastised you for but you couldn't help it. You had never had any interest in being a lady maid or someone’s wife.

You wanted to be an adventurer.

Like your father before you.

“You can’t do that from your bed?” he questioned, trying to figure out what was so special about laying across the deck like you were right now.

If this was about the stars, they could be viewed from anywhere.

It didn’t have to be done so adolescently.

You only scoffed at that.

Of course a man like him wouldn’t see the absolute wonder of making a conscious choice like you were now. You wanted to admire the beauty that the Gods had painted across the bleak sky for you.

It wasn’t just looking up, as he seemed to believe.

“No, now will you join me or not?” you grinned, the words leaving your lips so casually that he also found himself joining in just for the sake of it.

What else did he have to do? The journey to Sicily was a long one, and he had to pass the time somehow.

“This is for children” the male huffed, adjusting the mountain of furs on his back until he could comfortably rest against the deck, though he didn’t fully commit to lying down right away.

It just didn’t feel right.

Engaging in something like this, surrounded by the men he was meant to be leading, it felt like a step in the wrong direction.

He was trying to make his father proud too, and Bjorn wasn’t sure this was the way to do it.

Still, his father would have been just as easily swayed by a pretty face and you were certainly pretty.

Pretty enough that Bjorn had to doubt if Ragnar would blame him after all.

“Perhaps, but what’s wrong with that?” you countered, propping yourself up on your elbow to meet his gaze finally.

Obviously, he wanted to join you.

If he didn’t, he would have moved on by now, so you didn’t understand what was holding him back.

Certainly the great Bjorn Ironside, the man who slayed a bear with his bare hands, wasn’t letting the focused stares of the surrounding men sway his decision.

That would be a real shame.

“We are not children anymore” he continued, trying to connect the dots for you since you were so against doing it for yourself.

This wasn’t the sort of thing two adults should be doing, simply because they could.

“And tell me, Bjorn, why is it that they should have all the fun?” you shot back, a wide smile on your face that even he couldn’t argue with. While this wasn’t his idea of a good time, that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth a try.

After all, he hadn’t even thought about doing something like this since he was young, and maybe you were right.

Perhaps, though unlikely, he was missing out on something.

The male in question let out one final sigh in reply before giving in and letting his broad back hit the deck.

He felt foolish, a fact that he very quickly informed you as soon as he was flat on his back, the cool nipping at the few bits of exposed flesh it could get to.

It was far more ridiculous than he thought it may be before.

Still, you seemed blind to the obvious as you looked up at the sky, a wonder on your face that he was sure he’d never see again. It was as if you were seeing the Gods themselves with your own two eyes.

“How do you suppose you’ll see the stars if you’re looking at me?” you hummed, after a few moments.

You knew he was staring.

Of course you knew, you just didn’t understand what he was hoping to achieve by doing that. It wasn’t like you would show him the beauty of the Gods in the way the flaming stars above would.

…or so you thought.

Bjorn was currently so enthralled in watching you that he was questioning that very thing. Surely there would never be anything more beautiful than you, exploring the expanse of the world in a way only you could.

In the most free, genuine way he’d ever seen.

“They’re just stars” he shrugged in reply, not bothering to shy away from his senseless admiration in the way lesser men may have. Bjorn had no reason to hide the things he was feeling, or to a lesser extent, doing.

There was nothing wrong with appreciating beauty when it presented itself.

“Just stars? I think not. Those stars are beacons placed by Odin to guide us in the darkness” you gushed, looking at them once again with that same passion shining there that had been evident before.

It was true.

Your father often told you stories of the stars helping him find his way when he would have otherwise been horribly lost, and always taught you to appreciate them. You only wished Bjorn would see them as you did.

As the gift they truly were.

Bjorn set himself up to scoff again, clearly not buying into the whole thing, but before he could, you found a way to get his attention.

Rather than let him brush this off as you knew he’d rather do, you grabbed his jaw in your opposite hand as gingerly as you could and forced him to look up.

Just to look up.

You were sure that if he gave this a moment of thought, he would be able to appreciate what you were trying to show him.

All he had to do was see, as you did, the captivating power of those stars, shining above your heads.

They only made themselves known at night, when you really needed them, and you never passed up an opportunity to see them.

No matter how many times you’d admired them in the past.

The man in question sucked in a breath, before finally deciding to do as you asked, finding the world practically open up in front of him as he did.

It was different than he’d ever seen before, but perhaps that had more to do with you being by his side than anything else. After all, he’d looked at the stars hundreds of times before, and never had they been so captivating.

Never had they been so bright, sparkling and drawing him in.

“You see?” you mumbled, a grin blooming on your face before Bjorn could even answer. You could see it on his face, no matter how much he may not have wanted to, he did.

He could see it.

“When I was young, my father used to draw shapes in the sky with those stars, tracing them with his finger,” you explained, taking his hand in your own softly, only meeting slight resistance with the action.

He wasn’t convinced, of course, but as he knew he would in time, Bjorn gave in.

Rather than pull his hand away, he gave his limb away to you freely, letting you shape his hand as you saw fit, eventually isolating his pointer finger singularly.

“He would tell stories of how, if you paid close enough attention, you could see the Gods painting them before your eyes” you continued, moving his hand in tandem with your words as you spoke them.

It was beautiful but not for the reason you thought.

Bjorn could appreciate the beauty of the scene in front of him but at the end of the day, the sky above was just that, and the stars were just stars.

The reason this was so beautiful was because you believed it was, and because you had cared enough to share it with him.

“He sounds very wise” Bjorn allowed, finally tearing his eyes away from the dark sky to meet your eyes, his head falling against the wet deck once again.

Everyone had heard stories of your father’s prowess at sea, but stories like that one were less common and it interested him to see what kind of relationship you’d shared with the man beyond the legend.

Bjorn himself had little memories of things like that, with his father at least. Everyone always wanted to talk of him in fated tales but there was little substance in those things.

Not like this.

“He was a fool, but he was happy every day of his life and I only hope to share in that” you shrugged, briefly recalling all those nights spent just like this, when your father was back from voyaging.

Nothing had ever made you quite as happy, except of course, recreating that moment now with Bjorn.

It was a gift in itself.

“As do I” Bjorn decided, his gaze once again returning to the sky above and his hand wrapping around your own, keeping you close.

[vikingsagine]

A Trip Down Memory Lane (Ivar x Reader)

Hey guys, this is a second part to, My Loyalty is Yours, I hope you like it. By the way, I love Ivar. I love how complicated he is. Although, I do miss season 5 Ivar where he’s a bit psycho and confident. And I miss his braids. Love them braids so much. Sorry for any spelling mistakes.

Summary: Small things remind you of Ivar. Reminding you to when times were happier and easier and how your relationship with Ivar really was. 

Warnings : Very looonnnggggg. (sorry guys) Swearing, violence, slight smut. Rough. But not all the way. FLUFFY, I think. Margrethe (I hate her so much)

You sat with a lazy smile, optics observing the training men in front of you with Ubbe in front, yelling orders and stepping in to spar men with consistent mistakes. A week ago, you stood on a private trial with Bjorn Ironside to decide what to do with you. In the end, he came to terms with the rest of his ‘council’ to keep you alive and in the town of Kattegat. He said letting you go would be dangerous assuming you’d head to find Ivar, even though you said you wouldn’t, but also your battle abilities and strategies were much useful. You agreed because to be quite frank, you didn’t want to leave Kattegat, not yet. 

“Y/N, are you just going to watch or are you going to get off your lazy ass and do something.” Ubbe called, snapping you out of your thoughts with that familiar smug smirk and taunting stare. It felt different, not having Ivar around, it made you confused and almost empty. He was your best friend and first love after all. Wherever he went, you went too. Like a dog to a Mother’s tit. 

“Are you challenging me, horsetail?” You jumped off your feet and pulled your axe from the ground, returning the cocky grin and confident attitude. Ubbe took a step forward, pulling the sword up and pointing it towards you. 

“It wouldn’t be much of a challenge defeating you, little girl.” The next, your axe and sword met in a friendly and welcoming manner. This reminded you of the old days, when you trained and sparred with the sons of Ragnar.

~~~

“Surely you can do better than that.”  Ubbe remarked as you groaned on the ground, broken nose in your hand and bled. The older male by six years had finished head butting you and cracked your nose, now, standing over you like the champion. Hvitserk and Sigurd cheered, hollering as they both watched you and Ubbe spar. 

“Keep flapping your gums pretty boy and I’ll make you cry to your Mother.” You cooed and spat blood onto the floor, then shoved your nose back into place with a crack. A groan left your lips while Ubbe snorted, crossing his arms with a clear expression of enjoying you writhe in pain. Asshole, you thought. 

“Aww, you think I’m pretty.” 

“That’s not much of a comment coming from her.” You glared towards Ivar who snarled a bold insult. He sat on a stool a few feet away from his two other brothers, also eyeing the fist fight on display. “What? It’s true.” The bright blue eyed boy flicked his fingers towards your face, more specifically, the scar engraved into the side of your left cheek. Long and twisted, reaching from the corner of your mouth and arched into a smile just under your left eye. Huffing out of annoyance, your leg swung under Ubbe’s and knocked him onto his ass, using this moment of distraction to your advantage. Ubbe groaned, while Hvitserk laughed, mocking his older brother by a few years. You pulled the axe from his side and threw it towards Ivar, successfully landing it an inch above his head with a thump.

“Mock me again cripple and I swear by the Gods-”

“That you’ll kill me?” Ivar snorted and crossed his arms. “You can’t, remember. Or have you forgotten. I’m your master.” Of course, you thought, he always took any opportunity to remind you of the unique relationship you two shared. Insisting that he was your ‘master’ and you, his ‘slave’. It angered you every time.

“Yes, you’re right.” Wiping the blood with the back of your sleeve, you laid back next to Ubbe with an exhausted sigh. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you.” Ivar rolled his eyes again at your comment, glaring holes into the side of your face. 

~~~

The night started to set, the stars illuminating in the sky like spots of light in the abyss of darkness. Bleak wind pushing against your raw cheeks, turning them red and making you shiver. You sat silently by yourself once again, outside of the hall where the echoes of another feast and drunken vikings sang. It wasn’t really your scene. You hated large gatherings of people, the bodies of strangers pushing up against you like mud was suffocating. Instead, you liked to listen, to hear their joy and songs and the lack of sorrow or pain. 

“What are you thinking about?” Lagertha called from behind you. She had seen you flee the feast after a meal and decided to follow you. Not out of suspicion of you doing something terrible but out of curiosity. Lagertha had heard many tales of the small girl, your bold and skilled fighting. The many people you have slaughtered, children, old people, warriors, Christians alike. It was impressive but haunting.

“Nothing really, just enjoying the view and the music.” You turned your head to Lagertha, surprised by her sudden appearance but shifted enough for her to take a seat. You knew Lagertha, she was an inspiration to all shield-maidens out there. She still is. Even at this age.

“Will you betray my son?” Lagertha inquired, a stern and serious expression crossing her facials. It made you smile. You have heard many stories of Lagertha of her skill in the battlefield, even how people whisper about her being the shield-maiden protected by the Gods. But, in all honesty, all that was nothing compared to her love for her son, her family. 

“I will be true to you, Lagertha.” You cocked your head to the side. “One day, I will seek Ivar and return to his side. I will fight for him and I will die for him. But, until that day comes, for now, my body and knowledge will remain here.” 

“Hmm.” Lagertha replied in content. “Why do you not kill me?”

“Because I do not hate you. You have inspired me. Ivar is the one who sought to kill you, not me. It was his ambition and mine, my ambition is to serve him well and perhaps, bring him happiness.” A small smile made its way to your lips, the image of Ivar’s genuine grin and soft eyes. The memory melted your heart.

~~~

“Tell me, have you ever laid with anyone before?” Hvitserk inquired by your side, leaning over and knocking you a little. You laughed at his question, the jolt of a sudden euphoria slipping into your veins. You were drinking with the prince’s of Kattegat, all curled over the fire seeking out warmth and comfort. 

“Please tell me you aren’t trying to flirt with me, dear Hvitserk.”You cooed, his flirtatious smirk all too familiar because you’ve seen him use it before, on many other women in Kattegat. Whenever he was drunk, Hvitserk had the tendency to try and fuck anything with a pair of boobs and a pussy. 

“And what if I am?” He leaned closer, eyelids heavy and slurring over his words. It was clear to see, he was far too drunk and horny. “Is it working?” He attempted to press his lips against yours but you only pressed your palm against his face and knocked him off his seat. Ubbe laughed at the sight of his intoxicated brother, desperately flirting with Y/N but failed. 

“Get off me you drunken bastard.” You gave Hvitserk a soft kick to the ass and sat back down, laughing with Sigurd who pulled his brother up to sit next to him.

“One day, I swear, you will be mine.” Hvitserk slurred, his eyes closed but his finger on you. Then he curled over and hurled into the bucket that Sigurd, thankfully, had. Everyone knew how Hvitserk drank. He drank until he dropped. 

“Please, no one would want to fuck with that.” Ivar suddenly piped up, deciding to speak. The fire illuminating over his face, giving Ivar a dark glow. Ubbe scoffed out of annoyance, knowing  Ivar’s sour words like he found pleasure from humiliating people. And Ivar did. He enjoyed it. “Not even a blind man.” You were used to his insults and rolled your eyes, sculling the last bit of your drink. Before Ubbe could tell his baby brother off for his rude behavior, you stood up and took shaky steps over to him. 

“Oh please, Ivar.” Without hesitation, you slumped on the crippled boy’s lap with a smile. Ivar hissed at the rough impact on his legs, immediately glaring at your tipsy state. “Maybe a blind man wouldn’t, but perhaps a cripple would.” You threw your head back in laughter, enjoying how Ivar’s face turned into a scowl and looked at you like he was going to kill you. The next you were knocked onto the floor with a crash, the world becoming dizzy. 

“I will kill you.” Ivar muttered under his breath as you clumsily took a seat next to the crippled, still amused by his reaction. Most people feared Ivar, even his brother’s, but you were the only one that wasn’t intimidated and treated him like a normal person. 

“Uh huh and you’ll get functional legs.” Ubbe tensed, analyzing his brother for a dangerous response to your bold comment that most people would earn Ivar’s wrath. He glanced over to Sigurd who was also well-aware of the situation, becoming nervous and ready to pull you away from Ivar. You on the other hand, knew the consequence of your comment but still held your teasing gleam. Ivar cracked a large and toothy smile, his eyes softened with the fire illuminating his relaxed state. The sound of his laugh filled the tense hall and your heart fluttered at the sight and sound. 

~~~

The door swung open, revealing the sight of a blonde woman with a pregnant stomach. In her arms was a small little girl, you remember as Elsa. Daughter to Torvi and Bjorn Ironside. Both of you stared at each other, unknowing of what to say. 

“Is Ubbe here?” You finally broke the awkward silence, avoiding eye contact and straightened your stance. She moved aside to let you in, closing the door behind you. 

“Yes, he is changing his clothes. He will be ready soon, I hope.” You sat down on a stool, near the table. You felt like a complete stranger that no one trusted, not that it surprised you. Everyone had their guard up around you as if you’d suddenly attack and bring Ivar back. Sometimes, the people of Kattegat would snarl awful comments about you such as being Ivar’s bitch or child murderer and so forth. “I do not trust you nor do I believe you deserve to be in Kattegat.” Torvi spoke truthfully but it did not shock you. “But, my husband seems to. He speaks fondly of you.” You drew your lips in a thin line, watching her as she stirred soup in a pot for the hungry children. 

“I see.” Was the only thing you could come up with. You knew Ubbe loved you, loved you like a little sister and a close friend. You remember when you sat by Ivar’s side along with Hvitserk, you remembered the stare of a broken man. His heart was crushed. More so by Hvitserk’s decision, but disappointed when he saw you. It hurt to say the least, but it did not waver your loyalty or judgment. He knew from the start that you would always choose Ivar, always. You let out a sigh, furrowing your eyebrows together. Ubbe still had hopes that you’d stay and fight. It was your responsibility to break it, to destroy that idea for the sake of you and him. “I will talk to him.” 

“Momma, can you braid my hair? I want to look just like Lagertha.” Else tugged at her Mother’s dress with hopeful big brown orbs.

“Not right now.” You were unaccustomed to such sights or the feeling. Children weren’t really your speciality. Your behaviour far too rough and blunt, not to mention your appearance wasn’t at all friendly. Nor was the constant cold and emotionless mask. 

“Here, let me.” Torvi eyes you skeptically but continues with the soup. The small girl giddily approached you, no fear but a sweet beam. She patiently sat between your legs as you run your fingers through her soft blonde curls. The feeling felt nostalgic and your fingers felt an itch. An itch of memory.

~~~

“What is it that you want? You do realize I need sleep too.” You stepped into the room of your prince, rubbing your eyes from tiredness and exhaustion. That day, everyone was preparing themselves to return to Wessex England to get revenge for the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. Ivar laid in his bed, hips down covered by fur and blankets looking warm and cosy. Revealing his upper body, muscular and strong which didn’t come to any surprise since most of his life he’s been crawling. 

“Braid my hair.” He simply demanded and patted the spot next to you. You shivered from the bite of cold lingering at night, even inside the halls of his home. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare all night?” Ivar growled and you instantly scurried over to the man. You weren’t unfamiliar with the bed, having slept in it before. You lost your virginity in the bed, having given it to the man laying next to you. 

“You know, you’re an asshole?” 

“Did I ask for your opinion?” He scoffed back and huffed. You felt him watch you climb into his bed, dragging the warm fur over your bare legs. Ivar stared at you, unaccustomed to your lack of clothing since you seemed to always wear hoards of clothes or battle armour. Yet now, he was left with curiosity as he saw the outline of your body from the light of his candles. You wore a thin white dress because your body grew hot easily and it was Summer. 

“Keep talking to me like that and I’ll leave.” You glared over at Ivar who seemed a world away. “Come over here.” You motioned towards your legs, where he could sit and you could comfortably braid his longer thick black hair. 

“I’m not fucking you.” Ivar stated blatantly, taking your motions the wrong way. But still, he crawled over and settled between your legs and pulled the blankets over his bottom half and your legs as well. His body was hard as laid down against your stomach and chest. You felt your heartbeat jolt at the feeling of his body so close, butterflies swarming inside your stomach and stretched towards your shaky fingers.

“I don’t want you to fuck me.” You lied between your teeth, the words hot with deceit. “Why didn’t you ask me this earlier?” Your fingers combed gently against the tuffs of his hair, the silk of soft and thick rubbing against your rough fingers. It soothed your heart. 

“I thought it would make your life more difficult.” He teased. You could see his cocky smirk through the thickness of his locks and you tugged it back harshly causing Ivar to hiss. 

“Sorry.” Now you were the one smiling with smugness. Your smaller fingers combed through, nails scraping against his scalp like a massage which you were doing but used the excuse of it ridding all of the non-existent knots. Ivar let out a long breath and relaxed more into your body, his weight pushing you against the surface of the wall. It was times like these that made you fall deeply in love with the insecure man. 

“You didn’t say that the last time.” After a few minutes of silence, that you enjoyed, Ivar decided to break it. You raised your eyebrows and his comment, confused on what he meant. 

“Excuse me?”

“You said, you didn’t want to fuck me but the last time you were in my room, I recall you begging.” This caught you off guard and made you freeze your actions. Something dropped inside your stomach. Eye trapped on the first to braid on the left side of his scalp, you were tempted to dig your elbow into his skull and make the blue eyed man take back his words. Ivar, of course noticed the way your body reacted. He felt you tense and felt the tips of your fingers leave his scalp - much to his dismay. “Don’t you remember?” Ivar didn’t need to turn to look at you to see the reaction he’d cause, the only reaction he knew he could cause. Instead, his hand found its way to your bare thighs and tenderly massaged your legs. 

“Yes.” You coughed, breaking out of your embarrassed trance and returned to braiding his hair. You completely ignored the feather touch of his calloused fingers against the bare of your bruised skin. 

“Is that a yes to me fucking you or a yes to me fucking you the first time?” Your heart beat sped up at the words, suddenly very sensitive to his body slumped against yours. You silently cursed the Gods and your heart, especially to the way your mind was reacting. Self-aware to the bare skin rubbing against your body, your chest and your stomach, only separated by an inch of fabric. 

“As I recall it, cripple, you were the one that wanted to have sex not me. Why? Because you couldn’t get a fucking hard on.” Ivar chuckled lightly at your remark, entertained by your sour mouth around him. You were the first woman he had ever encountered to be so complicated. You were loud and boisterous yet silent and observant around other people. You were brutally honest about your opinion but still secretive about your feelings. You fought like a man but emotional like a woman - the side of you that he alone, witnessed. You were by all means unsaintly yet as pure as a flower. "So please be quiet. I rather prefer you better than to when you open that beastly thing of yours called a mouth.”

“I know you pine for me at night, scarface. Perhaps even touch yourself to the thought of me.” You could feel the tingles travel towards the pit of your stomach, the cunt between your legs betraying your words and forced intentions. It was too damn difficult to resist the man sitting between your legs, body firm and smooth pressed against you like suffocation. If he were strangling the truth of your lust out and into the open. 

“Hmm.” You hummed quietly, deciding to play his game as well. “Maybe.” Your fingers now tugging at the last of his hair that had yet to be braided, you let a finger trace the side of his neck and down the inch of skin that connected his neck and shoulder - the area of where you sunk your teeth into as you came undone. Ivar’s body reacted with a shiver and the hand that was under the blanket was not applying more pressure to your thigh. Ivar enjoyed toying with you, this much you knew. He always found every opportunity to get you a mess. Whether it be an angry mess, an annoyed mess or a flustered mess. “Yet, maybe not.” You continued braiding the last of his hair, silk soft and tender. Not so long ago it was short and still as thick. 

“Will you be by my side when we attack King Aelle and his armies?” Ivar’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper but held such vulnerability. This side of Ivar that only you could see, breathe and feel. It was intoxicating and dangerous. Made you want him even more. Finishing the last of his intertwined fragments of ink black locks, you let out a sigh and rested the top of your chin on his head.

“Of course. I will always be by your side.” Although the words were simple, they spoke how serious you were. They spoke truths you couldn’t admit to him or even yourself. They spoke truths that you knew would break your heart. Ivar found your small hand and held it in his, not saying a word but the action spoke thousands. 

The sensation inside your body, warmed. The weight of his large and meatier hand is rough against your palms. Thumb rubbing small circles that did wonders to your body. It made your headlight and the familiar feeling of euphoria came back. A different type of euphoria. Not the one you gained from victory or tearing through the bodies of enemies or the many cups of ale. It was the type that was pure and real and honest. It made your heart weak but soar at the same time. 

“Stay with me.” 

~~~

His mouth latched onto the crook of your neck, lips chapped and dry but tongue wet and smooth. You let out a content sigh, your hands pulling at his long mane of hair. He sucked harshly on the soft skin, fingers already pulling your belt  off and then ripped your pants down. Revealing your bare thighs, skin bruised and scarred from old scars and new minor wounds. His actions were rushed, pushing you onto a nearby table of his home and placed himself between your legs. 

It wasn’t normal for you to fuck random men in a stranger’s home. Hell, he could be married with children. But it wasn’t like you were doing this for pleasure, no, it was to ease the pining at night. The unsatisfied tension from your cunt because of the lack of sex and physical contact with any man - Ivar, to be more specific. You didn’t realize how much your body had needed his touch, until last night when your body was hot and needy. So, first thing in the morning, you saw the closest man to you, you coaxed him into fucking you senseless. Which by the way, didn’t take much. Just a few words and a light press of your fingers.

“Oh, you’re so tight.” He growled into your ear, breath hot and heavy. You felt his prick slide into your pussy, which immediately clenched and tensed, a small moan leaving your lips. It wasn’t like he wasn’t a decent size, but it felt...bland. It was missing something. Something meaningful. You pushed those thoughts aside and tied to focus on the pleasure and pushed him onto the ground, only to ride him faster. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you’re a good bitch.” In normal circumstances, you would have punched the man over for calling you that but you were so desperate to feel something that it didn’t faze you. You closed your eyes and thought of Ivar. His touch. His lips. His kiss. His voice…

~~~

“I’m not having sex with you.” You stated bluntly once again. Over the past week, Ivar has been pressuring you to have sex with him because he never had sex before and neither had you. Over the two years he’s known you, you have earned his trust and his comfort and the feelings are mutual. Both of you can speak openly about anything, it was a privilege but also a nuisance.

“Didn’t you say that you were here to serve me? Not completely fucking ignore my demands.” You rolled your eyes at Ivar’s spoiled behaviour, annoyed because he could be an asshole but also a pestering asshole in the middle of your chores. You weren’t a slave nor were you rich or a lady that Queen Aslaug treated well. She didn’t hate you nor did she favor you. However, you were incredibly grateful for her hospitality of lending you a bed, food and the acquaintance of knowing her sons. 

“Look, as you can tell I’m really busy right now.” You huffed and scrubbed the clothes to your clothes in the bucket of water harshly, ridding of the blood stains. “So do yourself a favor, and let your royal ass out.” You ignored the rest of his blabbering and then felt his presence leave. You let out a heavy sigh, body finally coming to an ease. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to have sex with Ivar but it was because you were actually, nervous. Really nervous. There were two major problems to that. One, you were nervous because you didn’t know how to fuck nor did you know if you actually could. And two, you have never been nervous before. The sensation was new and pestering. 

You talked to Ubbe about it since he was the mature and responsible one. You asked him about sex and he was surprised, since you rarely asked anything. Literally. You kept to yourself and handled things on your own. But this issue didn’t seem to go away. So, you turned to Ubbe who out of all the brother’s wouldn’t judge or make any insults towards you, he was a good person. But even then, the knowledge didn’t still your nerves or excitement on that matter. You wanted to have sex with Ivar but still didn’t know how.

A few days later, you were sitting by yourself, observing the crowd of drunken people and reckless laughter. Your eyes find Ubbe who was flirting with one of the slave girls, Margrethe, a girl that got on your nerves and did not trust. Then towards Hvitserk, drinking beside Sigurd but his orbs were also glued to the slave girl and so was Sigurd, though he hid it better with his singing and playing the ute. Oh boy, you thought. But still, Ivar was nowhere to be seen, you found it odd since he enjoyed drinking and humiliating you or his brother, Sigurd. You stood up and approached Ubbe to inquire where he was.

“Ubbe, where is Ivar?” The blonde man pulled himself off of the slave girl who was giggling and clearly enjoying the attention of the famous prince. You had to admit she was beautiful but the instinct in your stomach proved otherwise. 

“You always worry about my little brother my dear Y/N. Drink and let loose.” Ubbe replied, obviously drunk and too happy. It was useless to think that you could get a reply from him, so instead you approached Sigurd.

“I heard that Ivar isn’t completely a man.” Sigurd muttered with a slur to Hvitserk, who gave him a confused look. “I mean, his prick can’t stand or pleasure a woman. You remember when we took him to the lake house to fuck Margrethe, she told me that his cock didn’t work and that he threatened Margrethe.” That bitch, you initially thought. You knew how insecure and sensitive Ivar was. Especially with his brothers. Always needing to prove himself to them, making up for his legs or lack thereof. You knew Sigurd was drunk and wouldn’t carelessly let loose on his words but boy did you wanna start a fight right now. Your blood boiled, becoming protective over the cripple man and also having a good enough reason to punch the blonde girl. 

Without hesitation, you marched over to the loving couple who were making out so carelessly and tore Ubbe off of her. Margrethe looked at you with horror as you lifted her to her feet and rammed your forehead into her nose, earning a crack and a shriek. Ubbe immediately grabbed you and stared you away from the slave girl who was crying but you could care less and spat at her one last time before you were thrown against the wall by the older man.

“What is wrong with you?” Ubbe yelled, glaring down at you with fire. You only wiped her blood from your face and huffed, pushing his arms away and stomped out of the hall. Ignoring the hollers of other Vikings and the hate-stares of Hvitserk and Sigurd. You would pay for this later since all three men were smitten and infatuated with that bitch of a woman. All thinking with their cocks and not their sensibility.

Soon enough, you found yourself slipping into Ivar’s room with silent and small steps. The noiseless night filled the hall of the Ragnarson’s large home, located in the great hall. You were dressed in an over-sized long sleeve shirt, falling passed your knees and freshly clean. You didn’t know why, but you were worried about Ivar. Because you rejected him countless times, even though he came to you and wanted you again and again. All because you were afraid. For the first time in your life, you were afraid. Scared that he’d reject you when you did just that towards him. Though these feelings were newborn, they were strong and passionate. 

“What are you doing?” A sleepy and cautious Ivar suddenly inquired, halting you in your tracks of trying to crawl into his bed. Yet you continued, letting the warmth of the blankets engulf you until your body was awkwardly close to Ivar’s.

“I want to have sex with you.” Not knowing how else to put it, you stated only the truth. You felt his head shift to glance over to you.

“Why?” 

“What else reason would there for me to fuck you Ivar? Because I’m horny and I want you.” You met his eyes, barely visible but you could see his crystal blue irises staring at you questionably. But soon his expression softened and he looked away.

“I can’t.” There was a tone of disappointment and pain behind his words and you knew exactly why. Because of that blonde bitch with a big fucking mouth. You growled inside your head, promising yourself that you’d deal with the girl later on if Ubbe or Hvitser or Sigurd didn’t interfere. How was a man like himself supposed to reach greatness if he had the confidence of a child? You knew, ever since you were a child, that the man called Ivar the Boneless would someday be a famous and feared viking. And you believed it with all your heart. 

“You’re a stupid cripple.” You mumbled and then pressed your lips against his. They were soft and warm. Ivar seemed shocked at first, not knowing how to reply or to react. So, you prompted for a response by crawling over his body so you were straddling the man. You could feel the blood in your body rush to your cheeks, feeling heat and warmth spread at the feeling for him. A spark lit in the pit of your stomach. “A stupid cripple.” You spoke once again, admiring the way his eyes, crystal blue like the rare flashes of lightning that only occurred for a split second. If you were to blink, you’d miss its beauty and it's terror. This time, Ivar reciprocated the kiss with slow movements and timid hands that bunched at your hips, unknowing to do what. 

“You do not understand.” He muttered between your desperate kisses and caught your roaming fingers that itch to feel his manhood. The only part of him that was left unknown besides his legs. The part of him that made you eager with a different excitement. “I can’t. My-” Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his cheek raw and hard. The sound bouncing off of the walls and down the still hall. 

“You’re gonna let a slave bitch really tell you how your body works?” You knew Ivar, knew him well enough to cause a reaction. This man was driven by anger and revenge. He was truly passionate when he was filled with rage and turmoil, where the beast lurks and the mind disappears. The reaction didn’t work though, not yet. He only seethed through the grit of his teeth and gave a shaky sigh, controlling his anger. It was sweet really, but you didn’t want sweet, you wanted him to fuck you. Fuck you until that confidence came back. “You’re a bitch Ivar.” You mumbled through light kisses, dragging down his neck and sinking your teeth into his skin hard enough to earn a loud hiss. “What happened to Ivar the Boneless, the one who proved everyone wrong?” You hummed teasingly, tongue dragging down his chest and giving one of his nipples a flick and down, down, down, to the bottom of his belly button. “I guess he lost his balls just as well as he lost his-” You yelped out in pain as Ivar grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked you up. 

“You want me to fuck you, hmm? Want me to fuck that fucking cunt? Is that what you really want?” You could see the fury behind his eyes, felt it in the tenseness of his body and could sense it through the bulge of his pants that you felt proud of. 

“Can you?” You teased, one hand holding his wrist and the other clenching onto the bed sheet. You suppressed the need to escape but didn’t bite your tongue back, not now. Not when he was clearly turned on. 

“Careful woman, your mouth is too big for your own good.” 

Ivar slumped over your body, both of you completely exhausted from prior activities. It was painful but enjoyable. Neither you or Ivar made a move, too surprised at what had happened but instead laid in silence and let what had happened sink in. You absorbed it. His rough fingers touching places where no man has ever ventured or rather tried, but still maintained his limbs and life. His lips ghosting over yours then meeting in a passionate dance like a bonfire or crashing waves or swords on a battlefield. Biting, sucking, clashing, needing, tasting each other like a man deprived. He was gentle and soft, maintaining his control as he felt your discomfort. The way Ivar coaxed tender things in your ear as you held onto him like he’d suddenly leave. The way you felt all of his body. His chest, his arms, his nose, his lips, his hips, even his legs. The way he relentlessly fucked you the second time, pounding into your cunt with so much force you couldn’t help the cries that shrieked in the household where others could hear. The way you both came undone with timid and slow thrusts, staring into each other’s eyes with soft whimpers and hands held. It was too much. 

“Can I stay?” You inquired with slight nervousness. Apprehensive at the idea he might decide he doesn’t want you anymore, just wanting a fuck buddy or just a one time thing. He didn’t say anything at all, but his hand reaching out for yours was enough confirmation.

[libraryoffandomsuniverse]

Masterlist

My fics can be found either here or under the tag my writing. This will be updated as I write new imagines. Most of my fics are gender neutral or written with female readers in mind, but occasionally I get the urge to write for male readers. If you have any ideas you’d like to see me write, just send me an ask!!

🔥 means male reader specifically

MARVEL

Being Tony Stark’s child and having a sibling relationship with Peter Parker

Being Tony’s child and having Rhodey as your godfather

Another way (Tony Stark x child!Reader)

Steve Roger’s twin and dating Bucky Barnes

Loki being in love with Thor’s best friend

Steve Rogers dating a male!Reader  🔥

Spine of Steel (Tony Stark x Reader headcanon series)

THE 100

Being Octavia Blake’s second

Being part of the 100

Being part of Spacekru

What’s a missile compared to Praimfaya?

Having a slow burn relationship with Bellamy Blake

Being Octavia’s cell mate in the sky box

My lover's the sunlight 🔥

GOT/HOTD

Being Daenerys Targaryen’s husband  🔥

Having a slow burn relationship with Sansa Stark  🔥

Bronn’s sister who’s dating Obara Sand

Jorah Mormont being jealous

Fluffy relationship h/cs with Podrick Payne

Daenerys dating a woman

Daenerys falling for her Gender Neutral bodyguard

Jaime Lannister realising he loves you

Jon Snow’s twin sister who’s dating Tormund Giantsbane

Podrick Payne’s wedding

Lannister!Reader falling in love with Podrick Payne

Podrick proposing

Being Daenerys’ human son  🔥

Road trip with Brienne of Tarth  🔥

The breath that passed from you to me (Sansa x male!Reader)  🔥

Being Tywin Lannister’s favourite child

Dating Brienne of Tarth  🔥

Being Rhaenyra Targaryen's husband 🔥

My crown is in my heart, not on my head (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Male!Velaryon Reader series) 🔥

TVD/THE ORIGINALS

“It’s an emergency! We don’t have a wine opener.“

Elijah Mikaelson’s wife

Being a Salvatore

Being a Mikaelson Part 2

B99

Being Jake Peralta’s twin sister

TEEN WOLF

Being Lydia Martin’s best friend

HP

Being best friends with Neville Longbottom

Being a member of the Order of the Phoenix

Having a slow burn relationship with Draco Malfoy

Being James’ sister and raising Harry

Being Remus Lupin’s son  🔥

Having a mutual crush on Hermione Granger

Ron Weasley dating a male!Reader  🔥

Being a Death Eater

VIKINGS

Being Bjorn Ironside’s best friend

Slow burn relationship with Ubbe

Star Wars

Being Anakin Skywalker’s twin sister

ATLA

Toph’s older brother falling for Sokka   🔥

Bridgerton

Having a slow burn relationship with Colin Bridgerton

Domestic headcanons with Simon Basset

Being Benedict Bridgerton's muse

Anthony Bridgerton having a soft spot for you

Entirely a matter of chance

[lokifromvalhalla]

Be patient

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Ivar The Boneless x Male Reader | Ivar The Boneless x amab Reader Genre: Smut Mordern! AU Words: ± 3 100 Kind of content: Toys / Anal sex / Edging

Ivar needs to be taught a lesson.

Requested by anon Anon: Sub Ivar x male reader and toys~ vibrators, dildos, stuff like that~ Not proofread! Sorry for any mistakes!

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“(Y/n)!” Ivar shouts from upstairs and I can already imagine him sitting in bed with the covers over his legs, looking about to murder someone, slamming his hands down against the mattress.

A chuckle escapes my lips as I shake my head, walking around the couch. Where the hell did I leave my phone? “Ivar!” I mock in the same tone, and exclaim once I find my phone near the armrest of the couch, and finally start to make my way upstairs. “Why are you so goddamn impatient? I said I’d take a while, no need to freak out.”

“You’re taking forever!” He groans and sighs, and glares at me once I walk into our bedroom, but all I do is to roll my eyes, placing his water bottle on his nightstand before moving over to my side of the bed.

“Stop being dramatic,” I breathe while scrolling through my phone, checking on the messages I’ve received. “It’s not like you were dying!”

“What if I was, hm?” Ivar looks at me with wide eyes, and— Gods, I’m not even going to lose my time arguing. He takes it the wrong way, of course, slowly nodding and throwing his nose in the air. “It’s lacking reciprocity here, hm? Don’t you think? You leave me here, waiting for you for forever—”

I cut him off with a hum as I put my phone aside and eventually join him, taking a seat on the bed, his side. “And you’re also really fucking dramatic, hm? Now, you don’t sound so revolted while I’m fucking you, do you?” A chuckle escapes my lips at how the anger lingering on his features quickly melts away into something else, a blank desperation that edges into the embarrassment he fails in hiding, at least from me. “You should do a better job when seeking attention.”

Ivar’s silence is over with a slow and sharp exhale, and he closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “It’s not that, not that.”

“No?” I raise an eyebrow; he shakes his head more.

“It’s just about you taking long!”

Yeah, great. I nod, limiting myself to just smile a little instead of openly chuckling at him, and just lean in for a kiss instead, way too tired already to argue, even more with Ivar’s cranky tired and horny ass. He kisses back of course, but the crease is still there between his eyebrows when I pull away for a brief moment, and kiss him deeper this time, having him hum against my lips and bring a hand up to my shoulder, gasping when gently push him back until his back meets the pillows behind him.

“You’re not deserving of it, but I think I’ll have some fun with you.” I peck his lips despite how his face already starts to twist into a frown.

“Not deserving? What the fuck—”

“Yeah.” I nod with a hum, pressing a few kisses to his jaw before my lips trail down his neck. “Or would you say all that screaming was acceptable? For fuck’s sake, sometimes you do get on my nerves,” I sigh against his neck, taking a moment to wrap my lips around his neck and let my teeth graze against the skin. “But then, again, maybe it’s your whole point?” My teeth sink into his skin in a harsher motion, enough for a whine to escape Ivar’s lips; he gulps as reality seems to sink in, his fingers clenching around the covers.

“(Y/n)...” He says softly, voice almost shaking.

“What?” I bring myself up to look him in the eyes, our noses touching. “Am I wrong? You can always tell me I’m wrong, y’know?”

Ivar’s bottom lip trembles, his eyes holding the gaze, but none of it lasts long. His eyes soon meet the ground as he gives up with a soft sound, eyebrows furrowing a little. Adorable.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I press a kiss to his neck again, the last for a while, hence I move to pull the covers away from him and help him lie down on the bed properly. “I’m very excited to use some of our stuff from the bottom drawer again, aren’t you as well?” I slip my hands under his shirt, letting my fingertips trace the skin before I’m riding the fabric up. “Answer me, Ivar.”

“Yeah,” he groans softly, “maybe.”

A chuckle escapes my lips, dissipating into the silence of the room that’s only interrupted by the rustling of fabric until the last piece of clothing meets the ground, leaving Ivar’s skin vulnerable to the cold air that it rises under, but still neglected from the attention it seeks for so much since I instead move to reach for the last drawer of the bedside table and bring to the bed a box. Ivar’s already shifting in discomfort before I even open it to get the lube.

“Fuck.” He clicks his tongue, staring at me as if it would do anything, but I just set down the tube of lube nearby before I’m moving to set myself down between his legs.

“Y’know what?” I raise an eyebrow, carefully adjusting his legs over my thighs. “I am teaching you how to wait.” My finger traces the sensitive skin just under his hips in a light touch that already startles him, having him shift away from the touch and then into it. Ivar seems like he wants to say something, but his words die into a moan at the moment my fingers gain more pressure around a sensitive spot, making their way down to the inside of his thigh, letting my thumbs sink into the skin in slow circles without ever touching anywhere he’d like.

Ivar hisses softly as he finally lets out the breath he had been holding, and his fingers relax for a moment to adjust their grip around the sheets. “No, no, no, please—”

“No!” I shake my head with a roll of my eyes. “Gotta do something about that attitude of yours! ‘Can’t have you screaming and bratting around the whole time.” Once again, whatever he had to say is instead replaced by soft pleased sound and he doesn’t even try to speak up again this time, simply huffing as he glances down to see my hands trailing up his torso, snatching a startled gasp from him at the light touch around his nipples.

Ivar’s loud and bold complaints eventually are reduced to incoherent babbling with glares he can’t shoot at me, instead clicking his tongue as his eyebrows knit together. It’s enough to draw a chuckle from me as I lean in, pressing a kiss to the spot over his stomach, letting my teeth start tugging on the skin according to how my lips trail to his side.

Despite everything, Ivar still groans in complaint at the moment I am pulling away from him, arching his back in a fruitless attempt of seeking my hands just to be met with nothing instead. So sweet.

The lube meets the palm of my hand cold, pooling down until I decide there’s a decent amount that I cover my fingers with before they’re lowering to between Ivar’s legs again, tracing his fluttering hole softly, about to—

“Fucking finally,” Ivar groans, and I raise an eyebrow as I look at him, leaning back a little. “No, wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Ah, no?” I shake my head. “Fucking ungrateful!” Watching him sputter as the red tone takes over his cheeks is so fucking entertaining to watch, even lifting his head up a little to almost bring himself up on his elbows, but I stop myself from letting a smile slip. “At least show that you want it,” I interrupt his desperate state, having him stop immediately and eye me for a long moment, twisting his mouth a little. “So no fun for today?” I raise an eyebrow, throwing my hands in the air.

A heavy sigh comes from Ivar; he throws his head back before lying down again properly. “Fuck, please,” he exhales softly, shifting his hips a little, “I— I need it so bad, hm? Just please touch me, make me feel good, please!” His last few words are muffled since he buries his face in his hands, and lets his finger run through his hair as he glances down at me, taking in a breath just to let out a moan at how I finally start to slip one of my fingers in. “Damn, yeah,” he mumbles softly, relaxing around me and allowing my finger to sink in deeper until a deeper sound comes from him; I start to move it in a slow pace, sometimes having fun in watching him squirm whenever I give in to how he seems to pull me deeper into him.

One finger soon turns into two, then into three, in a proportion that’s followed by Ivar, with his moans growing louder and with a shorter interval between each of them until the silence that previously filled the room is reduced to nothing. Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth goes useless, a failed attempt of muffling the sounds that soon erupt from his lips again in a higher notch once my fingers curl up against a spot inside him.

“For the gods,” Ivar whines, back arching before he starts to try to move his hips, and I take a moment to observe how his cock twitches with it, lying back against his lower stomach heavily and flushed bright pink with precum dripping onto his skin. It’s almost a pity to have to pull away. “No...!” He says shakily, but his show doesn’t last longer than it and he’s soon just staring off at the wall, breathing heavily.

I feel like I need to say something, for a second, maybe a snarky remark or just something to annoy him further, just to give up on all the ideas so I can let him sink deeper into that state. The lube being the first, the second thing that comes off the box is a dildo, a glass one, all pretty, one that Ivar saw on the internet months ago and kept bugging me until I finally ordered it. He’s probably way too spoiled.

Ivar is back to reality with a soft gasp and a little jump at how the cold tip of the now lubed toy presses to his entrance. He raises his eyebrows, eyes widened a little as he looks at me.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” he hums with a small nod, soon gasping and arching his back with how I start to push the toy in, making sure it goes in in slow and careful movements despite how my eyes follow every little movement of his, from the way the corner of his lips twitch with every moan he tries to suppress to the way his tendons shift on the back of his hand with his strong grip on the sheets.

Ivar’s breath is caught in his throat and his hands still around the fabric at the moment the toy is in to the base, his eyes fixed on a point as if he’s trying to ground himself, but quickly I’m pulling him away from that comfort zone, pulling the toy out slowly just to shove it back right in, watching Ivar squirm around every bump of it.

“How does it feel?” My voice, even if a whisper under Ivar’s panting and moaning, still sounds a little too loud when cutting through the room. Still, nothing but louder moans follow, hence I sigh. “Ivar? I asked you a question!”

“Fuck!” Ivar breathes barely comprehensible, followed by handfuls of words that I can barely understand, but still carry that tone that in another situation, would be the same as in his outbursts, cursing at everything and everyone just because of a little thing. This time, though, it doesn’t last long. The complaints are replaced by more desperate moans that spill from his lips even more often after I decide to change the toy’s angle, aiming right at the spot that has his thighs twitching despite how weak their muscles are. My eyes fall from his face to between his legs, watching him stretch over every bump of the toy and tighten around it all whenever it’s pushed deeper in.

Ivar’s moans gain a higher pitched edge at the same time he starts becoming unquieter, and it’s by watching the way his teeth sink into his bottom lip whilst his cock twitches that I find the exact moment to pull the toy away. He is left squirming around nothing with his teeth gritted, and there’s nothing more amusing than watching all that usual anger of his now melted into something so pathetic.

“(Y/n)!” He complains, breathy and almost whiny in a way I would be silencing him with soft kisses if I were otherwise in a better mood.

“Yeah, yeah,” I hum as I take another toy in hand to also cover it in lube, “I told you that you’d be learning something today, didn’t I?” I raise an eyebrow, and make sure to take my time to really make sure that his orgasm fades away.

Ivar only hums at first, his chest heaving up and down with his pants. He eventually brings a hand up to his face to rub one of his eyes before he runs his index finger and thumb along his eyebrows. “Whatever, I don’t care! Stop this right now, hm? I bet you’re aching to fuck me.” His eyes meet mine through half lidded eyes that hide half of his icy blue irises, and a smile tugs on his lips at the same time. “These pants must be too tight by now. Doing all of that to me, watching me. I bet you wish you were the one being buried deep into me instead, no? Making me m—” He chokes on his words, losing them among gasps and high pitched sounds at how I push the next toy inside him right at the angle to his spot, now meeting little resistance. The words he would be shouting at me right now are just miserably caught in his throat this time, giving place to the pleased cries that spill from his lips instead, easily having the pride swelling inside my chest.

“C’mon, what were you saying, again?” I lean in a little mockingly, laughing when he squirms and babbles incoherently. As much as his words are true, knowing those still isn’t enough to have me giving up now, even more since Ivar is Ivar and would never let go of this victory over me. “Poor Ivar.”

Instead of snatching another burning glare from him as it usually would, Ivar instead arches his back with a moan that’s muffled by his finger given how he bites onto his own knuckle, but it still doesn’t do much to lower the volume, even more when I fidget with the buttons on the bottom of the toy. At first, Ivar arches his back at the foreign feeling, his breath caught in his throat, though getting used to the medium level vibrations coming from the toy inside him has him relaxing and moving his hips experimentally, letting his sounds escape in longer and deeper moans.

“Feels good, baby?” I observe him for a solid minute, smiling when he nods, then lean in to press a kiss to his upper stomach—only kisses at first, yes, just for them to evolve into soft sucking along with nibbling through time, summed up to flickers on the buttons of the vibrator. Ivar is fucking loud, and even if the neighbors are going to complain, I love it so fucking much. It’s easy to drown out the rest of the reality and only focus on having fun with him.

A sheet of sweat already covers his skin, thin, making some of the loose strands that escape his braids glue to his face, and it’s easy to catch on the stream of drool that escapes the side of his mouth along with the pool of precum taking place on his lower abdomen, and the sight easily stirs something in my lower stomach. All of this—he—is all mine.

The vibrations are strong enough to give him pleasure, but still weak enough not to let him get anywhere near his orgasm, hence it’s easy to see him growing unquiet through time, shifting his hips in a search for more touch that never comes. Of course he resources the last option.

“P-Please!” Ivar gasps, still with his knuckle between his teeth, until it comes off when I’m moving the toy inside him a little and he squeezes his eyes shut, nuzzling the pillow. “Fuck, I need to cum, (y/n)! Please, fuck, fuck,” he chants as if it would help him get anywhere. Precious.

“You do?” I raise my eyebrows lightly, never changing the toy’s slow rhythm. “How bad do you want it? I’m not seeing much effort from you into getting it, y’know?”

“No!” Ivar chokes out, back arching before he looks at me. “Please, please, pretty please,” he mumbles, words running into each other, “this’ too much! ‘M so sorry for earlier, I— Just please let me cum, I really need it, I didn’t mean what I told you earlier, please—” He’s interrupted by a moan, chest shuddering with the shaky breath. “Please, ‘feels so good,” he babbles, sometimes allowing his words to turn into an incoherent mess that only comes to an end when I’m wrapping my free hand around his cock to pump him as fast as possible in the tightest grip; he stares at the ceiling with wide eyes and mouth shaped roundly around the moans that come from it while his knuckles go white around the sheets while I do it, having his back arch when he’s finally coming and staining white both himself and my hand, throwing his head back into the pillow to expose his neck just perfectly.

“(Y/n),” Ivar breathes weakly, just a breath, when he starts to come down from his high, with his eyes still focused on something that isn’t there. Either way, I make sure I pull away just before the oversensitivity kicks in, leaving him to gather himself up again while I move to at least put the toys away in the bathroom so I can clean them later and come back with a wet towel. He blinks slowly when he sees me beside him again, running the towel softly against his skin. “Do you want me to suck you off?” He asks, still slurring.

I breathe a chuckle. “No, it’s fine, you don’t have to return the favor right now.”

“But—”

“Shhh!” I press my lips to his to shut him up with short kisses, pressing my lips against his until he gives me an understanding hum followed by a sigh.

[plus-size-reader]

Captivated

Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1993 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Entering into an arranged marriage to Hvitserk

——————————————————————————————————

Arranged marriages were common in Kattegat.

So common in fact that you knew very few people that married for love alone. 

If there was to be a wedding, it was usually formed because there was mutual gain, not only for the two betrothed people, but also their families as well, and your marriage would be no different. 

Hvitserk was at an age where a man should start thinking about taking a wife, and you were at an age when you should have already been one. That made your father very willing to marry you off, and it didn’t hurt that the man in question was a son of Ragnar. 

The very chance to tie you to that bloodline forever was too good to pass up, especially for a greedy and malicious sort of creature like your father. The glory it would shine on him would not pass him by. 

That was the one thing he’d decided. 

He decided that, of course, long before he even asked you if you were willing to partake in any sort of marriage with that man. 

Not that you would have had much say to begin with. 

You had never met any of Ragnar’s famed sons and you, frankly, had no interest in doing so. However, Hvitserk was seeking a wife and with your father’s jarl title, there was little chance he would refuse. 

Even if you were, as your father would say, “No less worth than a milking cow” It was meant to be a compliment, you’d assumed, though it was getting harder and harder to take it as one as you got older. 

You were not blind to the fact that you weren’t as thin and fair as other women may have been, but that didn’t mean you weren’t just as beautiful. You were fine looking, as far as you were concerned, though maybe not to everyone. 

That didn’t seem as if it was going to be a problem for much longer though. 

After all, you were going to get married before long anyway. As soon as you became a wife, it wouldn’t matter what you looked like to anyone other than your husband. 

However, that brought one thing to your attention. You hadn’t thought about it before but there was a huge possibility that as soon as Hvitserk met you, he would refuse you entirely. 

If he didn’t see you as the kind of wife he wanted, you would be back to square one as far as a marriage goes and your father wouldn’t be happy with you. 

Not that you could really care all that much about that. There was no reason for you to treat yourself poorly over that chance. All things considered, if this man rejected you, that was his problem.

You had to just hope for the best and move on with your life if that happened...right? Not marrying Hvitserk wouldn’t immediately make you a spinster. 

You had to hope that wasn’t the case. 

Though, before you could completely back out of the entire thing, a thrall came through the door, a gown in her arms and a smile on her face. Her name was Ama, or something of the sort, and you forced yourself to focus as she spoke to you. 

“Pardon me, the Jarl asked me to ready you for your evening” she informed, setting the dress on the table by the door before closing it. 

The very idea of the day ahead of you filled you with dread, but you forced yourself to get up from where you were perched and readied yourself for what was waiting. 

It was better to get it out of the way. 

~

“Don’t slouch” your father huffed, reaching out to bump you slightly with the wooden cane he used to get around, trying to fix that. You were not even trying to make yourself presentable and he wasn’t going to let that stop him from marrying you off. 

He already had too much into this to let you ruin it.

“We will meet Hvitserk with his brother Ubbe and if he finds you presentable enough, you will remain here” he allowed, seeming to have no problem with forcing you away from your home.

Though, if he was that willing to get rid of you, perhaps you should have been glad to be rid of him. 

You only nodded as he spoke, not even bothering to speak to you as he walked you over to the grand hall in the center of Kattegat. You had never been here, this close to the shore, but you didn’t really have a chance to admire it before you were ushered inside. 

“Jarl Aland, my name is Ubbe” the first man to greet you started, offering a greeting to your much older father, who met him kindly with a smile. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. 

He was nothing like the men in your father’s village, which seemed to be much smaller than the majority of Kattegat. For living so close to the outskirts, there really were few similarities. 

“Excellent. This is my daughter, Y/N” your father chuckled, offering you forward as if you were some sort of cattle to be auctioned off. Still, you did nothing but smile at the man as he admired you. 

You hated every second of it. 

“Hello, I look forward to getting to know much about you” he started, leading you toward the fire in the center of the room, his hand bracing your lower back slightly. 

It was just enough to keep you moving without making you feel uncomfortable, something you were glad for. After all, you were sure that if this man was to do anything unsavory to you, your father would do nothing to stop it. 

Luckily, Ubbe seemed to be rather mannerly for a prince. You just had to hope that his brother was just as civilized. 

“Hvitserk has been anxiously awaiting your arrival” he whispered, smiling down at you with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes. If only you knew just how much his brother had been talking about this. 

This betrothal had come after your father met with the sons of Ragnar last summer, on his way to escort your brother and a few of his friends to take a voyage from this port. 

You had only found out about it shortly after that, though you weren’t sure if the passing suggestion would ever come to pass in reality. Though, now that you were here, you knew why your father had been so keen on you doing this. 

Kattegat was a wonderful place for trade and had much opportunity for growth. It offered a lot of chances for monetary gain in your fathers eyes, and the best way to get in would be through you. 

A bond with the sons of Ragnar would make it plausible for more of your father’s people to come here and make money. 

“I can’t say I’ve been all that at ease myself” you joked back, careful to keep your voice down so that your father couldn’t hear. He was hanging back from you and the blonde, but you wouldn’t put it past him to eavesdrop. 

He had always been such a nosey old bastard. 

“I understand but you mustn't worry, nothing will happen to you here” he assured, and as much as you were sure you wouldn't, you believed him when the words left his lips. 

If nothing else, you knew that Ubbe would do nothing that would allow you to come to any harm. 

You only nodded at his promise, letting him lead you farther into the space until you found a large fire in the center of the back room, a few more men surrounding it. 

You assumed they were his brothers, but more than anything, you wondered which of them was the man you were to marry. 

“Boys, this is Y/N” he introduced, announcing your presence to all of them at once in a way that, under any other circumstances, would have embarrassed you incredibly. 

However, in this instance, all you did was smile as you waited for any of these new strangers to make themselves known to you. The first of which was another blonde, though he towered over both you and Ubbe.

“Jarl Aland’s daughter, we’ve been waiting for you. They call me-” he started, but as soon as he opened his mouth, you put the pieces together. “Bjorn Ironside” you filled in, recalling all the stories they told of him even where you lived. 

He was a living legend and it took you a second to compose yourself after making such a bold statement, not that any of them seemed to mind. If anything, the men surrounding you seemed amused.  

“She’s an enthusiastic little thing, isn’t she?” he grinned, directing his question to Ubbe, who only shrugged. It seemed to him that you were, though it was too early to tell. 

After all, he had only just met you. 

“Enough of that though, you’re here for Hvitserk” Bjorn finally decided, beckoning behind him, presumably for the man in question. 

The man who had been avoiding you up until this point. He had already had a hard enough time being convinced to even meet you, led alone come to terms with the idea of getting married. 

He had never wanted to be married. 

Though, the way he understood it, there just came a time when every man should have had a family, and he had to start thinking about that. It seemed that his bachelor days had come to an end. 

“Excuse him. Hvitserk has never truly cared about anything more than what’s dangling between his legs, and filling his stomach” Bjorn chuckled, his crude joke not lost on you as he nudged you gently. 

They didn’t seem to have any shame between the group of them, and you had to admit that it was refreshing. Your father had always made you live as if you had the sort of title these males did, but they didn’t act like it. 

If anything, they used their birthright as an excuse to be as crass as possible. 

“Come now brother, say hello to your bride” Ubbe prompted, finally addressing the man as he came into view from behind his much larger half brother. He had been dreading this all day. 

An idea that changed as soon as you came into view. 

As soon as he saw you, every thought Hvitserk’d had in regards to a greeting melted away, along with his manners. You had to have been the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. 

There was no possible way you had agreed to marry him. 

“Hvitserk, say hello” Ubbe snapped, laughing at his younger brothers obvious floundering. It was clear to both Bjorn and Ubbe the moment they saw you that this was how he would react. 

Not that it was supposed to be this amusing.

Hvitserk was never speechless, though you had somehow managed to force every plausible thought from his mind with only a look. 

“Hello” 

It was by no means the smooth, or suave introduction he had been planning to knock you off your feet, but it was the best he could muster with the fog you’d forced upon him. 

“Hello Hvitserk, my name is Y/N, though I’d imagine you knew that already” you giggled, finding the humor in your action. Of course he knew your name already, you were just so in the habit of saying it when you first met someone. 

That laugh, nothing more than a slight ease of tension from you, only served to captivate the young male further. 

He was in way over his head, and it was only a matter of time before both you and all of his brothers noticed. 

One thing was for certain though, you no longer had to worry about him rejecting you. 

[honestsycrets]

Unwelcome Eyes

❛ pairing | alpha!bjorn x omega!reader x elder!Rollo

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | Hey, could you write something where the reader is married to Bjorn and enjoy him on his raid for the Mediterranean and Rollo can’t take his eyes and mind off of her… Maybe Bjorn getting jealous and fucking the shit out of her or fighting his uncle, please? + ABO Universe 

❛ warnings | smut, alpha male snaps, explosions, nsfw, threats

Being an omega meant a certain… few things.

It meant that being married to an alpha would be a naturally aggressive relationship. Not only for the simple fact that omegas and alphas were both prone to their own aggression in different manners– but your husband?

Bjorn Ironside. Whose temper was unyielding.

“So that is Rollo the traitor?” You ask, holding your cup of ale about your chest. Across the way was a man of a likewise tall physique. His long brown hair framed his pale face, casting a shadow upon his brilliant eyes.

He thought he snuffed out other alphas looking at you… Even when that other alpha was his very own so-called flesh and blood. Bjorn wasn’t sure why he was surprised that his uncle stood back against his throne waiting for you to finish eating. You take the last chunk of shredded chicken between your greasy fingertips, wiping it away on the dull brown dress you wore.

“He’s always been a traitor.” Bjorn rumbles, bringing his shoulder up to wipe the ale off of his beard. “There is a reason he summoned you out of the dungeon with me.”

“Let us see if he is as bad as is rumoured.” You reply.

It did little to frame your figure and for that, Rollo did not like it. You stand up to your uncle-in-law, looking at his sword on his belt in admiration for its craftsmanship. Your father was a blacksmith, lain now deep in the cold and unforgiving earth. The love for his passions remained in his absence.

“That dress.” His uncle says. “It does nothing for your figure.”

They had the same taste. As if that was a stretch. Their sexual reputation preceded them. Still, his uncle was not forgiven. Not for his betrayal in Paris and certainly not now, drooling over his beautiful wife. His hard stare turns to his uncle, holding him responsible for the eyes that would have been better popped out and on a dish.

This was what his uncle did. He betrayed him… and worse yet, you seem to be fond of the attention from the man who shamed his family in lavish Frankish robes.

“Oh, you think I have a figure under this?” You laugh. “I could be a bit of plank.”

“You wouldn’t have a Ragnarsson if you were a plank,” Rollo says fondly. The words seem to hurt his tongue as he says them, and still, you flutter your lashes at him. “And I know what a well-endowed woman looks like. I spent enough years chasing them.”

You look down to your toes, lifting your skirt just a bit over your ankle. Heavy breath forces its way out-- but it's not yours. It’s not Rollo’s either. Bjorn huffs out short breaths as he sits motionless, turning his head so that he might watch his uncle interact with you.

“What would you suggest?”

It’s a trap. You know it, Rollo knows it… and Bjorn, oh he knows you’re baiting him for a reaction, like the self-serving omega girl you are. Always in need of more affection. It works. Rollo looks to Bjorn, reading his heated gaze lingering upon your body standing before him. It’s a careful game he plays between the two of you. He steps behind you, his ringed fingers snatch your shoulders.

“Something fitted and rich.” Rollo drags his hands over your loose sleeves, caressing them. Bjorn sits upright, swinging his boots onto the other side of the bench. His legs bounce and bounce as he listens with teeth clenched. “Around the breasts-- and around the hips.”

“Wouldn’t that cling to my stomach?” You ask.

“Of course. That way, when you are with child, you can show it off.” By now, Rollo’s fingertips have swept over your stomach, calculating in every sweep of his fingertips. His soft touch is far from the brash warrior you heard in stories as a girl. You were told that Rollo was a beast of a man who left children in his wake and sundered families.

“I’m not interested in having babies yet.” You laugh it off.

“Maybe not.” Rollo shifts to look over at a servant whose hands are heavy with fabric. Her eyes look down in furtive regard as if-if she focused hard enough she could disappear altogether into the stone floors. “Bring that here.”

The servant girl walks to her master and offers up the goods in her arms. Bjorn’s eyes narrow upon the priceless gown that Rollo unrolls from her, throwing jewelry into his throne. It’s some sort of fine silk with a tailored neckline that is modestly low.

“Now this dress is fit for a princess.” Rollo states.

“Well, it does like beautiful.” You glaze your eyes over the fabric, jealously looking toward the fine silk.

“Would you like it?” Rollo asks, enjoying the glisten in your eyes. Excitement unfurls in your belly and he knows it.  

“Then you should take that rag off.”

Without concern for your husband nor anyone else in the room, you loosen the ties on the back of your dress and dip down. Bjorn’s eyes widen and focus upon your movements, peeling the layers of dress from your thin ankles.

“Beautiful,” Rollo says in a slow, calculated tone. Rollo’s eyes are indecipherable and wrought in obfuscation as the women in the room gasp clearly unable to understand the intentions of a woman that would peel away her clothes in the presence of an estranged uncle-in-law and a husband who at that very moment, whirls his cup across the room.

It’s the start of the end-- because you hear Bjorn’s ripping steps behind you. He pants in his heavy steps. You could feel his anger frothing and in fact, you nearly taste it on your tongue barreling past you. The statuesque guards animate to bring up sword and shield but its already too late with Bjorn’s hands digging into his uncle’s tunic, whirling him around off the steps only to toss him across the stone floors.

“Leave him! Get out.” Rollo holds up his hands, feigning as if he had no intention to fight his nephew. Bjorn storms down the steps, fisting Rollo’s lavish tunic with one hand and raising his fist up with the other. The blows collide with his uncle’s face in something subhuman-- as if something had switched off for Bjorn, chucking his uncle to the floor over and over again.

A final punch leaves Rollo bloody and strewn on the floor, but the only reason it was a final punch-- and not just another punch?

“Are you done yet?” You say not the least bit concerned for the old, ex-Viking. Bjorn rolls about, dilated eyes focusing on you waving forward and back, your hands on your hips. Naked and oh, so proud, sitting upon one of the arms of the throne.

You were bating him! He drops Rollo’s collar and stands upright. He’s coming for you-- and the only thing you do? Giggle and run your hands through your lavish long hair. Bjorn barrels up the stairs, huffing in annoyance when you don’t move for a thing but instead, reach out to stroke his cock through his trousers that were wound into ties. He jerks you up from his uncle’s throne and-- in response, you grip the arms of the chair. A hand holds you in place behind your neck. You scrunch your shoulders up, eyes screwing shut tight as the round head of your husband’s cock prods for your hole.

He sinks inside of your soaked hole, dropping his other hand to the back of your neck. You were enjoying this-- the attention from Bjorn in the middle of a now empty throne room. Well, empty but for Rollo rolling up to sit, watching his nephew’s pleasure splashing over Bjorn’s face.

“You’ve forgotten who I am.” Bjorn throws a spiteful look over his shoulder. Rollo staggers up to stand, a look indecipherable to you on his facial expressions when you look over your shoulder. But Bjorn can read it as clear as any man could with a wife that was appealing to the rivaling alpha males. Especially a wife that was an omega, a precious one at that.

Rollo thought himself exceedingly good at the art of artifice, but he wasn’t-- and this was what he had to show from it. His hips drawback, punching out forceful breaths as he draws his hips harder, faster, more intent on christening the crown with his heathen spunk. Rollo watches from afar, your breasts jiggling as he moves. The words flow from his lips, soft and husky as he turns his hooded gaze back to you, the hand on the back of your neck holding you submissively below him on the chair.

“Your father and I shared once,” Rollo says as if its an afterthought. The wrong afterthought as he speaks of Lagertha, his mother. Bjorn knows that much to be true. Bjorn says nothing else, knowing that perhaps Rollo’s idea of sharing might be to keep him in this Frankish hell. No.

“But you’ve forgotten who I am, uncle. I am Bjorn Ironside.” Bjorn barks out, booming the walls of the throne room. The words shoot straight down to your cunt-- causing you to clench him with more purpose, even if at this angle, that almost felt impossible. “I don’t share. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)? Tell him.”

“No.” You disobey him blatantly.

You grit your teeth together, the stubborn little omega that you are doesn’t let you concede to it. He’ll have to work harder if he wants you to say that. Even if you are bent over Rollo’s throne, nails digging curling indentations into the wood with your husband pounding your pussy raw over, and over, and over again.

“Tell him!” He booms.

“Fuck you.” You snap back in quick work of your tongue. Bjorn’s hand snaps back over your ass, giving you a sharp rippling slap for what you said. His large palm leaves a nasty red print, welts sure to last as with every second of your disobedience, you deserve another and then another. Your eyes squeeze tight together and form a ridge of wrinkles, holding out on crying out for him yet again as your pussy throbs around his cock. It’s what Bjorn wants.

“Tell him, wife. Tell him all about whose woman you are.”

He wants your screams to infest this Frankish stronghold-- to spill out of the room and show his prowess. Prince of the Danes, Bjorn Ironside, soon to become king. Your stubbornness pisses him off and despite your eyes straining to focus on the precious cushion, you’re aware of the fact that you’re soaking him in juices. Your muscles quiver as they strain to hold you up upon the chair. At last, a shout falls from your lips, wrenching louder and louder with one of Bjorn’s hands between your legs, leasing your engorged lips in teasing spirals before seeking out the perfect combination to leave your shouts into barely recognizable groans.

The work of his fingers reminds you of the first time you met him by your elder sister Aslaug’s side. Surfacing from the water after a long breath and praying that Ragnar’s men hadn’t seen you-- but Bjorn, Bjorn always saw you. He saw right through your antics and right now, with his dick stretching and filling your pussy with every fuck of his hips, you knew he knew you for just who you were.

“I’m -is, I’m his, I’m his! Bj-- Bjjorn, Bjjjjorn ple-ase!” It doesn’t matter that your words are nonsensical. Only that you’ve said them, and more than that, Rollo hears them with his ale to his lips.

“There you go.” Bjorn leans over you as you descend into the burning white roiling pleasure that claims you. He opens and closes his mouth with sharp puffs as you gush, exalted in your pleasure. You’ve cum without him by far-- but your bear of a husband pants louder and louder with his intent on using you for his pleasure. Nevermind that your clit felt raw from your orgasm. It didn’t take long, or rather, it didn’t feel like it did with his thick muscles shifting against your back. He plunges deep, filling you with his seed while his forehead rests against your back, cringing the whole way through. You pray that he wouldn’t pop a knot this time because the humiliation would be thick.

No such luck.

Rollo sits drinking his ale, waiting for his nephew’s knot to go down. As soon as it does, Bjorn tucks himself away and jerks you to stand back up.

“Get your dress.” He demands.

“She can take the new one,” Rollo says from down the stairs. “It’s fit for a queen.”

Bjorn says nothing as your dress in silk and a sheer overlay, clinging to his arm dressed in Frankish jewels. Then, he extends his hand out to you.

“Come shieldmaiden. We’ll see Rollo on the boat.” He says, dragging your arm closer to him. You glance after your shoulder, waving playfully to him. This time, however, Bjorn tugs your arm close to his chest. He leans in before speaking. “If you ever try and leave my bed again, I’ll tie you to it.”

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